Japan's Postwar Military and Civil Society

J a p a n ’ s P o s t w a r M i l i t a r y a n d Civil Society

i SOAS Studies in Modern and Contemporary Japan

Series Editor: Christopher Gerteis, SOAS, University of London (UK)

Series Editorial Board: Steve Dodd, SOAS, University of London (UK) Andrew Gerstle, SOAS, University of London (UK) Janet Hunter, London School of Economics and Political Science (UK) Helen Macnaughtan, SOAS, University of London (UK) Timon Screech, SOAS, University of London (UK) Naoko Shimazu, Birkbeck, University of London (UK)

Published in association with the Japan Research Centre at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, UK.

SOAS Studies in Modern and Contemporary Japan features scholarly books on modern and contemporary Japan, showcasing new research monographs as well as translations of scholarship not previously available in English. Its goal is to ensure that current, high- quality research on Japan, its history, politics and culture, is made available to an English- speaking audience. Th e series is made possible in part by generous grants from the Nippon Foundation and the Great Britain Sasakawa Foundation.

Published: Women and Democracy in Cold War Japan, Jan Bardsley Christianity and Imperialism in Modern Japan, Emily Anderson Th e China Problem in Postwar Japan, Robert Hoppens Media, Propaganda and Politics in 20th Century Japan , Th e Asahi Shimbun Company (translated by Barak Kushner) Contemporary Sino-Japanese Relations on Screen, Griseldis Kirsch Debating Otaku in Contemporary Japan, edited by Patrick W. Galbraith, Th iam Huat Kam and Björn-Ole Kamm Politics and Power in 20th-Century Japan , Mikuriya Takashi and Nakamura Takafusa (translated by Timothy S. George) J a p a n e s e T a i w a n , edited by Andrew Morris

ii Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society Contesting a Better Life

To m o y u k i S a s a k i

Bloomsbury Academic An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

iii Bloomsbury Academic An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

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First published 2015

Tomoyuki Sasaki has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identiﬁ ed as Author of this work.

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ISBN: HB: 978-1-4725-2555-0 ePDF: 978-1-4725-2955-8 ePub: 978-1-4725-2964-0

Library of Congress Cataloging- in-Publication Data Sasaki, Tomoyuki. Japan’s postwar military and civil society : contesting a better life / Tomoyuki Sasaki. pages cm. — (SOAS studies in modern and contemporary Japan) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Japan—Armed Forces—Social aspects. 2. Civil–military relations—Japan. 3. Sociology, Military—Japan. 4. Japan—Military policy—Social aspects. 5. Hokkaido (Japan)—Defenses. 6. Hokkaido (Japan)—Politics and government. 7. Japan—Armed Forces—Public opinion. 8. Public opinion—Japan. I. Title. UA845.S356 2015 306.2‘7095209045—dc23 2015005185

Series: SOAS Studies in Modern and Contemporary Japan

Typeset by Reﬁ neCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk

iv For all those who looked aft er me in my childhood

v vi C o n t e n t s

List of Tables and Maps ix Abbreviations x Acknowledgments xiii

Introduction: Militarization in Democracy 1 Th e Peace Constitution and rearmament 1 Militarization as a useful concept 6 Th e SDF in Hokkaido and the US forces in Okinawa 9 Democracy as a background 11 Organization of the book 15

1 A Promised Opportunity: Th e Self-Defense Forces in the Labor Market 19 Absorbing surplus population 20 Recruitment since the 1960s: old and new trends 32 Building a network 35 Th e volunteer army in capitalism 40 Conclusion 49

2 Becoming an Army for the People: Th e Self-Defense Forces in Hokkaido Communities 51 Th e idea of an army for the people 52 Colonial Hokkaido 57 Building and rescuing Hokkaido 60 Becoming service members 70 Settling service members in Hokkaido 74 Conclusion 82

3 Peace in Dispute: Anti-Military Litigation and the Constitutionality of the Self-Defense Forces 85 Th e Eniwa case 86 Conceptualizing the right to live in peace 91 Th e Naganuma case 96

vii viii Contents

Th e aft ermath: the ruling reversed 103 Conclusion 106

4 Overcoming Crises: Th e Emergence of the Defense Facilities Administration Agency 107 Th e Defense Facilities Administration Agency as a mediator 108 Th e New Improvement Law 113 Military town Chitose 119 Toward “harmony” and the institutionalization of objection 126 Conclusion 131

5 “Th e Th reat from the North”: Fear-Mongering and the Making of Military Base Hokkaido 133 Formation of the northern threat 134 Reinforcing defense autonomy, silencing Hokkaido 140 A right- wing turn in national politics 146 Military base Hokkaido 150 Conclusion 155

Conclusion: Where is Militarization Headed? 157

Notes 165 Bibliography 185 Index 203 L i s t o f T a b l e s a n d M a p s

T a b l e s

1.1 Th e number of people who applied to the SDF, took the exams, received oﬀ ers, and enlisted 23 1.2 Former occupations of applicants (%) 26 1.3 Number of applicants from the seven Kyushu prefectures and percentage of total applicants 30 2.1 Civil engineering projects undertaken by the SDF in Asahikawa city and nearby communities, 1953–1956 62 2.2 Major disaster relief oﬀ ered by the Second Division headquartered in Asahikawa 66 4.1 Relocation of residents near the Chitose Air Base 123 4.2 Chitose city’s annual revenue and various subsidies from the DFAA (¥1,000) 125

M a p s

1. Map of Japan xi 2. Map of Hokkaido xii

ix Abbreviations

DFAA Defense Facilities Administration Agency LDP Liberal Democratic Party NPR National Police Reserve NSF National Safety Force SCAP Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers SDF Self-Defense Forces

x Map 1 Map of Japan

xi Map 2 Map of Hokkaido

xii Acknowledgments

First of all, I would like to thank Tak Fujitani, my advisor at graduate school at the University of California, San Diego. It is true to say that he is the reason that I decided to become a historian. He and his works help me recognize how history is not simply about studying the past but about scrutinizing and critiquing the present. His advice and suggestions guided me in a number of ways at various stages of conceptualizing and writing this book. Without him, this book would not have materialized. I also want to thank Stefan Tanaka, my other advisor at UC San Diego. He taught me how to think as a historian, that is, how to question and historicize what seems natural and timeless. Christopher Gerteis gave me the wonderful opportunity to contribute to the SOAS Studies in Modern and Contemporary Japan. Emma Goode and Claire Lipscomb, editors at Bloomsbury, off ered me a variety of forms of assistance from the very beginning of this book project. It has been a great pleasure to work with them, and I am honored that my book should be a part of this new series. I am also grateful to the following mentors, cohorts, and colleagues, who provided me with inspiration and insight, read and commented on my writings, invited me to give talks, and/or simply remained good friends and accompanied me with beer: Micah Auerback, Gregory Depies, James Egge, Katsuhiko Endō, Steven Epstein, Adrienne Hurley, Ji Hee Jung, Su Yun Kim, Kitahara Megumi, Lee Rika, Michele Mason, John McCurdy, Ryan Moran, Mary-Elizabeth Murphy, Russel Olwell, Pamela Radcliff , Wesley Sasaki-Uemura, Satō Fumika, Philip Schmitz, Philip Seaton, Nayan Shah, Aaron Skabelund, George Solt, Tsuchiya Kazuyo, Noboru Tomonari, Tomi Tonomura, Rika Yonemura, Lisa Yoneyama, and Ken Yoshida. I want to thank all of them. Th is project was made possible by the fi nancial support of various institutions: the University of California; the University of California, San Diego; the Matsushita International Foundation; Eastern Michigan University; and the Association for Asian Studies. Th eir generous support allowed me to travel to Japan numerous times for archival research. During my research in Japan, I visited many facilities related to the Self- Defense Forces as well as local libraries. Among these, I particularly want to thank the following, which kindly helped me identify and copy sources

xiii xiv Acknowledgments and/or provided me with useful information: the Northern Army (Sapporo), the Seventh Division Museum (Chitose), the Hokuchin Museum (Asahikawa), the Hokkaido Prefectural Library (Sapporo), the Asahikawa Municipal Library, and the Chitose Municipal Library. Finally, I would like to express my foremost gratitude to Michael Cronin. He has been (and will probably continue to be) my best supporter of my decisions, best interpreter of my ideas, and best reader of my writings. Like any author of a book, I faced many diﬃ culties during the course of writing, and because he has always been with me, I was able to complete it. Th ank you. INTRODUCTION

M i l i t a r i z a t i o n i n D e m o c r a c y

Th e military of any nation- state requires popular support. When status served as a principle of organizing society (e.g., in pre-revolutionary France or Tokugawa Japan), joining the military was a privilege enjoyed only by those of a particular status. Many people could and did spend their entire lives having had no contact with the military. With the advent of the modern nation- state, however, the nature of the military changed dramatically. Th e modern nation- state does not allow people to remain passive subjects; it expects them to take responsibility for national defense in exchange for the protection it off ers them. Th e relation between the military and the people in a nation- state becomes reciprocal and mutually dependent. Th e military, whether conscripted or voluntary, comprises service members from all social classes, who identify themselves as “the people” of the nation- state (at least in theory). Even those who do not join the military are expected to actively endorse the state’s security policies and collaborate in national defense in times of emergency. Th us the military of a nation-state, unlike that in the era of the status system, must cultivate a fi rm base of support in civil society and convince the people of the need for an army. Th is book off ers a case study of the building of a closely intertwined relationship between one civil society and its military in the modern era: post-Second World War Japan and its Self-Defense Forces.

Th e Peace Constitution and rearmament

On August 14, 1945, Imperial Japan accepted the Potsdam Declaration, which demanded Japan’s unconditional surrender to the Allies, and which, the following day, was broadcast on the radio by the emperor. On September 2, the Japanese government signed the Instrument of Surrender thus formally surrendering to the Allies, and the Allied occupation of Japan—which was, practically speaking, a US occupation of Japan—began. Th e Americans considered the demilitarization and democratization of the defeated country as

1 2 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society their initial goals. For these goals, the Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP)—a term used to refer to not only Douglas MacArthur but also his supporting institutions broadly—implemented a number of reforms. SCAP dissolved the Imperial Army and Navy, thus terminating military conscription, together with the Special Higher Police—that is, “the thought police,” a symbol of prewar and wartime political oppression. Th ey also directed the release of political prisoners, including communists, and abolished the Peace Preservation Law, while purging war collaborators from public and private sector jobs, including offi cers of the army and navy, politicians and bureaucrats who had supported the war, and executives of ammunition companies. SCAP also guaranteed the people the freedoms of religion, assembly, speech, and press, as well as the right of labor to organize, and directed the Japanese government to enfranchise women. Together with land reform, the establishment of a new constitution was one of the most fundamental and infl uential reforms instituted by SCAP. Draft ed by the Americans and ratifi ed by the Imperial Diet, the new constitution—the Constitution of Japan—was promulgated in November 1946 and enacted in May 1947. Together with popular sovereignty and respect for fundamental human rights, pacifi sm provided an underlying principle for the Constitution. Th e Preamble expressed the Japanese people’s desire for peace, and recognized the “right to live in peace” of “all people of the world.” Article 9 of the Constitution read as follows:

Aspiring sincerely to an international peace based on justice and order, the Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as means of settling international disputes. 2) In order to accomplish the aim of the preceding paragraph, land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential, will never be maintained. Th e right of belligerency of the state will not be recognized.

With these stipulations in the Preamble and Article 9, SCAP sought to prevent Japan from ever again posing a military threat to US hegemony in Asia. 1 Th e tensions of the Cold War, however, intensiﬁ ed from the late 1940s. In Eastern Europe, the Soviet Union was helping to establish pro-Soviet regimes. In China, aft er a three- year civil war, the Chinese Communist Party was gaining a victory and declared the founding of a people’s republic in 1949. On the Korean Peninsula, two regimes—the pro-US Republic of Korea and the pro-Soviet Democratic People’s Republic of Korea—were confronting each other along the 38th parallel. Within Japan, the Japanese Communist Party had been organizing Introduction 3 a number of demonstrations demanding better wages and food rationing, and in several instances demonstrators succeeded in seizing control of production at factories. In this tense political atmosphere, SCAP’s main goal for the occupation gradually shift ed from demilitarization and democratization to security reinforcement and economic reconstruction. Here began the so- called “reverse course.” SCAP ordered the cancellation of the General Strike scheduled for February 1947 and banned strikes by public employees. Th e outbreak of the Korean War in June 1950 accelerated this conservative shift in occupation policy. SCAP cracked down on the Communist Party, and carried out a Red Purge, expelling alleged communists from public and private positions. Th e Red Purge was accompanied by the de-purging of some of those war collaborators who had been removed from their positions. During this reverse course, the rearmament of Japan began. In July 1950, just a month aft er the outbreak of the Korean War, SCAP ordered the Japanese government to create an armed force of 75,000 personnel. Th is army was named the National Police Reserve (Keisatsu yobitai, hereaft er the NPR). Th e United States envisaged making Japan a bulwark against communism by reinforcing its security system. Th e Constitution, however, remained intact even aft er the launch of rearmament. According to this constitution, Japan was supposed to aspire to building a peaceful country with no recourse to any military organization. Th is presented the nation with an obvious contradiction between the constitutional ideal of unarmed peace and the reality of rearmament. Despite this contradiction, Japan’s reliance on military power grew. Japan signed the San Francisco Peace Treaty in 1951 and regained sovereignty the following year, ending the US occupation that had lasted for six and half years (at least in theory). By signing the US–Japan Security Treaty on the same day as the Peace Treaty, however, Japan chose to accept the United States’ continued military protection, and US forces’ continued presence on Japanese soil. Furthermore, the Japanese government created the National Safety Agency (Hoanchō) in August 1952 as an organization that would oversee the NPR, now renamed the National Safety Force (Hoantai, hereaft er NSF). Th is agency also controlled a new navy called the Safety Security Force (Keibitai), which had been established as the Coastal Safety Force (Kaijō keibitai) earlier the same year for the protection of Japanese people’s lives and properties as well as maintenance of order at sea. In July 1954, the government reorganized the Safety Agency into the Defense Agency (Bōeichō). Accordingly, the NSF and Safety Security Force developed into the Ground and Maritime Self-Defense Forces respectively. A new air force, the Air Self-Defense Force, was also created, and with it the Self-Defense Forces 4 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

(Jieitai, hereaft er SDF) came into being as a fully fl edged military organization. Th e SDF started with a total quota of 152,095 service members (130,000 for the Ground SDF; 115,808 for the Maritime SDF; and 6,287 for the Air SDF). Within four years of the launch of the NPR, the size of the new military organization had doubled. 2 In present-day Japan, the SDF has grown into an organization of signifi cant military might by world standards and rapidly expanded the scope of its activities. As of March 2012, roughly 225,000 military personnel were serving in the Ground, Maritime, and Air SDF. Th is number is by no means comparable with that of the militaries of such countries as the United States, the People’s Republic of China, and Russia, but it is more or less comparable to the militaries of major European countries such as France and Germany.3 In 2013, Japan had the eighth- largest military expenditure, aft er the United States, China, Russia, Saudi Arabia, France, Britain, and Germany. Its military budget was $48.6 billion, and accounted for 2.8 percent of global military expenditure.4 Since the early 1990s, the Japanese government has been dispatching the SDF overseas to collaborate with the United Nations’ peacekeeping operations, to provide disaster relief, and to help refugees in various parts of the world. Between 2003 and 2009, during the Iraq War, the SDF was dispatched to Samawah to assist in the country’s reconstruction. Although constitutional restrictions still prevent service members from going to combat areas to fi ght with weapons, the SDF is increasingly acting as a “normal” military organization in the international arena. Th e major political parties in Japan now accept the SDF as constitutional. Up to the early 1990s, the Socialist Party was a severe critic of the SDF and the major rival of the Liberal Democratic Party (hereaft er LDP), which fully endorsed the SDF. But when the socialists took power in 1994 for the fi rst time since the Katayama cabinet in 1947, Murayama Tomiichi, the Socialist prime minister, abandoned the party’s most fundamental policy on unarmed neutrality, withdrawing its opposition to the Security Treaty and recognizing the SDF as constitutional. Aft er this radical shift , the Socialist Party, having given up one of the positions that most clearly distinguished it from the LDP, suff ered a major loss in the 1995 election for the House of Representatives. Soon aft er this loss, the socialists reorganized as the Social Democratic Party and tried to enlist popular support once again, although it has remained a small party with little infl uence since then. Th e Democratic Party, a rival party to the LDP in present- day Japan, which provided three prime ministers between 2009 and 2012, supports the maintenance of the SDF, and in this aspect, its security policy does not diff er greatly from that of the LDP. Th e Communist Party champions the Introduction 5 gradual dissolution of the SDF and the withdrawal of US forces from Japan, but it holds only a small number of seats in the Diet, and therefore its political power is limited. In contemporary Japanese politics, the compatibility between the SDF and the Constitution is taken more or less for granted, and it is rare for this issue to be contested in the political arena. Th e popular approval rating of the SDF is also high. According to a survey conducted by the Cabinet Offi ce in 2012, 91.7 percent of respondents stated that they had a “good impression” of the SDF, whereas only 5.3 percent said that they had a “bad impression.” While the high popularity of the SDF in this survey certainly has a lot to do with the timely disaster relief that the force provided in the aft ermath of the 2011 earthquake and tsunami in the Tōhoku region, the approval rating of the SDF had hovered around 80 percent for fi ft een years or so. In the same survey, 24.8 percent supported additional military reinforcement, whereas 60 percent preferred to maintain the status quo. Only 6.2 percent wanted to see a reduction in armaments. 5 It appears that in contemporary Japan, there is a general consensus on the need for the SDF. Th ose who observe a contradiction between the constitutional ideal and the SDF and those who insist on the reduction or abolition of the SDF constitute a small minority. In this book, I discuss how people in postwar Japan came to terms with the presence of a military organization while maintaining the “Peace Constitution” and what enabled the SDF to continue to grow despite such a constitution, which could have undermined or even destroyed its legitimacy. To answer these questions, I examine various ideas and practices that arose to mediate the relations between the SDF and civil society. Th is book covers the four decades between 1950 and the end of the 1980s. I start with 1950 because that was the year rearmament began. Why I end my study in the late 1980s requires a little more explanation. While a number of peace and anti-military movements developed and continued throughout the 1970s, this was no longer the case in the 1980s. Anti-military sentiment withered away, and protest shrank, largely due to the government’s incessant eff orts to co- opt critics with generous fi nancial assistance. Communities with military bases increasingly chose to co-exist with the SDF while benefi ting from it. Japanese society rapidly formed a consensus on the need for an army. Th is permitted the LDP cabinet to undertake the fi rst overseas dispatch of the SDF in postwar history. In 1991, the Maritime SDF’s minesweepers were sent to the Persian Gulf aft er the Gulf War, and a number of other overseas dispatches have followed. I will argue that, by the end of 1980s, a cooperative relationship had been consolidated between the SDF and civil society in present- day Japan. 6 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

Militarization as a useful concept

Anthony Giddens has pointed out that the military of the modern state since the nineteenth century has developed in tandem with such notions as sovereignty, citizenship, and nationalism—the very foundations of the modern state. Th e modern state entrusted to the military the defense of its sharply demarcated borders from external attack while regarding participation in national defense as a crucial obligation that the people had to fulfi ll in exchange for the rights that they enjoyed. Th rough this, the modern state instilled in the people the idea of the nation as something tangible and concrete. Furthermore, the militaries of modern states grew markedly aft er the Industrial Revolution, particularly aft er the First World War, thanks to rapid technological development. 6 Naturally, as pointed out at the very beginning of this Introduction, no one in the modern state can avoid contact with the military. Th e military and society interact with, infl uence, and transform each other in myriad ways. In the Japanese context, historical studies of prewar and wartime Japan oft en emphasize the Imperial Army and Navy’s strong infl uence upon civil society. Th is trend has become prominent in particular in Japanese- language literature in the last two decades or so. While addressing various topics including conscription, economic support for soldiers and their families, and the management of communities with bases, the authors of these studies demonstrate how civil society sought to understand the presence of the military in everyday life and how the military worked on civil society to cultivate popular acceptance and recognition. In so doing, they challenged the conventional understanding of the Imperial Army and Navy simply as oppressive and inhumane organizations. Th ey also indicated that the people did not support the military blindly but acted spontaneously and rationally to make their own decisions. 7 Stewart Lone, writing in English, has recently published a book on ordinary people’s perception of and experience with the Imperial Army, using communities in Gifu prefecture as a case study. 8 Th is study confi rms that the military was deeply embedded in the socio-economic structure of prewar provincial society. Even those studies that do not deal with the Imperial Army and Navy exclusively also suggest that they maintained close ties with civil society by helping to establish policies concerning labor, social welfare, rural relief, and health and hygiene. 9 Given the fact of conscription in prewar and wartime Japan, many men, their families, and their local communities had direct contact with the Imperial Army and Navy; it is therefore not surprising that a number of studies deal with civil–military relations in these eras. Introduction 7

Th e relation between the SDF and society in post-Second World War Japan has not received the same level of scholarly attention, in English or Japanese. Two exceptions are the studies by Sabine Frühstück and Satō Fumika. 10 Th e former considers the SDF’s eff ort to normalize its presence and to soft en its violent image, and the latter concerns the SDF’s organizational incorporation of female soldiers. Th ese studies examine the SDF from an anthropological and sociological perspective respectively, but there has been no historical study of the relation between the SDF and civil society. Th e lack of scholarly interest in this topic can perhaps be explained by the following three facts: that the size of the SDF was much smaller than that of the Imperial Army and Navy; that aft er defeat in the Second World War, conscription—probably one of the most critical links between the military and civil society—was abolished, and the SDF has relied exclusively on volunteers to this day; and that civilian control of the SDF has worked properly, and the SDF has kept a low public profi le. As pointed out above, however, the SDF is now a world-class military power, and its popular approval rating is high. To understand the SDF’s status today, we need to trace the evolution of the relationship between the SDF and civil society in detail. “Militarization” serves as a useful analytical tool for this purpose. Some may associate the term “militarization” with the military domination of a civilian government, high military expenditure, and/or the constant use of war for territorial expansion and for the settlement of international disputes. If we adopt this defi nition, then, while imperial Japan may serve as a typical example of a militarized state, post-Second World War Japan certainly does not. Th e civilian control of the SDF has functioned well; military expenditure has generally been kept at 1 percent of the national budget or less; and above all, Japan has not waged a single war, though as a US military ally it did support the United States’ war eff orts in Asia through indirect means (e.g., in Korea and Vietnam). In this book, however, I use the terms “militarization” and “militarized” more broadly and inclusively as a concept that encompasses a wide variety of interactions and interdependence between the military and civilians. Cynthia Enloe’s defi nition clarifi es this sense of the concept:

Militarization is a step-by-step process by which a person or a thing gradually comes to be controlled by the military or comes to depend for its well-being on militaristic ideas. Th e more militarization transforms an individual or a society, the more that individual or society comes to imagine military needs and militaristic presumptions to be not only valuable but also normal. Militarization, that is, involves cultural as well as institutional, ideological, and economic transformations. 11 8 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

By defi ning “militarization” in this way, Enloe is urging us to shift our attention toward the militarization of everyday life. Even when a country does not pursue overt military buildup or wage war against another, as long as the military exists, civilians’ lives are transformed by it in a number of ways, even in peacetime. Enloe explains this with many insightful examples from a feminist standpoint. Militaries in some countries condone prostitution as a necessary evil for its male service members, and some women in these countries may also rely on the militaries for their livelihood. Wives of soldiers in other countries may enjoy an unusually high income and various other benefi ts available to military personnel. Mothers in other countries may support, or feel pressured to support, their sons’ decision to enlist and feel proud of them fi ghting for their nations. While these women’s self- identifi cation, economic conditions, and political stances vary greatly, in Enloe’s argument, their lives are all and equally “militarized,” and therefore they provide us with an important opportunity to consider gendered aspects of militarization. While Enloe’s focus is on the militarization of women’s lives, the anthropologist Catherine Lutz examines the militarization of a community. In Homefront , she demonstrates how the history of the city of Fayetteville in North Carolina, located adjacent to the army base Fort Bragg, is indeed a history of war and war preparation, as the constant wars that the United States has waged, including the Second World War, the Cold War, and the Vietnam War, placed civilians in this community in direct and intense contact with the military and service members both socially and economically. Lutz confesses that she was fi rst intending to study “ ‘civilians’ living alongside ‘soldiers,”’ but as her research progressed, she realized that the distinction between “things civil and things military” was “an illusion.” While her focus is a rather small town in the South, Lutz does not fail to remind the reader that there are many similar communities in California, Texas, and Virginia, to name just a few states. Th e civil–military relation in Fayetteville thus symbolizes that of twentieth- century America. 12 In addition, such scholars as Laura McEnaney, Michael Sherry, Seungsook Moon, Valentina Peguero, and Vron Ware have also examined various aspects of the militarization of society in the United States, Korea, the Dominican Republic, and Britain. 13 Like Lutz, all these scholars stress, whether explicitly or implicitly, the fuzzy line between the civilian and military spheres. People—particularly those of us living in liberal democracies, whether the United States, Britain, or Japan—tend to assume that these are two discrete spheres with distinct values. Th at is, the former is a sphere of consent and freedom to which we normally belong, whereas the latter is a sphere of coercion and violence from which we can remain aloof ordinarily and which we need only in extraordinary situations Introduction 9 such as war. Th e above studies of militarization, however, attest to the artifi cial, unsteady nature of the division between the two spheres, revealing that military values and practices have the tendency to intrude into the civilian sphere and dictate how civilians live. Th e arguments made by the scholars above are valuable when we consider the case of postwar Japan. Th eir arguments will enable us coherently to view the manifold events that occurred between the SDF and civil society as symptoms of, responses to, or consequences of militarization. As the reader will see in the following chapters, this book deals with, for example, the SDF’s support for rural communities through such activities as disaster relief and civil engineering, and the central government’s fi nancial support for communities with bases. At fi rst glance, these look like benefi cial and welcome practices for local communities and their residents, but in this book I insist that these are unequivocally aspects of militarization in that they served to solidify ideological and socio-economic interdependency between the military and civil society, thereby fostering the idea that the military was an indispensible part of civilians’ everyday lives. In other words, building on the arguments of Enloe, Lutz, and these other authors, I shed light on the intricately intertwined nature of a variety of activities conducted by the SDF to reveal how, contrary to the widespread image of a peaceful postwar Japan, civilian life has been heavily infl uenced by its close contact with the SDF.

Th e SDF in Hokkaido and the US forces in Okinawa

When we dwell on militarization in the Japanese context, we cannot help thinking about the case of Okinawa. Th e US occupation of this small, southernmost prefecture began when the Japanese were defeated in the battle of Okinawa in 1945. Th e occupation lasted there until 1972, far longer than on mainland Japan. Even aft er Japan regained sovereignty over Okinawa, the US forces remained, and thus US colonialism continued. Up until this day, Okinawa hosts a disproportionately large number of US military personnel and facilities. According to information released by the prefecture of Okinawa, as of June 2011, the total number of US military personnel and their family members in Okinawa was 47,300. As of March 2012, US forces there occupied about 89.48 square miles, accounting for 10.2 percent of the prefecture’s total area. 14 Th e overwhelming presence of US forces, the local economy’s tight link to bases, the blatant violence committed by military personnel (that is, numerous crimes and accidents), the extraterritorial privileges that those personnel enjoy 10 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society under the US–Japan Status of Forces Agreement, and, above all, the Japanese government’s acquiescence to such conditions have prompted many scholars to examine the US forces’ impact on Okinawans, together with their experiences of the Second World War and the Japanese military, which prepared the ground for the subsequent US occupation and colonialism. 15 Furthermore, some scholars have attempted to place Okinawa within the larger context of militarization brought about by Japanese and US colonialism in Asia and the Pacifi c. Discussing Okinawa together with other areas in the region, such as South Korea, which also hosts large numbers of US troops, these scholars have demonstrated that militarization is not a problem faced only by the Okinawans but a phenomenon that aff ects people across the region. 16 Th is book is intended to complement these scholars’ work and to contribute to a comprehensive picture of militarization in East Asia. It shows that the SDF, too, has been a principal force driving militarization. While I recognize the signifi cance of studying the history of the US forces stationed in Japan, I believe that it is also vital to examine how Japan’s own military has furthered the militarization of Japanese society (oft en in collaboration with US forces). To this end, a large portion of the book focuses on Hokkaido. Like the US forces in Okinawa, the SDF maintains a high profi le on Hokkaido, the northernmost island of the Japanese archipelago. Th e Japanese government regarded the island as being strategically critical during the Cold War because of its proximity to the Soviet Union and concentrated SDF facilities and personnel there. By 1962, the Ground SDF had established thirteen divisions across Japan, four of which were headquartered in Hokkaido: the Second Division in Asahikawa, the Fift h Division in Obihiro, the Seventh Division in Chitose, and the Eleventh Division in Sapporo. Th ese four divisions constituted the Northern Army (Hokubu hōmentai), “the largest and strongest” regional army within the Ground SDF (there are four more regional armies: the Northeastern, Eastern, Middle, and Western Armies). In 1965, of 97,000 Ground SDF service members in the thirteen divisions, 32,000 were deployed in the four divisions in Hokkaido. Th e government attached particular importance to the Seventh Division, whose mission was to defend central Hokkaido, and preferentially provided it with the most up-to-date weapons. 17 Th e headquarters of this division, Chitose, also hosted the Air SDF’s Second Air Wing, one of seven wings across the country. Th is island prefecture is therefore a perfect site to examine the interactions between the SDF and civilians. As the following chapters will show, civilians on this island have cultivated various relationships with the SDF. Th ese include, but are not limited to: relations of support and cooperation, as exemplifi ed in Introduction 11 communities’ yearning for the positive economic eff ects of the SDF and their enthusiastic campaigns to invite military bases from the early 1950s; resistance and opposition, as we see in the two highly contested anti-SDF court cases that drew keen national attention in the 1960s; and acquiescence and compliance, as symbolized by the central government’s increasing exploitation of Hokkaido for military purposes from the late 1970s. All these will help us unveil the unusual degree of militarization that Hokkaido, like Okinawa, has undergone. By focusing on Hokkaido, however, I do not mean to suggest that relations between the military and civil society on this island are atypical. While it is true that the SDF has maintained a high profi le there, SDF bases exist across Japan, just as US bases exist not only in Okinawa but across Japan. As of 2014, the Ground SDF, by far the largest organization of the three SDFs, maintains a total of fi ft een divisions and brigades, stretching from Hokkaido to Okinawa, and all prefectures except Nara host at least one Ground SDF base. Th e Maritime SDF owns more than thirty bases, and the Air SDF more than seventy bases, across Japan. Misawa in Aomori, Komatsu in Ishikawa, Maizuru in Hyogo, Kure in Hiroshima, and Sasebo in Nagasaki, for example, are all famous as “base towns” or kichi no machi . Th e experience of these communities is not that diff erent essentially from that of Hokkaido communities, in that they too were subjected to a process of militarization. Th e main reason I focus on Hokkaido is that the concentration of bases and service members there allows us to see most clearly and vividly how the SDF strove to build solid relations with civil society and to solicit popular support, how civilians responded, and how such intimate civil– military relations altered society and residents’ way of life.

Democracy as a background

If “militarization” is a useful tool for analyzing various issues related to the SDF and civil society, “democracy” is an important context for such analysis. One of this book’s main arguments is that the SDF regarded serving the people or kokumin — the sovereign of the nation- state in the postwar constitution—as its foremost mission and that it nurtured close ties with civil society by becoming an army for the people. Th is means that militarization and democracy do not necessarily confl ict. Militarization in postwar Japan advanced within the framework of democracy while highlighting its compatibility with this political system. Here we need to clarify what we mean by democracy. First of all, we must be careful not to confound democracy with liberalism as forms of government and 12 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society political philosophies. Although many of the democracies that exist in today’s world have developed as liberal democracies, it is also the case, as Chantal Mouff e repeatedly stresses, that historically, there has been a tension between liberalism and democracy. 18 On the one hand, liberalism was born in Europe during the Enlightenment. It represented an attempt to limit the power of the absolute monarch by law and to guarantee individual freedoms. It defended the wealth and rights of the emerging bourgeoisie and served as theoretical justifi cation for the American and French Revolutions. On the other hand, the notion of democracy fl ourished in nineteenth-century Europe, when capitalism exacerbated the economic gap between rich and poor, and the working class, as a discrete social class vis-à-vis the bourgeoisie, began exercising considerable political and social infl uence. Th e working masses were frustrated that a small elite made all political decisions concerning the management of their nation- state, and they demanded an equal right to political participation. As Paul Edward Gottfried details, however, this demand from below for equality frightened liberals, who feared that the realization of democracy could lead to the collapse of the bourgeois social order that they had established. 19 Since the growth of capital could not be achieved without laborers, however, the bourgeoisie could not completely disregard such demands. Th us universal suff rage was introduced, and liberal democracy arose as a product of compromise between the classes. Within the context of modern Japan, the state that materialized through the Meiji Restoration in the late nineteenth century was not necessarily democratic but was at least liberal. Th e Meiji government ended feudalism, liberating peasants from the land and abolishing the status system. Th e Constitution of the Empire of Japan of 1889 guaranteed the right to property and recognized the freedoms of speech and association. From the 1910s, such legal scholars as Minobe Tatsukichi insisted on the Emperor Organ Th eory, which regarded the emperor not as a divine being who could rule arbitrarily but as one governing institution within the state, which was expected to rule in collaboration with other institutions such as the Diet and cabinet. 20 Although the constitutional freedoms of speech and association and the Emperor Organ Th eory drew fi erce criticism starting in the 1930s from the military and rightists, who opposed Western- style liberalism and promoted the “national polity” or kokutai , we can at least state that liberalism was one dominant political ideology in prewar Japan. Demand for democracy, on the other hand, grew rapidly from the beginning of the twentieth century. While the Meiji government required all Japanese to pay taxes and all adult men to fulfi ll military service, it limited the right to vote Introduction 13 to propertied men, fuelling a strong sense of inequality. As Andrew Gordon shows, popular resentment against bourgeois domination surfaced in the form of recurring uprisings in cities aft er the Russo-Japanese War, which lasted longer and was much more devastating than the previous Sino-Japanese War. Aft er the First World War, socialism spread in the wake of the Russian Revolution; the labor movement expanded; and popular aspiration to political participation reached a peak. In 1925, the cabinet led by Katō Kōmei from Kenseikai introduced male universal suff rage and adopted democracy as a governing principle in order to alleviate worsening capital–labor relations (legislation establishing female suff rage was not passed by the Diet until December 1945). 21 In post-Second World War Japan, liberal democracy was elevated to a constitutional ideal. Whereas sovereignty resided in the emperor under the Meiji Constitution, the postwar Constitution clearly stipulates popular sovereignty in its preamble and fi rst article. Many of the articles in this constitution refer to fundamental human rights that the people were entitled to enjoy. Th ese rights include not only civil and political but also social rights, as we can see in Article 25, which insisted on the state’s responsibility for promoting and extending “social welfare and security” and “public health.” Th is constitution thus grounds a conviction that individual happiness and health are public matters that the state must actively maintain. Th e kind of liberal democracy realized in postwar Japan can be called mass democracy, and the form of the state that this mass democracy aimed to attain was a welfare state. Of course, this was not a unique phenomenon from the perspective of world history. Th e building of a welfare state, aimed at full employment based on the Keynesian economy and the state protection of workers’ health, was high on the agenda not only of Japan but also the United States and Western European countries. All these countries had faced the fear of a socialist revolution exacerbated by the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia, the shrinking of their economies during the Great Depression, and the destruction wreaked by the Second World War. Th ey all felt compelled to further the social integration of the working masses for the stabilization of their economies through active state intervention. In his famous study Citizenship and Social Class, T. H. Marshall has positively described the expansion of citizenship from civil and political to social rights in Britain as a process by which citizens acquired freedom and equality under capitalism, which is essentially an unequal system. 22 In this book, however, I adopt a slightly more nuanced understanding of the welfare state. Th at is, while acknowledging that the quality of life surely improved under the welfare state, I wish to indicate that the welfare state deepened the 14 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society people’s reliance on the state as well as the state’s control over their everyday lives. In an insightful essay, Yamanouchi Yasuhi emphasizes the continuity between the warfare state and the welfare state. According to Yamanouchi, the need during the Second World War to mobilize human and material resources compelled states on both sides—not only fascist states such as Germany and Japan, bus also democratic states such as the United States—to intrude on people’s private lives and take proactive measures to augment their wellbeing, and this provided a foundation for the post-Second World War welfare state.23 In the dominant understanding of Japanese history, which has been heavily infl uenced by modernization theory, we tend to view wartime Japan since the 1930s as an aberration from a normative course of democratic development, focusing on the military’s increasing domination over the government and society. But Yamanouchi’s argument permits us to recognize that there was no sharp break between wartime and postwar Japan in terms of the continued promotion of the social integration of the working masses and that the postwar welfare state is an advanced stage of the national mobilization that started in wartime. 24 Nikolas Rose and Peter Miller critique the welfare state from another perspective. For them, the welfare state or what they call “welfarism” is a mode of government that arose out of the demand of advanced liberal democracies for eff ective management of society. Th is mode of government socializes and disciplines people as responsible citizens with both rights and duties who are capable of governing themselves by internalizing social norms. 25 Giorgio Agamben goes further, pointing out mass democracy’s affi nity with totalitarianism and maintaining that “the spaces, the liberties, and the rights won by individuals in their confl icts with central powers always simultaneously prepared a tacit but increasing inscription of individuals’ lives within the state order.” 26 In sum, Miller, Rose, and Agamben all problematize the form of social integration under mass democracy that imposes particular ways of living on its citizens and paradoxically deprives them of their autonomy. I want to examine the process of militarization in postwar Japan within this context of democracy and the welfare state. Th roughout this book, I detail the SDF’s development into an army for the people and analyze the interactions between the SDF and civilians in close connection with the socio- economic conditions of postwar Japan. Th is will permit us to see how the SDF, whether consciously or unconsciously, worked as a component within the welfare state that helped to advance social integration and relieve the economic problems that postwar capitalist development engendered and aggravated, such as unemployment, marginal employment, the economic gap between classes, Introduction 15 uneven development between the city and the countryside, labor shortage, and depopulation. Th e SDF created jobs and recruited unemployed and marginally employed men in the city and farmers in the countryside. Th en it taught service members that the military in a democratic state existed for the sake of the people and that the military was responsible for defending popular welfare at any cost. Th is principle functioned as a theoretical rationale for the SDF’s support activities in local communities, particularly those in Hokkaido. Even when an anti-SDF sentiment prevailed, the SDF and the central government did not abandon this principle, but worked to strengthen it by accepting criticism and off ering solutions (oft en economic, not political), and thereby reaffi rmed the SDF’s commitment to the democratic ideal of popular sovereignty. In sum, the notion of “people’s livelihood” or minsei , an expression oft en used by the SDF and the central government, always remained fundamental to any policies related to civilians. One critical consequence of the SDF’s activities as an army for the people was the entangled link between the SDF and the livelihood of people in communities with bases. Th e SDF established itself as one of few sources of public assistance readily available in these communities, which made it extremely hard, if not impossible, for residents to imagine a life without the SDF. At the same time, however, the SDF, as a military organization, naturally brought violence, including military maneuvers that could endanger civilian residents’ businesses, living environment, and health. To keep enjoying the perks of hosting bases, residents had to accept such violence as part of their everyday life and fi nd ways to coexist with it. Th at is, during the four decades that this book covers, people in communities with bases disciplined themselves and learnt to live as loyal clients of military assistance who viewed the presence of the SDF as an unalterable reality. Some may associate militarization with imposition from above, but this book establishes that, in postwar Japan, militarization progressed in tandem with democracy and the welfare state by stimulating the people’s aspiration to a better life, and that its success must be explained in large part by voluntary and spontaneous support from below.

Organization of the book

Th is book comprises fi ve chapters, organized roughly chronologically. Chapter 1 discusses the SDF’s recruitment practices in relation to the nation’s economy during the era of high- speed growth. It demonstrates how the SDF functioned 16 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society to absorb the surplus population—a long-standing problem for Japanese capitalism—by off ering job opportunities to unemployed and marginally employed men in cities as well as farmers in the countryside, thereby establishing a fi rm position for the SDF in civil society as an institution of social welfare. Chapter 2 examines the SDF’s role as a welfare institution from the perspective of service members’ activities in rural communities. In this chapter, we pay a signifi cant amount of attention to Hokkaido, where, due to its proximity to the Soviet Union, the government concentrated military personnel and facilities during the Cold War. To become “an army for the people,” the SDF directed the labor of service members to various activities aimed at helping civilians, including civil engineering and disaster relief. By examining these activities in relation to the island’s economic conditions, I argue that the SDF became an important provider of public assistance for fi nancially strained rural communities. Chapter 3 charts two important court cases concerning the SDF’s activities in Hokkaido during the 1960s and 1970s, when a peace movement was growing in Japan and elsewhere. Although it built close ties with civil society, the SDF was, aft er all, a military organization. Civilians in communities with bases had to endure various predicaments caused by maneuvers and the construction of bases. By analyzing the records of anti-SDF court cases in the towns of Eniwa and Naganuma in Hokkaido, I demonstrate how protesters defi ned and contested the meaning of their own welfare and peace, neither of which was necessarily compatible with the SDF’s presence. Chapter 4 addresses the state’s eff ort to contain anti-SDF protest. Facing intensifying peace and anti-base movements nationwide, in 1962 the state founded the Defense Facilities Administration Agency (DFAA), whose mission was to mediate confl icts between military organizations (i.e., the SDF and US troops stationed in Japan) and local communities. Th is chapter details how the DFAA sought to co- opt protest in Hokkaido and transform critics of the SDF into benefi ciaries of its welfare through generous subsidies and compensation for communities with bases, and whether this approach to the base problem truly contributed to improving residents’ lives. Finally, Chapter 5 deals with the campaign on “the northern threat” ( hoppō kyōi), a widespread media and political campaign to promote the idea of Japan’s, and particularly Hokkaido’s, vulnerability to attack by the Soviet Union. Th e chapter analyzes how this fear-mongering campaign consolidated a ground upon which to justify the heavy use of Hokkaido communities for military purposes in the name of national security, and how communities that had been Introduction 17 heavily reliant upon the SDF for their welfare were consequently susceptible to the state’s project to advance the island’s militarization.

Note on the spelling of the names of Japanese cities and prefectures

Macrons are not used in the names of major cities and prefectures that are familiar to readers in English (Tokyo, not Tōkyō; Osaka, not Ōsaka; and Kyoto, not Kyōto) or that frequently appear in this book (Hokkaido, not Hokkaidō; and Kyushu, not Kyūshū). 18 1

A Promised Opportunity: Th e Self-Defense Forces in the Labor Market

When rearmament began in 1950, the Japanese economy had not yet recovered from the damage wrought by the Second World War. Th ere was high unemployment in the cities, while the countryside faced a sudden increase in population due to repatriation from the former colonies in Asia. Although the Japanese economy entered an era of high- speed economic growth from the mid- 1950s, not all beneﬁ ted from it equally. Th is growth exacerbated uneven development between the city and countryside. Unemployment and marginal employment remained serious problems. Under these economic conditions, the SDF served to absorb what Marxist economists call a relative surplus population—the population that faces unemployment or marginal employment in time of recession or rationalization and the population that is looking to leave agriculture to become wage laborers in the city. Th e SDF targeted these people and recruited them into military service, thereby establishing a crucial position for the SDF within the Japanese economy. In other words, the SDF worked as a welfare institution, providing employment opportunities to those who did not beneﬁ t from high- speed economic growth. One aim of this book is to demonstrate that militarization—that is, civil society’s dependence on the military for the maintenance of its welfare—is a structural problem within the postwar Japanese political economy. Th is chapter addresses one key aspect of that dependence. First, I examine the SDF’s recruitment practices in the 1950s and explain the force’s appeal to people experiencing unstable economic conditions amid rapid urbanization and industrialization. Th en, I discuss recruitment in the 1960s and 1970s. As high- speed economic growth accelerated, the SDF became less popular as an employer. In response, it developed a network with local governments and civilian supporters to identify those prospective recruits who would be most likely to accept jobs with it. I argue that in this era, the SDF increasingly assumed the role of disciplining and socializing those who

19 20 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society might pose an economic and moral threat to communities and families—a role within what Jacques Donzelot has called the tutelary complex. Lastly, I elaborate upon the meaning of “volunteering” for the military and reveal how, in a capitalist society, people’s seemingly autonomous decision to enlist is in fact dictated by socio- economic conditions.

Absorbing surplus population

Th e Defense Agency kept a detailed record of people applying to join the SDF (as well as the NPR and NSF), including their age, former occupations, and prefecture of origin, throughout the fi rst ten years of its history (1950–1959). 1 Examination of this record reveals that the SDF’s recruitment was heavily infl uenced by contemporary economic trends. Th is can be seen in particular in the recruitment of second- class privates, seamen, and airmen, since these were the ranks with the largest number of open positions, to which any male Japanese national between the ages of eighteen and twenty-fi ve could apply.2 Service members in these ranks were hired for a fi xed term (two years for the Ground SDF and three years for the Maritime and Air SDF). When the economy was expanding, the SDF had diffi culty recruiting service members, whereas when the economy fell into recession, applications rose. Although the records end in 1959, and the Defense Agency has not published similar records since then, the existing records clearly suggest a general trend of recruitment during high-speed economic growth. Th e correlation between the SDF’s recruitment and the nation’s economy can be observed from the earliest recruitment eff orts. As explained in the Introduction, as the Cold War intensifi ed in East Asia, SCAP reconsidered its policy on unarmed peace in occupied Japan. Th e Korean War broke out in June 1950, and US forces stationed in Japan were mobilized. In the name of domestic security enhancement, SCAP ordered the establishment of the NPR in July. SCAP entrusted public relations for the NPR to the National Police. 3 It announced the recruitment of male volunteers on August 9, and began to accept applications on August 13. Th e quota was 75,000. Enough people applied on just the fi rst day of recruitment to meet almost half of the quota, and in just the fi rst month about 380,000 people applied for 75,000 positions. 4 Of the applicants, 35.6 percent were farmers, 13.5 percent were unemployed, and 13.1 percent were industrial workers. 5 Assessments, which included academic and physical examinations and an interview, were held on August 17 in 183 locations throughout Japan. Th ose who did well in the examinations were admitted, as the A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 21 police conducted background checks on them; by September, all procedures had been completed. Despite this tight schedule, the fi rst recruitment went as planned. 6 Th is success is understandable when we consider the economic condition in which the Japanese people found themselves at that time. In the immediate postwar period, the Japanese economy had been devastated and was suff ering severe infl ation. Since the United States hoped to transform Japan into a bulwark against communism in Cold War Asia, the revival of the Japanese economy became a major concern for SCAP. In December 1948, the US government sent Joseph Dodge, the president of Detroit Bank, to Japan as a fi nancial advisor to SCAP. He had previously implemented fi nancial reforms in occupied West Germany. Th e United States expected Dodge to help end Japan’s persistent infl ation and stabilize the economy. Dodge’s basic belief was that to gain international competitiveness, Japan had to accumulate capital through its own eff orts without relying on foreign, especially US, aid. Under his guidance, SCAP enforced an austere budget and suspended governmental loans and subsidies. As Dodge expected, these policies did bring an end to infl ation, but the Japanese economy remained stuck in a severe recession. Because of the suspension of governmental loans and subsidies, companies had to undergo rationalization. As a result, a number of small- and medium-sized companies were forced into bankruptcy, and many workers lost their jobs. 7 Many of those who lost their jobs in the cities during the Dodge recession returned to their hometowns. For this reason, the number of people engaged in agriculture increased sharply immediately aft er the Dodge plan was enforced. Th at number grew to 19,150,000 in August 1949, an increase of about 12 percent over the previous year. We also have to remember that, in the previous four years, the population in rural villages had already swelled drastically owing to returnees from the former colonies. Th e 1951 Labor Year Book, published by the Ōhara Institute for Social Research, warned that this excess population in the countryside was putting pressure on farming families’ household economies and degrading their quality of life. 8 Th e NPR’s fi rst recruitment was launched in these circumstances. For unemployed men in the city and farmers in the countryside, the founding of an armed force presented an unexpected and welcome opportunity. Th e NPR off ered a monthly salary of 5,000 yen (eventually reduced to 4,500 yen) and a retirement allowance of 60,000 yen. Th is salary was quite generous given the fact that, at that time, a monthly salary of 3,000 yen was considered high among local government employees. 9 In his memoir, Yoshida Shigeru, the then 22 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society prime minister, mentioned that because the NPR was unfamiliar to the Japanese people, he believed that a good salary would be crucial to attracting highly qualifi ed men. 10 In a short memoir published in the journal Kaizō in 1952, Taura Itaru, an inaugural member of the NPR, recalls that many were drawn to it not so much by the opportunity to pursue their own ideals or beliefs as by the large retirement allowance. 11 Another early enlistee, Hiruma Hiroshi, wrote that he was running a small store selling newspapers and candies in a town in Chiba prefecture, but was not making a profi t, when he decided he would have to change his job if he were to be a success before the age of thirty. Th is caused him to apply to the NPR together with his older brother in 1951. 12 Th e nation’s economy clearly continued to infl uence the SDF’s later recruitments. While Japan was in a recession during 1949 and early 1950, the outbreak of the Korean War triggered an armaments boom and prepared a path to economic recovery. Th e period between 1954 and 1957 witnessed the fi rst economic boom of the postwar era, called Jinmu keiki , which became the prelude to high-speed economic growth that would last until the early 1970s. Th e 1956 Economic White Paper issued the famous statement, “no longer the ‘postwar’ period” ( mohaya “sengo” dewa nai ), citing various indices by which the economy had exceeded the prewar era’s highest level of production. Th e increase in employment opportunities enabled many young men to fi nd jobs more easily in the civilian sector than had been possible in the immediate postwar period. Refl ecting this economic trend, the SDF began to lose its popularity as a job opportunity for young men. From the mid-1950s, the SDF oft en had diffi culty attracting enough applicants. In each recruitment term, the quota was set at about fi ve times the number of projected vacancies. Ideally, the SDF wanted to select the most talented applicants from a large pool through written and physical examinations. In the fourth recruitment term of 1954, they had to accept applications up until the day of the exam to meet their quota. 13 In the fi rst recruitment term of 1957, the SDF were only able to recruit 16.2 percent of the targeted number of applicants within fi ve days of the application deadline. 14 In the third recruitment term of the same year, one- third of the applicants applied aft er the deadline had passed, and 10 percent of applicants applied on the day of the exam. 15 SDF staff in charge of recruitment must have been desperate to meet their quota and rushed to convince potential recruits to apply at the last moment. One problem with applicants recruited in this way was their lack of enthusiasm. Th e percentage of applicants who did not show up for the written exam exceeded 30 percent in 1956, and that remained the case in most recruitment terms that followed (see Table 1.1). Th is suggests that a large number of people, prompted Table 1.1 Th e number of people who applied to the SDF, took the exams, received off ers, and enlisted

23 (continued ) 24 Table 1.1 (continued)

Year (recruitment Available Target number Applicants Applicants Percent of Applicants Applicants Percent of term) positions of applicants who took the exam who received who enlisted applicants who exams no-shows off ers received off ers but did not enlist 1958 (1st) 12,160 61,000 72,583 34,466 52.5 16,385 13,073 20.2 1958 (2nd) 8,800 44,000 48,565 31,550 35.0 11,564 8,419 27.2 1958 (3rd) 6,170 30,500 41,471 28,854 30.4 8,262 6,096 26.2 1958 (4th) 6,500 47,500 56,630 41,266 27.1 9,271 6,520 29.7 1959 (1st) 6,250 43,750 42,770 26,004 39.2 7,096 5,485 22.7 1959 (2nd) 3,050 23,350 26,912 18,428 31.5 ? ? ? 1959 (3rd) 6,900 ? 30,035 18,421 38.7 8,639 6,296 27.1 1959 (4th) 7,100 32,750 32,568 20,517 37.0 ? 6,967 ? Source : Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūnenshi, jō (Tokyo: Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, 1961); Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūnenshi, chū (Tokyo: Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, 1961); Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūnenshi, ge (Tokyo: Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, 1961). A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 25 by recruiters, half-heartedly fi lled out their applications and later decided not to take the exam. Similarly, a number of those who had been off ered positions at the SDF did not enlist. As Table 1.1 shows, from 1955, the percentage of those who chose not to enlist always surpassed 20 percent (and sometimes even 30 percent). In these unfavorable circumstances for the SDF, the Defense Agency was most worried about prospective candidates’ academic ability, or more precisely, their literacy. Because of the poor performance of applicants, the Defense Agency had to lower the minimum passing score on its written exams to 3 points (in the fi rst recruitment term of 1957) and 5 points (in the second and third terms of the same year) out of a possible 30 points. 16 Th e result was that some applicants thus admitted were illiterate and could not read basic textbooks satisfactorily. Preoccupied with the decline in the quality of its members, the Defense Agency cautioned its recruiters against forcible recruitment and made it clear to the public that the SDF would not admit illiterate men. 17 Despite its unpopularity, however, the SDF continued to attract a signifi cant number of applicants. While the NPR started with 75,000 personnel, the scale of the new military organization grew quickly. When Japan regained sovereignty from the United States in 1952, the NPR was reorganized into the NSF. Th e quota for service members was set at 110,000. In March 1954, the Japanese government signed the US and Japan Mutual Defense Assistance Agreement. Driven by the Cold War need to keep Japan as a loyal ally in Asia, the United States off ered fi nancial and military support to Japan while encouraging it to take more responsibility for its own defense. In the same year, the Defense Agency was founded, and the NSF developed into the SDF. Th e quota for the Ground SDF was set at 130,000; that for the Maritime SDF at 15,808; and that for the Air SDF at 6,287. By 1958, the Defense Agency had increased its quotas for the three forces to 170,000, 25,441, and 26,625 respectively. 18 Since second- class privates, seamen, and airmen were hired on a contract basis, the SDF had to recruit new members constantly. Although with diffi culty, the SDF managed to secure suffi cient numbers of young men to keep up with this rapid growth and turnover. Table 1.2 shows that the farming community continued to be as a major source of applicants during the 1950s. Another major source, unemployed men, requires some explanation. In 1950 and 1951, unemployed men accounted for 13.5 percent and 23.7 percent of applicants respectively. But for the years between 1953 and 1956, the category of “unemployed” disappeared, while the percentage listed as “other” increased sharply. In 1957, the category of “unemployed” was Table 1.2 Former occupations of applicants (%) 26 Year (recruitment Agriculture Unemployed Manufacturing Commerce Student Other term) and forestry 1950 35.6 13.5 11.9 5.4 0.8 14.6 1951 31.4 23.7 11.5 4.4 1.2 10.1 1952 (1st) No data available 1952 (2nd) 1953 33.2 10.2 6.5 29.2 1954 (1st) 30.8 10.5 7.1 29.8 1954 (2nd) 25.5 11.1 8.4 31.0 1955 (1st) 25.2 10.9 8.1 33.9 1955 (2nd) 25.5 Th is category not available 9.4 7.5 Th is category not available 34.8 1956 (1st) 24.1 10.2 8.4 38.0 1956 (2nd) 27.5 9.5 8.5 33.8 1956 (3rd) 28.9 9.0 7.6 35.0 1956 (4th) 20.7 8.4 10.2 49.0 1957 (1st) 24.8 25.2 11.0 9.2 3.1 8.8 1957 (2nd) 25.6 22.4 9.6 8.0 10.0 10.1 1957 (3rd) 18.2 18.3 8.8 6.6 28.4 8.3 1958 (1st) 24.6 29.9 10.1 8.5 2.1 9.7 1958 (2nd) 19.9 37.0 9.4 8.8 2.9 8.8 1958 (3rd) 21.2 33.5 9.1 7.5 5.8 9.0 1958 (4th) 11.9 21.9 6.4 5.4 39.9 5.8 Source : Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūnenshi, jō (Tokyo: Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, 1961); Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūnenshi, chū (Tokyo: Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, 1961); Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūnenshi, ge (Tokyo: Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, 1961). A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 27 re- established, and the percentage listed as “other” decreased. I suspect that the Defense Agency, not wanting to promote the idea that the SDF was recruiting a number of unemployed men, lumped them into the category of “other” during these years. Since unemployed men steadily constituted more than 20 percent of applicants before and aft er these years, it is possible to conclude that they accounted for a similar percentage between 1953 and 1956. To understand why farmers and unemployed men applied to the SDF at a time when one could supposedly fi nd employment in the civilian sector more easily than before, we have to consider how the labor market developed in the history of the modern Japanese economy and what places these men occupied in this labor market. First, it is important to remember that a capitalist economy in a modern nation-state inevitably generates uneven development between the city and the countryside. Th e nation-state integrates regions that once maintained self- suffi cient economies into a single market and attempts to mobilize all natural and human resources for the sake of the national economy. Not all regions, however, benefi t equally from this development. As industries mature and factories are built in certain areas, people begin to migrate, which leads to the growth of modern cities and then broader metropolitan areas. Th e countryside suff ers from a continuous population drain. Th e central government oft en sees the countryside as a reservoir of young, cheap, and docile labor that will eventually move to the city. Th erefore, the countryside is left behind in the development of infrastructure. Th e diff erence between the quality of life in the city and that in the countryside deepens with the acceleration of industrialization and urbanization. Th is in turn further stimulates people’s desire to move to the city. As long as capitalism works with the nation- state as its basic unit, uneven development between the city and the countryside will always occur (though its intensity may vary). As Harry Harootunian has pointed out, “permanent unevenness and unequal development” are required conditions for “continuing expansion of capital industries.” 19 In Japan’s case, migration to the city was slow from the early and mid Meiji era until the early twentieth century. Th e economy still relied heavily on traditional sectors, such as agriculture and the textile industry. Th e First World War, however, contributed greatly to the growth of modern industries. Japan enjoyed a position as supplier of weapons to its allies and could dominate the Asian market while its allies were preoccupied with the war in Europe. Heavy and fi nancial industries prospered in the city, and the large- scale migration of laborers began. In the inter-war years, the population of cities increased markedly, and such metropolitan areas as Tokyo/Yokohama and Osaka/Kobe developed. 20 28 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

While the devastation of the major cities during the Pacifi c War and food shortages in the immediate postwar years temporarily halted migration to the city, it soon resumed with the launch of high-speed economic growth. More precisely, migration this time proceeded on a much greater and faster scale than ever before. Between 1950 and 1960, the number of those engaged in agriculture and forestry declined sharply, by 2,840,000 people, while those in manufacturing increased from 6 million to more than 9 million, and those in service industries from 3 million to 5.5 million. 21 Th e fl ow of people to the city accelerated even more in the next decade; about 5 million more would leave agriculture and forestry. 22 Japan’s economic growth was precisely a process by which the agrarian population was removed from their hometowns for the sake of urban industrialization. Not all of these migrants, however, could obtain the jobs they sought in the city. As Japanese economists have emphasized, a large pool of a surplus population was a salient feature of the Japanese economy in the prewar and early postwar periods. Th e pace at which urban industrialization took place did not match the pace at which people left primary industries in the countryside to become wage laborers in cities. Because of this surplus population, wages remained low, and this allowed rapid capital accumulation for economic growth. It was in the 1960s that the excess labor supply fi nally turned into a shortage, a moment that the economist Minami Ryōshin succinctly called the Japanese economy’s “turning point.” 23 Let us look at some data collected by the Public Employment Security Offi ces on available jobs per job seeker. In 1955, that ratio was only 0.22, indicating that there were far more job seekers than job openings. Th e ratio grew steadily: to 0.58 in 1960, 0.70 in 1963, and 0.81 in 1966. In 1967, it fi nally reached 1.05, and from then on the labor market remained a “seller’s market.” 24 In sum, during the 1950s and the fi rst half of the 1960s, people’s desire to move to the city was much greater than the city’s capacity to accommodate them (and, of course, this is why industries could fi nd abundant labor at a relatively cheap rate). In the cities, there were quite a number of unemployed men and marginally employed men who feared layoff s. Th is explains the SDF’s popularity among unemployed men. When there were not many job opportunities in the civilian sector, the promise of a stable income and the relative ease of entry held great appeal. If unemployed men served as the main pool of applicants to the SDF in the cities, then farmers were their counterparts in the countryside. While rapid industrialization and urbanization from the 1950s surely galvanized people to move to the cities, rural villages themselves also had what scholars of A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 29 migration oft en call “push factors.” By the late 1950s, the slow growth and low competitiveness of agriculture had become a concern for policy-makers. In 1957, the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry published its fi rst White Paper, identifying key problems in Japan’s agricultural sector. According to this White Paper, the income gap between urban and rural households was growing wider and wider as the Japanese economy recovered from wartime damage and entered a phase of growth. Internationally, Japan’s agricultural products could no longer compete with cheap foreign products. Because of the increase in part- time farmers, productivity was dropping precipitously too. Th ese factors encouraged people to abandon agriculture, which in turn exacerbated these factors. 25 Th roughout the period of high-speed economic growth, agriculture was trapped in this vicious cycle. It is easy to imagine that, as the population of agricultural communities was absorbed by industrialized cities, some looked to the SDF as a means of escaping such unstable economic conditions. Th e high number of farmers applying to join the SDF is key to understanding the geographical variance among applicants. Table 1.3 shows the number of applicants from the seven Kyushu prefectures and the percentage they represented of total applicants from all forty- six prefectures (not including Okinawa, which was still under US occupation until 1972). Th is shows that the Kyushu prefectures provided far more applicants than the prefectures in other regions: an average of 29.7 percent of total applicants during the 1950s. Th is can be explained by the fact that the Kyushu prefectures were largely agrarian. According to the 1955 national census, those engaged in agriculture accounted for 37.9 percent of total workers nationally, while in all the Kyushu prefectures except Fukuoka, the rate was higher than this national average, ranging from 39.5 percent in Nagasaki to 64.6 percent in Kagoshima. But this fact alone does not explain why so many men from Kyushu applied to join the SDF, since there were many other rural prefectures with large agrarian populations. For example, the six prefectures of the Tōhoku region also had high percentages of workers engaged in agriculture: from 49.5 percent in Miyagi to 58.7 percent in Iwate. 26 What distinguished the Kyushu prefectures from other rural prefectures was that their high population density and a lack of arable land had led to a large number of small family farms. Likely due to the proximity to Japan’s former colonies in Asia, the population of the Kyushu prefectures had increased by 19 percent between 1945 and 1950—an increase signifi cantly higher than that in the Tōhoku prefectures (9.6 percent). 27 Land reform during the occupation era resulted in a number of independent farmers and the equalization of assets and income, but divided arable land into small parcels, thereby consolidating Table 1.3 Number of applicants from the seven Kyushu prefectures and percentage of total applicants 30

Year (recruitment Fukuoka Saga Nagasaki Ōita Kumamoto Miyazaki Kagoshima Total Percentage of total term) applicants 1950 17,008 7,255 8,564 12,308 13,353 9,222 15,992 83,702 21.9 1951 3,473 1,043 1,539 1,738 3,259 1,384 2,406 14,842 27.4 1952 (1st) 5,622 2,088 1,793 2,461 5,669 2,637 4,018 24,288 26.8 1952 (2nd) 7,295 2,544 2,758 2,153 5,539 3,840 5,737 29,866 27.5 1953 4,464 1,485 1,434 1,444 2,586 1,578 2,764 15,755 27.5 1954 (1st) 5,438 2,028 2,537 1,626 3,612 2,872 4,753 22,866 32.0 1954 (2nd) 6,636 2,205 3,649 1,792 3,446 3,007 4,723 25,458 29.7 1955 (1st) 10,377 3,287 5,411 3,881 6,999 4,551 7,548 42,054 33.1 1955 (2nd) 5,783 2,012 3,211 2,410 3,847 2,658 5,311 25,232 33.6 1956 (1st) 4,500 1,430 2,433 1,640 3,934 2,395 4,349 20,681 31.5 1956 (2nd) 4,061 1,559 2,556 2,013 1,197 1,128 1,906 14,420 31.4 1956 (3rd) 2,290 1,119 1,663 1,458 2,766 1,462 2,490 13,248 34.1 1956 (4th) 2,976 1,816 1,929 1,577 4,151 1,692 3,064 17,205 34.0 1957 (1st) 3,142 1,372 2,010 1,495 3,804 1,662 3,035 16,520 32.2 1957 (2nd) 3,165 1,198 1,395 1,451 3,046 1,844 3,003 15,102 33.2 1957 (3rd) 2,818 1,250 1,186 1,450 3,094 1,639 2,859 14,296 29.6 1958 (1st) 10,509 1,207 1,176 1,206 2,838 1,340 2,041 20,317 28.0 1958 (2nd) 3,147 1,012 1,250 1,128 2,424 1,272 2,307 12,540 25.8 1958 (3rd) 2,219 800 1,190 1,111 2,178 1,505 2,020 11,023 26.6 1958 (4th) 3,506 1,254 1,601 1,485 3,066 1,750 3,015 15,677 27.7 Source : Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūnenshi, jō (Tokyo: Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, 1961); Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūnenshi, chū (Tokyo: Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, 1961); Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūnenshi, ge (Tokyo: Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, 1961). A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 31 small- farm ownership. In 1955, 37.9 percent of farming families in Kyushu owned land of only 1.2 acres or less, while in Tōhoku, only 20.9 percent fell into this category. 28 Th e conditions experienced by Kyushu farmers—cultivating a small parcel of land together with many family members—undoubtedly pushed many people to leave the region, some of whom looked to the SDF. In terms of geographical variance, we must not forget about miners from Kyushu. Unfortunately, the SDF almost always recorded applicants’ former occupations separately from their home prefectures, but on a few occasions they published statistics on applicants’ former occupations by region. Th ese records show that more than half of the miners who applied to the SDF came from Kyushu: 299 out of 503 in the ﬁ rst recruitment of 1957, and 312 out of 503 in the second recruitment of the same year. Although miners constituted a fairly small percentage of total applicants (usually 1–3 percent), we should not overlook this geographical variance when we consider Kyushu’s position within the national economy. Fukuoka prefecture in Kyushu was home to a number of coal mines in Chikuhō and Miike, developed by such zaibatsu as Mitsui, Mitsubishi, and Sumitomo. As already noted, Fukuoka was the only Kyushu prefecture where the percentage of farmers to the total number of workers was smaller than the national average. Th e economy of this highly industrialized prefecture was sustained by large- scale coal mining. In 1955, 137,884 miners worked in this prefecture—one- quarter of all miners in the nation. 29 No other prefectures saw such a high concentration of miners, apart from Hokkaido. In the immediate postwar years, the coal industry prospered and was key to economic recovery, but the demand for coal decreased from the 1950s as industries increasingly relied on petroleum. Th e Japanese government promoted this transition and the rationalization of the coal industry as part of national policy. In 1953, coal accounted for 52.8 percent of Japan’s primary energy supply, but that fell to 41.5 percent by 1960 and 27.3 percent by 1965. 30 One result of this fall was the famous dispute in Mitsui’s Miike coal mine—one of the largest labor disputes in postwar Japan—that began in December 1959. Although the union pursued the dispute for almost a year, in the end it lost and could not stop the wave of rationalization. Th e number of miners working in Fukuoka declined from 137,884 to 119,459 between 1955 and 1960. In the next ﬁ ve years, this number dropped even more sharply to 47,011. 31 Just like agriculture, mining in this period was losing its competitiveness. Many of those who lost jobs in the mines were to be absorbed into industries in the cities, and the SDF provided employment opportunities for some of the rest. 32 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

In this way, the SDF’s recruitment policy in the 1950s operated by absorbing the surplus population that the Japanese economy generated, such as unemployed men, farmers, and men from Kyushu. In other words, from the outset, the SDF functioned as a welfare institution that created employment when rapid structural changes in the economy left many people in insecure conditions.

Recruitment since the 1960s: old and new trends

Th e records of recruitment that I have been examining end in 1959. Th e Defense Agency has not published comparable records since that time, which makes it hard to determine exactly who served as the main pool of applicants for the SDF in the following decades. By combining various types of information, however, we begin to see how the SDF further consolidated its position as an institution of social welfare by adjusting to the changing nature of the labor market. In the 1960s, urbanization and industrialization accelerated, stimulating a further exodus of people to cities and leading to the further dismantling of agrarian villages. Th erefore, Kyushu remained a main source of applicants to the SDF. Autobiographies of service members demonstrate this. Konishi Makoto, who would become a strong critic of the SDF and be arrested and discharged from the Air SDF because of his anti-war activities prior to the 1970 renewal of the US– Japan Security Treaty, was born in 1949, the fourth son in a poor family in Miyazaki prefecture. He was admitted to the Air SDF in 1964 as an SDF Youth Cadet (I will discuss this system in Chapter 2 ). In his autobiography, he confesses that he enlisted to escape poverty. His parents had a small parcel of land, too small to support the entire family of six children. All his older brothers and sisters left home to work in cities immediately aft er graduating from junior high school. His family was so poor that his parents could not pay for a school- assisted lunch, so he took a lunch box containing only rice. He walked the fi ve miles to his school because he could not pay for the train. His father, who had worked for Kawasaki Air Company but lost his job at the end of the Second World War, oft en left home to fi nd work in the off -season, a common practice for men in poor farming communities (dekasegi ). To support his family, Konishi delivered newspapers before school and sometimes worked as a day laborer with his father. Since childhood, he had been aware of the discrimination that people faced due to poverty, and the anger that he felt at this discrimination led him to apply to join the SDF. 32 Konishi was by no means unique. Sudō Junji (a leading private as of 1975) was from a farming family in Oita prefecture. As a child watching his parents A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 33 working hard in the fi eld, he was determined to take over the family business, and advanced to an agricultural high school to obtain the necessary technical knowledge. Just before graduation, however, he considered the “trend of society” ( yononaka no ugoki), and began to have doubts about the growth potential of agriculture. He eventually joined the SDF in 1973. 33 Hirano Yūichi (a leading private as of 1975) was the second son in a farming family in Fukuoka prefecture. Because his older brother inherited the family farm, he had to fi nd a job by himself and chose the SDF. 34 Kawajiri Takashi (a fi rst- class private as of 1976), the third son in a farming family in Kagoshima prefecture, stated that he had admired the SDF since childhood. Both his older brothers had joined the SDF, and this inspired him and his younger brother to enlist. 35 Interestingly, service members from Kyushu oft en mention how the military was held in high esteem in the region. According to Konishi, when young men from Kyushu enlisted in the SDF, their families oft en celebrated by making sekihan , a special dish of rice cooked with azuki beans, and their neighbors joined in this celebration. Th ere were families called “SDF families” ( jieitai ikka ) because multiple male family members enlisted—not an unusual phenomenon in Kyushu. Konishi remembers that when he was admitted to the SDF, his mother, who had sung military songs for him and told him a number of heroic stories about Japanese soldiers in his childhood, immediately supported his decision. Although his father, a long-time supporter of the Socialist Party, could not understand his intention, Konishi admits that his father was rather an unusual fi gure in his town. Konishi writes that he was heavily infl uenced by “the power of the Kyushu region” (Kyushu to iu chihō ga motsu chikara )—the power to inspire reverence for soldiers. 36 Th ese service members’ stories fi t the nationwide image of Kyushu men as hyper- masculine and militant, an image that stems largely from the fact that men from Satsuma (and other southern domains) were the driving force in the Meiji Restoration, and then occupied important positions within the Imperial Army and Navy in prewar and wartime Japan. It appears that even aft er the war, the people of Kyushu internalized this military culture to the extent that they were convinced that this prompted Kyushu men to enlist. At the same time, however, we must not forget that their stories also indicate how ideology works to disguise material conditions. Th e Kyushu prefectures had faced the serious problem of surplus population since the immediate postwar period, which resulted in a deteriorating quality of life, and a number of men sought to make a living by becoming service members. Considered in this context, we can argue that Kyushu’s military culture displaced the economic plight of the region with 34 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society reverence for the military as a motivation for enlisting. It thereby enabled those who chose to enlist to rationalize that act—an act compelled by socio- economic conditions over which they had little control—as an autonomous decision. In addition to men from Kyushu, high- school students emerged as an important pool of applicants. Although the high-school advancement rate was still about only 50 percent in the late 1950s, 37 it was steadily rising. As we see in Table 1.2, in the third recruitment term of 1957 and the fourth recruitment term of 1958, students accounted for 28.4 percent and 39.9 percent of applicants respectively. In these terms, applicants took the recruitment examinations in January and February, and those admitted began enlisting in March. Th is timeline corresponded with high-scho ol students’ job-search process and graduation (the Japanese academic year ends in March), and it appears that some high- school students began to view the SDF as one of their options. Th roughout the 1960s and 1970s, the high- school advancement rate rose rapidly: to 57.7 percent in 1960 and 70.7 percent in 1965, reaching 90 percent in 1974.38 Given this fact, we can assume that the percentage of high-school graduates among applicants to the SDF also continued to grow, and several sources support this assumption. For example, the memoirs of SDF recruiters in Asahikawa and surrounding areas in Hokkaido tell us how much emphasis they placed on high- school students during these decades. Th ey visited local high schools and held briefi ng sessions for interested students. In 1970, they established within the Provisional Liaison Offi ce a special team dedicated to the recruitment of high- school students. 39 Th e Teachers’ Union in Hokkaido also reported on the SDF’s interest in recruiting high- school students. According to its report, SDF recruiters frequented streets near high schools, where they attempted to recruit students on their way home. In particular, they targeted students at evening high schools and those in economically disadvantaged communities that had depended on coal mines, probably because these students were less likely to go to college. Th e SDF also allowed high- school athletic teams to use gyms and other sport facilities on bases, in an attempt to improve its image among students.40 Many of these students, however, did not see the SDF as their fi rst choice but as a safe option or the employer of last resort in case they did not receive any job off ers by the end of the school year. Th is is confi rmed by the high number of those who did not show up for the written exam as well as those who did not enlist aft er receiving an off er from the SDF. Even aft er sending their application to the SDF, applicants kept looking for other jobs and, if they found a better job in the civilian sector, they did not take the exam or, having taken and passed the exam, did not enlist. One recruiter in Hokkaido expressed his anxiety at this A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 35 practice. Based on the number of recruits targeted by the end of March and the low percentage who actually enlisted, he said, he never felt confi dent about those high- school students who had committed to taking the exam. 41 But this, on the other hand, means that many of those high- school graduates who did join the SDF did not have another option. If the SDF had not off ered them jobs, they might have graduated into unemployment. In this sense, we may argue that there was a thin line between these students and unemployed men, and that by identifying high-school students as a new pool of applicants, the SDF extended its role as a welfare institution.

Building a network

While the SDF began targeting high- school students from the late 1950s, it experienced increasing diffi culty attracting qualifi ed applicants in the 1960s. High- speed economic growth and accelerating industrialization allowed migrants from the countryside to fi nd employment in the cities more easily than in the previous decade. As pointed out in the previous section, the labor market became a seller’s market in the 1960s. Moreover, a massive protest against the US–Japan Security Treaty took place in 1960, generating a variety of peace movements (this issue will be discussed extensively in Chapter 3 ). Yet, as the Cold War continued, and as Japan’s military alliance with the United States was further strengthened through the renewal of the Security Treaty, the Japanese government scaled up the SDF. By 1964, the quotas for service members at the Ground, Maritime, and Air SDFs had increased to 171,500, 35,562, and 39,967 respectively. 42 While the Maritime and Air SDF managed to fi ll 93.5 percent and 94.1 percent of these quotas in 1964, the Ground SDF, by far the largest organization within the SDF, could fi ll only 84 percent of its quota. Th e 1965 SDF Yearbook warned that this rate was too low and attributed the recruitment diffi culties to Article 9, the people’s indiff erence to national defense, and the economic boom.43 To improve the situation, the SDF resorted to so- called “street recruitment” or gaitō boshū , in which recruiters, instead of simply waiting for applications, went into the street and actively recruited men who were wandering around train terminals and entertainment districts. Th is method of recruitment received media attention due to recruiters’ frequently forcible manner in soliciting applicants. In February 1962, the police arrested an SDF sergeant at Ueno Station in Tokyo. Th is station functioned as the terminal for long-distance trains arriving from the northern part of Japan. Many day-labor recruiters came here to fi nd 36 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society job- seekers. Th is SDF sergeant was recruiting homeless men and runaways, but was stopped by the police because he lacked permission to work inside the station. Th e sergeant confessed that he had already recruited more than a thousand men in this manner. 44 Th e issue of “street recruitment” quickly made its way to the Diet. In February 1962, just aft er the incident above, a Socialist Party member of the Diet, Awaya Yūzō, asked the head of the Personnel Bureau of the Defense Agency, Ono Hiroshi, what exactly SDF recruiters did during “street recruitment.” Ono acknowledged that it was common for SDF recruiters to frequent crowded areas and to recruit young men alongside day-labor recruiters. When he was asked why SDF recruiters were dressed in street clothes instead of uniforms, Ono maintained that wearing street clothes made it easier for recruiters to start conversations with strangers, since SDF uniforms might give them a rigid and pompous look. He also admitted that in some cases recruiters immediately put those who showed interest in the SDF onto a truck and sent them to a recruitment offi ce. Although Ono did not explain in detail, we can speculate that recruiters, afraid that these men might change their minds, wanted them to complete the necessary paperwork as quickly as possible. 45 Th e novelist Asada Jirō, who himself enlisted in the Ground SDF in the 1970s, has written a number of stories depicting service members’ experiences around 1970. 46 “Street recruitment” is oft en mentioned in his stories as one of the main recruitment methods. Recruiters approach young men in such places as Ueno Station and Kabuki-chō, a large entertainment district in Shinjuku, Tokyo. Th e targeted men are jobless, hungry, or in debt. Th ey are all struggling to earn their bread and butter, and opt to enlist or get tricked into enlisting in order to escape the economic problems that they are facing in civil society. Th ese stories are fi ctional, and we cannot take them completely at face value, nor can we simply assume that they are based on the author’s actual experience. But we should recognize that the “street recruitment” targeting unemployed and marginally employed men was a widely acknowledged phenomenon, evocative enough that this author frequently dealt with it in his stories. Th e problem with street recruitment, however, was the character of the service members it yielded. Because desperate SDF recruiters admitted many men without suffi cient background checks and proper examinations, a signifi cant number were incapable of carrying out their duties satisfactorily. In many cases, enlistees were discharged due to problems with the law, ranging from car accidents to theft and violent acts. In the early 1960s, the number of those discharged for this reason amounted to more than 3,500 each year. 47 Th e SDF A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 37 became concerned not only about how to fi ll its quotas, but also how to ensure the quality of recruits. Faced with this situation, the Defense Agency became aware that they could not rely solely on SDF recruiters’ independent eff orts and envisaged building a broader network for recruitment involving local communities. From the late 1950s, the Defense Agency began to compile lists of potential applicants in collaboration with prefectural and municipal governments. Article 97 of the SDF Law of 1954 stipulated that prefectural and municipal governments undertake to assist in the job of recruiting service members, and this provided the SDF with legal authority to request local governments’ support. In June 1958, the Asahi newspaper reported on the case of Yamagata prefecture. According to this article, the head of the SDF’s Yamagata Provincial Liaison Offi ce, who was in charge of recruitment activities in the prefecture, had met representatives of nine municipal governments in the prefecture at the prefectural hall in February, asking them to produce lists of potential applicants, with relevant information. Upon this request, Sakata city embarked on an investigation of its registered citizens, and compiled a list of unemployed male citizens between the ages of eighteen and twenty- three who would be most likely to apply to the SDF. 48 Protests from a labor union forced Sakata city to suspend this activity. 49 However, many other local governments continued to collaborate with the SDF to promote recruitment in the 1960s. Th e Socialist Party was particularly active in investigating this issue, and in 1967 it published a report on the case of Aichi prefecture. According to this report, the governor of the prefecture received a letter from the Defense Agency in 1966 asking for assistance in so-called “organizational recruitment” or soshiki boshū—recruitment carried out together with local communities. Th e prefecture then notifi ed its municipal governments of this request, listing the specifi c activities that these municipalities were expected to undertake. Th ese activities included holding fi lm screenings, public lectures, and photo exhibitions related to the SDF; inviting prospective recruits to tour an SDF base; supplying personal information on potential applicants to the SDF; and tailoring publicity individually to potential applicants. In September of the same year, representatives of all the municipal governments in Aichi prefecture held a meeting. Th ey agreed to focus on the recruitment of new high-school graduates and to build a system under which communities, schools, and Public Employment Security Offi ces could support one another. Th ey also designated fi ve cities in the prefecture—Handa, Kasugai, Tsushima, Anjō, and Gamagōri—as “model cities,” where particularly intense recruitment activities were to be conducted. 50 Th e report by the Socialist Party, 38 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society as well as another source, show that Aichi prefecture was not exceptional, and that the Defense Agency solicited support from many other prefectures, particularly those sixteen that the SDF designated “model prefectures,” including Aomori, Chiba, Nagano, Kumamoto, and Kagoshima. Organizational recruitment was thus a nationwide practice. 51 Another critical activity that municipal governments undertook was to train civilian recruitment consultants, or boshū sōdan’in . Th e SDF launched this system because, for eff ective recruitment, it found it essential to elicit cooperation from civilians who had been living in the target communities for a long time and were much more familiar with local residents’ living conditions, family structures, and educational attainment than SDF recruiters, who typically had been transferred there and lacked personal ties with the community. For instance, in northern Hokkaido, which the Asahikawa Provincial Liaison Offi ce oversaw, the mayor of Rumoi city initially appointed twelve civilian volunteers as recruitment consultants in July 1970. By 1972, the number of consultants in the northern Hokkaido area had risen to 373. In September of the same year, these consultants were organized into the Council to Promote Volunteering as SDF Service Members (Jieikan shigan suishin kyōgikai). Th e members of the council helped SDF recruiters locate potential applicants and gave advice, while raising consciousness among civilians about the importance of the SDF. Th ey did not receive any compensation; they worked completely on a voluntary basis. Th is suggests that these consultants were among the most enthusiastic civilian supporters of the SDF and proponents of national defense. 52 What did this shift from street recruitment to organizational recruitment mean within the socio-economic context of postwar Japan? Jacques Donzelot’s discussion of the tutelary complex will help us answer this question. By this term, Donzelot refers to a set of institutions and professionals that aim to monitor the conduct of families, such as juvenile courts, social workers, and psychiatrists. He argues that families in the modern state enjoy autonomy and freedom only as long as they conform to social norms, and once they deviate from these norms—that is, when children are maladjusted at school or when they fall into delinquency—these institutions come in and provide professional knowledge, advice, and judgment to correct their conduct and to return them to normalcy. By categorizing these institutions together under the name of the tutelary complex, Donzelot exposes the network of rigorous surveillance that the modern state has created to maintain social order and security. 53 Th e SDF, as a welfare institution that creates jobs, can be seen as a component of the tutelary complex in postwar Japan. Th is function became even more A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 39 apparent as the SDF increasingly switched from “street recruitment” to “organizational recruitment.” From the standpoint of their families, unemployed young males could become a burden on household economies. From the standpoint of communities or society, unemployed men were potential recipients of public welfare, which municipal governments were required to provide under the Livelihood Protection Law of 1950. An increase in the number of those depending on public welfare would squeeze municipal governments fi nancially. A rise in unemployment, particularly among young men, could result in depopulation if they left communities to seek work elsewhere. In addition, communities may have seen unemployment not only as an economic problem but also as a moral problem if they feared that it might lead to delinquency. As Giovanna Procacci points out, while poverty is a necessary element for the preservation of capitalism, pauperism—“poverty intensifi ed to the level of social danger”—has been a constant target for correction and elimination in modern states. 54 We can argue that the SDF’s recruitment of economically deprived civilians in collaboration with communities amounted to the reinforcement of the social safety net to reduce pauperism. Th e SDF contributed to preventing unemployed men from posing a fi nancial and social threat to communities and families. In other words, SDF recruiters (and civilian consultants) assumed a role in disciplining these men and putting them back on the normative path in capitalist society—that is, living as diligent and productive workers. It appears that those young men who applied to join the SDF not only expected employment but also to be socialized as respectable members of society. A survey of 10,000 second-class privates, seamen, and airmen, conducted in 1967, shows that 50 percent chose “to learn skills” as their reason for enlisting, and 26 percent chose “to discipline and cultivate body and mind.” Only 8 percent selected “to defend the nation,” which the SDF and indeed any nation- state’s military identifi es as its primary mission. 55 Another survey of 378 service members shows similar results. Th e top three things that surveyed members hoped to achieve at the SDF were to “discipline body and mind,” “learn skills useful in the future,” and “obtain various licenses and certifi cates.” “(Cultivating) patriotic passion” ranked only sixth. 56 When we read service members’ essays, we see that many of them were attracted to the SDF because of its promise to facilitate their acquisition of skills and licenses that could be valuable in the civilian sector aft er they completed their terms. Hirano Yūichi said that he enlisted because he was told that he could obtain a driver’s license and licenses as a boiler engineer and a cook. 57 Uematsu Kazunori, who used to work at a gas station helping his seniors, stated that he was convinced that in addition to skills, 40 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society he could also learn manners, knowledge, and leadership from disciplined senior service members. 58 Th ese surveys and testimonies indicate that service members themselves were concerned about their economic plight and saw the SDF as an opportunity to become self- reliant workers through the training and education that it promised to off er.

Th e volunteer army in capitalism

While postwar Japan abolished conscription, and the recruitment of SDF service members operated entirely on a volunteer basis, the discussion above shows us how socio- economic conditions undoubtedly infl uenced individual, ostensibly “voluntary” decisions. In this section, I articulate the meanings and ramifi cations that accrue to volunteering and enlisting in a capitalist state, and ask why the SDF became an appealing option to unemployed and marginally employed men, and farmers. I want to complicate the idea of the voluntary army by demonstrating how the capitalist economy in fact severely restricts freedom of choice while endorsing the belief that the choices people make are autonomous. First, we need to note that the military in the modern nation- state identifi es protecting the people’s rights and freedom as its foremost mission. Th e French Revolutionary Army was the fi rst example of a military of this type. Th e French Army consisted of male conscripts from all social classes, not exclusively aristocrats or foreign mercenaries, and its purpose was no longer to serve the interests of the absolute king, but to provide for the defense of the rights and freedoms that the people had secured through the revolution. 59 As the locus of sovereignty shift ed from the monarch to the people, and as mass democracy advanced throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, militaries in other nation- states, too, increasingly saw the mission of the military as defending the people from external threats. Modern Japan was no exception. While the Imperial Army and Navy were supposed to fi ght for the Emperor, the SDF was established as an army for the people. Th e famous Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors of 1882, which was given in the name of the Meiji Emperor, confi rmed the Emperor’s prerogative of supreme command and demanded soldiers’ and sailors’ absolute loyalty to the Emperor. On the other hand, SDF offi cers and educators at the Defense Academy incessantly taught service members to conform to popular will at any cost and to work toward the improvement of popular welfare. Th e SDF Law of 1954 highlighted the protection of the people or kokumin as the SDF’s primary A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 41 mission. Th e SDF code of morals, or Jieikan no kokorogamae (SDF service members’ attitude of mind) published in 1961, urged service members to work for “the peace and order of the people’s lives” ( kokumin seikatsu no heiwa to chitsujo ), which were built upon “freedom and responsibility” ( jiyū to sekinin ). 60 Put simply, in the postwar era, the kokumin replaced the Emperor and national polity or kokutai as the main ideology for uniting and mobilizing recruits. Having said this, however, the military is at odds with individual rights and freedoms. For purposes of national defense, the military must always be ready to go into action in the case of unexpected contingencies. Th e military therefore must prioritize the functioning of the organization as a whole. Within the military, individual rights and freedoms—the very ideas upon which modern nation-states place the greatest value, and the very ideas that the national military purports to protect—may be suspended. Th e rank system is rigid, and those in lower ranks are expected to obey unquestioningly the commands of their superiors. Corporal punishment is oft en administered to enhance discipline. As Anthony Giddens says, “within the army as an organization, the uniform has the same implications for disciplinary power as in carceral settings of other types, helping strip individuals of those traits that might interfere with routinized patterns of obedience.” 61 Certainly, the SDF did caution its members against the use of corporal punishment and other types of physical violence. Since all members were volunteers and therefore had the option to quit, the SDF had to treat them with extra care. In reality, however, violent forms of disciplining were exercised. For example, in February 1957, two service members from the Seventh Regiment stationed in Itami city in Hyōgo prefecture died during a fi ft y- mile march held in Hiroshima prefecture. Th e extreme long distance, the tight schedule with few breaks, and the rainy and windy weather all made it diffi cult for a number of service members to complete this march. Later, some service members confessed to the media that their superiors had beaten with canes those who were about to fail and forced them to continue. Among these were the two service members who died. One collapsed immediately aft er completing the march and died; the other was half unconscious due to fatigue during the march but continued to walk with the help of colleagues. He died while marching. Th is incident, which certainly reminded many Japanese of the infamous treatment of soldiers by the Imperial Army, was called “a death march” (shi no kōgun ) in the media. Th e Socialist Party brought this issue to the Diet and raised questions about the government’s responsibility for these deaths. 62 While this incident may have been extreme, the use of physical violence by superiors against their subordinates seems to have been fairly common. In 42 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

October 1962, a lieutenant at the Ground SDF’s Beppu Camp in Ōita prefecture slapped 150 service members who had enlisted several months earlier because, according to the lieutenant, they had not cleaned up aft er lunch. One of these men suff ered an injury that required a week to recover, and the Defense Agency placed the lieutenant on suspension for six days. Since this was not the fi rst violent incident within the Western Army, which controlled all the divisions in Kyushu, Army headquarters had to issue a directive to all units prohibiting sanctions through physical violence. 63 Similarly, in December of the same year, an intoxicated sergeant punched four service members at Itami Camp in Hyōgo prefecture. Th e Ground SDF’s Staff Offi ce took the series of violent incidents seriously, sending a team from Tokyo to investigate. 64 One may suspect that these incidents were not exceptions, and that many more violent sanctions were administered in secret within individual units while escaping media attention. Building upon Max Weber’s famous thesis on the state’s monopoly of the legitimate use of physical violence, Nikos Poulantzas has argued that various institutions in the modern state—parliament, schools, etc.—can function smoothly without exercising violence against its people because these institutions are protected by the violence materialized in the national army, and this compels the people to recognize their legitimacy. By pointing this out, Poulantzas illuminates the violent nature of the seemingly peaceful and pacifi ed modern state. 65 We need to be aware that the institution that possesses the means of physical violence and the right to exercise it can not only direct it externally, but also justify its use against its own personnel. Th us, whereas many people may agree that the nation-state needs a military at an abstract or theoretical level in order to protect their lives, it is another question whether they are willing, at a practical level, to enlist. Military labor tends to be seen as a burden that one would prefer to avoid. For many, it is something best done by someone else, something one prefers to forgo. Forced conscription may minimize this rift between civil society and the military by requiring every young man, regardless of class, to participate equally in national defense. Still, conscripts in any country fi nd manifold ways of evading service. Abundant data attests to this. Alan Forrest has shown that men in revolutionary France tried to avoid military service by both legal and illegal means: running away, rioting, hiring a replacement to serve in their place, marrying to become household heads, and so on. 66 Men in Imperial Japan resorted to more or less similar means. 67 But in these regimes, the state at least could punish conscription evaders and force men to serve in the military while condemning evasion as unpatriotic and intolerable behavior. In a country that relies on volunteers to A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 43 supply its military, in contrast, no one is forced to fi ght for the nation, and thus it is almost inevitable that the rift between civil society and the military will deepen. It is clear that people in postwar Japan at the beginning of rearmament were caught between these two feelings. On the one hand, the Japanese people’s desire for a national military was unmistakable. In an opinion survey conducted by the Asahi newspaper in March 1952, more than half of respondents agreed that Japan needed a military: 32 percent said that Japan needed one unconditionally, while 24 percent said that it would need one depending on the situation. Th irty- fi ve percent of respondents said that they would put up with a tax increase or a shortage of goods if necessary to increase military expenditures. Forty-fi ve percent agreed with an increase in the number of NPR personnel. Nevertheless, many respondents opposed the revival of a conscription system. Sixty-four percent of respondents favored a volunteer military, while only 17 percent favored a conscription military. 68 Most Japanese people seemed satisfi ed that they were given the freedom to choose whether or not to join the military. Th ese results convey that people’s longing for a national military at an abstract level did not necessarily imply a willingness to join the military at a practical level. Th en, we must ask, who had freedom of choice? Who had the freedom not to join the military when they did not want to do so, and to entrust the mission of national defense to others? Class is a crucial factor. Let us consider the case of the middle class. If people were lucky enough to fi nd full-time employment at a large company, their life would be quite stable. Th ey were protected by seniority and lifetime employment. Th ey were also eligible for company-funded health insurance plans and pensions. For these middle- class workers, working conditions at the SDF were surely undesirable. First, salaries were not high. Although SDF service members had enjoyed relatively high salaries and generous benefi t plans in the early 1950s, as the Japanese economy grew from the mid-1950s, employees in large companies came to enjoy better working conditions than those in the SDF. In 1960, the average monthly salary for workers aged 18 and 19 at companies of 100–999 employees was 9,058 yen, and that at companies of 1,000 employees or more was 10,096 yen. 69 In the same year, the monthly salary for a second-class private, seaman, or airman at the SDF was only 6,800 yen. 70 Second, freedom was severely restricted in the SDF. New service members were required to live on base. Leave was granted only a couple of times a month. Before taking leave, service members had to get permission from their seniors. Asada Jirō notes in one short story that new recruits had to wait at least three months before taking their fi rst leave. Prior 44 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society to leave, they had to prepare itineraries and have them approved by their supervisors. On the day of leave, service members had to travel in pairs to keep an eye on each other, and they had to return to their base by curfew. 71 Only a limited number of people, however, could enter the middle-class world, at least in the fi rst few postwar decades. As economists oft en point out, the postwar Japanese economy has been characterized by its “dual structure”—that is, the interdependence of a small number of large- sized companies and a large number of small- and medium-sized companies. Under this structure, large companies used the cheap labor of small companies indirectly through a subcontracting system. For large companies, this was more profi table than producing goods themselves. While they could increase subcontracting during an economic boom, they could easily drop their subcontractors during a recession. Large companies also hired a number of part- time workers, mainly women. In a recession, companies cut their wages or even fi red them. Th e working conditions for employees in small- and medium-sized companies, and for part-time workers in large companies, were signifi cantly worse than those of full-time workers in large companies. Th ey were paid less for the same amount of work and were entitled to fewer benefi ts. Th is discriminatory employment system remains a feature of the Japanese economy even today. 72 Th e postwar Japanese state failed to solve this problem fundamentally. Although the Constitution granted all people “the right to maintain the minimum standards of wholesome and cultural living,” and recognized the state’s responsibility for “the promotion and extension of social welfare and security” (Article 25), neither the LDP, which was the party in power, nor the Socialist Party, the major opposition, made it a priority to systematize welfare provisions under the state’s leadership. Th e Socialist Party at this time was dominated by Marxists, who were skeptical of the welfare state. In Nihon ni okeru shakaishugi e no michi (Th e road to socialism in Japan), which was practically treated as the party platform between 1964 and 1986, the socialists condemned the welfare state as a form of prolonging and perpetuating capitalism and argued that social security and income redistribution would only emasculate the working masses’ revolutionary energy and divert their attention from the founding of a true socialist society. 73 Th e LDP was aware of the importance of the welfare state to advancing social integration and mobilizing the working masses for economic growth. Th e party’s 1955 platform rejected both socialism and monopoly capitalism and pointed to the building of the welfare state—a market economy, full employment, and enhanced social security—as a major goal. 74 Whereas the LDP-led government, A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 45 initiated by the Ministry of Health and Welfare, expanded the coverage of health insurance and the old- age pension to all the people in 1961 (probably two of the most noteworthy welfare reforms in postwar Japan), it depended heavily on private companies to complement the welfare state while keeping social security expenditures relatively low compared with industrialized nations in Western Europe. Large companies off ered their workers various benefi ts, ranging from company-sponsored health insurance and pensions (much more generous than state- provided health insurance and pensions), semi- annual bonuses, and retirement allowances, to fi nancial assistance for the purchase of a house, in- offi ce health clinics, and recreational facilities. State-provided welfare provisions were meant to cover those people who did not have these privileges. Writing in the early 1960s, the eminent Japanese economist Ōuchi Tsutomu argued that this type of paternalistic, company-based welfare system functioned to boost workers’ identifi cation with their company, and to plant a sense of privilege among them while forestalling workers’ unifi ed demands for universal, state- provided welfare provisions. 75 Because of this aspect of the Japanese welfare state, the dual structure persisted. Th e Japanese welfare state rather preserved the socio-economic gap between employees of large sized-companies, who enjoyed various corporate benefi ts, and those from small- and medium-sized companies, who remained ineligible for such benefi ts. Th roughout the postwar period, half of the population belonged to the lower part of this dual structure. During the 1950s, about 50 percent of wage laborers worked for companies with fewer than 30 employees. Th is proportion did not change much in the next four decades. 76 Unlike those in large-sized companies, these workers were not protected by lifetime employment. Th ey were in constant fear of losing their jobs. It was not unusual for an entire company to go out of business if its parent fi rm enforced rationalization. As a result, the labor fl uidity in small- and medium-sized companies was much greater than in large companies. A survey of the ten- year employment history of 35 people (16 men and 19 women), conducted by the journalist Iwamoto Jun, provides us with an interesting picture of this work-life. 77 Th e subjects all graduated from Uwanuma Junior High School in Miyagi prefecture in 1963 and moved to Tokyo to work. Th ey were among those students who obtained jobs through the so-called “mass employment” system or shūdan shūshoku . Under this system, small- and medium-sized companies and small privately owned shops in the cities, which oft en faced diffi culty attracting educated urban youth, recruited junior high- school graduates in such rural regions as Tōhoku, Kyushu, and Shikoku through 46 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society the help of Public Employment Security Offi ces. Th e high- school advancement rate of junior high-school graduates in the countryside was low compared with that in cities, and daughters and second and third sons there were expected to work aft er fi nishing junior high school so as not to become a fi nancial burden on their families. But there were not many jobs available in their hometowns, so this system benefi ted both employers in the cities and job seekers in the countryside. Upon graduation in March, young boys and girls moved to such cities as Tokyo, Osaka, Yokohama, and Kobe accompanied by their teachers and staff from Public Employment Security Offi ces aboard special trains arranged for them by the national railway. 78 It was rare for these students to fi nd stable work conditions, because the value of their labor lay in their disposability. Of the 35 in Iwamoto’s study, only four stayed at their fi rst employer for fi ve years or more. Many of them changed jobs every two to three years. Th ey worked for a variety of employers: a confectionery company, an electronic company, a restaurant, a rice shop, a gas station, a construction company, a bar, a liquor store, a department store, and so on. Th ree of the sixteen men worked for the SDF at some point in the ten-year period. Satō Masayoshi, one of the three, was fi rst hired by a small toy company, which went bankrupt within a month, then got a job at a small factory, whose manager committed suicide because of fi nancial problems. Aft er that, Satō changed jobs constantly, and worked for the SDF for two years together with two of his friends (not the other two in the survey). While this may be too small a sample from which to draw generalizations, it helps us appreciate that for men in the lower part of the dual structure, joining the SDF was seen as a reasonable option. Other personal accounts back up this point. Konishi Makoto, whom I mentioned in the previous section, had three older brothers and one sister, all of whom left Kyushu under the “mass employment” system. In his hometown in Miyazaki prefecture in Kyushu, he says, it was not common for junior high- school graduates to advance to high school. One of his brothers joined the SDF aft er working at a woolen mill near Nagoya for a few years. Soon aft er, his brother’s best friend at the factory also joined up. 79 For men like Konishi, his brother, and his friend, the SDF off ered a relatively decent work option compared with jobs available in the civilian sector. I have already pointed out that the salary for a second-class private, seaman, and airman at the SDF (6,800 yen in 1960) did not appeal to the young people who could enter large-sized companies. Although a salary of 6,800 yen was low even compared with the average monthly salary for workers aged 18 and 19 at small- and medium-sized companies of 10–99 employees (8,575 yen), the SDF did A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 47 off er the prospect of promotion. One term for second- class privates lasted two years, while that for second-class seamen and airmen lasted three years, and service in all three branches was limited to two terms. Over the course of these two terms, service members could be promoted to fi rst- class and then leading privates, seamen, and airmen (the rank above fi rst class), which meant that their monthly salary could rise to 12,800 yen. 80 In addition to a regular monthly salary, the SDF also gave bonuses twice a year as well as a special allowance to those sent to remote or cold regions (such as Hokkaido), plus health insurance. Service members were eligible for a retirement allowance aft er completing their terms. Furthermore, they did not have to pay for meals, clothing, or lodging. In terms of daily life, the SDF also compared favorably with the opportunities available to working-class men in the civilian sector. Many young workers who came from the countryside to work for small factories and stores lived at their employers’ houses, either because their employers required them to do so or because they could not aff ord to rent an apartment. In such circumstances, working hours tended to be long. Even aft er fi nishing work for the day, employees could not relax, and were frequently treated like house servants by employers’ families. 81 In the SDF, service members who were not offi cers were required to reside in the barracks. However, their working hours were strictly observed, and there was no overtime. Once they fi nished their work, they could use their time as they wished. On the base, they did not face discriminatory treatment based on social class (though they did face discriminatory treatment based on military rank): those around them wore the same uniform, ate the same meals, and lived in similar accommodation. In fact, during recruitment, SDF staff emphasized not only the stability of employment at the SDF (i.e., that the SDF would not go bankrupt), but also an equality that was hard to fi nd in civil society. As one SDF recruitment manual notes, “in regular society [civil society], one’s salary depends on one’s academic background, but at the SDF, junior high-school graduates and university graduates are treated equally, and the rest depends on one’s merits.” 82 Th e military’s appeal to working- class people was not unique to postwar Japan. Th e Japanese historian Yoshida Yutaka has pointed out a similar trend in the prewar Japanese context. According to him, sons in agrarian villages in poor prefectures regarded volunteering for the military (instead of being conscripted) and becoming non-commissioned offi cers as one of the few routes out of poverty. 83 In the US context, David Segal has emphasized the nature of the US military as a welfare institution. He argues that the US military traditionally provided jobs to a population that could not fi nd a means of making a living in 48 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society the civilian sector. For example, Defense Secretary Robert McNamara initiated the so- called Project 100,000 in 1966. He tried to recruit young people with physical and mental diffi culties and give them technical training. By doing so, in McNamara’s plans, the military could contribute to reducing unemployment and alleviating poverty in the civilian sector. 84 Christian Appy has made a similar argument, showing that most American soldiers enlisted during the Vietnam War were from the working class or the lower middle class. 85 We must remember, however, that there was also a particularity to the SDF. Th at is, SDF service members did not have to worry about being sent to battlefi elds abroad and dying there. No matter how many similarities we identify between the SDF and the militaries of other nation-states, we must not overlook this distinct characteristic. As Segal reminds us, those American youths recruited through Project 100,000 were eventually sent to Vietnam. Contrary to the advertised aim, the US military had not given them proper technical training, due to a lack of funds. It had given them only regular combat training together with more competent recruits. Th e death rate among those recruited through Project 100,000 was disproportionally high. Put another way, young men who enlisted in the military in other countries or prewar/wartime Japan always had to consider the possibility of death on the battlefi eld, which made some hesitate before leaving the civilian sector for a better job opportunity. Applicants to the SDF did not have to worry about this. Until the 1990s, neither the LDP nor the main opponents of the SDF, the Socialist Party and the Communist Party, ever imagined sending the SDF abroad. Both sides agreed that sending troops abroad would confl ict with the section of Article 9 that renounced “the threat or use of force as means of settling international disputes.” 86 Th is made the choice of working for the SDF even more reasonable for working- class people. Th ey could almost equate service in the SDF with other forms of public employment. Positions in the SDF were less competitive than other public-sector positions, and yet they guaranteed a reasonable salary and a secure work environment. Th e concept of a volunteer military suggests that anyone could decide of their own free will whether or not to work for the SDF. Th is was probably true for middle- class Japanese. If they thought that working for the SDF was tough and restricting, they could fi nd a more suitable employer. Working- class Japanese, however, by no means enjoyed the same degree of freedom. Th ey too might have thought that working for the SDF was tough and restricting, but it was also true that the SDF guaranteed a certain level of pay and a decent working environment that would otherwise be hard for them to attain in the civilian sector. Freedom A Promised Opportunity: Th e SDF in the Labor Market 49 to join the military was unequally distributed among people of diff erent social classes, and this explains how the SDF managed to secure suffi cient applicants during high- speed economic growth.

C o n c l u s i o n

In this chapter, I have analyzed the recruitment practices of the SDF in relation to the labor market during the era of high-speed economic growth. Although high- speed growth started in the 1950s and stimulated a large- scale migration from the countryside to the cities, the number of jobs seekers in the civilian sector far exceeded the number of available jobs until the 1960s. Under these circumstances, the SDF attracted unemployed and marginally employed men in the cities and farmers in the countryside, particularly farmers from Kyushu. From the late 1950s, high-school students also constituted an important pool of applicants. Many of them saw the SDF as an employer of last resort in case they could not secure jobs in the civilian sector by graduation. Th us, throughout the era of high-speed economic growth, the SDF functioned to absorb the surplus population in the civilian sector into military employment. In this way, the recruitment practices of the SDF were deeply embedded in the nation’s capitalist economy, and their success was backed by the economic inequality produced a n d r e p r o d u c e d b y i t . 50 2

Becoming an Army for the People: Th e Self-Defense Forces in Hokkaido C o m m u n i t i e s

In this chapter, I examine the SDF’s use of the labor of recruited men during the 1950s and 1960s. What activities did service members undertake aft er joining the SDF? What relations did the SDF and its service members establish with civilians in local communities? How did service members feel about their missions at the SDF? Th ese are the questions I address. Just as recruitment must be considered within the larger context of the nation’s economy, so must the utilization of those recruited. Th e labor of service members, whom the SDF recruited from areas with surplus population, provided an important source of public assistance for rural communities with a shortage of labor, and this fostered close ties between these communities and the SDF. Together with the previous chapter, this chapter shows that the SDF worked to relocate young men’s labor where it would be most eff ective and appreciated within Japan’s capitalist economy during the era of high- speed growth. I begin by examining the ideological basis on which the SDF off ered support to rural communities. Japanese society did not necessarily support rearmament when it began in 1950. Many criticized it as contradictory to the ideal of unarmed peace manifested in the Constitution, identifying the SDF as the sort of war potential that the Constitution banned the nation from possessing. Th us, the SDF had to de- emphasize any militant or violent nature inherent to an armed force. It strove instead to demonstrate its nurturing and caring aspects, and insisted on its commitment to postwar democracy and the improvement of the people’s welfare. I then move on to discuss SDF service members’ activities in Hokkaido. As I mentioned in the Introduction, this northernmost island, with its many small, under-populated communities, off ers us an ideal case study for looking at how the SDF put into practice the idea of “an SDF for the people” ( kokumin no tame no jieitai ). I examine the SDF’s activities aimed at assisting civilians, such as civil engineering and disaster relief, as well as communities’

51 52 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society campaigns to attract military bases, and analyze the meanings and implications of these activities within the socio-economic context of Hokkaido and in connection with the central government’s policy on this island. Th rough an examination of these issues, I stress not necessarily the benevolence and generosity of the SDF (though it is surely important to recognize these), but Hokkaido communities’ heavy dependence on the SDF for their wellbeing. As the SDF provided communities with the kinds of support that they could not expect from central or local government, it became extremely diffi cult, if not impossible, for them to imagine a life without the SDF. Th is solidifi ed the highly appreciated status of the SDF and perpetuated the unequal relation between the SDF as a provider of support and Hokkaido communities as benefi ciaries of such support. One of the main arguments in this book is that militarization paradoxically deepens by fulfi lling people’s desire to acquire a better life in a capitalist economy, and the case of the SDF in Hokkaido will allow us to see this most clearly.

Th e idea of an army for the people

From its launch, rearmament was controversial. Only several years earlier, the postwar Constitution had renounced war as a sovereign right of the nation. Since the beginning of occupation, Douglas MacArthur had been teaching the Japanese that they should aim to build peace without relying on force of arms. MacArthur’s 1950 order for rearmament went against this constitutional spirit of unarmed peace. As I have pointed out in the previous chapter, a survey conducted at the time showed that many people were convinced that a national army was necessary for the defense of the nation. At the same time, however, rearmament faced considerable opposition from various sectors of society. For example, on January 21, 1951, the Socialist Party issued a resolution declaring its opposition to rearmament. In this resolution, the socialists argued that: (1) Japan’s right to self- defense should not be conﬂ ated with the possession of a military organization; (2) rearmament would increase Japan’s chance of being dragged into a third world war; (3) an armed force would only work to defend the interests of the dominant capitalist class; (4) rearmament would lead to the imposition of heavier taxes on the people; (5) rearmament might prevent Japan from signing a peace treaty with socialist states; and (6) the Constitution did not allow Japan to pursue rearmament. Th e same day, the Director of the Party, An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 53

Suzuki Mosaburō, gave a famous inaugural speech strongly denouncing rearmament. In this speech, he pointed out that it was young men, not the old politicians who vigorously promoted rearmament, that would have to assume the burden of taking up arms, and women and children that would have to endure the misery of war. 1 Th e confl ict between the rightists and left ists within the Socialist Party was so intense that it led to a split in 1950. Th e party was reunited the same year, but split again in 1951, and remained that way until a 1955 reunifi cation. Th roughout the split, the Left ist Socialist Party, which unanimously opposed rearmament, gained greater popular support as well as support from the General Council of Trade Unions of Japan or Sōhyō. Aft er the 1995 reunifi cation, the Socialist Party established itself as the largest party in opposition to the conservative, pro-SDF LDP by insisting on the defense of the Constitution, unarmed neutrality, and the termination of the US–Japan Security Treaty. According to the party platform issued in 1955, rearmament under US tutelage contributed to furthering monopoly capitalism, and under this circumstance, Japan could not enjoy true independence or end the capitalist exploitation of workers. 2 Th e Japan Teachers’ Union was another critic of rearmament. SCAP had created this organization in December 1945 as part of the democratization of education. It soon developed into a passionate defender of the Constitution and the Fundamental Law of Education, established in 1947, which identifi ed the aim of education as nurturing the kind of citizens who could build a democratic and peaceful nation and society. Th e Union recognized that schoolteachers had played a crucial role in mobilizing students for Imperial Japan’s war eff ort. Mindful of this, the Union decided at the eighteenth central committee meeting in January 1951 to register its opposition to rearmament under the slogan “Never again send our students to the battlefi eld!” (Oshiego o futatabi senjō ni okuruna! ). 3 Th e Teacher’s Union was particularly critical of the Youth Cadets (Shōnen jieitai), established by the SDF in 1955. Junior high-school graduates were eligible to apply and, if admitted, could enter the Ground, Maritime, or Air SDF as third-class privates, seamen, or airmen. Th ey received four years of training and education with stipend, aft er which they received high-school diplomas. Compared with second-class privates, seamen, and airmen, which together constituted the most numerous military rank, the number of cadets was rather small (the quotas for 1954 and 1955 were 310 and 520 respectively), 4 but just as the former positions attracted economically disadvantaged young men, the latter positions appealed to junior high-school boys from poor families, particularly in agrarian villages. Th e Teacher’s Union of Akita prefecture was the fi rst to defy the 54 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

SDF’s request for cooperation in recruiting at schools. While recognizing interested students’ pressed economic conditions, schoolteachers from the Union stressed the unconstitutionality of the SDF and encouraged these students to consider job options in the civilian sector. Th is movement soon spread to other prefectures, including Yamagata and Iwate. 5 Intellectuals were also vocally critical of rearmament. In 1948, a group of more than fi ft y intellectuals from Tokyo and Kyoto who called for Japan’s neutrality in the Cold War, including Maruyama Masao and Watsuji Tetsurō, formed the Peace Issues Discussion Group (Heiwa mondai danwakai). In September 1950, aft er the outbreak of the Korean War and the subsequent launch of rearmament, the group issued its third and most famous statement on peace. In this statement, the group discussed extensively how the contemporary world was divided by two ideologies and how, if a third world war were to occur, both regimes would suff er catastrophic consequences. In this situation, the group continued, it was in Japan’s best interest to refrain from siding with either regime and to maintain neutrality. Moreover, aft er carefully examining the language of Article 9, the group determined that, under the current Constitution, rearmament could not be legally pursued, and they stressed that the Japanese should maintain national security not with an armed force but in close collaboration with the United Nations. 6 In this way, rearmament faced strong opposition from left ists and pacifi sts. Th e Socialist Party, the Teacher’s Union, and intellectuals all had a strong infl uence on Japanese society, particularly on urban workers, schoolchildren, and college students. Th ose involved in rearmament, including the leaders of the new military organizations, could not simply ignore their criticisms. Th ey were deeply concerned about demonstrating compatibility between the possession of an armed force and the constitutional spirit of peace and democracy. Th is led military offi cers and educators to foster the idea of an army for the people—an army that could work for the sake of popular welfare. Hayashi Keizō, the fi rst superintendent (the highest- ranking uniformed offi cer) of the NPR, Chief of Staff of the Safety Agency, and Chief of Staff of the Joint Staff Offi ce of the SDF, enthusiastically promoted this mission of the new army from the beginning of rearmament. In his inaugural speech as the superintendent of the NPR in 1950, he made it clear that the NPR must strive to become “an NPR for the people” (kokumin no yobitai ). By this, he meant that NPR service members had to make eff orts to win the people’s trust and respect, and to eschew any conduct that would arouse their animosity. 7 A year later, on the NPR’s fi rst anniversary, he similarly urged service members to maintain discipline and to devote themselves to training so that in case the NPR was An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 55 mobilized in an emergency, the Japanese people would spontaneously feel: “NPR, please work hard for us!” ( Yobitai yo, dōka wareware no tame ni shikkari yattekure). In his view, the NPR had to be in “the vanguard of defending the people’s peaceful life” ( kokumin no heiwa na seikatsu o mamoru zen’ei ). 8 On other occasions, too, Hayashi repeatedly inculcated in service members a regard for popular welfare. In the previous chapter, I mentioned the SDF Law of 1954 and Jieikan no kokorogamae, the code of morals published in 1961, both of which underscored kokumin, or the people, as the major object of the SDF’s protection. Another example should be added here. Prior to the SDF Law and the code of morals, the NSF had produced the Shūyō no shiori (Guide for self- cultivation) and Shitsuke sankō shiryō (Reference booklet for discipline) in 1953. All service members and offi cers were required to carry these with them at all times. Th e idea of an army for the people was already codifi ed in these two publications. Th e former, which was accompanied by a compilation of Hayashi’s speeches, listed objectives for moral improvement. It emphasized that the NSF existed for the sake of the people, and encouraged services members to be incorruptible, honest, and respectful during peacetime, and calm, courageous, and decisive in times of emergency, in order to meet the people’s expectations. Th e latter spelled out principles according to which service members were supposed to act in society. It reminded service members that because the people would interpret each service member’s words and actions as representative of the NSF, they had to behave carefully in civil society. It not only specifi ed what to say and do, but also what to wear when off duty, how to eat, and how to write a letter. It also strongly cautioned members from fl aunting their authority at civilians or getting into a fi ght with them, even if provoked. 9 Not only regular service members but also future offi cers were continually taught the centrality of the people. Th e education provided at military academies gives some idea of this. Th e National Safety Academy (Hoan daigakkō) was founded in August 1952, just aft er Japan regained independence from the United States and as the NPR developed into the NSF. Two years later, the government founded the Defense Agency and reorganized the NSF into the SDF. Accordingly, the Safety Academy was renamed the Defense Academy (Bōei daigakkō). Since its foundation, the aim of the Academy has been to provide professional education and training to future military offi cers, off ering bachelor degrees to its graduates. Yoshida Shigeru believed that “the people” should be the main educational principle at the Academy. Speaking to the members of the fi rst class to graduate, 56 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society he contended that offi cers of the new army had to internalize not only the “military spirit” (gunjin seishin ), which the Imperial Army and Navy had instilled in its offi cers, but also “national spirit” ( kokumin seishin ). 10 On another occasion, he referred to prewar military education as having had a serious “fl aw” (ketten ). 11 Although Yoshida did not articulate what he really meant by “fl aw,” when we consider it in light of the other statement, we can speculate that he was concerned that the exclusive focus on “military spirit” in the Imperial era nurtured elitist attitudes among military offi cers, which resulted in a widening gulf between the military and civil society. In his view, military personnel had to remember that they themselves were part of the Japanese people, and remain in close touch with the people’s needs. Yoshida closely involved himself in the selection of the fi rst president of the Safety Academy. He was anxious to diff erentiate the new Academy from the prewar Imperial Army and Navy Academies, and believed that the president of the new Academy should be a civilian with no ties to the old military organizations. 12 Yoshida asked his friend Koizumi Shinzō, a graduate of Keiō University and the former president of that university between 1933 and 1947, to suggest a well-qualifi ed person. Koizumi was an avid advocate of liberal capitalism from the prewar period and was critical of Marxism as well as militarism. He recommended his friend Maki Tomoo, another graduate of Keiō, who specialized in British constitutionalism and was at that time a trustee of the university. 13 Responding to Yoshida’s and Koizumi’s request, Maki assumed the presidency of the Academy from 1952 to 1965. In his lectures before service members, Maki frequently articulated the responsibilities that the army must fulfi ll in a liberal democratic state. In his opinion, the existence of the army was made possible only through the people’s will for national defense, and in this sense, the army was always accountable to all the people in the nation- state. As a specialist of constitutionalism, he was particularly interested in the relation between the army and the law, and emphasized that service members had to internalize a law-abiding spirit. For him, the law and the Constitution in a democracy were engendered by and embodied the collective will of the people, and therefore complying with the law and committing not to alter it through any extralegal measures would in turn enable the army to win popular support. 14 Although Maki never mentioned the Imperial Army and Navy in his lectures, his constant advocacy of the military’s roles in liberal democracy can be interpreted as an implicit critique of the prewar military organizations, which, in the 1930s, had caused such terrorist attacks as the May 15, League of Blood, and February 26 Incidents to challenge the An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 57 parliamentary democracy that had been consolidated since the Taishō era. In this sense, we can argue, Maki shared with Yoshida Shigeru an anxiety toward the Imperial Army and Navy, and was eager to distinguish the SDF as a democratic army whose primary concern was to serve not the Emperor but the people as the sovereign of the nation- state.

Colonial Hokkaido

In this section, I detail how the SDF put into practice the idea of an army for the people. We will focus our attention on Hokkaido. While service members carried out their activities all over Japan, the high concentration of SDF personnel and facilities in Hokkaido will permit us to see most clearly the signifi cance and the meanings of service members’ activities in civil society. As noted in the Introduction, by 1962, the Defense Agency had established four divisions in Hokkaido (Second, Fift h, Seventh, and Eleventh Divisions), all of which were controlled by the Northern Army. As of 1965, about 32,000 Ground SDF service members were stationed in the prefecture. Of course, the most common explanation for the high profi le of the SDF in Hokkaido is that this prefecture was a strategically critical site for Japan during the Cold War. Th is vast island is located just south of the Soviet Union. Only 26.1 miles separate Cape Sōya—the northernmost part of Hokkaido—and the southernmost tip of Sakhalin. Th e islands of Kunashiri, Etorofu, Shikotan, and Habomai—the so- called “Northern Territories” or hoppō ryōdo —had been occupied by the Soviet Union since August 1945. Th e central government and the Defense Agency provided the SDF in Hokkaido with cutting-edge weapons to prevent Soviet aggression. Hokkaido was a front line of the Cold War in East Asia. Th is explanation is not incorrect, but in order to fully appreciate the meanings of the SDF’s activities, we need to consider the political and economic position attributed to Hokkaido within the nation-state throughout its modern history. During the Tokugawa era, the bakufu or military government in Edo (modern- day Tokyo) had controlled only a small part of the island; on the rest of the island, the indigenous Ainu people maintained a more or less self-suffi cient life. In the late 1860s, spurred by the threat of Western imperialism, the newly established Meiji government incorporated the island into its territories. Th e government in Tokyo saw this vast, scarcely populated region as a supplier of food and natural resources for the nation’s industrial development as well as an outlet for the rapidly growing population on the mainland, and pursued the exploration and 58 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society cultivation of the region as part of the new national agenda. To achieve these goals, in 1869, the government founded the Colonial Offi ce or Kaitakushi. 15 Accordingly, waves of immigrants—fi rst those samurai impoverished by the Meiji Restoration, farmer-soldiers recruited by the government and known as tondenhei , and then poor tenant farmers—began settling in Hokkaido and dismantling Ainu society. While the Colonial Offi ce was abolished in 1882, and three prefectures were established in accordance with the rest of the country, the population in Hokkaido was still low, and the prefectures lacked solid fi nancial bases and infrastructures. In 1886, the central government replaced these prefectural administrations with the Hokkaido Agency (Hokkaidochō), placing the island under its direct jurisdiction once again.16 In the last several decades, it has become common among scholars to view this process as one of colonial integration. In his introduction to an eight-volume series on Japanese colonialism, the Japanese historian Ōe Shinobu has called Hokkaido and Okinawa “internal colonies,” highlighting the gap between the application of the Meiji Constitution to these areas in theory and the institutional discrimination exercised upon them in reality. 17 In her Dominant Narratives of Colonial Hokkaido and Imperial Japan, Michele Mason further advances this point, arguing that Hokkaido should be seen not as an internal colony but simply as a colony. She insists that the distinction between internal and external colonies sets a priori national boundaries even before such boundaries were demarcated, and implies that Hokkaido, unlike such “external” colonies as Taiwan and Korea, had always been an integral part of the nation-state. She suggests that we study the seizure of Hokkaido as an essential part of Japan’s colonialism and empire- building. 18 While these studies deal with prewar Hokkaido, they off er a useful perspective for examining postwar Hokkaido as well. I argue that the colonial status of the island persisted in the postwar period. More precisely, aft er losing such major colonies as Korea, Taiwan, and Manchuria, the government in Tokyo felt even more compelled to take full advantage of Hokkaido. As early as 1947, a plan emerged to replace the Hokkaido Agency with a new agency to oversee the exploration of the island—namely, the Hokkaido Development Agency (Hokkaido kaihatsuchō). A statement made by Masuda Kaneshichi, who would later become the fi rst director of the new agency, is representative of the attitude toward Hokkaido within the government at that time. At a cabinet committee meeting within the House of Representatives in March 1950, Masuda used such expressions as “semi- colony” and “the only hope left for Japan in terms of resources” to describe Hokkaido, insisting on the need for comprehensive An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 59 development so that this island could contribute to “the stabilization and improvement of the people’s lives” ( kokumin seikatsu no antei kōjō ). 19 Th e government inaugurated the Hokkaido Development Agency in 1950 aft er repeatedly negotiating with SCAP for its approval. Th e Agency was administered by the Prime Minister’s Offi ce and took up the role of draft ing development projects from Tokyo. At the same time, Hokkaido did gain a certain autonomy. During the occupation era, SCAP dramatically enhanced the power of local governments as part of political democratization. Th e popular election of prefectural governors and assembly members was introduced, and local governments came to enjoy greater fi scal autonomy. Hokkaido, which had been administered directly by the central government in the prewar era, fi nally earned prefectural status in 1947. Hokkaido residents chose Tanaka Toshibumi of the Socialist Party as the prefecture’s fi rst popularly elected governor. In the case of Hokkaido, however, the implementation of local autonomy was greatly hindered by the presence of the Hokkaido Development Agency, since a number of projects for infrastructure building and improvement were initiated and enforced by this agency at national expense. Th e government in Tokyo was not convinced that this prefecture was ready to enjoy the same degree of local autonomy as the other forty-fi ve prefectures because of its weak fi nancial basis in the private sector. In a lengthy speech at a cabinet meeting in the House of Councilors in May 1951, Masuda advocated the central government’s strong leadership in the management of Hokkaido, stating that it was “negligent” ( taiman ) of the central government to have introduced the popular election of governors in this prefecture. 20 Amid the postwar trend toward local autonomy, Hokkaido’s colonial status—that is, Hokkaido’s subordination to Tokyo—did not change radically. Th e central government sought to maintain its tight control over the island, stressing that it fi rst had to be equipped with an economic foundation solid enough for self- governance. Placing the SDF’s activities within this context, I contend that the SDF complemented the central government’s eff ort to explore Hokkaido by compensating for the island’s chronic labor shortage and fi nancial diffi culties. It functioned as a key organization that provided crucial physical and economic support for Hokkaido communities in the forms of civil engineering and disaster relief. At a glance, these activities helped the island build a self-reliant economy, but I maintain that the SDF’s seemingly benevolent activities in reality perpetuated the island’s colonial, subordinate status, which required constant assistance from the state. 60 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

Here, we can look to the work of Anne Orford, who argues that humanitarian intervention in the post-Cold War era legitimized and reinforced domination by the United Nations and World Bank, allowing wealthy industrialized countries to economically penetrate benefi ciary countries in the Th ird World. While the self- determination of benefi ciary countries is one of the main tenets of humanitarian intervention, in reality they have no choice but to accept support from the international community, which is backed by armed forces. For Orford, humanitarian intervention is a new form of colonialism in an age that disavows colonialism. 21 Th e SDF’s activities operated in a manner similar to such humanitarian intervention. In the era of democracy and local autonomy, the SDF provided support for Hokkaido communities in the name of their welfare, but this did not necessarily help Hokkaido gain greater autonomy. As I will show throughout this book, such support intensifi ed these communities’ dependence on the SDF, thus diminishing any possibility of realizing autonomous status. Th at is, the SDF’s support activities impelled the militarization of Hokkaido.

Building and rescuing Hokkaido

First, let us look at what the SDF calls “people’s livelihood support,” or minsei kyōryoku. As the name suggests, under “people’s livelihood support,” members conducted the kinds of work that would enhance the quality of life in the area. Th e major activity within this category was civil engineering. Opponents of rearmament criticized the SDF as a military organization, and this made it impossible for the SDF to identify combat against foreign enemies as its reason for existence, as most national armies do. Instead, “people’s livelihood support,” together with disaster relief (which will be discussed in detail later), came to occupy a large part of the SDF’s activities. Th rough these activities, the SDF intended to demonstrate its willingness to serve the welfare of the people, a notion that became so central to the new Constitution that no state organization could ignore it. In rural communities both in Hokkaido and elsewhere, people’s livelihood support did not work simply to help residents accept the SDF at the ideological level. Instead, backed by communities’ desire to improve their infrastructure, this activity became a crucial part of the welfare support on which they relied. Article 100 of the SDF Law prepared a legal basis for conducting civil engineering. It stipulated that ministries and local governments were entitled to entrust civil works to the SDF. If the SDF judged that the entrusted work was An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 61 related to the purpose of SDF service members’ training—for instance, training in the use of equipment that requires a high degree of skill to operate—then the SDF accepted all or part of the work and dispatched construction or engineering units. Th is work included the building of roads and bridges as well as their repair, land clearing, snow clearing, and the building of communication lines. Since the SDF regarded civil engineering as part of service members’ training, the fees that the SDF asked were reasonable compared with what private companies would have asked. 22 In the immediate postwar period, many communities destroyed by the war had to rebuild and improve their infrastructure, and the relatively aff ordable civil engineering off ered by the SDF was appealing. Data show that communities across the nation took advantage of this service. In 1953, one year before the SDF was founded, the NSF accepted 61 requests for civil engineering projects, and the number grew steadily over the next several years, to 100 in 1954, 124 in 1955, 177 in 1956, 173 in 1957, 258 in 1958, and 300 in 1959. Th e total number of service members mobilized also grew, from 151,214 in 1953 to 304,906 in 1959. 23 Hokkaido’s heavy reliance on this service was obvious. In 1955, for example, SDF divisions all over Japan accepted a total of 124 requests for civil engineering projects, sixty-one of which, nearly half of all such civil engineering projects, were carried out in Hokkaido. 24 According to other data, between October 1, 1960 and September 30, 1961, a total of 107 civil engineering projects were conducted in this prefecture. 25 Although we do not have a record of how many orders the SDF accepted across the country in that year, considering the total number of orders in the previous few years, we can speculate that 107 constituted a signifi cant proportion of the total. What is striking about service members’ engineering work in Hokkaido is not only the number of orders but the nature of their service, which meticulously met communities’ various needs. Let us examine the case of Asahikawa, Hokkaido’s second largest city aft er Sapporo, and its neighboring communities. Th is city, located in northern Hokkaido, had hosted the Seventh Division of the Imperial Army until Japan’s defeat in the Second World War. In 1951, soon aft er the founding of the NPR, Asahikawa launched a campaign to solicit the building of a base within the city. Since the city was already equipped with a training yard, which had been built for the Imperial Army, the campaign proceeded smoothly. Th e construction of a base began in 1952 and was completed in March 1953. When four divisions were created in Hokkaido in 1962, Asahikawa became the headquarters for the Second Division. Th is military town and nearby communities relied to a great extent on service members’ assistance from the very beginning of them being stationed there. Between August 1953 and 62 Table 2.1 Civil engineering projects undertaken by the SDF in Asahikawa city and nearby communities, 1953–1956

Year Date Project 1953 8/7 Repair of ditches on Nagayama Street, requested by the mayor of Asahikawa city 8/13 Restorative construction of a bridge, requested by the Construction Department of Asahikawa city 10/5 Construction of a farm pond, requested by the director of the Land Improvement Organization in the Pēpan district in Asahikawa city 10/22 Repair of an irrigation ditch, and construction of an electric generation station for farming, requested by the Federation of Takasu Agricultural Cooperatives

1954 2/1 Plowing on the road between Etanbetsu and Asahikawa, requested by the mayor of Etanbetsu village 3/2 Plowing in Takikawa town, requested by the mayor of Takikawa town 3/10 Plowing on the road between Kami-Furano and Asahikawa, requested by the mayors of Kami-Furano town and two other communities 4/19 Repair of Nijō and Kujō Streets in Asahikawa, requested by the mayor of Asahikawa city 4/26 Repair of Sanjō Street in Asahikawa, requested by the mayor of Asahikawa city 6/1 Repair of Rokujō Street in Asahikawa, requested by the mayor of Asahikawa city 6/17 Repair of the ﬁ ring range of the Sapporo Regional Police School, requested by the head of the Sapporo Regional Police School 7/7 Civil engineering related to the National Athletic Meet 7/13–8/15 Building of a road to the wrestling hall for the National Athletic Meet, requested by the mayor of Asahikawa city 7/16–7/17 Land clearing for the venue of the Hokkaido Sheep Exhibition, requested by the Kamikawa subprefecture 7/17–10/31 Building of a road between Akadake and Horokaishikari, requested by the governor of Hokkaido 1955 4/2–4/12 Plowing between Asahikawa and Nayoro 5/6–6/20 Land clearing for the schoolyard of Hokusei Middle School in Asahikawa 6/15–6/21 Land clearing for the schoolyards of Takasu Daini Middle School and Chūō Elementary School 8/1–9/5 Improvement of a road on Mt. Kamui in Asahikawa 11/2–11/13 Land clearing for the schoolyard of Kōryō Elementary School 11/25–12/3 Damage repair aft er a disaster in Chichibubetsu town

1956 4/15–5/18 Land clearing for the schoolyard of Myōjō Elementary School in Asahikawa 4/23–5/21 Land clearing for the schoolyard of Kōryō Elementary School in Asahikawa 4/23–5/16 Land clearing for the schoolyard of Taisei Elementary School in Asahikawa 5/6–5/17 Land clearing for the schoolyard of Kōyō Middle School in Asahikawa 5/10–5/19 Improvement of a road in Takikawa city 5/16–5/25 Land clearing for the schoolyard of Daigo Elementary School in Higashi-Asahikawa village 5/17–5/27 Land clearing for the schoolyard of Hokusei Elementary School in Asahikawa 6/13–7/11 Improvement of the Arashiyama Tourist Road in Asahikawa 9/3–11/12 Building of a road between Akadake and Horokaishikari 9/15–11/24 Building of a road for the Pon’nitachinai settlement

Source : Asahikawashi- shi Henshū Iinkai, Asahikawashi- shi, dai-2-kan (Asahikawa Shiyakusho, 1959), 868–69. 63 64 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

November 1956, service members renovated side ditches, improved a number of roads, repaired a bridge, cleared snow from streets, cleared land to build schoolyards, and built an irrigation ditch and an electric generator plant for an agricultural cooperative. 26 Th e SDF built its bases not only in major cities like Asahikawa but also in remote communities. Th e case of Shikaoi is a good example. Th e town is located in the eastern part of Hokkaido, north of Obihiro. Th e northern part of the town falls within the Daisetsuzan National Park. Because of its mountainous location, the town had struggled to construct roads since its fi rst settlement in the Meiji era. As soon as the Ground SDF’s Shikaoi base opened in 1957, service members embarked upon various types of civil engineering projects in the town and nearby communities. In 1958 alone, a total of 637 service members and 1,393 vehicles, including dump trucks and bulldozers, were mobilized. Th e total number of days service members there worked on civil engineering is quite impressive, too: 36 days in 1959, 21 days in 1960, 75 days in 1961, 40 days in 1962, and 78 days in 1963. As in Asahikawa, projects not only included the construction, repair, and improvement of roads, but also clearing land, building schoolyards, and stumping at a livestock breeding station. 27 We must consider this civil engineering provided by service members in relation to the central government’s eff ort to integrate Hokkaido into the nation’s political and economic system. In 1951, shortly aft er its founding, the Hokkaido Development Agency presented the First Comprehensive Development Project for Hokkaido (Hokkaido sōgō kaihatsu keikaku), stating that this island equipped with “rich untouched resources and vast lands” must be explored to achieve the economic independence of the nation and to solve the problem of a rapidly growing population. Th e Agency carried out this project as two fi ve-year plans. Th e First Five-Year Plan was realized between 1952 and 1956, and the Second Five-Year Plan between 1958 and 1962. In both plans, together with the promotion of agriculture, forestry, fi shery, and mining, the Agency emphasized the enhancement of infrastructures, including roads and ports, as the main work undertaken at national expense. 28 In this sense, the building and improvement of roads pursued by the SDF was congruent with the central government’s policy toward Hokkaido, but one major diff erence must be noted. On the one hand, the Hokkaido Development Agency’s road organizing project focused on major inter- city roads. In the First Five-Year Plan, the Agency completed the paving of the 27.5-mile road between Sapporo and Chitose, Hokkaido’s fi rst road paved with asphalt, which came to be called the “bullet road” or dangan dōro, as well as the paving of the 23.5-mile road An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 65 between Sapporo and Otaru. In the Second Five-Year Plan, the Agency opened disconnected parts of the 151-mile road between Asahikawa and Wakkanai and the 127-mile road between Asahikawa and Abashiri. 29 As an organization administered by the central government, the Agency was interested mainly in enhancing transportation between major cities, which would also enhance transportation between Hokkaido and the mainland. On the other hand, SDF units stationed in local communities directed their attention to the organizing of not only large- scale but also minor municipally owned roads and streets, which were used by local residents on a daily basis. In other words, the SDF’s civil engineering works operated in such a way as to address the defi ciency of the Hokkaido Development Agency’s (that is, the central government’s) infrastructure building, and these two institutions together worked toward the twofold goal of further integrating the island into the nation’s economic system and raising the quality of living in local communities. Another important activity that SDF service members devoted themselves to was disaster relief. Although there was no legal ground for this activity when rearmament started in 1950, the heads of local NPR units in Fukuchiyama in Hyogo prefecture and in Zentsūji in Kagawa prefecture decided unoffi cially to conduct the fi rst disaster relief in July and August 1951 respectively. Th e fi rst offi cial dispatch of NPR service members for disaster relief was in October of the same year, when a typhoon hit Yamaguchi prefecture. When the NSF was established in 1952, Article 66 of the Safety Forces Law stipulated that, in times of natural or other disaster, a prefectural governor was entitled to request the dispatch of the NSF if it was deemed necessary for the protection of human lives and property. Th e SDF Law of 1954, which replaced the Safety Forces Law, contains a similar article, Article 83, which serves as the legal ground for the SDF’s disaster relief to this day. Moreover, the second part of the same article allows the SDF to dispatch its troops without waiting for a request in case of emergency, thereby rendering disaster relief more fl exible and practical. 30 Again, Hokkaido communities actively availed themselves of this service. In the ten years aft er the launch of rearmament, the SDF (and the NPR and NSF before it) conducted disaster relief a total of 1,058 times, 207 of which were in Hokkaido. 31 In that decade, Hokkaido experienced several major historic disasters: the Tokachi-oki Earthquake, magnitude 8.2, in 1952; the sinking of the passenger ferry Tōyamaru in a typhoon in 1954, which resulted in more than 1,000 dead or missing; the great fi re in Iwanai town in 1954, which destroyed 80 percent of the town including more than 3,200 houses; and the catastrophic tsunami caused by the Great Chilean Earthquake in 1960, which aff ected a Table 2.2 Major disaster relief off ered by the Second Division headquartered in Asahikawa 66

Year Date Type of disaster Location Number of service Number of Number of planes members vehicles dispatched dispatched dispatched 1952 3/4–3/13 Earthquake Tokachi region 255 32 1953 6/24 Fire Bihoro town 400 25 7 8/1–8/2 Flood Nayoro city 138 16 1955 7/4–7/6 Flood Nayoro city 4,356 474 1956 5/5–5/6 Fire Rumoi city 203 15 5/7–5/8 Fire Shimokawa town 608 60 5/21–5/22 Mountain fi re Shimokawa and Fūren towns 810 56 6/1–6/3 Mountain fi re Onishibetsu 155 16 8/17–8/19 Flood Furano town 131 18 1959 5/1 Mountain fi re Kami-Furano town 68 8 1960 2/20 Flood Asahikawa city 23 3 1961 7/26–8/1 Flood Asahikawa city, Takikawa city, Furano 5,891 1,500 54 town, and Shimukappu village 1962 4/4–4/5 Flood Okoppe town 211 16 4/6–4/8 Flood Embetsu town 253 42 4/28 Mountain fi re Kami-Furano town 434 38 5/9 Mountain fi re Nayoro city 254 1 6/30–7/5 Volcanic explosion Mount Tokachi 2,418 265 35 8/4–8/16 Flood Asahikawa city, Furano town, Kami- 4,146 712 111 Furano town, and fi ve other communities Source : Dai-2-shidan Sōritsu 40-shūnen Kinenshi Hensan Iinkai, Hokuchin: Dai-2-shidan sōritsu 40-shūnen kinenshi (1990), 109. An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 67 number of communities in Tōhoku and Hokkaido. In each case, the SDF dispatched its troops to evacuate residents, search for casualties, provide fi rst aid, transport food to aff ected areas, and repair damaged roads and levees. Directing our attention to less celebrated cases, however, will clarify how communities came to value service members for the swift support they provided. When record rainfall hit the town of Nayoro in July 1955, about 900 service members were mobilized to save 58 residents who had failed to evacuate, and to repair bridges and roads. When a polio epidemic occurred in the town in 1960, the SDF transferred children with serious symptoms to the Red Cross Hospital in Asahikawa by helicopter, and then disinfected all the houses in the town over fi ve days. 32 Th e records documented by other local governments indicate that in communities with bases, such as Asahikawa, Takikawa, and Engaru, service members were constantly called up throughout the year to deal with various kinds of natural disasters, including mountain fi res, fi res in town, heavy rain, fl oods, and avalanches. 33 Moreover, Akashiya, the newspaper published by the Northern Army, is full of accounts of service members being asked to handle various types of personal emergencies. In February 1958, in a heavy snowstorm, the Northern Army Aviation Group arranged the transportation of blood serum to Itokamu mine by plane, train, and truck for a man who was in a critical condition aft er a wound that he had suff ered while working at the mine became gangrenous. 34 In January 1959, a 60-year-old forestry worker caught acute pneumonia while working in Shikaoi village, but the village hospital was located nineteen miles away, and heavy snow made it impossible for the doctor to make a house call. Th e SDF at Shikaoi Camp dispatched a tank to transport him to the hospital, saving his life. 35 In February 1961, a pregnant 37-year-old woman in Yūbetsu town went into labor, but 6.5 feet of snow on the ground impeded a midwife from visiting her. Twelve service members placed the midwife on a sleigh and transported her to the pregnant woman’s town, eight miles away. 36 It appears that in many of these cases, the formal procedure of making a request for the dispatch of the SDF—a request from the prefectural governor—was ignored. Municipal governments, the local police, and even individuals contacted the SDF directly. Hokkaido communities appreciated the SDF’s disaster relief in particular because many of them possessed few other means of dealing with natural and man-made disasters. While the Fire Organization Law, enacted in 1948, made municipal governments responsible for fi refi ghting, initially only major cities such as Sapporo, Otaru, Hakodate, and Asahikawa could aff ord to establish and maintain fi re stations and fi re headquarters (which presided over the fi re stations 68 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society within a municipality). In 1955, with Hokkaido prefecture comprising more than 200 communities, there were only 40 fi re headquarters and 28 fi re stations. Th ese numbers grew only slowly: by 1965 there were still only 66 fi re headquarters and 42 fi re stations. In rural areas, fi nancial diffi culties forced many small towns and villages to continue to rely on part- time fi remen—municipal residents who worked regular jobs and engaged in fi refi ghting activities only when necessary, and for little compensation. Th is system, however, could not compensate for the lack of fi re stations because many young adults were leaving rural communities for big cities throughout the period of high- speed economic growth. Th ese communities therefore faced extreme diffi culty in off ering not only satisfactory fi refi ghting but also a medical emergency transport service (since this service was administered by fi re stations). It was not until 1974 that all 212 municipalities in Hokkaido had their own fi re station. 37 Compared with the slow speed at which local governments systematized public services for disasters and emergencies, the SDF organized its disaster relief from very early on. Th is put the idea into residents’ minds that it was the SDF, not local government, that they could count on when faced with natural disaster or personal emergency. When we consider the benefi ts that communities could receive from “people’s livelihood support” and disaster relief, it is understandable that a number of local governments in Hokkaido in the 1950s campaigned tirelessly to attract military bases. My research shows that the following communities carried out such campaigns: the cities of Asahikawa (1951) and Obihiro (1950), and the towns of Nayoro (1952), Kami-Furano (1951), Kutchan (1953), Shiraoi (1956), Horobetsu (now Noboribetsu) (1952), Bihoro (1950), Eniwa (1952), and Takikawa (1954). Th e majority of these communities had rather small populations (except Asahikawa and Obihiro) and few dependable industries. Th ey hoped military bases would stimulate their economies. For example, in Takikawa, the Takikawa Chemical Corporation, which operated a factory in the town, went bankrupt in 1952, and many residents lost their jobs. Immediately aft er this incident, the town solicited the Nihon Oil Corporation to build a factory, but failed in their attempts. Th en the town asked the NSF to build an auto-repair factory, but the plan was not viable because of the high cost of transporting vehicles from bases to Takikawa. Finally, the town assembly unanimously passed a resolution to solicit an NSF base. In July 1955, a unit of the SDF (the NSF had been reorganized into the SDF by this time) moved in. Th e number of service members and their families amounted to more than 2,000. Th is boosted the town population to more than 30,000, whereby the town acquired its long- sought status as a city. 38 An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 69

Not all members of these communities, however, supported such campaigns. Generally speaking, people involved in commercial businesses were attracted by the economic upside of hosting military facilities, while those in agriculture were more lukewarm. While the former tended to live in the center of town, the latter lived in rural areas and worried about having to give up their farmlands for military purposes. In Kami-Furano, for instance, when the mayor made public the plan to solicit an NPR camp and maneuver fi eld in 1951, farmers from 34 households residing in the proposed location sent a petition to the town government asking them to understand that this was a “matter of life or death” ( shikatsu mondai) for them, and to “handle the case properly” ( zensho suru ). Th e negotiations between the town and the NPR (and NSF), which concerned not only compensation for farmers but also environmental preservation, became drawn out. It was not until February 1954 that the town offi cially started a campaign to invite the development of a camp and maneuver fi eld. 39 Similarly, in Shikaoi, farmers initially opposed the plan to build a maneuver fi eld in their community. Th e fi rst negotiation over the acquisition of land and the amount of compensation started in 1953 and took six years to settle. 40 With regard to the above cases, however, we must bear two points in mind. First, even though some residents in these communities were reluctant to host military facilities, the local governments were determined to pursue their decision to solicit such facilities and oft en persuaded critics by playing the role of mediator between them and the military in negotiations. Th is implies that the local governments were fi rmly convinced that the profi ts they would receive from the SDF were worth the trouble of lengthy negotiations and even the risk to the towns’ agricultural business. Second, once bases were built, these communities took advantage of the labor of service members and fostered close relations with the SDF. In Kami-Furano, the SDF not only conducted civil engineering but also held open-camp days for visitors, dispatched their music brigade to nearby communities, and assisted single- mother farming families during busy farming months (a practice that was widespread in other Hokkaido communities as well). In Shikaoi, in addition to the road organizing projects mentioned above, the SDF assisted farming families, engaged in disaster relief, and organized or participated in various events throughout the year, including the dance festival in summer, track-and-fi eld competition, winter festival, and music festival. In Kami-Furano and Shikaoi, as in many other communities with bases, civilian residents formed an Association for SDF Cooperation (Jieitai kyōryokukai) in 1960 and 1962 respectively in 70 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society order to assist with SDF-related events as well as recruitment activities, and educate civilians about the importance of the SDF. 41 Of the Hokkaido communities that host SDF bases, the city of Bibai presents an especially interesting case. While many local governments campaigned to attract bases in the 1950s, Bibai did not do so until 1965. Th e major event that triggered this was the closure of the Mitsui coal mine in 1963. As seen in Chapter 1 , industries’ increasing reliance on petroleum since the onset of high- speed economic growth resulted in the closure of a number of coal mines across the country, and Bibai was one of those communities devastated by this change in energy consumption. Th e city’s chamber of commerce initiated the campaign and, together with supporters, set up a special committee in April 1965. Th e municipal government, working with the committee, lobbied for the building of a base. Th e Defense Agency and the SDF responded positively, and visited the site of the former coal mine to consider it as the location for a base in 1968. A few years later, the Defense Agency made the decision to acquire the site, and construction of the base began in 1975. Th e fi rst 350 service members moved onto the base in 1978. 42 Th is case strongly indicates that, by the 1960s, the socio- economic benefi ts brought by the SDF had been widely recognized, and that Bibai consciously looked to a military base to reinvigorate the city’s economy.

Becoming service members

Th e discussion up to this point has made it clear that the SDF off ered crucial socio- economic assistance to Hokkaido communities. In this section, we shift our attention to how those recruited men felt about becoming service members and their own work in Hokkaido. Th e Second Division headquartered in Asahikawa compiled essays by service members each year between 1975 and 1977. In these essays, the service members wrote extensively about their experiences working in Hokkaido. An analysis of these essays will allow us to see that the SDF’s activities discussed above not only cemented the SDF’s ties with Hokkaido residents but also created a sense of pride among its own members. Many men who joined the SDF had been in the lower part of the national economy’s dual structure. Employers easily fi red them in times of recession, and once the economy recovered, they hired other laborers with similar ability and qualifi cations. In other words, their labor was disposable and replaceable. When we read service members’ essays, we see that they were deeply concerned about this situation and anxious about escaping it. For example, Nishi Mitsuya An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 71 constantly moved from one job to another before joining the SDF, working as a corporate employee, salesperson, waiter at a restaurant, bartender, and construction worker. Although he learned a lot from these jobs, he writes, none of them made him feel that he had found a long-term career. 43 Another service member, Niihori Yoshiaki, started to work at a restaurant in Asahikawa and then got a job at a club in Tokyo, where he cleaned and washed dishes. Although he eventually managed to become a cook there, he had to go back to Hokkaido because of a family matter, and started working at a bar. Th ere, he met a woman and began to wonder whether he could make her happy while working at this job, which he felt did not off er any security. 44 Ōno Yoshihiro obtained a job at a company in Tokyo in 1971 aft er graduating from high school in Asahikawa. In that metropolitan city, however, he did not have any close friends, and his life was a simple repetition of the round trip between the company and the dorm. He lost his passion for work and, aft er two years, quit the company. Th en he got a job at a bar, but this did not last long either. When his father died in 1974, he went back to Asahikawa and became a sales clerk. He was by no means satisfi ed with himself and wanted to become a strong person, proud of himself, but did not know how to achieve it. 45 Other service members make similar statements. Th eir essays reveal that they were extremely discontent with the lack of opportunities in civil society and were aspiring to more stable, secure, and rewarding careers. Service members tend to describe the decision to enlist in the SDF as a search for something they could be truly enthusiastic about, something they could devote themselves to. Th e company where Ōno Yoshihiro initially worked had new employees spend several days at the SDF as part of their initial training—a practice some companies adopt for the purpose of teaching discipline and courtesy. He says that he was truly impressed by service members and, when he was desperately seeking a long-term career, he recalled that experience and realized that the SDF would be an ideal workplace. 46 Another member, Sasaki Ken, writes that he had been bored with his everyday life when he was inspired by an SDF recruitment poster and felt that this might be a career that off ered him an ikigai or “purpose in life”—an expression that service members frequently associate with their work at the SDF. 47 Ono Mitsuo writes that he could not keep at anything for long, and feared that he was ruining himself. Th en his father recommended enlisting, and Ono vowed to become “a great service member second to none” (dare nimo makenai rippa na jieikan ). 48 It appears that, in many cases, the work at the SDF met service members’ initial expectations, allowing them to fi nd their ikigai . Kawajiri Takashi was the third son of a farming family in Kagoshima. Working as a mechanic, he felt 72 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society unfulfi lled and always wondered “What is life?” and “What will my lifelong occupation be?” In the SDF, he could fi nally feel proud of his own duties in an engineer brigade that specialized in disaster relief and civil engineering. He concluded his essay by emphasizing that he would like to become a service member that the people of Hokkaido respected. 49 Sudō Sadayuki writes that he joined the SDF because he was convinced that he could fi nd ikigai and live “fruitful days” (jūjitsu shita hibi ). According to his essay, Sudō was most pleased about his decision when civilians showed gratitude for the SDF’s disaster relief activities. While engaging in these activities, he sometimes did not have enough time to eat or sleep. But when civilians thanked him, his exhaustion immediately dissipated. 50 Although we tend to think of the labor question mainly in terms of the redistribution of material wealth, service members had long struggled in civil society to gain recognition as indispensable humans rather than mere disposable, anonymous laborers, and their activities in Hokkaido permitted them to achieve this aim. Th e SDF, as a national military organization, could (and still can) furnish a powerful ideological framework within which to promote the idea that service members were working for a higher mission. Th is is one crucial factor in explaining the high degree of satisfaction among service members. In other words, no matter what activities they engaged in, they could convince themselves that they were contributing to the defense of the nation. For example, if those who belong to a private construction company build a road for a city, they probably do not think that they are doing it for the good of the nation- state. It is simply their job, and that is how they make their living. In the case of the SDF, however, the grandiose goal of national defense that the SDF upholds makes it possible for service members to interpret their road building within the national context. Kawajiri Takashi, whom I introduced above, fi nds the SDF’s mission of “protecting Japan’s peace and independence” in his role as an operator of bulldozers and in his engagement in civil engineering and disaster relief. Kawajiri is not alone in this respect. Asanuma Junhiko, who served in a musical brigade, writes:

We, the Musical Brigade, would like people in Asahikawa and its regions to understand the importance of “national defense” and collaborate in it through music. It is not too much to say that we are protecting this soil Japan, which our seniors have built, through music. 51

Here, we can see how the nation works as a ready, convenient framework that allows service members to turn their everyday activities into part of the grand An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 73 narrative of national defense, without requiring an extensive articulation of how playing music for Hokkaido residents would in fact help defend the country from external attack. When analyzing these essays, we should ask whether they refl ect service members’ authentic feelings. Th ey probably did not write these essays spontaneously, but were directed to do so by their supervisors. Considering this, it is possible to speculate that service members exaggerated, or even fabricated enthusiasm about and passion for their work at the SDF to create the impression that they were serious and hardworking or simply to please their supervisors and audience. At the same time, however, we should recognize that the act of writing might serve to generate authentic feelings. We can view writing such personal essays as a form of confession. Relying on the Foucauldian understanding of confession, Karatani Kōjin has argued that one’s “interior” does not exist prior to confession but is produced by “the compulsion to confess.” Th at is, it is wrong to see confession as revealing one’s concealed internal feelings; instead, we need to acknowledge that by confessing, we construct our feelings even as we come to believe that those feelings have always existed, repressed. 52 While Karatani’s interest lies in demonstrating how the technology of confession was introduced to Japanese literature during the Meiji era, his argument provides a clue to the signifi cance of service members’ essays. For these men, many of whom came from the lower social strata and frequently changed jobs before enlisting, it was diffi cult, if not impossible to fi nd suffi cient time to contemplate and verbalize the meaning of the lives they had lived. On the other hand, at the SDF, they were encouraged to do so and given an opportunity to write it down and present it to the public. Th e titles of their essays are suggestive: “Th e path I chose” ( Watashi no eranda michi), “What I want to insist upon” (Watashi no uttaetai koto ), “My philosophy of life as a professional” ( Puro to shite no jinseikan), and so on. It appears that their supervisors carefully selected essay topics that encouraged service members to look back upon their lives, consider why they had enlisted, and articulate a vision of their future as service members. By writing their life stories in this manner, service members constructed coherent narratives that stressed how productive and rewarding their lives at the SDF had been and would be, contrasting them with the tough lives that they had lived in civil society. Using Karatani’s expression again, this was precisely the process of building their “interior.” From the SDF’s standpoint, this was an eff ective way of mobilizing service members’ loyalty to the SDF and galvanizing them into working diligently for Hokkaido communities. Although their supervisors may have provided essay 74 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society topics and guidance, service members were not forced to produce any specifi c content. Instead of telling them what to think and write, the SDF respected service members’ voluntarism. Here, Nikolas Rose’s discussion of “freedom” is useful. He sees freedom not necessarily as resistance to power but as a tool of government, pointing out that one characteristic of modern government is that it allows those governed to enjoy some autonomy and thereby prompts them to participate actively in the governing of themselves. 53 By allowing service members to think and write freely, the SDF trusted and fostered their ability to appreciate, of their own free will, how fortunate they were to have an employment opportunity at the SDF. Once they internalized this sense, service members would further commit themselves to missions in Hokkaido in order to continue enjoying the status that they had gained. In sum, providing service members with suffi cient time to think and write was a technology that the SDF formulated to make more engaged, responsible, and independent service members.

Settling service members in Hokkaido

What happened to service members once they completed their terms? Th is is the question that I address in the fi nal section of this chapter. Second- class privates, seamen, and airmen—the most numerous rank within the SDF—were not tenured. One term for privates ran two years, while for seamen and airmen it was three years. Th ey could renew their contract once or twice, but aft er that, they had to either take the exam to become an offi cer or be discharged. If they were promoted to offi cer, they were tenured, which would release them from the pressure to fi nd jobs in civil society and assure them greater economic stability. Th e problem, however, was that the exam for promotion to an offi cer was highly competitive. According to an instructional manual for the guidance and education of fi xed-term service members published in 1968, only 14 percent of those who completed their terms could become offi cers at the Ground SDF. At that time, the Defense Agency was pursuing the Th ird Defense Buildup Plan, aimed at improving the promotion rate of tenured offi cers. But according to the manual, the rate was expected to improve to 20 percent at most. 54 Th is means that the majority of privates, seamen, and airmen were to return to civil society. Discharged service members had greater social importance than those who stayed at the SDF, in that they served to liaise between the military and civil society. Once they returned to civil society, they found jobs and interacted with civilians on a daily basis. Civilians quite likely saw former service members as An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 75 representatives of the SDF and examples of the education, discipline, and diligence that the SDF instilled. As I pointed out in the previous chapter, the SDF functioned as a component of the tutelary complex in postwar society by creating job opportunities among economically deprived young men, and prevented these men from posing a social or fi nancial threat to civil society. Th rough discharged service members, the SDF could demonstrate to civil society that these young men had become respectable workers who could make important contributions to society. Th at is, returning well-trained service members to civil society marked the fi nal and perhaps most important part of the SDF’s work as a component of the tutelary complex. For this reason, the SDF could not simply let service members return to civil society but had to fi nd places for them to work where they could implement their new abilities. As we will see in detail below, the SDF and the Defense Agency found it desirable that discharged service members remain in Hokkaido. Th e Hokkaido government supported this idea, too. Th ey agreed that this would augment the island’s population and give discharged service members a chance to continue dedicating themselves to the development of the island. Th e ways in which these entities tried to use the labor of discharged service members varied over time, and were closely intertwined with the policies toward Hokkaido developed by the central government and Hokkaido Development Agency. During the 1950s, the Defense Agency off ered those discharged members looking for a source of livelihood in civil society the option of becoming farmers on Hokkaido soil. Th e Defense Agency fi rst announced this project in 1955. Th e director of the Defense Agency met with the vice-director of the Hokkaido Development Agency in October of that year, and the latter agreed to fully endorse this project and to provide uncultivated land on the island for discharged service members. Th is project targeted those 10,000 service members who would be discharged the following year, and was intended to recruit about 300 of them as the fi rst group of settlers (later reduced to 120). Settlers were to be given proper training in farming while at the SDF. Once they were settled as farmers, they would receive an annual stipend of 12,000 yen. Th e Defense Agency also promised to off er the help of its engineering units to set up a livable environment in the areas where these discharged service members would settle. Th ese men were designated “reserve Self-Defense offi cials,” which meant that they were required to attend military training for a certain period each year and could be mobilized in the case of a military contingency. 55 Soon aft er, the Hokkaido Development Agency, the Hokkaido Development Bureau (a bureau created in Hokkaido to undertake the public work projects 76 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society draft ed by the Agency in Tokyo), the Hokkaido government, the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry, and the Northern Army held a meeting and developed concrete plans. Th ey designated four areas in northern and eastern Hokkaido as settlement locations for discharged service members. Also, the Hokkaido government agreed to off er them fi nancial and in-kind support, including farm tools, farm animals, and subsidies for housing. 56 In late August 1956, four service members who had applied to the project started their apprenticeship with farming families in the town of Hamatonbetsu in northern Hokkaido, where they would learn dairy farming. At the same time, the SDF’s Second and Fift h Engineering Units began building roads that would lead to Pon’nitachinai and Kaminaribetsu respectively, two of the four locations prepared for discharged service members. 57 Th e central government was strongly advocating land reclamation at the time. Hokkaido had been a destination for migrants from the mainland during the Meiji era, and the government in Tokyo once again saw this island as a solution for the population problem at the end of the Second World War. Th is time, the government relocated those urban residents from Tokyo, Osaka, and Kanagawa who had lost their houses due to air strikes by the United States. By October 1945, 3,400 households and 17,000 people had migrated to the island to ameliorate the labor shortage in agriculture. 58 As Japanese subjects returned from the former colonies, the value of Hokkaido grew even more. In November 1945, the government publicized a plan for a nationwide “urgent land reclamation” or kinkyū kaitaku, to achieve food self-suffi ciency and to resolve the problem of high unemployment. In Hokkaido, the plan called for the reclamation of 2,679 square miles and the resettlement of 200,000 households over fi ve years. Although the plan was unrealistic, and only 19,122 households had resettled in Hokkaido by 1947, Tokyo’s hope to transform Hokkaido into a supplier of food for the nation persisted. Th e First Comprehensive Development Project for Hokkaido, which started in 1952, pointed to the enhancement of food production through reclamation as one of its major goals. 59 Th e SDF and Defense Agency encouraged discharged service members to engage in agriculture in Hokkaido within this context. Although quite a number of civilian settlers moved to Hokkaido, it was not an easy task for them, many of whom lacked any farming experience, to launch an agricultural business and engage in hard physical labor on this cold, snowy land. It was likely that in these circumstances, the SDF and Defense Agency expected discharged service members to be exemplary settlers who could show civilian settlers the strength and patience that they had acquired. Moreover, their pride as former service An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 77 members—a status reminiscent of the farmer-soldier tondenhei of the early Meiji era—would likely have compelled them to endure daily hardships so that they could distinguish themselves from civilian settlers. Th e exact number of service members who settled in Hokkaido is unknown, but it was certainly not that many. In 1956, according to the SDF’s newspaper Asagumo, 71 service members applied for the 120 positions available. In the spring of 1957, fi ve men had settled in Kaminaribetsu and two in Pon’nitachinai. Fift een more were learning the basics of agricultural business at the Kushiro Reclamation Practice Center and were expected to move into the new settlements in March of the following year. Th ose who had already settled were building their lodgings and making charcoal for some immediate cash. Two had married local women, and another a woman whom he had brought from his hometown. Citing these cases, the newspaper article indicated how desirable it was for former service members to marry women with farming experience in order to put the farming business on the right track. 60 In 1962, the Northern Army’s newspaper Akashiya reported that active SDF service members were visiting these former members bearing such gift s as clothes and shoes. According to this article, nineteen former service members were engaging in farming at the time. 61 Th ese articles tell us that during the seven years aft er the launch of the reclamation project in 1956, the number of soldier-farmers grew very slowly. Most likely the SDF failed to recruit 120 service members as initially planned, and/or even those who had settled eventually abandoned their farming business and their land. In fact, aft er the early 1960s, one does not see articles on this topic in the SDF- related newspapers. We may presume that this project fell through for several reasons. First, it was expensive to start up farming. Although discharged service members were eligible for fi nancial and in-kind support from the SDF and the agricultural cooperative, they had to raise capital of at least 60,000 yen (and ideally 100,000 yen) to build a livable environment from scratch and get their lives together. 62 Considering that the monthly salary for second-class privates in 1960 was 6,800 yen, we cannot assume that many service members had amassed such savings. 63 Even if they did have suffi cient savings, it is hard to imagine that many were willing to invest those savings in a business with an uncertain future. Second, the quality of the lands granted to discharged service members as well as to civilian settlers across Japan was notoriously poor. While strongly urging reclamation in the immediate postwar period, the central government did not actively secure arable lands for new settlers. Th e lands granted to them were oft en in mountainous areas where no humans had lived previously. Th ey 78 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society oft en lacked electricity, running water, and infrastructure connecting them to nearby communities, and the government’s eff orts to improve these conditions were slow. Unable to endure the accumulating debts and the unrelenting tough life, many abandoned farming. By 1955, of 40,221 households who had settled in Hokkaido as farmers under the government’s project, 13,516 had given up farming. Th is accounted for 35.3 percent of the total number of households, and the rate would rise sharply with time. In this situation, it is doubtful that the SDF’s reclamation project could appeal to many service members. 64 Th ird, and most importantly, Japan’s economic growth was in full swing in the 1960s. In this decade, the labor market fi nally began to switch to a seller’s market, and the labor shortage in secondary industries became a serious concern. Discharged service members could at last have high hopes of fi nding jobs in civil society, especially now that they had earned special skills and licenses in the SDF. Likely aware of this changing nature of the Japanese economy, the Defense Agency prioritized securing a place for discharged service members in corporate society. Th is trend started in parallel with the reclamation project and ultimately became the dominant form of outplacement assistance for discharged service members. During the 1950s, neither the Defense Agency nor local SDF units had an organized system under which those looking for jobs in the civilian sector could receive assistance. Instead, the SDF’s Provincial Liaison Offi ce in each prefecture kept in contact with local Public Employment Security Offi ces and, through this connection, assisted discharged service members to obtain jobs. As the number of discharged service members working in civil society grew, a plan was consolidated to unite them into one organization. Th us, in 1959, those groups of discharged service members that had been active in civil society established the national organization Taiyūkai, or Association for Friends at the Forces. Th e Taiyūkai set four major aims: the promotion of friendship among members; support for families of deceased service members; raising awareness of national defense; and above all, employment assistance for discharged service members. 65 Th e Defense Agency also sought to systematize its support for the placement of discharged service members and to foster strong ties with corporate society. In May 1961, it held a meeting with representatives from the Japan Business Federation and such major companies as Shin-Mitsubishi, Komatsu, the Japan Steel Works, and Yawata Iron and Steel. Th ese companies agreed to give preference when hiring workers to discharged service members recommended by the Defense Agency. Th is meeting resulted in the founding in July of that year of the Council for the Employment of Discharged Service Members (Jieitai An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 79 jotaisha koyō kyōgikai), which involved not just the Defense Agency and the Japan Business Federation, but also the Japan Chamber of Commerce and Industry, the Ministry of Labor, and the Ministry of International Trade and Industry. Th ese bodies were determined to exchange information on job seekers and available jobs to fi nd employment opportunities suitable for service members so that these service members, while on active duty, could attend to their missions without worrying about their future aft er leaving the SDF. 66 Discharged service members appear to have been popular with employers. For example, Toyota was famous for giving preferential treatment to those from the SDF. Whereas a newly hired employee ordinarily started as a temporary worker and could move up to a full-time job only aft er working for a year and receiving a recommendation, those from the SDF were employed as full- time workers from the beginning. Toyota began this practice in 1961, and by July 1963 the number of discharged service members there already approached 600. Aft er working for four to fi ve years, these men could be promoted to the leader of a small work team with about ten subordinates—the kind of promotion that took about ten years for regular workers. During recruitment, Toyota highlighted this speedy promotion to attract men from the SDF. Once they entered the company, these men joined an organization called Hōeikai (the Association of Affl uence and Prosperity), whose aim was to nurture interactions and friendship among discharged service members. 67 Employers were willing to hire discharged service members not necessarily because they experienced a labor shortage, but primarily because they were fond of the particular personality traits that service members widely shared. At a round-table talk that the SDF’s Provincial Liaison Offi ce in Aichi prefecture organized in September 1960, the representative from Toyota—one of twelve representatives from major companies—praised workers from the SDF as “obedient” (fukujū ) and “cooperative” (kyōchō ). 68 At another round-table talk in 1961, attended by the president of Noguchi Construction, former service members working at that company, and personnel from the Tokyo Provincial Liaison Offi ce, the president identifi ed the virtues of former service members to include having a “strong sense of responsibility” ( sekininkan ga tsuyoi) and being accustomed to “group living” (dantai seikatsu ). 69 Th e director of the Human Resources Department at Nissan—another company famous for hiring discharged service members in large numbers—stated that they wanted people with “sound thought” ( shisō kenko ) and “discipline” (kiritsu ). 70 When we think about the comments above, we need to remind ourselves that, from the mid-1950s, the labor movement had been intensifying across Japan. 80 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

Th e Miike Mitsui dispute between 1959 and 1960, mentioned in Chapter 1 , evolved into the largest capital–labor dispute in postwar Japan. Th e 1960 renewal of the US–Japan Security Treaty led to a massive protest movement, joined by various civic organizations, student organizations, and labor unions. We can imagine why former SDF service members appealed to employers in this social atmosphere, which was rather undesirable from the management’s perspective. “Obedient” meant that they could work in compliance with employers’ will without being distracted by the labor and peace movement. “Sound thought” meant that they were not prone to socialism or any other ideas that encouraged workers to transform the existing economic system. Let us look again at the case of Hokkaido. Around the time that corporate society began to absorb discharged service members, one major change occurred in Hokkaido politics. In 1959, the conservative LDP member Machimura Kingo was elected governor aft er the socialist Tanaka Toshibumi had served three terms, from 1947 to 1959. Machimura would remain in offi ce until 1971. In Imperial Japan, he had been a bureaucrat of the Home Ministry and served as the governor of Toyama and Aomori (in Imperial Japan, governors were appointed by the central government). In April 1945, he assumed the position of Commissioner of the Police and moved to Tokyo. Th ere, in the midst of US air raids, he involved himself in sending those who had lost their homes to Hokkaido as settler- farmers. Aft er Japan’s defeat, SCAP purged him as a war collaborator. He was de- purged in 1951and elected to the House of Representatives from the First District of Hokkaido in 1952, endorsed by the Kaishin Party, which strongly supported rearmament. Aft er that, he joined the LDP and ran for governor of Hokkaido in 1959. Th roughout his career, Machimura enjoyed strong connections with the central government, and in fact, when he was running for the position of governor, he stressed this point, claiming that it would enable him to pursue the smooth development of the prefecture. 71 As governor, he constantly voiced his full endorsement of the SDF. For him, to do so symbolized the Hokkaido government’s commitment to maintaining a close and viable relationship with central government and its hope of continuing to benefi t from central government’s generous support. I have already mentioned the Hokkaido Development Agency’s First Comprehensive Development Project, which was carried out as two fi ve-year plans from 1952 to 1956 and from 1958 to 1962. While Machimura was in offi ce, the Agency’s Second Comprehensive Development Project was approved in a cabinet meeting in July 1962 and launched the following year as an eight- year plan. Th e Second Project diff ered signifi cantly from the fi rst. While the First An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 81

Project aimed to advance primary industries, boost food production, and improve infrastructure on the island, all of which were necessitated by the immediate postwar economic conditions of the nation and region, the Second Project focused on the promotion of secondary industries. By the early 1960s, as economic growth gained speed, the swelling of a few highly industrialized areas and the growing economic gap between regions had become serious social problems. In 1962, the central government established the Comprehensive National Development Project (Zenkoku sōgō kaihatsu keikaku), intending to build industrial infrastructure in regions that were not in the already over- industrialized Pacifi c belt. Th e Hokkaido Agency’s Second Project developed in tandem with this national plan and aimed to modernize Hokkaido’s economic structure. 72 Aft er its founding at the national level in 1962, the Council for the Employment of Discharged Service Members was organized at the prefectural level as well, and Governor Machimura was committed to the founding of the Hokkaido branch of the Council. In December 1963, in order to build a broad network for the outplacement of discharged service members, representatives from the Northern Army met with Machimura, the mayor of Sapporo, and leaders of corporate society in Hokkaido, including the directors of the Hokkaido Employers’ Association, the Hokkaido Federation of Societies of Commerce and Industry, the Sapporo Bankers’ Association, Hokkaido Construction Association, and the Sapporo City Transportation Bureau. At this meeting, Machimura promised full support for this endeavor aft er stating that the prefecture required talented technical experts for its development and that employers especially valued those skilled former service members who were already working in the civilian sector. 73 In February of the next year, this group celebrated the founding of the Hokkaido Council for the Employment of Discharged Service Members (Hokkaido jieitai jotaisha koyō kyōgikai). 74 It is hard to tell how successful the Hokkaido Council’s eff orts were. On the one hand, the Hokkaido Council grew steadily. During the 1960s, in addition to the main offi ce in Sapporo, ten branches were established throughout Hokkaido. In the fi ve years aft er the founding of the Council, the number of member companies increased to 400. In 1966, there were 1,220 job openings with these member companies. On the other hand, the number who successfully found employment through the help of the Council was rather small. Each year in Hokkaido, about 5,000 service members left the SDF. About one- third of them went back to school or joined their family businesses (e.g., agriculture), and another third found jobs through their own connections partly due to a lack of proper information on the Council. Th e remaining one- third asked for the 82 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

Council’s assistance, but in 1966, only 445 service members found jobs in this way, and in 1967, just 485. It does not appear that the Council was able eff ectively to match all job seekers’ interests and abilities with companies’ needs. 75 We can assume that the number of discharged service members working in the civilian sector in Hokkaido was not as remarkable as the SDF and Defense Agency would have hoped, and therefore, the impact that these people had on the Hokkaido economy should not be overestimated. Th is is not surprising given that in Hokkaido, unlike the metropolitan areas on the Pacifi c coast, there were not many large corporations that could accommodate signifi cant numbers of discharged service members. At the same time, we must not forget the symbolic meanings of the fact that the SDF and Defense Agency eagerly systematized their assistance for service members who intended to obtain jobs in Hokkaido. By repeatedly promoting discharged service members as “leaders” (ninaite ) and a “driving force” ( suishinryoku) for Hokkaido’s development, the SDF and Defense Agency could prove to Hokkaido communities that service members came to the island not as sojourners who would eventually return to the mainland but as permanent residents. Th ey could emphasize that theirs was a solid and long- term commitment to working for Hokkaido. To discharged service members, on the other hand, the SDF and Defense Agency could show that Hokkaido communities continued to request service members’ help even aft er they completed their terms and that the SDF’s careful support would extend even to discharged service members. Finally, to those in the industrial community, particularly small- and medium-sized companies, the eff orts made by the SDF and Defense Agency engendered a sense of security that the state was supporting their growth and that they could rely on the SDF whenever a labor shortage occurred. Th us, the building of a network for the placement of discharged service members symbolized collaborative and harmonious relations among the SDF, its service members, Hokkaido communities, and the industrial community.

C o n c l u s i o n

I have discussed the process by which the SDF enlisted popular support as an army for the people. Th e idea that the military should conform to popular will at all times materialized as a way to distinguish the new postwar military from the Imperial Army and Navy, as well as to evade criticism in an immediate postwar atmosphere that was not necessarily favorable to the military. An Army for the People: Th e SDF in Hokkaido 83

Hokkaido is a privileged site for examining how the idea of an army for the people was put into practice. On this northernmost island, the SDF off ered “people’s livelihood support” (i.e., civil engineering) and disaster relief for communities plagued by a shortage of labor, quickly becoming an essential part of the public assistance upon which residents could depend. Activities in Hokkaido also worked to cement the loyalty of service members to the SDF, since they allowed these men to feel that they were not disposable but rather essential to the development of Hokkaido. Furthermore, the SDF, the Defense Agency, and the Hokkaido government encouraged service members to remain on the island as civilian workers even aft er they completed their terms. Th rough the examination of these activities, this chapter has shown how the SDF consolidated its ties with civil society as the latter became increasingly aware of the socio-economic benefi ts the former could off e r . 84 3

Peace in Dispute: Anti-Military Litigation and the C o n s t i t u t i o n a l i t y o f t h e S e l f - D e f e n s e F o r c e s

While presenting itself as “an SDF for the people” ( kokumin no jieitai ) and oﬀ ering assistance to rural communities, the SDF remained, aft er all, a military organization, which built military bases and conducted military maneuvers. Th e SDF regarded its civil engineering and disaster relief as military concerns, that is, essential parts of the training of its service members. Th is means that from the SDF’s standpoint, there was a thin line between its activities aimed to help civilians and military maneuvers. Th erefore, people living in communities with bases, while enjoying the SDF’s support, had to worry about and endure incessant loud noise, environmental destruction, and even danger to their lives caused by various military activities. In this chapter, we will look at civilians’ objections and resistance to the SDF. Th e most active anti-SDF protest in postwar Japanese history occurred in the region that most beneﬁ ted from the SDF’s presence, that is, Hokkaido. People and communities in this northern island cultivated intimate socio- economic relations with the SDF as soon as rearmament started in 1950. In the midst of the antiwar social atmosphere of the 1960s, however, some residents began questioning whether the SDF was truly contributing to the good of residents and communities. Two brothers in the town of Eniwa and 173 residents of the town of Naganuma opposed the SDF’s maneuvers and the construction of a military base respectively, and contested the constitutional legitimacy of the SDF in court. Th rough a creative interpretation of the Constitution, particularly the Preamble and Article 9, these people articulated the notion of the “right to live in peace” (heiwateki seizonken or heiwa ni ikiru kenri ) in order to stress that national defense and the defense of individual and community welfare were not necessarily compatible. In the Naganuma case, a district court acknowledged the right to live in peace as a valid constitutional right and went on to recognize the unconstitutionality of the SDF. Th is was a historic ruling in

85 86 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society that, even today, it remains the only court decision that has found the SDF unconstitutional. In the previous chapter, I examined how the SDF enlisted spontaneous and voluntary popular support by detailing its commitment to postwar democracy and how civilians viewed the SDF as an organization essential to the maintenance of their lives. In this chapter, in contrast, I will highlight that liberal democracy structurally and inevitably leads to dissent. Because the democratic state gives individuals certain freedom to discuss and determine what types of state and society to build, there is always a possibility that they will not necessarily endorse the existing state and society, but will call for their reform and reorganization. I will show this by documenting how some Hokkaido residents elaborated on the notion of peace and popular welfare in order to challenge the government’s interpretation of these notions, growing militarization, and the postwar political structure that had imposed various forms of hardship and endurance on residents living near military facilities. Th us, the previous chapter and this one will allow us to see how both the SDF’s operation as an army for the people and civilians’ critique of it emerged within the same context, that is, democracy.

Th e Eniwa case

On December 24, 1962, the Northern Army, the regional army in charge of all four divisions in Hokkaido, fi led a criminal complaint with the Chitose Police Department against Nozaki Takeyoshi and his brother Yoshiharu. Two weeks earlier, the brothers had cut telephone cables in the Shimamatsu maneuver fi eld right next to their house and ranch in the town of Eniwa, an agricultural community south of the prefectural capital, Sapporo. Th e brothers had long opposed SDF maneuvers near their house. By cutting the telephone cables, they had attempted to disconnect communications within the maneuver fi eld. Based on the Northern Army’s complaint, the Sapporo District Prosecutor’s Offi ce indicted the Nozaki brothers at the Sapporo District Court on March 7, 1963. Th e Nozakis were charged with having violated Article 121 of the SDF Law, which stated that “those who break or damage the weapons, ammunition, aircraft , and other defense equipment owned by the SDF shall be subject to imprisonment for fi ve years or less, or a maximum fi ne of 50,000 yen.” 1 At fi rst, this incident did not receive much public attention. Th e Northern Army sought to treat the case simply as a criminal off ense. A small number of individuals and organizations, however, understood the signifi cance of the Anti-Military Litigation and the Constitutionality of the SDF 87 incident within the constitutional order and worked to awaken public consciousness. In April 1963, the Hokkaido Christian Association for Peace adopted a resolution supporting the Nozaki brothers “from the standpoint of defending the Peace Constitution.” Fukase Tadakazu joined the brothers’ defense team. A member of the association, he was professor of law at Hokkaido University and would later play a central role in elaborating the notion of the right to live in peace. Various organizations, such as the Hokkaido Peace Committee, the People’s Rescue Association (Kokumin kyūenkai, whose primary aim was to defend people’s rights, particularly in criminal cases, and to prevent false accusation by the police), and labor unions, rallied to support the brothers. 2 Th ese organizations would eventually form the Eniwa Incident Committee (Eniwa jiken taisaku iinkai), which publicized the incident in newsletters, published records of the trial, and collected donations for the brothers’ defense. 3 Encouraged by this support, the Nozaki brothers and their lawyers prepared to raise the constitutionality of the SDF as the central issue at the trial. At the fi rst hearing, held in September 1963, the defense lawyers began by asking prosecutors whether the SDF constituted the sort of “war potential” (senryoku ) that Article 9 of the Constitution banned. 4 If the SDF was unconstitutional, then the SDF Law would also be legally invalid, and the prosecutors could not accuse anyone of having violated a law that had no legal validity. Th is was the defense strategy for establishing the Nozaki brothers’ innocence. Before this trial, there had been one attempt to bring a lawsuit against the postwar Japanese military. In 1952, Suzuki Mosaburō fi led a lawsuit at the Supreme Court on behalf of the Socialist Party asking the court to recognize the unconstitutionality of the NPR. Suzuki had not suff ered any concrete damage by the NPR prior to the lawsuit, however. Th e Supreme Court judged that the court could not deal with a lawsuit concerning the interpretation of the Constitution at the abstract level and dismissed the case. 5 Th erefore, the Eniwa case—a minor criminal case in a small town in Hokkaido—was the fi rst legal case in which Japanese civilians questioned the SDF’s constitutionality based on their fi rst- hand experience. Th e prosecutors responded to the defense team’s tactics by stating that the SDF constituted not war potential but “defense capability” (bōeiryoku ), which could be used only for the purpose of self- defense, for example, in case that the nation was attacked by foreign troops. 6 Successive conservative cabinets led by the LDP had subscribed to this distinction between war potential and defense capability since the early stages of rearmament, insisting that Japan had only given up belligerency, not the right to self- defense. Th e Cabinet Legislative 88 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

Bureau acted as the single most vocal interpreter of the Constitution and Article 9, and endorsed this view. 7 Th e government’s and the prosecutors’ argument, based on the demarcation between “defense capability” and “war potential,” was not at all novel within an international context. Aft er experiencing the unprecedented destruction of the First World War, the international community made eff orts to put an end to unbounded aggression by distinguishing between the types of war that sovereign states were entitled to wage and those they should abjure. Th e Kellogg-Briand Pact of 1928, which renounced war “for solution of international controversies” and war “as an instrument of national policy,” was the fi rst international attempt in this respect. It was signed fi rst by the great powers, including Britain, France, Italy, the United States, and Japan. Eventually most sovereign states in the world joined the pact. Its spirit was further advanced aft er the Second World War. Article 2 (4) of the Charter of the United Nations required all members to settle international disputes by peaceful means and banned them from resorting to “the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence” of other states. As we know, however, these eff orts did not result in the complete elimination of war and armed confl ict. Th e contracting parties of the Kellogg-Briand Pact understood that they had not given up the right to wage a war of self- defense (though they never articulated the concrete and exact defi nition of “self- defense”). For example, the US Senate, when ratifying the pact, made it clear that the United States would continue to enjoy the right to self-defense. Th e Charter of the United Nations explicitly maintained that the Charter was not intended to “impair the inherent right of individual or collective self- defense.” Th us, sovereign states since the First World War have shared the conviction that a war’s legitimacy could be determined according to its purpose, and that only wars of aggression should be eliminated. 8 In fact, history since the First World War is full of wars and military actions that were conducted for supposedly “defensive” purposes, from the Japanese invasion of Manchuria and the German invasion of Poland in the 1930s to the United States’ military interventions in various places around the world over the last century and this one. Th e Nozaki brothers and their defense lawyers did not accept the legitimacy of the concept of the war of self- defense, in which defense capability would be employed. Th eir primary argument was that what the prosecutors identifi ed as defense capability, which purportedly was maintained to protect the lives of the Japanese people, could in fact endanger the lives of residents in communities with military bases, who were also Japanese. Th ey attempted to prove this by Anti-Military Litigation and the Constitutionality of the SDF 89 showing how the SDF’s incessant maneuvers had destroyed their dairy business, their livelihood, and above all, their health. Th e Shimamatsu maneuver fi eld is located just north of Eniwa. Th e town’s close association with the military began in 1901, when the Seventh Division of the Imperial Army expropriated 8,822 acres for a training ground. Up until 1945, the scale of training remained small. Th e Seventh Division used the fi eld mainly for rifl e and machine gun practice, which occurred just a few times a year. When there were no military activities, town residents were allowed to use the fi eld to graze cattle and harvest wildfl owers. In September 1945, the US occupation forces took the fi eld over and began using it for military maneuvers. When the Korean War broke out, the fi eld was used to train soldiers who were to be sent to the peninsula. Tanks and bombers took part in the exercises, resulting in serious environmental devastation. Trees were downed, and the soil lost its water- retaining capacity. Aft er 1952, US forces continued using the fi eld under the terms of the US–Japan Security Treaty. 9 Th e Nozaki family’s struggle against the military maneuvers started in August 1955, when the US forces set up targets for ground- attack aircraft just 0.6 miles from the Nozaki family’s house and engaged in practice bombardments. 10 Th e SDF joined the US forces in maneuvers late in 1956. Aircraft fl ew just 100 feet above the family’s house and farm during bombing runs, with 1,000 to 1,500 aircraft a day fl ying above the house. Th is infl icted serious damage on their dairy business and their health. Cows went mad due to the noise, some produced notably less milk, and some repeatedly delivered calves prematurely or miscarried. Th e father, the mother, and one of the brothers experienced serious hearing problems. Th e mother was especially aff ected. Her hearing problem and extreme fatigue led to her hospitalization in Sapporo in the spring of 1957, aft er which the family had its fi rst face-to-face talk with the US Air Force, mediated by the US Consul. Aft er the family’s continual protests, the US Air Force agreed to suspend maneuvers near the house, and eventually withdrew its troops permanently in 1957. Th e SDF, however, continued maneuvers at the same place under the supervision of the US forces at the Misawa Base in Aomori prefecture. Exhausted by the noise and his continuing protest, the father was also hospitalized in Sapporo in 1958. Th e two brothers and their sister continued to protest against the maneuvers in various ways. Th ey published a letter in the local Hokkai Times newspaper petitioning for the cancellation of maneuvers, to which the SDF did not reply; they collected signatures from neighbors; and they met with key SDF personnel from the Northern Eniwa Unit. However, the SDF took no steps to reduce the number of maneuvers or to cut down on noise. Th e brothers 90 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society sometimes tried to prevent maneuvers by standing in front of the artillery, but service members removed them by force and resumed maneuvers each time. Th e family did receive some compensation in 1960 from the Procurement Bureau (Chōtatsukyoku) in Sapporo, which, directed by the Procurement Agency (Chōtatsuchō) in Tokyo, aimed to fi nancially assist the victims of US military activities. However, this compensation amounted to only 1.18 million yen, less than 10 percent of the total estimated fi nancial damage to their business.11 Meanwhile, the parents remained in Sapporo to escape the noise and receive treatment (the mother would die during the trial). As the value of the cows and their milk continued to decrease, the family’s debts steadily increased. Th e incident that led to the court case took place on December 11, 1962. Th at morning, the SDF conducted practice bombardments without notifying the family in advance as they had earlier promised to do. Th e two brothers went to the Northern Eniwa Unit to ask them to postpone the aft ernoon maneuvers until they could contact the headquarters of the Northern Army. Takeyoshi, the elder brother, told the supervisors at the unit that if the SDF did not postpone the maneuvers, he and his brother would resort to force. At one o’clock in the aft ernoon, the SDF resumed maneuvers. Takeyoshi called the Northern Army to ask them to desist. Th e other brother, Yoshiharu, and his sister, Kazuko, went to the fi eld to protest directly, but were ignored. Yoshiharu then cut the telephone cables in front of service members. In response, several angry service members hit and choked him. Th e SDF resumed their exercises the next day. Th at day, on their way to the maneuver fi eld, Takeyoshi and Yoshiharu cut more telephone cables. Aft er recounting these events in court, Nozaki Takeyoshi asked the court what else he could have done to secure his family’s livelihood. Th en he cited one passage from the preamble to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights: “it is essential, if man is not to be compelled to have recourse, as a last resort, to rebellion against tyranny and oppression, that human rights should be protected by the rule of law.” 12 By citing this, Takeyoshi pleaded the brothers’ innocence, the injustice the SDF had committed against them, and the incongruity of the accusation against them. According to him, he and his family were the victims, not the perpetrators. Th e prosecutors responded by presenting the Nozaki brothers’ act of cutting telephone cables as illegal and irrational. In their view, the Nozaki family had been benefi ting from the SDF on a daily basis. Th e SDF allowed the family to use a reservoir inside the maneuver fi eld to generate electricity and for drinking water. Th e SDF also provided the family with land, rent-free, to build a pipe connecting the water reservoir to their house. When the pipe was clogged with Anti-Military Litigation and the Constitutionality of the SDF 91 mud in September 1962, the Northern Eniwa Unit unclogged it at no charge at the family’s request. Here we can see how the prosecutors emphasized the benefi cial nature of the SDF’s activities, and how they viewed the Nozaki family as insolent residents who did not suffi ciently appreciate these activities. Furthermore, the prosecutors also downplayed the noise problem. Responding to protests by the family, an offi cer from the Northern Army visited the family in 1962 to check the noise levels for himself. On that day, according to the prosecutors, the SDF was conducting fi ring drills with tanks, but the noise was minimal, and Nozaki Takeyoshi grumbled that the offi cer had deliberately chosen a quiet day. Th e prosecutors used this one- off incident to argue that the Nozaki brothers were exaggerating their suff ering. 13 Th e prosecutors strongly maintained that the SDF was working for the improvement of local residents’ lives and chose to ignore the argument that what they identifi ed as “defense capability” could actually destroy individual lives in the name of the defense of the nation- state.

Conceptualizing the right to live in peace

When arguing for the incompatibility between the defense of the nation and that of individual lives, the Nozaki brothers and their defense team struggled to locate the centrality of individual rights within the postwar constitutional order. For this purpose, as the trial proceeded, they gradually adopted the notion of the right to live in peace. Legal scholars have long agreed that the Constitution recognized the “right to life” ( seizonken ). Article 25 stipulated that all people had “the right to maintain the minimum standards of wholesome and cultured living,” and that the state was responsible for “the promotion and extension of social welfare and security, and public health.” Among the American occupiers in SCAP who draft ed the Constitution were a number of New Dealers, who, heavily infl uenced by the New Deal’s advocacy for justice and equality, held that the people enjoy basic social rights. Article 25 prepared the legal basis on which the government established the Livelihood Protection Law of 1950, guaranteeing the people the right to petition for public assistance if they had diffi culty in maintaining a minimum standard of living. People actively resorted to this article when criticizing the gap between the ideal of the welfare state and the government’s reluctance to support economically disadvantaged people. 14 Th e most famous is probably the so- called “Human Trial” ( ningen saiban). In this case, Asahi Shigeru, a man 92 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society infected with tuberculosis, fi led a lawsuit against the Minister of Welfare in 1957 insisting that the welfare benefi ts he was receiving were not suffi cient to maintain “the minimum standards of wholesome and cultural living.” He asked for an increase in the welfare benefi ts, and the Tokyo District Court ruled in his favor in 1960. Th e Tokyo High Court, however, dismissed the case, and he died in 1964 while appealing to the Supreme Court. 15 In the early 1960s, some scholars began to claim that the postwar constitution guaranteed not only the people’s right to live but also their right to live in peace , free from war and the fear of war. Behind this claim was the sense of crisis (shared by these scholars as well as many other Japanese) about peace and the Constitution, triggered and fomented by several events. Among these was the so-called Sunagawa incident. Th is farming town, currently a part of the city of Tachikawa in western Tokyo, hosted the US forces’ Tachikawa Air Base. In 1955, when the United States demanded runway expansions, which would require the expropriation of privately owned farmland, the struggle of the residents who opposed the plan began, leading to clashes with the police. In 1957, the police arrested and indicted seven protesters who trespassed onto the base. In August 1959, the Tokyo District Court found them not guilty, identifying the US forces stationed in Japan as “war potential,” which Article 9 banned. Horrifi ed by this ruling and pressured by the US ambassador Douglas MacArthur II, the Japanese government immediately appealed, and in December the same year, the Supreme Court reversed the district court’s ruling, stating that Article 9 could not be applied to another nation’s troops in Japan. Th e implication of this was that the Supreme Court confi rmed the compatibility between the Constitution and the Security Treaty and recognized the legitimacy of the US forces stationed on Japanese soil, an idea that many considered to trample on the constitutional ideal of unarmed peace. 16 Second, the famous anti-Security Treaty protests or Anpo protests began soon aft er the Sunagawa incident. Prime Minister Kishi Nobusuke signed the renewed and revised Treaty with US President Eisenhower in January 1960, and despite strong objection from the socialists, the LDP railroaded the bill through the Diet rather forcibly in May of the same year. Many citizens who viewed this as a challenge to democracy took to the streets and demanded Kishi’s resignation. Until Kishi’s cabinet resigned in July, this popular protest grew to an unprecedented scale, attracting hundreds of thousands of people. Although the renewal and revision of the treaty could not be stopped, those who cultivated civic consciousness by engaging in and/or witnessing the Anpo protests strongly felt the need to advance peace and democracy with recourse to Anti-Military Litigation and the Constitutionality of the SDF 93 the Constitution. Writing in the aft ermath of the Anpo protests, Tsurumi Shunsuke expounded the “making” ( tsukuru) of the Constitution. Th is critic and philosopher was concerned that the Constitution was not made independently by the Japanese but given by the US occupation forces. In the Anpo protests, however, he saw the evolving sign that fi ft een years aft er the establishment of the Constitution, the people were beginning to refl ect on how to use it as a tool with which to critique a state policy that seemed like a betrayal of its spirit. By the “making” of the Constitution, Tsurumi referred to this sort of act, advocating the active and self- motivating employment of constitutional rights. 17 Accordingly, various forms of citizens’ movements fl ourished in the 1960s and 1970s, including the anti-Vietnam War, feminist, and anti-pollution movements. 18 Documenting activism in this era and responding to George Packard’s argument that protesters were manipulated by the left ist parties, Wesley Sasaki-Uemura has demonstrated how they had concerns and agendas that stemmed from their everyday lives and made conscious decisions to pursue activism. 19 Th is trend was by no means unique to Japan. Th e 1960s was also an era of protest worldwide. By this time, the United States and its capitalist allies had managed to place their economies on a stable growth track and, guided by the Cold War need for social integration, had improved the quality of many workers’ lives by securing employment with competitive wages. People in these societies then began to identify persistent inequalities. Th ey demanded manifold rights that were not necessarily represented within traditional party politics, and no longer tolerated these rights being treated as secondary to the interests of a larger entity, such as the working class or the nation. As we know, this popular discontent with the Cold War- driven system reached its peak in 1968 with such events as the May protest in France. Immanuel Wallerstein has suggested viewing the movements that took place worldwide throughout the 1960s as a single movement, calling it “the revolution of 1968,” an anti- systematic critique at the global level. 20 In this political and social atmosphere, those living in communities with military bases began to attract attention. Th ey had to put up with various adversities infl icted by the Japanese government and the US forces, and yet, largely because they constituted a rather small minority within the Japanese population, the issue of their welfare had not been properly addressed. Legal scholars went beyond the conventional understanding of peace as a diplomatic policy and presented it as a fundamental human right. Hoshino Yasusaburō, who specialized in constitutional law, was the fi rst to advocate the notion of the right to live in peace. He focused on the second paragraph of the Preamble to the 94 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

Constitution. Th is paragraph declared the Japanese people’s commitment to international peace and the renunciation of tyranny, slavery, oppression, and intolerance. Th e paragraph ends: “We recognize that all peoples of the world have the right to live in peace, free from fear and want.” While the body of the Constitution included no article articulating the right to live in peace in concrete terms, Hoshino suggested understanding Article 9 and the right to live in peace as mutually reinforcing. While Article 9 appeared to have little to do with the people’s rights, Hoshino argued that the diplomatic policy determined by Article 9 (that is, unarmed peace) actually ensured the people a peaceful living environment. Th is article had liberated the Japanese from the anxiety of war, military service, and other obligations to participate in national defense, and made sure that their freedom of thought, conscience, speech, and expression could not be restricted for military purposes. Th is article, the law scholar continued, enabled the people to “employ all available manpower and wealth to build a free and peaceful society.” In his interpretation, the right to live in peace stipulated in the Preamble meant protecting this type of living environment. By construing the right to live in peace in this way, Hoshino insisted that the pacifi sm outlined in the Constitution must be the principle for determining not only the state’s diplomacy but also the extent of individual rights. 21 At the beginning of the Eniwa trial, the right to live in peace was not well appreciated by the public, or even by legal scholars. While the Nozaki brothers and their defense lawyers sometimes used the expression “the right to livelihood” ( seikatsuken ), they did not explicitly state that the SDF had violated the Nozaki family’s right to live in peace . Toward the end of the trial, however, they gradually recognized that a combined interpretation of the Preamble and Article 9 would help them eff ectively to denounce the SDF’s activities. Th is theoretical breakthrough was made possible by the growing size of the defense team that, by the end of the trial, had mushroomed to more than four hundred members. Th ey felt urged to defend the Constitution and peace from arbitrary interpretations and actively exchanged ideas and inspiration. 22 In his fi nal defense plea in January 1967, Fukase Tadakazu, a leading member of the brothers’ defense team, explained the concept of the right to live in peace. While stressing the meaning of the Preamble and Article 9, Fukase also articulated a new interpretation of this concept, rooted in Article 13. Th is article, strongly infl uenced by the US Declaration of Independence, stipulates that the people’s “right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” was the “supreme consideration in legislation and in other governmental aff airs.” Whereas this article added that the quest for this right should not interfere with “public Anti-Military Litigation and the Constitutionality of the SDF 95 welfare,” Fukase maintained that Article 9 did not allow military aff airs to be interpreted as “public welfare.” Instead, he argued, the people were entitled to pursue happiness fully without worrying about being mobilized, having their freedom of speech restricted, or having their properties and lands confi scated for the state’s war eff ort. At the end of this plea, Fukase retrospectively defi ned the Nozaki brothers’ struggle against the SDF as a fi ght for the right to live in peace, and claimed that for the brothers, aspiring to life free from military maneuvers was exercising their constitutional right. 23 It is evident that the other defense lawyers also intended to bring to light the incompatibility between the SDF and the right to live in peace, although they did not use this term explicitly. For example, in the thirty- eighth hearing, in January 1967, Satō Fumihiko and Hiroya Rokuo extensively discussed the “destruction of the people’s everyday life” ( kokumin seikatsu hakai ) caused by the SDF in general, including not only the loud noise caused by maneuvers, but also the expropriation of land for military bases, plane crashes, accidental fi ring, and damage to fi shing resulting from maneuvers at sea.24 Ozaki Susumu focused on residents’ tenacious resistance against the SDF’s bases in Hyakuri in Ibaragi prefecture and Niijima, an island in the Pacifi c.25 Kinjō Chikashi and Miyazato Kunio drew attention to the United States’ incessant expansion of bases on Okinawa, which accounted for 13.9 percent of the total area of the islands, and the use of these bases for the refueling of US planes fl ying to Vietnam.26 By presenting these examples, the defense team was clearly trying to connect the Eniwa case to a larger socio- political context within which the Cold War and subsequent rearmament placed people in communities with bases, thereby emphasizing that the Nozaki brothers were by no means alone in enduring the violation of a peaceful living environment. Th e Sapporo District Court handed down its ruling on March 29, 1967. On the one hand, Judge Tsuji Mitsuo found the Nozaki brothers not guilty. Relying on the SDF Law, the prosecutors had accused the Nozaki brothers of damaging “SDF-owned equipment used for the purpose of defense.” Judge Tsuji, however, stated that the telephone cables cut by the brothers could not be considered “SDF-owned equipment.” Typical examples of SDF-owned equipment included weapons, munitions, and airplanes, and compared to these, telephone cables obviously paled in signifi cance. Th erefore, the SDF Law could not provide legal grounds on which to try the Nozaki brothers. On the other hand, however, the judge refrained from making a judgment on the SDF’s constitutionality in relation to Article 9 and the right to live in peace. According to him, since the brothers had not violated the SDF Law and therefore were not guilty, he had no reason to address the constitutionality of the SDF. 27 96 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

While the prosecutors and the SDF felt relieved at this ruling, it oﬀ ered no solution to the Nozaki brothers’ predicament at the fundamental level. Th e central issue of the trial had been the constitutionality of the SDF, and the defense team had designed their arguments accordingly. But the court disregarded this. Th e implication was that the SDF could continue carrying out its maneuvers (and it did), and the brothers’ right to live in peace would continue to be threatened. Immediately aft er the ruling was given, the brothers held a press conference with their defense team. Nozaki Takeyoshi stressed that just because they were found not guilty, that did not mean that their human rights would be protected. His brother Yoshiharu expressed his sense of betrayal, saying that he now wanted to sue the court. Th e defense team issued a statement in protest of the ruling, criticizing the court for refusing to address the most essential point of contention during the trial. Th e same day, twenty scholars of the Constitution based in Tokyo also met to discuss the ruling and issued a statement. While admitting that the court had defended certain of the brothers’ rights by rejecting the prosecutors’ insistence that they be punished, these scholars, just like the Nozaki brothers and their lawyers, were dissatisﬁ ed with the ruling and called for a continued discussion of the relations between peace and defense among the Japanese people broadly. 28

Th e Naganuma case

Th e hope, kindled by the Nozaki brothers, to establish a constitutional right to live in peace did not expire with the conclusion of the case. Th eir eff orts signifi cantly infl uenced the plaintiff s’ arguments in the next anti-SDF litigation in Hokkaido. Th at case took place in Naganuma—a small farming town near Sapporo, famous for its rice production, not far from Eniwa—in 1968, about a year aft er the ruling in the earlier case. On May 30 of that year, the Minister of Agriculture and Forestry and the Hokkaido prefectural government notifi ed the mayor of Naganuma that the Defense Agency planned to build a new Nike J missile base in the town. Its original form, Nike Hercules, had been developed in the United States in the 1950s, and the United States had provided Japan with a license to manufacture this surface-to-air missile domestically. As the United States, mired in the Vietnam War, cut fi nancial support for Japan’s defense during the 1960s, the Japanese government began taking greater responsibility for its own defense, and Japanese fi rms strove to manufacture weapons with US technological support. Anti-Military Litigation and the Constitutionality of the SDF 97

Th e Nike J missile was a product of such eff orts.29 In 1967, the Japanese government launched the Th ird Defense Buildup Plan, which had as a primary goal the strengthening of air defense through domestically manufactured Nike missiles. When announcing the construction of the Nike missile base in Naganuma, the Minister of Agriculture and Forestry and the Hokkaido government called on the town’s mayor to agree to trees being cut down on Mount Maoi to provide space for the missile base. Th e Meiji government had designated this mountain as a national forest preserve in 1897. Naganuma is located in wet lowland, and residents of Naganuma had been relying on this forest preserve for the protection of the watershed since that time. 30 Upon notifi cation from the Minister and the Hokkaido government, the mayor declared his support for the project. At the town assembly meeting on June 10, of the 26 assembly members, 17 endorsed the project on the condition that the central government would compensate the town for any damage that the building of the base might cause and that it would not allow nuclear weapons on the base. On June 13, the mayor visited the Defense Agency in Tokyo to convey the assembly’s agreement and to ask them to adhere to these conditions. On July 17, aft er fourteen hours’ deliberation and with the support of 22 members, the assembly formally approved the Nike missile base plan. 31 Th e town received statements objecting to the project from 138 residents. Th e Forestry Agency, an extra-ministerial bureau of the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry, held two public hearings to explain to residents the procedure for building the Nike missile base in September 1968 and May 1969. Th ose residents who opposed the project were irritated at the lack of concrete information on the Nike base, and demanded the agency provide more detailed plans of the alternative facilities that the agency had promised to build to protect the watershed. 32 In May, prior to the hearing, student activists from Hokkaido University and the Otaru University of Commerce who sympathized with Naganuma residents clashed with riot police. Forty-two students were arrested, and more than eighty people, including both students and police, were injured. At the end of the three-day hearing, the Forestry Agency insisted on the validity of the hearing, while opponents of the plan claimed that they had not been given any time to state their opinions. 33 While failing to reach any consensus with town residents, on July 7, 1969, the Ministry removed an 86.7-acre area of Mount Maoi from the forest preserves list, thereby permitting the Defense Agency to cut down trees and build the Nike missile base there. On the same day, 173 residents who opposed the base project fi led a lawsuit in the Sapporo District Court against the Minister of Agriculture 98 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society and Forestry, petitioning for cancellation of the delisting. Th ey feared that deforestation would impair the role played by Mount Maoi in deterring natural disasters and that the alternative facilities that the government proposed to build could not serve this purpose. 34 Anticipating that it would take a long time for this case to be settled in court, they also asked the court for an injunction against the government’s tree- felling until the case was settled. 35 Th e Sapporo District Court responded promptly. It issued an injunction on August 22 to prevent tree felling. Judge Fukushima Shigeo argued that it might cause irreparable damage to the community, and that the SDF’s constitutionality needed to be discussed in relation to the spirit of the Constitution prior to the construction of the base. 36 Th e government appealed to the Sapporo High Court the following week. On January 23, 1970, the high court reversed the district court’s decision, and permitted tree felling and construction to continue. Th e high court stated that the government’s plan for alternative facilities such as dams was satisfactory for watershed protection. 37 Th e plaintiff s decided not to appeal. Considering the fact that the Supreme Court tended to rule in favor of the government (as in the Sunagawa case), it was unlikely that the high court’s decision would be overturned. Following this decision, in June of the same year, the clearing of trees began. Despite this setback, the plaintiff s chose to continue challenging the legality of the delisting of Mount Maoi from the forest preserves list, demanding that the court repeal the delisting retroactively. One major issue contested at court was whether the delisting of Mount Maoi for the construction of the Nike base assumed any public interest. According to Article 26 of the Forestry Law, such delisting was allowed only when the Minister of Agriculture and Forestry deemed that it was required for “reasons pursuant to the public good” (kōekijō no riyū), examples of which included the construction of roads and dams by central, prefectural, and municipal governments. From the outset of the trial, the government insisted that the military bases provided a public good, charging that without them, the nation would be susceptible to foreign attack. Th e government did recognize that Mount Maoi as a forest preserve constituted a public good for local residents by providing water resources for drinking and irrigation purposes, and as a protection against fl oods. But the government also maintained that such a good was less important than the public good that the Nike base would pursue, and that therefore the lesser public good could be sacrifi ced. 38 In this argument, we see the same logic that the prosecutors resorted to in the Eniwa case—the logic that individuals should surrender their particular interests and desires for the sake of the common welfare of a greater number of people, or the nation. Anti-Military Litigation and the Constitutionality of the SDF 99

Th e plaintiff s, however, held that the delisting of Mount Maoi from the forest preserves list lacked a compelling reason pursuant to the public good, and therefore lacked legal validity. Th eir key argument was that the delisting and the subsequent construction of the Nike base would violate their constitutional right to live in peace, and that any act that betrayed the principles of the Constitution could not be pursued in the name of the public good. 39 Th us, as in the Eniwa case, the constitutionality of the SDF became the most contested topic at the trial. Th e government insisted on the constitutionality of the SDF by arguing that the SDF possessed only a minimum level of defense capability. Frustrated at the lack of specifi city and concreteness in the government’s explanation, the plaintiff s, in the fi rst hearing in October 1969, asked the government to distinguish between defense capability and war potential in a clear manner. Upon this request, the court ordered the government to disclose accurate information on the SDF’s scale and power. 40 At the second hearing in December 1969, the government responded that because issues concerning the constitutionality of the SDF were highly political and directly related to Japan’s national security, they should be dealt with by the political division of the government, that is, the Diet and the cabinet. In other words, the government regarded the constitutionality of the SDF as a question inappropriate for the judiciary to address. Because of this conviction, the government provided the information on the SDF in a rather perfunctory manner. Th e information provided, on the number of service members and the types of equipment, which anyone could have easily obtained, naturally left the plaintiff s unsatisfi ed. 41 On December 12, the plaintiff s requested permission to call on nine people with distinct knowledge of the SDF, including top offi cers, to provide testimony so that the court could objectively judge whether it possessed only defense capability. 42 While the government intended to decline the request to summon SDF offi cers, the judge agreed with the plaintiff s. Th us, between the sixth and twenty-fi ft h hearings, these nine and an additional eight witnesses testifi ed in court, and these included the three Chiefs of Staff from the Ground, Maritime, and Air SDF, a former Chief of Staff of the Air SDF, and a few other military offi cers. It was unprecedented that all the Chiefs of Staff were summoned to give testimony on the scale and power of the SDF. One of the points the plaintiff s wished to clarify was how the Nike missiles deployed in Naganuma, as well as other weapons, could be justifi ed as defense capability. Genda Minoru, a former colonel of the Imperial Navy, former Chief of Staff of the Air SDF, and current member of the House of Councilors, 100 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society explained that the equipment the SDF possessed was meant to eliminate the possibility of foreign attacks. Th e SDF would resort to its use only if Japan was attacked by external forces, and had no intention to use it to invade other countries. Nor did it possess equipment suffi ciently advanced to send troops overseas to destroy other countries’ war potential. Ogata Kagetoshi, the Chief of Staff of the Air SDF repeatedly used the term “exclusive defense” ( senshu bōei )—a major defense principle adopted by the Defense Agency—to refer to this non- aggression policy, associating it with the nation’s inherent right to self- defense. Th e introduction of the Nike missiles could be rationalized within this framework. Th e one and only function of the Nike missiles was to destroy enemy planes that invaded Japanese airspace, which would be necessary to protect the properties and lives of the people, particularly the people in Hokkaido. Under no circumstances could they be used to attack and destroy targets outside Japan. 43 In addition to these top SDF offi cers, the court also summoned civilian experts specializing in the SDF, politics, and law. Th ese experts expressed strong skepticism at the SDF offi cers’ argument. One of the fears that they shared was the risk of accidents caused by missile explosions. Osanai Hiroshi, a military commentator, and Hayashi Shigeo, a board member of the Japan Peace Committee, both made this point. At a base in Middletown, New Jersey, in 1958, eight Nike missiles had exploded accidentally, killing ten people while they were installing arming mechanisms. In Okinawa, which was still under US administration and armed with Nike missiles, falling boosters had infl icted damage on civilians and their residences during military maneuvers. Osanai, who had witnessed a live-fi ring training for Nike missiles at a base in the United States, reported that in the event of the explosion of a missile, its fourteen-foot- long, two- ton booster could fl y up to three miles away while remaining extremely hot, and that its drop position was unpredictable since it might easily be infl uenced by the weather of the day. Although the government asserted the safety of the Nike base, no one could guarantee that such accidents would not happen in Naganuma. 44 Th ese experts also cautioned that the government might turn the Nike missile base into a nuclear base. Th e American Nike-Hercules, from which the Japanese Nike was developed, had optional nuclear warheads, and indeed, many missiles deployed in the United States were equipped with nuclear warheads. Th e Defense Agency had stressed that Nike J missiles would be produced with non-nuclear warheads and that changing the warheads was structurally impossible. But Osanai Hiroshi presented a diff erent view. While agreeing on the diffi culty of changing warheads on existing Nike missiles, he also indicated that the launchers Anti-Military Litigation and the Constitutionality of the SDF 101 for the missiles were imported from the United States, and that these launchers could launch both nuclear and non-nuclear missiles. Th is meant that if the Japanese government were to decide to produce nuclear missiles, the launchers could easily be used for these as well. While this trial was going on, it was unclear whether Nike missiles at US bases on Okinawa bore nuclear warheads or not. Th is uncertainty surely fueled Osanai’s fear. 45 Th e experts were alarmed not only by the Nike base, but also by a much larger problem, namely the relentless growth of the SDF under US tutelage. While the trial was underway, the Vietnam War was at a stalemate. Against this backdrop, the United States and Japan were forging increasingly intimate ties as capitalist allies in the Pacifi c. In November 1969, US President Nixon and Japanese Prime Minister Satō issued a joint statement reasserting the importance of the US– Japan Security Treaty in maintaining the “peace and security of the Far East.” 46 Yamada Akira, a military specialist who had published several books on the US– Japan Security Treaty, pointed out in the hearing in July 1971 that Japan’s military expenditure had been growing by 10 percent per annum, and that Japan ranked seventh in the world in military expenditure. But he rejected the view that this would enhance the security of Hokkaido or Japan. Quite the contrary, he repeatedly argued that the primary mission of the SDF was to protect US bases in Japan, referring to the fact that the Nike base was being constructed just near Camp Chitose, a communications base owned by the US Air Force. Takahashi Hajime, a military commentator and former lieutenant colonel in the Imperial Navy, made a similar point when he reminded the court that a large number of US troops were also stationed in the Misawa Base in Aomori prefecture. Both Yamada and Takahashi maintained that an advanced military facility such as the Nike base would have the eff ect of attracting, rather than repelling, an attack from an enemy. 47 Th ey were anxious that, if war broke out, Naganuma residents in particular and Japanese people more broadly might have to sacrifi ce their lives for the sake of what the US and Japanese governments called the “peace and security of the Far East,” which was in fact best understood as US hegemony and dominance in Cold War Asia. Th e testimonies of the civilian experts were in sharp contrast to those of the SDF offi cers. Whereas the latter simply reiterated that the Nike base would enhance the security of Hokkaido and Japan, the civilian experts countered with concrete and detailed data and examples. Th ey reminded the court of the centrality of the welfare of local residents who would have to endure any catastrophe caused by missile accidents or a war. Furthermore, they presented this predicament not solely as a problem that would victimize Naganuma 102 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society residents, but an event that symbolized Japan’s further integration into the United States’ geopolitics in Cold War Asia. At a fundamental level, these civilian experts agreed that the SDF infringed upon the people’s right to live in peace and that the government could not pursue the deforestation of Mount Maoi for the construction of the Nike base in the name of the public good. Th e Sapporo District Court handed down its ruling on September 7, 1973, about four years aft er the plaintiff s fi led their lawsuit. Judge Fukushima, who had issued the injunction against the government’s deforestation of Mount Maoi, recognized the right to live in peace as a constitutional right. For him, the three principles of the Constitution—popular sovereignty, respect for fundamental human rights, and pacifi sm—had to be interpreted in an integrated manner. From this standpoint, he fully accepted the plaintiff s’ argument concerning the relationship between the Preamble and Article 9 of the Constitution, namely the argument that the individual’s right to live in peace and the government’s security policy must complement each other. 48 Th e recognition of the right to live in peace had a lot to do with the judge’s interpretation of the notion of “defense.” While the government had stressed that Article 9 did not renounce wars of self- defense or ban the possession of defense capability, Fukushima deemed it unlikely that the Constitution that guaranteed the right to live in peace would at the same time justify war depending on its purpose. Wars of self- defense fought using defense capabilities, no less than wars of aggression fought using war potential, would require the mobilization of human and material resources, and risk violating the people’s right to live in peace. Th e judge defi ned “war potential” as “an organization constituted by human and material means that could be employed for the purpose of war,” and within this defi nition it was impossible to demarcate between war potential and defense capability. 49 Th e judge therefore regarded the SDF as an organization that possessed war potential, and was, therefore, unconstitutional. Since the construction of the Nike base could not be pursued in the name of the public good under the constitutional order, he ordered the removal of the base and the restoration of the forest preserve. 50 Th is was a historic ruling in that it was the fi rst court decision that ruled the SDF to be unconstitutional. Th e plaintiff s won this ruling despite enormous diffi culty—the kind of diffi culty the Nozaki brothers in the Eniwa case had not faced. Th e Nozaki brothers had been suff ering the consequences of military maneuvers for a long time. At the trial, they could demonstrate the damage caused by the SDF by presenting a great deal of empirical evidence. Naganuma residents, on the other hand, had not undergone any suff ering at the hands of the SDF prior to fi ling Anti-Military Litigation and the Constitutionality of the SDF 103 their lawsuit. Th ey decided to fi le the lawsuit because they feared that base construction could result in damage to their lives in the future. All the instances of damage the plaintiff s referred to were hypothetical, and thus much harder to establish. Th e plaintiff s, however, developed an argument convincing enough that the judge ultimately ruled in their favor. It is clear that the conceptualization of the right to live in peace helped the plaintiff s organize their thought, verbalize their fear, and indicate the potential damage in a tangible and intelligible manner. Th ey were able to present anticipated consequences of the base construction systematically as a violation by the government of this right. Even without recourse to the right to live in peace, the plaintiff s might have pointed to the damage that could be caused by the base’s construction. But in that case, they would not have developed a language with which to correlate various instances of damage coherently.

Th e aft ermath: the ruling reversed

Th e plaintiff s and their defense team rejoiced at the court’s decision, calling it “the best ruling that one could ever hope for” ( nozomi uru saikō no hanketsu ). It reassured a number of citizens who had been struggling against military bases of the legitimacy of their fi ght. Th is was particularly true in Okinawa, where the SDF had been deployed upon its reversion to Japanese sovereignty in 1972 and therefore residents had come to endure the burden of hosting bases of both the US forces and the SDF. On the other hand, the defendant—that is, the government—was extremely uneasy about the ruling. It feared that this ruling would wear down service members’ morale and foment anti- military protest. Th e Chief Cabinet Secretary, Nikaidō Susumu from the LDP, in a press conference aft er the ruling was given, described it as “regrettable” (ikan ) and repeated that the government “could not accept” it ( shōfuku dekinai ). 51 On September 12, just fi ve days aft er the district court handed down its ruling, the government appealed to the Sapporo High Court, which in 1976 reversed the district court’s decision. For our purposes, three points are pertinent concerning this ruling. First, the high court refused to admit the possibility of disadvantages the plaintiff s might suff er from the deforestation of Mount Maoi. Th e court held that because alternative facilities, such as canals, dams, and mudslide-control dams, had already been built, and these would function to prevent such natural disasters as fl oods, the possibility that deforestation could endanger the lives of the Naganuma residents had been eliminated. Th erefore, according to the court, 104 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society residents no longer possessed “concrete interests” (gutaiteki na rieki ) to sue over this issue. Second, the court refused to acknowledge the judicial validity of the Naganuma residents’ insistence on the right to live in peace. While admitting that the Preamble expressed “noble ideals” (sūkō na rinen), the court held that the Preamble, unlike the articles, did not provide any concrete and specifi c judicial standard upon which one could base a lawsuit. In other words, rights mentioned in the Preamble were so abstract that the violation of these rights alone could not establish a suffi cient basis upon which to sue. Similarly, the court insisted that the agendas set up by Article 9, whose contents were more concrete than those in the Preamble, were only meant to protect the interests of “the general people” ( ippan kokumin ), not the particular interests of “particular people” ( tokutei no kokumin ). Despite the plaintiff s’ tireless eff orts, the court failed to recognize manifold experiences within the category of “the people,” and could perceive “the people” only as a unitary, static entity detached from the material context. Th ird, the Sapporo High Court chose to avoid discussion of the SDF’s constitutionality. It maintained that there were certain legislative and executive issues whose constitutionality should not be gauged by the judiciary. Th ese were issues directly related to fundamental national governance that might have an enormous impact on the “maintenance of the existence of the state” (kuni no sonritsu iji ). 52 Th is was consistent with a tendency not to challenge fundamental governmental acts, which is a prominent feature of the Japanese judicial system. One reason is the conviction among a fair number of judges and legal scholars that there were certain non-justiciable, highly political questions. Th ey believe that the cabinet and elected legislature should deal with these issues, and that the judiciary, which is not elected by the people, should avoid doing so. Another reason is that for many decades, a single party—the LDP—maintained power, and there were frequently cozy relations between the LDP, the Diet, the cabinet, and the courts (with judges appointed by the cabinet). For these reasons, the courts were reluctant to object to government activities, especially those related to defense issues, based on the assumption that the judiciary should not undermine coherence in governmental policies by ruling on the constitutionality of individual issues. Th e higher the level of the court, the more salient this tendency became. 53 In this sense, the Sapporo High Court’s ruling was not particularly surprising. Th e Naganuma residents appealed to the Supreme Court, which dismissed the appeal in 1982, as expected. Th e ruling was simple. Given that the government Anti-Military Litigation and the Constitutionality of the SDF 105 had already fi nished building the Nike base and the alternative facilities intended to ameliorate the eff ects of the tree- felling, the court held that the plaintiff s had lost the grounds to demand legal protection. Th e court did not mention the constitutionality of the SDF or the people’s right to live in peace at all. Th is implicitly confi rmed the idea that these were non- justiciable questions. 54 With this loss at the Supreme Court, the Naganuma residents had no further legal means of undoing deforestation and shutting down the Nike base. Although the Eniwa and Naganuma cases did not end in a satisfactory manner for the protesters against the SDF, the historical signifi cance of these cases must not be overlooked. While the SDF promoted itself as a defender of the people’s lives, highlighting its commitment to upholding the democratic ideal of popular welfare, the Nozaki brothers and Naganuma residents did not concur with this view. By pointing out in detail the destructive and undesirable consequences that the SDF had brought or could have brought to their communities, they indicated that the people’s lives could not be always protected or improved by the SDF, and thereby challenged the alleged uniformity of the people’s experience. To put it simply, this was a critique of not only the SDF but also postwar democracy in general. We have to remind ourselves here that “the people”—that is, the sovereign in a democracy—did not exist prior to the advent of democracy, but was intentionally constituted by it as the subject that would exercise sovereignty and enjoy various democratic rights. Because of this, the people can never be general, abstract human beings, but must be a specifi c group of people, who supposedly have common interests, needs, and goals. As Chantal Mouff e argues, therefore, the creation of the category of the people is based on a logic of exclusion and inevitably entails a “moment of closure” at which a line must be drawn between those who can become benefi ciaries of rights and those who cannot. 55 When we think about this moment of closure, we tend to pay attention to the binary of citizens, who possess the nationality of a given nation-state, and foreigners, who lack that nationality. But we also have to note that even among the citizens of a nation- state, there exist individuals with competing interests, and that democracy cannot represent all of them in an equal manner. In order to unite these diverse individuals and create (or impose) a consensus, democracy oft en equates the majority’s will with the general will of the people. Th is is a problem that democracy has been tackling since its birth. For example, in observing emerging democracy in the United States in the nineteenth century, Alexis de Tocqueville correctly pointed out that the danger of tyranny was immanent to democracy if a society uncritically renders the majority’s views absolute. 56 106 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

Th e Nozaki brothers and Naganuma residents revealed tensions within the people and elucidated the abstract and elusive nature of this category by asserting their particular needs as residents living in communities with bases. Th eir needs—being protected from the military—could not be correctly understood nor considered “public” matters within the larger category of the people, since most of those within the latter category could believe that their lives were protected by the military while having little or no direct interaction with it. Relying on Mouff e’s argument once again, “democratic politics does not consist in the moment when a fully constituted people exercise its rule,” but “the moment of rule is indissociable from the very struggle about the defi nition of the people.” 57 Th en, we can argue that the Nozaki brothers and Naganuma residents contested the defi nition of the people, insisting that they too belonged within the people and that their welfare should not be neglected or subordinated to the majority just because they were relatively small in number and living on the periphery.

C o n c l u s i o n

In this chapter, I have examined two anti-SDF court cases in Hokkaido. Th ese court cases arose out of the social atmosphere aft er the Sunagawa incident and Anpo protests which forced many Japanese to contemplate whether military organizations and the military alliance with the United States were contributing to the peace of the people. Th ey were a manifestation of the disquiet shared by some Hokkaido residents about the persisting militarization of the island that had been ongoing since the 1950s. Th rough these cases, it became evident that not all people in Hokkaido endorsed the SDF as an army for the people. Both the Nozaki brothers and Naganuma residents employed the notion of the right to live in peace to critique the SDF, but ultimately, they failed to establish it as a constitutional right. Aft er the two incidents, however, the government could no longer simply hang on to the idea that the SDF was working for the good of “the people,” but recognized an urgent need to build a system that could integrate even critics of the SDF and convince these critics that they were being taken care of within the category of “the people.” Th e next chapter will examine the government’s eﬀ orts in this regard. 4

Overcoming Crises: Th e Emergence of the Defense Facilities A d m i n i s t r a t i o n A g e n c y

In the Eniwa case, the Nozaki brothers were found innocent, but the court evaded any judgment regarding the constitutionality of the SDF. In the Naganuma case, the district court rendered the SDF unconstitutional, but the higher court and the Supreme Court overturned this ruling. Th us, the judicial system in postwar Japan did not pose a fundamental objection to LDP-dominated cabinets’ defense policy, and therefore the SDF maintained its legitimacy at the legal level. But the LDP and the central government could not be satisfi ed with this situation. Th roughout the 1960s and 1970s, communities that hosted military bases—both SDF and American—tirelessly criticized the ways that the central government treated them, pointing out numerous instances of damage and insuffi cient compensation. Th is could have completely undermined the idea of the SDF as an army for the people, which was central to the SDF’s appeal to the people. Th ere was an urgent need to reaffi rm the validity of this idea and re-establish reciprocal relations between the SDF and communities. In this chapter, I detail the ruling elites’ response to communities’ discontent with militarization since the 1960s, focusing on the policies and activities of the Defense Facilities Administration Agency (DFAA). Th is agency was born out of the Defense Agency in 1962 as a mediator between military organizations (the US troops stationed in Japan and the SDF) and the communities that hosted their bases. It tried to alleviate base problems through economic assistance, which oft en took the form of compensation and subsidies to these communities. By describing and analyzing this process, I want to demonstrate how those involved in the making of base-related policy, rather than suppressing criticisms, objections, and protest in a coercive manner, sought to regain support for the SDF by appealing to people’s aspiration to a better life. Th is tactic was not unique at all within the historical context of postwar democracy. John Dower has argued that throughout the 1950s and 1960s, the

107 108 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society conservative hegemony led by the LDP successfully co-opted the peace movement, which left ists had most actively contested, by partially accommodating the people’s anti-war and anti-nuclear sentiments, and that by the 1970s the opposition had lost its prominence in national politics. 1 Looking at organized labor and small- business associations, Sheldon Garon and Mike Mochizuki have examined how big business, bureaucrats, and the LDP—what they call the conservative coalition—negotiated social contracts with these groups through policies that would protect their interests.2 In this way, the politics of accommodation was a strategy widely adopted in postwar Japan to overcome moments of crises, to achieve consensus, and to institute stable state–society relations, as it increasingly became a welfare state under mass democracy. Th is chapter considers the issues of military bases along the same lines, and illuminates how the politics of accommodation transformed communities with bases into beneﬁ ciaries of military welfare and how this further prepared the ground for militarization.

Th e Defense Facilities Administration Agency as a mediator

While the DFAA was launched in 1962 to deal with problems resulting from military facilities and activities, the Japanese government had long been seeking to mediate between the military organizations and civilians. In this regard, two antecedent organizations must be mentioned: the Special Procurement Board (Tokubetsu chōtatsuchō) and the Construction Department (Kensetsu honbu). Th e Special Procurement Board was founded under the direction of SCAP as a public corporation (kōhōjin ) in September 1947. Its chief mission was to secure land, buildings, and labor for use by the US occupation forces. In 1949, it was reorganized as an administrative agency. Even aft er Japan gained independence from the United States in 1952, this organization, renamed the Procurement Agency (Chōtatsuchō), continued to exist and took up the role of arbitrating disputes between the US forces and the Japanese people. First, there were a number of Japanese people whose land had been seized for US military bases. Although they expected to get their land back once the occupation had ended, the continued presence of US troops under the Security Treaty made the seizure of their land seem permanent. As protest gradually emerged, the Procurement Agency compensated those who had lost land. 3 Second, accidents and crimes caused by US military personnel received great social attention. Between 1952 and 1959, the average annual number of such accidents and crimes rose to 9,000. According to the US–Japan Administrative Overcoming Crises: Th e Emergence of the DFAA 109

Agreement, which Japan had signed in 1952 to determine the concrete rights and obligations of both the US and Japanese sides under the Security Treaty, if Japanese citizens suff ered from accidents caused or crimes committed by US military personnel, the Japanese government was required to deal with victims’ claims. Based on this agreement, the Procurement Agency off ered compensation and relief payments for victims. In this way, the Procurement Agency worked to facilitate the smooth stationing of the US forces, and in this sense it had functioned as a client organization of the US forces from the beginning. 4 Th e other organization from which the DFAA developed was the Construction Department. Th is organization originated in a division within the NPR and gained this name when the Defense Agency was founded in 1954. As an affi liated organization of the Defense Agency, the Construction Department assisted the Defense Agency to acquire facilities and carry out construction work for the SDF. Th is department thus fulfi lled for the SDF a mission similar to that the Procurement Agency performed for the US forces. 5 While operating as two discrete organizations, the Procurement Agency and the Construction Department increasingly recognized the importance of their collaboration. In June 1957, Japanese Prime Minister Kishi and US President Eisenhower issued a joint communiqué, in which the latter agreed to gradually diminish US troops stationed in Japan in exchange for Japan’s promise to engage more actively in its own defense. At the end of 1956, US troops possessed 458 facilities occupying 248,488 acres. By the end of 1959, the number of facilities had decreased to 243, and their area to 83,027 acres. 6 As the United States withdrew its troops from Japanese soil, they oft en ceded their land and facilities to the SDF. Th ere were also many cases in which the SDF and the US forces jointly used lands and facilities. In this situation, there was little reason for the Procurement Agency and Construction Department to operate separately. In 1958, the Diet passed revisions to the 1954 law regarding the installation of the Defense Agency, enabling the Procurement Agency, which had been under the control of the Prime Minister’s Offi ce, to function as an agency affi liated with the Defense Agency, which also had oversight of the Construction Department. In 1960, the US–Japan Security Treaty was renewed and revised. With this, Japan changed from a land-leasing country for the US forces to a military ally that would actively collaborate with them for “the security of Japan” and “international peace and security” through the reinforcement of the SDF. Th e growing intimate relations between the two military organizations encouraged bureaucrats in the Defense Agency to envisage the merger of the Procurement Agency and Construction Department for the effi cient handling of issues related 110 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society to the management of military facilities. Th e bill concerning the merger was submitted to the fortieth Diet in February 1962 and passed in May of the same year. In November, the DFAA was inaugurated with about 3,600 personnel. In his book investigating the government’s policy on bases, Satō Shōichirō has accurately characterized the founding of the DFAA as symbolizing the “streamlining” of military administration, which suitably corresponded to the new Anpo system. 7 Th is was just a few years aft er the massive Anpo protests. Bureaucrats in the Defense Agency were deeply concerned about the anti-US forces and anti-SDF sentiments then swelling in Japanese society, and feared that they might lead those victimized by military bases to radicalize and to demand the complete withdrawal of US forces from Japan and/or the dismantling of the SDF (as the Nozaki brothers and Naganuma residents would later do). At the inauguration ceremony of the DFAA in November 1962, Shiga Kenjirō, the director of the Defense Agency under the Ikeda cabinet, recognized the ever- growing signifi cance of “the base problem,” or kichi mondai, and confi rmed that the establishment of the DFAA—a “strong and integrated system” (kyōryoku katsu ichigenteki na taisei )—was precisely the “solution” ( kaiketsu ) to this problem. 8 Although his statement was rather brief, the fact that he used such terms as “the base problem” and “solution” suggests that he was admitting that military organizations, which were in theory supposed to protect the lives of the people, were rather harming them and that this harm had reached a level that entailed government intervention and assistance. In parallel with the creation of the DFAA, the LDP and bureaucrats undertook to address the base problem legislatively. For this purpose, a law had been passed in 1953 that guaranteed compensation for people victimized by US forces, but this law had not addressed the prevention of damage. Moreover, there was no legal basis for compensating those victimized by the SDF. Th e governors and mayors of the communities that hosted bases strongly and insistently pressured the central government, calling for systematic and comprehensive measures to help victims and appropriate compensation and subsidies. In 1961, the LDP founded the Special Committee on Measures for Bases (Kichi taisaku tokubetsu iinkai) within the party. Th e same year, the Ikeda cabinet established the Cabinet Council for the Base Problem (Kichi mondai kakuryō kondankai) for the same purpose. Th ese groups began discussing legislation to address the base problem. 9 In March 1966, aft er several years of discussion and investigation, a bill for the Improvement of the Surrounds of Defense Facilities Law (Bōei shisetsu Overcoming Crises: Th e Emergence of the DFAA 111 shūhen no seibi nado ni kansuru hōritsu) was approved in a cabinet meeting and submitted to the Diet. Th e bill passed the Diet in June the same year, and was promulgated and put into eff ect the next month. Th e aim of this law (hereaft er the Improvement Law) was to contribute to “the improvement of the welfare” (fukushi no kōjō ) of residents and “the stabilization of their livelihood” (seikatsu no antei) by preventing damage caused by the military’s activities and the operation of military facilities and, if damage had already occurred, by compensating the loss that people had experienced. Th e types of military activities recognized as causing “damage” (songai ) included the frequent use of armored and other large vehicles, gunfi re, bombardment, the frequent use of gunpowder, and the takeoff and landing of airplanes. Th e DFAA off ered subsidies to conduct a variety of works (e.g., river improvement and mud control) to prevent residents in communities with bases from suff ering damage related to these activities. Of all the various types of damage, extreme loud noise probably annoyed the largest number of people in communities. Where the SDF or US forces were the sole cause of such noise, the DFAA carried out soundproofi ng on public facilities, including schools, hospitals and clinics, and nursing homes, entirely at the government’s expense. Also, if residents living near air bases where turbojet planes frequently operated were willing to relocate to escape the loud noise, the DFAA was to pay the entire cost of relocation. 10 Th e Improvement Law also authorized assistance for the construction of “facilities for people’s livelihood stabilization” ( minsei antei shisetsu). If the DFAA deemed that everyday life in communities with bases was hindered by the operation of military facilities, the governments of these communities could request and receive subsidies to build the kinds of facilities that would contribute to alleviating the problem and stabilizing their lives. Th e main intention behind this assistance was to support the community as a whole and to benefi t a wide range of people who could not necessarily benefi t from the individual assistance mentioned in the previous paragraph. Each municipal government was allowed to determine what facilities would be most desirable, responding to the needs of its residents. Meant to conciliate communities’ resentment at bases, these facilities for people’s livelihood stabilization were given a broad and loose interpretation. Th ey included roads, a water system, sewage treatment facilities, garbage treatment facilities, fi re stations, parks, sports facilities, and facilities related to agriculture, forestry, and fi sheries. When discussing the Improvement Law, one must attend to the following historical signifi cances. First, the establishment of the Improvement Law suggests 112 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society that the LDP, bureaucrats, and lawmakers all began to view the base problem not as something that simply distressed individuals but as something that aff ected an entire community. If a number of communities encountered hardship and if residents in these communities involved themselves in the anti-base movement, it could disturb the existing political order and undermine the foundation of the US–Japanese military alliance. Given this situation, the consensus emerged that the base problem could not be fi xed locally and individually, but required legislation applicable to residents in communities with bases throughout the country. Residents in these communities were no longer considered a mere aggregation of individuals, but became a discrete social group necessitating special protection by the central government. In a modern democracy, individuals have identifi ed themselves as members of diverse social groups and seek rights and recognition from those groups’ subject position. As Frank Upham has shown, postwar Japan witnessed the struggle of such groups as women, pollution victims, and buraku-min (descendants of outcast groups in the pre- modern era) to receive equal treatment. 11 Residents of communities with bases can certainly be added to the list of contesting groups. Like any social group, however, they were not an a priori, self-evident category from the beginning. Th eir burgeoning desire for a satisfactory response to the base problem enabled them to materialize as a discrete group in which members had common interests. Second, we have to be aware of the implications of “prevention.” Th ere were two ways of coping with the base problem: rescuing victims and preventing damage. Th e Improvement Law emphasized not only rescue but also prevention. Th is shift in emphasis attests to the DFAA’s greater willingness to play a major role in arbitrating and resolving the base problem. In the case of rescue, the DFAA (and its predecessors) did not take special action until physical or fi nancial damage became obvious—that is, until victims emerged. On the other hand, in the case of prevention, the DFAA, on the assumption that bases would sooner or later disturb the lives of residents to an intolerable degree, pre- emptively worked to create an environment in which these residents would not become victims. In this sense, prevention was a far more proactive response than rescue. Moreover, whereas compensation was paid in the case of rescue, subsidies were paid in the case of prevention. While those who received compensation would feel that they deserved it because they had suff ered, those who received subsidies would feel that the DFAA supported them and worked to improve their lives. If the same amount of money was to be spent, the latter was a more eff ective way of securing appreciation and loyalty to the DFAA (or the central government) from residents of communities with bases. Overcoming Crises: Th e Emergence of the DFAA 113

Finally, the importance of the notion of “people’s livelihood stabilization” should not be overlooked. Th e Improvement Law underlined this notion. From the 1960s, this notion provided an important theoretical framework within which the DFAA addressed the base problem, and communities with bases called for better base- related provisions. Th e SDF also used the term “people’s livelihood” when it off ered such assistance as civil engineering to communities (see Chapter 2). Within this context, however, the SDF used the expression “people’s livelihood support ,” not “people’s livelihood stabilization .” Th ese two similar expressions implied diff erent attitudes that the SDF and the DFAA assumed toward their assistance for “people’s livelihood.” In the former, the SDF off ered assistance primarily out of generosity rather than obligation, to build cooperative relations with base communities. In contrast, in the latter, the DFAA recognized that “people’s livelihood” was threatened by unstable conditions that required prompt remedy, and it was the SDF and the US forces that were the root cause of these conditions. Th erefore, it became the DFAA’s responsibility to stabilize “people’s livelihood” through state fi nancial assistance. In sum, the promotion of “people’s livelihood stabilization” was a manifestation by the central government of its eagerness to win back the trust of the people in an era in which the military’s proclaimed mission of defending the people’s livelihood was increasingly detached from reality.

Th e New Improvement Law

Th e Improvement Law by no means solved the base problem. Th is law aimed not to remove or eliminate the military activities that caused (or could cause) damage to communities, such as maneuvers and the operation of airplanes, but to reduce the eff ect of these activities on people, through, for example, soundproofi ng and relocation. Even aft er the establishment of the Improvement Law, military bases remained. Th e SDF and the US forces continued to engage in the same military activities. Communities with bases continued to argue that the government in Tokyo had yet to adopt suffi cient measures to deal with the problem. As shown in the previous section, those communities were entitled to receive subsidies to build facilities for people’s livelihood stabilization. But they were at the same time anxious about the lack of funding in the form of cash to be used at their own discretion. To be sure, these communities did receive a cash subsidy, the so- called “base subsidy” (kichi kōfukin), which the Ministry of Home 114 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

Aff airs administered and allowed communities to use without restriction. Th is subsidy was paid to compensate for the lack of property tax from the facilities owned by the SDF (i.e., maneuver fi elds and air bases) and the land and facilities that the Japanese government leased to the US troops. Because these lands and facilities were tax- exempted, local governments were deprived of potential tax income. From the late 1960s, communities with bases claimed that this subsidy was not enough to make up for the inconveniences they were suff ering due to the presence of the bases. Several organizations representing these communities tenaciously pressured the government in Tokyo on this point. Th e National Base Council (Zenkoku kichi kyōgikai) was one such organization. It had been founded in 1955 and worked to calculate and request an appropriate base subsidy each year. For example, in 1965, the 274 member-communities of the Council demanded a total of more than 5.2 billion yen for the following year, while the Ministry of Home Aff airs had estimated total subsidies of just 2.5 billion yen. 12 Th e next year, the Council demanded 4.9 billion yen for 1967, but again, the estimate of the Ministry of Home Aff airs was signifi cantly smaller: just 2.9 billion yen. 13 Furthermore, despite these demands, the Ministry of Finance, which reserved the fi nal power to determine the amount of the subsidy, approved only 1.5 billion yen for 1966 and 1.7 billion yen for 1967, far less than even the estimates of the Ministry of Home Aff airs. 14 Th ere was an enormous gap between the amount of property taxes that the communities claimed to be losing because of the presence of bases and the amount that the Ministries of Home Aff airs and Finance estimated, and this fueled a profound sense of grievance among these communities. Th e National Council for the Improvement of the Surrounds of Defense Facilities (Bōei shisetsu shūhen seibi zenkoku kyōgikai) was another organization that lobbied the government in Tokyo. Th is organization was founded in 1966, aft er the establishment of the Improvement Law, with the purpose of demanding adequate state assistance under this law. In April 1968, the Council held a general meeting in Hamamatsu in Shizuoka prefecture. Th e city hosted a large SDF air base, and the mayor was serving as the director of the Council at that time. At this meeting, the Council decided to request the further reinforcement of measures for “people’s livelihood stabilization.” Concretely, the Council resolved to ask for the expansion of subsidies for soundproofi ng of private houses (the Improvement Law covered only public facilities) as well as an estimate of compensation for relocation at a fair market value. 15 In the Asahi newspaper in December of that year, Ishii Masao, the mayor of Yamato city in Kanagawa Overcoming Crises: Th e Emergence of the DFAA 115 prefecture (hosting the Atsugi Air Base jointly used by the SDF and US forces) and the vice-director of the Council, candidly expressed his irritation at the government’s slow response:

Th e deafening roar of jet planes when you feel like sleeping for one more hour in the morning, or when you try to relax and watch TV on a day off — anyone would think, “Damn it” (chikushō ). Th is gets repeated every day. Residents will end up feeling “If only there were no bases . . .,” and they will join an anti- base movement. Th e rationale for bases is the nation’s peace and security, so I think they must be under a system that residents are convinced to support. But the reality is diff erent. [Bases] are operating on sacrifi ce, testing the endurance of residents and putting pressure on the fi nances and administration of local communities. 16

Aft er making these statements, Ishii pointed out that while the city was home to 1,200 US military households, it was deprived of the right to collect taxes from these Americans under the US–Japan Status of Forces Agreement, which the two countries had signed in 1960 and which replaced the 1952 US–Japan Administrative Agreement. Furthermore, the city’s annual revenue remained low because people with high incomes were avoiding moving to the city due to the loud noise. Ishii maintained that alleviating the base problem required “administration with warm blood” (atatakai chi no kayotta gyōsei ) and insisted on the need for funds that local government could use freely for “people’s livelihood stabilization.” It is important to realize that the late 1960s, when communities with bases were struggling, was also the period in which industrial pollution was becoming a serious social problem, as the nation’s high-speed economic growth gained momentum. Th e victims of the so- called “Big Four” pollution cases—organic mercury poisoning in Minamata in Kumamoto and in Niigata, air pollution in Yokkaichi in Mie, and cadmium pollution in Toyoma—ﬁ led lawsuits, commencing in 1967, against the companies that caused these environmental crises and endangered their health. Th e plaintiﬀ s would win these lawsuits by the early 1970s as the courts generally acknowledged the responsibility of the companies for preventing pollution and compensating the victims. Pressured by nationwide anti-pollution movements, the Japanese government, which had to an extent condoned uninhibited corporate activity for the sake of the nation’s economic growth, also began to recognize industrial pollution as a problem that required state intervention. Th e extraordinary Diet session convened in 116 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

November 1970 pursued a number of laws that aimed to prevent industrial pollution, and came to be known as the “pollution Diet” (kōgai kokkai ). 17 Accordingly, in order to attract broader national attention, communities with bases strategically stressed that what they were experiencing was actually a variety of pollution. Sympathetic to these communities, the media began to employ the term “base pollution” ( kichi kōgai), underlining the similarities between the base problem and the pollution generated by corporations. In June 1968, for example, the Yomiuri newspaper began a series of eight articles under the title of Kichi or “the base,” addressing the struggle and distress of residents in communities with bases. Th e articles shed light on a variety of places and experiences, including Kure in Hiroshima, where trucks carrying ammunition constantly drove through busy downtown streets; Fukuoka, which had suff ered a number of accidents caused by planes from the Itazuke Air Base; and western Tokyo, where more than two hundred landings and takeoff s of planes at the Yokota Air Base prevented residents from talking and sleeping at home. In the eighth and fi nal article of the series, the Yomiuri interviewed the director of the DFAA, confi rming the growing national interest in “base pollution.” While the director stressed the government’s incessant eff ort to tackle base pollution, the Yomiuri criticized the government’s tardy response and its reluctance to spend money to help victims. 18 By featuring the base problem in this way amid growing national concern over industrial pollution, this series of articles clearly indicated that industrial pollution and base pollution were the same sort of man- made disaster, in that both were generated by excessive activities—whether for profi t or national security—that disregarded residents’ health and welfare. By the end of the 1960s, the government was preparing the Environmental Pollution Settlement Law (Kōgai funsō shorihō). Th e major objective of this law was to mediate between those responsible for causing pollution (i.e., companies) and its victims, and to help these victims, who were oft en fi nancially weak and lacked legal expertise. At the beginning of 1969, when preparing a draft of the bill, bureaucrats from the Prime Minister’s Offi ce, the Ministry of Health and Welfare, and the Cabinet Legislation Bureau were planning to include not only industrial but also base pollution in the defi nition of pollution. But the Defense Agency and LDP objected. While keen to strengthen measures for the base problem, both were hesitant to recognize bases, whose mission was to protect the nation- state, as a source of pollution and feared that doing so might justify and even fuel anti- base protest. 19 Th e government, aft er negotiations, eventually decided to limit the coverage of the new law to industrial pollution. In order to advance the discussion of this law at the Diet smoothly, however, the government Overcoming Crises: Th e Emergence of the DFAA 117 opted to insert one sentence in the law stating that base pollution would be covered by another law. 20 Once deliberations began at the Diet, the law’s exclusion of base pollution drew criticism from the other parties. Responding to this, Prime Minister Satō Eisaku had to emphasize that the existing Improvement Law was already addressing the victims of the base problem. 21 In 1970, a little progress was made. Th e Ministry of Home Aff airs began off ering a so-called “adjustment subsidy” (chōsei kōfukin) in addition to the “base subsidy.” Th is new subsidy was intended to compensate for the lack of property tax on properties owned by the US forces in Japan. Although US-owned properties were tax- exempt, the previous “base subsidy” had not addressed this defi ciency; it covered only the land and facilities leased by the Japanese government to the US forces. Communities with bases, however, were still not entirely satisfi ed. For them, both the base and adjustment subsidies were money that they naturally deserved to receive, given that the presence of bases inhibited them from collecting appropriate taxes. What they wanted was not simply compensation but the kind of funding that they could use in order to fund their own base- related policies for residents. In 1973, an event took place that further stimulated these communities’ demand. In January, the Japanese Minister of Foreign Aff airs Ōhira Masayoshi, the Director of the Defense Agency Masuhara Keikichi, the US Ambassador to Japan Robert Ingersoll, and the Commander of the Pacifi c Command Noel Gayler, held talks on the security of Japan. Th ey shared concerns about Japan’s rapid urbanization and the presence of US military facilities in densely populated areas. Th e Japanese and US sides agreed to reduce the number of US military facilities in the Tokyo metropolitan region and to consolidate them into the Yokota Air Base in western Tokyo. Th ose communities from which military facilities would be removed welcomed this plan. However, the six communities near the Yokota Air Base, particularly the city of Fussa, one- third of whose land was occupied by the base, feared that this would perpetuate the presence of the base and that they would have to bear a heavier burden of base pollution. Th e city agreed to accept the plan on the condition that the government secured a total of 46.8 billion yen in expenditures to deal with problems caused by the base. 22 At this point, the government could no longer cling to the position that existing legislation, including the Improvement Law, was fully functioning to accommodate the needs of residents in communities with bases. In March 1973, the LDP contacted related ministries and agencies, suggesting the strengthening of provisions for the base problem through new legislation. 23 In his policy address to the seventy- second Diet in January 1974, Prime Minister Tanaka Kakuei made it 118 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society clear that the government was going to submit a new bill to reinforce the “livelihood stabilization” of communities with bases.24 Th e bill for the Improvement of Living Environment around Defense Facilities Law (Bōei shisetsu shūhen no seikatsu kankyō no seibi nado ni kansuru hōritsu)—hereaft er the New Improvement Law—was submitted to the Diet and passed in March 1974. While the New Improvement Law contained more or less the same provisions as the old Improvement Law, emphasizing both the prevention of damage and the rescue of victims, it added several new ones. First, private houses became eligible for state subsidies to pay for soundproofi ng work. Under the old Improvement Law, only public facilities such as schools and hospitals could received such assistance, but given that many bases were located adjacent to residential areas (and many people, naturally, spent a signifi cant amount of time at home), communities with bases had long been demanding that assistance be extended to people’s homes. Th rough the New Improvement Law, the government fi nally accommodated this demand, covering 100 percent of the cost of soundproofi ng for one room in each house. Another provision, which distinguished the New Improvement Law from its predecessor, was a new type of subsidy introduced to communities with bases. Under Article 9 of this law, the DFAA could identify certain facilities used by the SDF and the US forces that had considerable negative impact on civilian life as “special defense facilities” ( tokutei bōei shisetsu ). Th ese included air bases where jet aircraft took off and landed, maneuver fi elds where bombardments and shooting were undertaken, and naval ports. Communities located near these facilities would be designated as “municipalities related to special defense facilities” ( tokutei bōei shisetsu kanren shichōson) and receive subsidies for building public facilities that would enhance the quality of residents’ lives. Th e DFAA determined the amount of subsidies depending on the size of the area used by the military within each community, the community’s population, population density, and the scale of military activities (the frequency of maneuvers, the number of planes, takeoff s and landings, etc.). 25 Th is new subsidy, which came to be called the “Article 9 subsidy,” was attractive to many communities because the law did not strictly specify how it should be spent. Th e purpose of the subsidy was defi ned broadly as assisting communities to build public facilities for the improvement of their living environment. Public facilities included those for “transportation and communication,” “sports and recreation,” “environment and hygiene,” “education and culture,” “medicine,” “social welfare,” “fi refi ghting,” and “industry promotion.” Almost any facility could be seen to fall into one of these categories. Overcoming Crises: Th e Emergence of the DFAA 119

Certainly, under the old Improvement Law, local governments were eligible for subsidies for facilities that contributed to “people’s livelihood stabilization.” In that case, however, local governments were allowed to use these subsidies only for the particular facilities that they had proposed to build. In contrast, the Article 9 subsidy was not bound by such restrictions on its use. It was disposable money that local governments could spend in any manner that they deemed appropriate. Th is new type of subsidy was rationalized by the awareness within the government in Tokyo that the presence of bases required host communities to make extraordinary eﬀ orts to keep their environments as livable as those of communities without bases. Th erefore, we can see the Article 9 subsidy as a kind of expression of condolence by the central government to these communities. At the same time, we should also note that this subsidy added to the act of hosting bases the new implication that this act, oft en associated with hardship for residents, could bring a reward of extra cash income.

Military town Chitose

In the previous two chapters, the case of Hokkaido has helped us appreciate the signifi cance of militarization and resistance to it at the local level. In this section, we focus our attention on Hokkaido once again, and look at how policy regarding military bases was actually practiced, how it was received, and how it transformed communities’ relations with the government in Tokyo. Just three years aft er the establishment of the old Improvement Law, the Naganuma incident took place. Based on this law, the DFAA off ered fi nancial support to the town of Naganuma to prevent damage that the Nike missile base might have caused. Naganuma residents most feared that deforestation of the forest preserve might increase the chance of fl ood and mudslide. Responding to this fear, the DFAA subsidized the building of mudslide- control dams and improvement of the levee on Maoi Canal. Th e DFAA also helped to improve irrigation ditches and build a waterworks facility to secure suffi cient water for agriculture and drinking, because the residents were afraid that the construction of the missile base might aff ect the geology of the area. Th ese projects commenced in 1969, together with the building of the Nike base, and the DFAA fully covered the cost. Additionally, the DFAA provided the town with subsidies to expand roads near the base, since traffi c was expected to increase upon its opening. Finally, the town government also received subsidies to build facilities for “people’s livelihood stabilization.” Of a total budget of 552 million yen, the DFAA 120 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society provided 330 million yen. With these subsidies, the town built a swimming pool, a community center, and an assembly hall under the name of educational facilities, and an agricultural training center, a greenhouse, and so on under the name of agricultural facilities. 26 Th e DFAA also assisted the town of Eniwa—the community where the Nozaki brothers contested the constitutionality of the SDF in the 1960s. Just aft er the establishment of the New Improvement Law of 1974, the DFAA surveyed the conditions of the communities with military facilities all over the country, and designated ninety-four communities as “municipalities related to special defense facilities.” Eniwa was one of the nine communities in Hokkaido designated as such, since it was located near the Shimamatsu maneuver fi eld. Th is meant that Eniwa became eligible for the Article 9 subsidy, extra cash income for the local government, which served as an incentive for continuing to host military facilities. 27 Rather than these two cases, however, Chitose—a highly militarized city in Hokkaido, located south of Sapporo, not far from Eniwa and Naganuma—shows more clearly how, through various forms of assistance, the DFAA conciliated communities with bases, which might otherwise have become hotbeds of radical anti-SDF protest. Th is city’s history with military facilities dates back to the prewar era. In 1933, Chitose petitioned the Ministry of Army to deploy an air squadron in the village (it did not incorporate as a city until 1958); in the next year, the Ministry built an airfi eld using villagers’ labor. Although the Imperial Army used this airfi eld for two large-scale maneuvers in 1935 and 1936, it set up an air squadron in Obihiro, not Chitose. In 1937, the Imperial Navy showed an interest in building an air base in Chitose, to which the village agreed, and construction began immediately. Th e air base opened in 1939, and the Chitose Air Group was inaugurated. Aft er Japan’s defeat in 1945, the US occupation forces confi scated the air base and 7.5 square miles of land. Although the Americans gradually withdrew from Chitose aft er Japan’s independence in 1952, complete withdrawal did not occur until 1975. Meanwhile, once rearmament started in 1950, the NPR opened Camp East-Chitose. In 1952, the NSF opened Camp North-Chitose (both camps now belong to the Ground SDF). In 1957, the Chitose Air Base began hosting the Air SDF’s Second Air Wing, which had moved from Hamamatsu in Shizuoka prefecture. 28 Th ese three SDF facilities were built close to the commercial and residential areas of the city. Th ey surrounded these areas from the east, west, and south. In today’s Japan, Chitose is one of the communities with the most salient military presence, or as the former mayor of the city Overcoming Crises: Th e Emergence of the DFAA 121

Tōmine Motoji said, “the number-one base town in the entire country” (zenkoku ichi no kichi no machi ). 29 In 1965, military facilities occupied an area of about twenty square miles within the city of Chitose. In 1966, 48 percent of the area within a 1.5-mile radius of the city hall was either occupied by military facilities or subjected to extreme noise pollution from the air base. Its proximity to the air base naturally forced Chitose residents to endure various types of adversity. Between 1953 and 1970, there were twenty plane crashes in and around the city. Several neighborhoods and two schools—Suehiro Elementary School and Aoba Junior High School— were located adjacent to the runway of the air base, which exposed residents, students, and teachers in these neighborhoods to extremely loud noise and the fear of accidents on a daily basis. In 1963, the city offi cially asked the directors of the Defense Agency and DFAA as well as other related personnel in the Air SDF to reduce the level of noise during fl ight maneuvers, expressing their concerns about the undesirable eff ect of loud noise on children, the elderly, and the sick. Th e city repeatedly made similar requests in order to secure a safe living environment for its citizens. 30 Th e DFAA adopted two approaches to assist individuals aff ected by noise pollution. First, the DFAA carried out soundproofi ng on public institutions. While the Improvement Law of 1966 provided a legal basis for subsidizing such work in public facilities, in Chitose the DFAA (and its predecessor) had already begun subsidizing soundproofi ng for elementary and junior high schools in 1955 and for hospitals in 1962 as an administrative measure to reduce residents’ suff ering. Once the Improvement Law became eff ective, state subsidies were extended to cover soundproofi ng on nursery schools. Furthermore, aft er the enactment of the New Improvement Law of 1974, individual houses also received subsidies for this treatment. By 1980, the Agency had conducted soundproofi ng on a total of 92 elementary and junior high schools, 14 hospitals, clinics, and health centers, 15 nursery schools, and 6,504 individual houses. 31 Second, the DFAA provided fi nancial assistance for the relocation of residents living near the runway, though this did not proceed so smoothly. Th e DFAA consolidated a plan to relocate residents from three neighborhoods located along the fl ight path at the air base—Asahi, Shinonome, and Aobagaoka— around 1969, aft er the Improvement Law institutionalized state compensation for those who lived near bases and agreed to relocate. Th rough this relocation project, the DFAA intended to turn the area within 1,000 meters (about 0.62 miles) from the northern edge of the air base into an uninhabited zone. In December 1969, the Chitose offi ce of the DFAA undertook a survey of 800 122 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society households in the neighborhoods; out of 159 households that responded, 84 were willing to relocate. 32 Many residents were not enthusiastic about leaving and demanded that the DFAA fi rst quote a specifi c amount in compensation. Th ose who opposed the relocation project formed an organization and launched a campaign calling for the shift ing of the runway 2,000 meters (1.24 miles) to the south—that is, away from the residential neighborhoods. 33 Th e DFAA continued negotiating with residents over relocation. In 1972, it extended the area of compensation from 1,000 to 2,000 meters from the air base to further encourage residents’ willing relocation. Around the same time, under the Fourth Defense Buildup Plan, the government in Tokyo announced the stationing in the Chitose Air Base of Phantom fi ghter planes, which could cause greater noise than the fi ghter planes already deployed there. Upon this announcement, the organization urging the shift ing of the runway submitted a petition to the city assembly requesting that eff ective noise control be instituted before the deployment of the Phantom. Although completely dominated by the pro-SDF LDP, the city assembly approved a written statement on April 11, 1973 asking the Defense Agency to take immediate measures for the prevention of noise pollution. Th e next day, the mayor Yoneda Tadao from the LDP, the chair of the assembly, and two assembly members brought this statement to the Base Problem Settlement Headquarters (Kichi mondai chōsei honbu) of the Defense Agency. Persuaded by this, in August of the same year the Defense Agency made public a plan to move the runway 2,000 meters to the south and promised to complete an initial move of 1,000 meters over three years, starting in 1974. Satisfi ed that their initial goal had been achieved, the organization dissolved, expressing their thanks to the Defense Agency and trusting the city assembly to deal with the issue going forward. 34 Meanwhile, relocation of households continued, probably because of the fear of exacerbated noise pollution and a growing sense of resignation that individual eff orts could not stop the operation of the air base. Eighty- one households relocated between 1971 and 1975; this number grew to 151 between 1976 and 1980, and 249 between 1981 and 1985. By 1997, a total of 833 households had relocated. Moreover, from 1983, the DFAA started so- called collective relocation ( shūdan iten). In this form of relocation, the DFAA developed housing in three areas within the city, fairly close to the city center, and created new residential districts for those unable to fi nd places to relocate on their own. By 1995, 250 households had moved to these neighborhoods. In both cases (individual and collective relocation), the DFAA bought up the land of those willing to relocate and paid them compensation. Between 1976 and 1980, the DFAA spent Table 4.1 Relocation of residents near the Chitose Air Base

Number of houses relocated Number of houses relocated Compensation DFAA paid to Amount DFAA paid to under the regular relocation under the collective relocating residents (¥1,000) purchase land from relocating project relocation project residents (¥1,000) 1964 6 0 2,667 1,156 1970 6 0 8,533 100,253 1971–75 81 0 678,948 973,038 1976–80 151 0 884,274 840,920 1981–85 249 142 3,075,585 2,478,119 1986–90 294 45 2,362,930 2,058,038 1991–95 20 63 1,533,025 1,531,745 1996–97 26 0 299,411 458,346 Total 833 250 8,845,373 8,441,615 Source : Chitoseshi Kikakubu Kūkō Kichi Taisakuka, Chitoseshi to kichi, Heisei 10-nendoban (Chitoseshi, 1999), 72. 123 124 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society about 840.9 million yen to buy up land and 884.3 million yen on compensation. Over the next fi ve years, payments for land soared to 2.478 billion yen, and for compensation to 3.075 billion yen. 35 Th e DFAA off ered its support not only to individuals who were experiencing base pollution but also to the community of Chitose as a whole. Th e city began using subsidies to build facilities for “livelihood stabilization” in 1967, the year aft er the enactment of the Improvement Law. Th ese facilities included sports centers, pools, libraries, and community centers. Th e city also received the Article 9 subsidy under the New Improvement Law. In 1974, when distribution of the subsidy began, the city was granted 17.7 million yen. In 1975, the amount of the subsidy skyrocketed to 94.8 million yen, an increase of 436.5 percent, and in 1976 it rose again, to 166.9 million yen, an increase of 76.1 percent. Over the next six years, the subsidy continued to grow at an annual average of 11.3 percent. Th e city used these annual subsidies for a variety of purposes, including purchasing snow plows, ambulances, and garbage trucks; setting up public restrooms; planting trees on the street; building and repairing sewers; and paving streets.36 In addition to the subsidies for facilities for livelihood stabilization and the Article 9 subsidy, Chitose also received the “base subsidy” and “adjustment subsidy.” Th ese four types of subsidies constituted an important portion of the city’s annual revenue: in 1975, about 579 million yen in major subsidies comprised 6.5 percent of the city’s annual revenue; in 1977, the total was 903 million yen, 7.9 percent of revenues; in 1979, 888 million yen, 6.4 percent of revenues; in 1981, 1.196 billion yen, 7.0 percent of revenues; in 1983, 1.213 billion yen, 6.3 percent of revenues; and in 1985, 1.664 billion yen, 8.4 percent of revenues (see Table 4.2). If we include the other smaller subsidies that the city was granted, such as those for road improvements, the base- related fi nancial assistance from the government in Tokyo made up an even greater proportion of the city’s annual revenue. To understand the economic signifi cance of the presence of the SDF in such communities as Chitose, we must delve into the question of “depopulation” or kaso —population drain from a community and the fi nancial crisis that it caused—in Hokkaido. Th is phenomenon began to concern Japanese policy- makers during the 1960s, as high-speed economic growth displaced a large population from rural areas and concentrated them in the metropolitan cities on the Pacifi c coast. Rural areas that lost their young people faced manifold problems, including a labor shortage, the devastation of agricultural fi elds, and deterioration in the quality of public services. While “congestion” or kamitsu in the cities, which can be located at the other end of the spectrum of population problems caused Table 4.2 Chitose city’s annual revenue and various subsidies from the DFAA (¥1,000)

Annual revenue Base subsidy Adjustment Article 9 subsidy Livelihood Total subsidies Rate of all subsidies subsidy stabilization to annual revenue subsidy (%) 1973 5,017,082 89,134 42,318 0 19,400 150,852 3.0 1975 8,917,102 260,299 44,794 94,754 179,335 579,182 6.5 1977 11,373,328 368,935 54,420 191,558 288,148 903,061 7.9 1979 13,806,933 590,818 37,150 243,162 16,930 888,060 6.4 1981 17,063,400 645,803 49,024 281,122 219,614 1,195,563 7.0 1983 19,244,908 646,803 49,024 317,204 200,373 1,213,404 6.3 1985 19,864,185 648,803 49,024 319,490 646,250 1,663,567 8.4 1987 21,404,442 649,303 49,724 322,752 754,369 1,776,148 8.3 1989 24,413,404 675,297 50,718 324,068 379,946 1,430,029 5.9 Source : Chitoseshi Kikakubu Kūkō Kichi Taisakuka, Chitoseshi to kichi, Heisei 10-nendoban (Chitoseshi, 1999); Chitoseshi-shi Hensan Iinkai, Chotose- shi (Chitoseshi, 1983); Jichishō Zaiseikyoku Shidōka, Shichōsonbetsu kessan jōkyō shirabe (Tokyo: Chih Zaimu Kykai, 1981, 1983, 1985, 1987, and 1989). 125 126 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society by capitalist development, received intense social attention from early on, it was not until 1970 that concrete legal measures were taken to relieve the kaso problem. In that year, lawmakers at the Diet established the Emergency Measure for Dealing with Depopulated Areas Law (Kaso chiiki taisaku kinkyū sochihō). Th is law designated as “depopulated areas” those communities that met the following two criteria: fi rst, the population in the 1970 census had dropped by 10 percent or more in the previous fi ve years; and second, the average “fi nancial capability index” (zaisei shisūryoku )—calculated by dividing the community’s tax revenue by the amount required for standard administration of community services—between 1966 and 1968 was under 0.4. If a community received such designation, the central and prefectural governments provided fi nancial assistance for infrastructure (e.g., fi re stations, roads, and health clinics). 37 In Hokkaido, 70 communities were so designated in 1970, an additional 68 in 1971, and one more in 1973. 38 Th is number accounted for 65.6 percent of the total communities in Hokkaido. Within the national context, Hokkaido was the most depopulated region, followed by Kyushu. When we look at the list of the communities designated as “depopulated areas,” there are no communities with major SDF bases. In other words, such communities as Chitose, Asahikawa (headquarters of the Second Division), Eniwa (home to the Shimamatsu maneuver fi eld and two camps), and Obihiro (headquarters of the Fift h Division), were relatively healthy economically. Th e 1975 census shows that the populations of these four communities had grown signifi cantly in the previous fi ve years, ranging from 7.8 percent growth in Obihiro to 15.8 percent in Eniwa. Th eir fi nancial capability indexes in 1979 ranged from 0.46 for Eniwa to 0.6 for Chitose—fi gures far healthier than those for most Hokkaido communities. 39 Although we cannot attribute this solely to the presence of the SDF, it would appear that in addition to the military-related subsidies given by the central government, the taxes paid by SDF personnel and their families, as well as the businesses targeting these people, contributed to keeping these communities from experiencing the kaso problem that plagued many others.

Toward “harmony” and the institutionalization of objection

Did the policies implemented by the DFAA truly stabilize the livelihood of people in Chitose and improve their welfare, as the DFAA and the government in Tokyo claimed? On the one hand, the DFAA undoubtedly consolidated a Overcoming Crises: Th e Emergence of the DFAA 127 system under which communities with bases could express their concerns and worries fairly candidly and seek appropriate recognition and material assistance. Chitose, together with many other communities with bases, regarded these acts as the exercise of a legitimate right to which the community was entitled under the two Improvement Laws. Whenever the city faced problems caused by the SDF, it did not hesitate to lodge complaints and demand explanations and swift actions. In turn, the DFAA, taking these complaints as opportunities to further cement its relations with the city, proactively discussed measures with the city and made signifi cant eff orts to accommodate its demands. Operating within postwar democracy, both sides took the notion of “people’s livelihood stabilization” seriously as an overarching principle that dictated any base-related policies. On the other hand, the DFAA and the state could by no means accommodate all the needs of those experiencing such hardship and left many problems in the community unresolved. First, let us look at the case of soundproofi ng, one of the DFAA’s main projects. As stated above, the New Improvement Law of 1974 authorized subsidies for soundproofi ng work on individual houses. However, not all those who sought such subsidies received them; recipients had to reside within a certain area of the city where noise pollution was considered especially bad. To assess the level of noise pollution, the DFAA used (and still uses) the WECPNL (Weighted Equivalent Continuous Perceived Noise Level), or what is commonly referred to in Japan as the “noise index” (urusasa shisū ). Th e International Civil Aviation Organization fi rst developed this index, and the Japanese government adopted a simplifi ed version, taking into consideration multiple factors including not only loudness produced by airplanes but also the frequency of noise and the time of day. Th at is, the index for frequent noise during the night is higher than the index for occasional noise during the day, even if the decibel level is the same. In 1973, as consciousness of pollution grew in Japanese society, the Ministry of the Environment presented its offi cial view that the noise index should be 70 or lower in residential areas and 75 or lower in non-residential, commercial areas (a noise index of 100 equated to the worst possible level). 40 When the DFAA began to off er subsidies for soundproofi ng work for individual houses in the city in 1974, only houses located within areas with a noise index of 85 or higher were eligible. 41 Th is meant that people living outside those areas—no matter how close they were—received no assistance from the DFAA. However, this way of drawing a sharp line between those eligible for fi nancial assistance and those who were not contradicted the fundamental 128 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society nature of noise pollution generated by airplanes because such pollution cannot be strictly contained within a closed space, but inevitably spreads outward. Th e city did ask to extend the areas covered by subsidies, and in 1979, the criterion was reduced to 80. By the early 1980s, areas with an index of 75 came to enjoy state subsidies. 42 But this still raised (and continues to raise) diffi cult questions: whether the level of suff ering of those outside the area covered was truly tolerable and whether it was possible for these people to enjoy the same quality of life as that of people living in a community with no air bases. According to a survey that the city conducted in 1998, 69 percent of households outside the subsidy- covered area responded that they would like to install soundproofi ng in their residences. 43 Th is clearly shows that even a quarter century aft er the launch of soundproofi ng subsidies, the DFAA had yet to present a policy that would satisfy a broader range of residents near the air base and that the gap between those eligible and those not eligible for state subsidies persisted for legal reasons over which residents of Chitose had no control. Second, the relocation of households near the runway also brought about an unintended and unwelcome consequence. Th e DFAA initially planned on the relocation of all the households within 2,000 meters north of the runway, and then within areas with a noise index of 90 or more once the New Improvement Law came into force in 1974. But the DFAA’s decision was not legally biding. All they could do was to encourage residents to relocate, and some resisted. In particular, those who could not agree with the DFAA upon an appropriate fee for relocation preferred to stay in their old neighborhoods despite excessive noise pollution. An article in the Chitose minpō newspaper in December 1984 reported on the diffi culties faced by those who chose to stay. While the residential district prepared by the DFAA for those who agreed to move as part of “collective relocation” was enjoying rapid growth, with the building of schools and parks, one neighborhood near the air base, from which two hundred households left — about 50 percent of the total—was troubled by darkness at night and a lack of road and park maintenance. Remaining residents in this neighborhood, the article continues, had submitted a petition to the municipal government asking for more streetlights and better security. 44 Th e more people left , the more problems emerged. Th e decrease in the population made it extremely hard for the remaining residents to engage in community activities. Th e number of commercial facilities fell, so that residents could not run everyday errands in their neighborhoods. Stores that stayed, in turn, suff ered from a decrease in customers. Garbage was illegally dumped and scattered on the street. Some newly vacant lots were left unused and unattended, Overcoming Crises: Th e Emergence of the DFAA 129 and were soon overrun by weeds. 45 Th e DFAA was eager to assist those willing to relocate, but did not pay much attention to improving the living environment of those who stayed. It was outside the scope of the DFAA’s assistance. It was a problem that the city and residents were left to solve for themselves. At the heart of these problems experienced by some residents in Chitose (in relation to both soundproofi ng and relocation) is the question of the interpretation of needs. No matter how actively the city negotiated with the DFAA and no matter how much eff ort the DFAA expended, the relation between the DFAA and the city was always an unequal one between a provider of benefi ts and their benefi ciary, and the DFAA reserved the ultimate power to determine what measures to take and how much funding to give. Critiquing the social- welfare system in the United States, Nancy Fraser has maintained that the needs of men and women seeking public assistance are measured against judicial and administrative criteria, quantifi ed, and then interpreted as impersonal, generalized cases. Under this system, according to Fraser, diff erences among individual needs are disregarded as if their needs are predetermined and uniform. 46 Th is critique allows us to identify problems with the DFAA’s assistance for residents of Chitose. Th e DFAA rigidly applied the legal criteria for assistance to areas aff ected by base pollution, carefully selected qualifying benefi ciaries, and assisted them on the assumption that those living in the same area desired the same form of assistance. Although legislation concerning the base problem enabled the DFAA to view victims as a discrete social group and determine their collective needs, this way of dealing with the problem at the same time made it hard for the DFAA to recognize that some individuals might have needs other than the collective needs that the DFAA sought to fulfi ll. Moreover, the DFAA’s approach reduced the base problem to an economic matter and shut down the possibility of a political solution. Th e government in Tokyo encouraged residents in communities with bases to request fi nancial assistance for the alleviation of the base problem, but did not permit them to insist on the withdrawal of bases or the elimination of the military to achieve a complete solution to the problem. Th e LDP-led cabinets throughout postwar history never erred in this view. Prime Minister Satō Eisaku, who was in offi ce between 1964 and 1972, repeatedly expressed his sympathy to communities with bases and his eagerness to help them (the DFAA was launched and the Improvement Law established during his tenure), while at the same time underlining the contribution of bases to the peace of Japan. He was critical of not only “unarmed neutrality,” the theory that the Socialist Party had long promoted, but also “Anpo without the stationing of US forces” ( chūryū naki 130 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

Anpo ), propounded by the Democratic Socialist Party. He maintained that the voice of the people who wished to improve the quality of life within the framework of the Anpo system should never be confl ated with the voice of those who rejected the Anpo system itself, cautioning communities against considering exclusively their own “interests” (rigai ) and “emotions” ( kanjō ). 47 In such circumstances, Chitose residents had no choice but to accept the presence of the SDF as a fait accompli and work to better their lives within this framework. According to Tōmine Motoji from the LDP, who served a long tenure as mayor between 1975 and 1987, in a city like Chitose, which hosted a “front- line base” (dai- issen kichi) and benefi ted from the SDF in numerous ways, “education, welfare, or industry could not exist without defense” (bōei naku shite kyōiku mo fukushi mo sangyō mo ari enai ). In his opinion, co- existence with the SDF was one of the most fundamental principles for the management of the city. Any demands to the government in Tokyo for improving quality of life in the city had to be compatible with this principle. 48 Th e fact that he was elected mayor three terms in a row indicates that a large number of citizens agreed with this policy. Th is attitude was by no means unique to Chitose, but was broadly shared by communities with bases throughout Japan. In 1977, 241 communities related to bases established the Foundation for the Improvement of the Surrounds of Defense Facilities (Bōei shisetsu shūhen seibi kyōkai) through donations. Th e primary objective of the Foundation was to serve as a bridge between the central government, communities, and residents. Th is foundation conducted research on the base problem and provided policy recommendation for the “stabilization of livelihood” and the “improvement of welfare” in communities with bases. In 1981, the Foundation launched the monthly journal Chōwa or “harmony.” Th is journal oft en featured round- table discussions held by the mayors of communities with bases, such as Eniwa, Yokosuka in Kanagawa, Iwakuni in Hiroshima, and Fussa in Tokyo. Th ey candidly criticized the government in Tokyo for the lack of funding, expressed their residents’ discontent, and suggested that the government take more active responsibility for the base problem. As the title of the journal suggests, however, attaining “harmony” between bases and communities was the Foundation’s foremost goal. Participants carefully refrained from engaging in political discussions of Article 9, the Security Treaty, the constitutional legitimacy of the SDF and military bases, and the possibility of the withdrawal of US troops from Japan, and instead focused on issues related to economic improvement. It appears that by this period, the state’s eff ort to institutionalize the legal means of contesting the base problem Overcoming Crises: Th e Emergence of the DFAA 131 had eff ectively convinced communities that they could earn a better life while hosting bases and without fundamentally altering the political structure within which national defense was to be achieved through the possession of armed forces. At the beginning of this chapter, I pointed out that the governance of society in postwar Japan expanded in large part by accommodating demands from below and absorbing criticisms and objections. Th e construction of harmonious relations between the central government and communities with bases suggests that one can observe this governing principle in the treatment of the base problem as well. In Th e Transformation of the Public Sphere, Jürgen Habermas has detailed how the welfare state under mass democracy leads the people to identify themselves primarily as recipients of administrative services, and thereby fosters cooperation, conformity, and compliance. In the evolving trend of the welfare state in the early post-Second World War period, Habermas was concerned about the state’s ever growing presence in citizens’ everyday lives in the name of their welfare and its ability to depoliticize political questions. 49 Th e experience of communities with bases was similar to the process that Habermas has described. Although they successfully persuaded the government through tireless eff orts to establish legislation to protect their interests, this at the same time enabled the central government’s power to penetrate into residents’ lives and dictate how they lived as clients of military welfare, who would voluntarily seek ways to coexist with bases. Th e result of this was these communities’ further economic dependence on bases that could not be easily dissolved. For the central government, mounting criticism from communities in fact served as an opportunity to revisit its policy on bases, to bolster relations between bases and these communities, and to tighten its governance over the latter. By overcoming the moments of crises, it managed to perpetuate the presence of bases.

C o n c l u s i o n

In this chapter, I have analyzed the ways that those involved in the making of base-related policy (i.e., the LDP, LDP-led cabinets, and bureaucrats) sought to contain protest and remedy the anti- military sentiment that prevailed in Japanese society in the 1960s. In 1962, the DFAA was born with the mission of mediating frictions between the military organizations (i.e., the SDF and US forces in Japan) and civil society. Th en, two laws, the Improvement Law and the New Improvement Law came into eff ect in 1966 and 1974 respectively, and 132 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society based on these laws, the DFAA provided communities with bases with various forms of assistance. While the DFAA undoubtedly improved civil–military relations through its enormous fi nancial resources, it tended to perceive those suff ering from base- related problems as a monolithic group and failed to acknowledge these people’s various needs. Th e DFAA also presented the base problem primarily as an economic matter and did not allow communities with bases to pursue it as a political question. Th us, the DFAA alleviated the base problem but did not off er complete solutions, leaving intact the very factors that generated the problem in the fi rst instance—that is, the operation of bases and military maneuvers. 5

“Th e Th reat from the North”: Fear-Mongering and the Making of Military B a s e H o k k a i d o

Th e founding of the DFAA and the subsequent legislation for the alleviation of the base problem symbolized the institutionalization of objections and complaints. Th e central government and communities with bases strove to build reciprocal and harmonious relations with the intention of preventing any more organized protest. Th is chapter deals with one critical consequence brought about by this relation, namely the buildup of the SDF from the late 1970s in a manner much more intense than before. I examine the campaign on “the northern threat” ( hoppō kyōi ), a widespread campaign to promote the idea of Japan’s—especially Hokkaido’s—vulnerability to attack by the Soviet Union, with which Japan was in dispute throughout the Cold War over control of the Kuril Islands (a dispute that continues today). Former top SDF offi cers and civilian military specialists launched this campaign in the media in the late 1970s. Th ey appeared in popular magazines and produced books, both fi ction and non- fi ction, energetically analyzing the Soviet Union’s military potential and the plausibility of an attack on Japan. Backed by the jingoistic atmosphere that suff used Japanese society, the government in Tokyo pointed to the Soviet Union as Japan’s potential enemy and insisted on the tightening of national defense. In this process, the government increasingly regarded Hokkaido as a place that could be easily employed and manipulated for military purposes. Th us, this chapter discusses the culmination of the militarization of Hokkaido that began with rearmament in 1950. In the interwar period, Antonio Gramsci employed the term “hegemony” to explain the persistence of bourgeois control in Western Europe (vis-à-vis the successful Russian Revolution). He meant by this the ideological and cultural domination that the ruling class exercises over subordinated groups. Gramsci argued that this domination was achieved not simply through coercive force but through the consent of subordinated groups. Th e key point is that they had to

133 134 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society perceive this domination as something natural, something that they accepted of their own will. 1 Although Gramsci was referring to the particular condition of Europe, the consolidation of the hegemonic understanding of the external world through the consent of the governed undoubtedly characterizes the governing method of liberal democratic states broadly. Building on Gramsci’s thesis, this chapter details the process by which the northern threat campaign helped to disseminate the idea that Japan was under constant danger of foreign invasion and thereby justiﬁ ed military augmentation and the heavy militarization of Hokkaido.

Formation of the northern threat

Th e northern threat campaign emerged in the late 1970s. Kurisu Hiroomi was one of the major fi gures involved in this campaign. He was a graduate of Tokyo Imperial University, and aft er graduation worked briefl y for the Home Ministry. Th en he volunteered for the Imperial Navy and, at the end of the Second World War, was promoted to lieutenant. In 1951, he joined the NPR and subsequently assumed various important positions, including Commander of the Th irteenth Division (headquartered in Hiroshima), Chief of the Headquarters of the Eastern Army (which controlled the divisions in the Kantō region), and Chief of Staff of the Ground SDF. In 1977, he was fi nally appointed Chief of Staff of the Joint Staff Offi ce, the highest uniformed rank within the SDF. In July 1978, Kurisu was interviewed in an article in Shūkan posuto , a conservative weekly magazine for businessmen. Th e purpose of this article was to enlighten the reader about the importance of national defense in the uncertain Cold War international atmosphere. In the interview, Kurisu fi rst warned that as long as the government stuck to a policy that kept the defense budget below one percent of GNP, which the Miki Takeo cabinet had decided upon in 1976, it would be impossible for the SDF to eff ectively defend the country. He also pointed to the people’s indiff erence toward national defense, lamenting that there was no longer a conscription system in postwar Japan. Th en, the interviewer asked him about the relation between the SDF and the Constitution, particularly Article 9. Kurisu responded that instead of worrying about the constitutionality of the SDF, service members were considering how to work most effi ciently with the power that they were allowed to exercise under the SDF Law. Under this law, the SDF could only resort to the use of force with the prime minister’s permission in an emergency situation. Th e interviewer asked whether the SDF would “Th e Th reat from the North” 135 respect the law and wait for the prime minister’s order. Kurisu’s answered “no” because the SDF Law would require a lengthy bureaucratic procedure before the prime minister could authorize the SDF’s use of force. He maintained that in an emergency, service members were ready to act at SDF offi cers’ discretion or, using Kurisu’s own expression, in an “extralegal” ( chōhōki- teki ) manner. Immediately aft er this statement, the article posed a potential emergency scenario: the North–South confl ict on the Korean peninsula fi nally develops into an armed battle in 198X (year unspecifi ed). While the United States is reluctant to intervene in the battle, the Soviet Union quickly makes a decision to back Pyongyang. North Korean naval ships and Soviet fi ghter MiGs invade the continental shelf co- managed by South Korea and Japan, and begin to attack their oil-drilling facilities. Th e MiGs also target the SDF fi ghters patrolling the ocean. Judging this situation to be an emergency, the Air SDF decides that it cannot wait for directions from the prime minister and orders its fi ghters to respond immediately. According to the article, a military aff airs research group with expertise in international relations proposed this scenario. By presenting it together with Kurisu’s interview, the article obviously intended to give the reader the impression that a foreign attack was not unrealistic and that the SDF was already on a high level of alert. 2 Th is article caused a great controversy. Th e mass media spread Kurisu’s statement, identifying it as an “ ‘extralegal statement” (chōhōki hatsugen ). At a press conference held aft er the article was published, Kurisu declared that he had no intention of retracting his statement. 3 Kanemaru Shin, then the director of the Defense Agency, expressed his strong discomfort, reiterating that the SDF must operate under the principle of civilian control and that Kurisu’s statement ran counter to this principle. Having lost Kanemaru’s trust, Kurisu submitted a letter of resignation on July 24, which was immediately accepted. At a press conference the next day, Kanemaru again stressed the inappropriateness of Kurisu’s statement and emphasized his determination that the nation should not revert to prewar attitudes. 4 Resignation, however, did not impede Kurisu’s activities. On the contrary, his position as a civilian commentator enabled him to publicize his opinions on national defense more freely, without institutional restrictions. He continued to appear in such journals as Shūkan posuto and Gendai , a monthly magazine published by Kōdansha broadly addressing political, economic, and social issues. In 1980, Kurisu published a book entitled Kasō tekikoku Soren: warera kō mukae utsu (Th e potential enemy Soviet Union: Th is is how we will strike back). In this book, he treated a Soviet invasion of Japan as a highly plausible event in the not 136 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society too distant future, and harshly criticized the LDP government, pointing out that they had worried too much about opposition from the left ist parties and had failed to come up with a concrete policy for defense against the Soviet Union. 5 Kurisu’s activities had an enormous impact on other SDF offi cers, who had been reserved about making any statements regarding political issues. Aft er the military’s frequent and ultimately disastrous interference in politics during the imperial era, postwar Japanese society generally agreed that it was preferable for uniformed offi ces to stay out of public discussions over national defense, diplomacy, and the Constitution, and offi cers did not directly challenge this popular sentiment. Kurisu broke this taboo. His extralegal statement encouraged many offi cers discontented with their depoliticized status to speak out in public. In March 1979, the Chief of Staff of the Ground SDF, Nagano Shigeto, attended a meeting of the Defense Discussion Society (Bōei konwakai), comprising business leaders including the chairman of the Federation of Economic Organizations. At this meeting, Nagano gave a lecture entitled “Th e military situation in Asia,” in which he expressed his concern about the presence of the Soviet military in the Far East and proposed that Japan’s defense plans, which had been designed for peacetime and had not presupposed an external attack, be gradually revised. 6 Th e parties in opposition, including the Socialist Party, immediately picked up on this statement in the Diet, accusing it as a challenge to the principle of civilian control as well as the second inappropriate comment made by an SDF offi cer, aft er that of Kurisu. Th e prime minister Ōhira Masayoshi and the director of the Defense Agency confi rmed that the government had no intention of fundamentally revising its defense plans anytime soon, while emphasizing that Nagano’s statement did not contradict this stance since he had not insisted on the immediate revision of the nation’s defense policy. 7 Th e discontent of top offi cers that Kurisu had unleashed continued to proliferate. In February 1981, Hōseki , another weekly magazine targeting businessmen, interviewed Takeda Gorō, the then Chief of Staff of the Joint Staff Offi ce. In this interview, Takeda, just as Kurisu had done a few years earlier, objected to the government’s policy of restricting the defense budget to less than one percent of GNP, as well as its refusal to introduce conscription. 8 Even before the relevant issue of the magazine was released, the content of his interview was raised in the Diet, and the opposition parties demanded Takeda’s immediate dismissal. Although the LDP government initially tried to present his statement simply as an expression of his personal opinion, pressure in the Diet eventually forced him to retire, which he had been planning to do even before making the statement. 9 Just as in the case of Kurisu, the status of civilian commentator “Th e Th reat from the North” 137 gave Takeda greater liberty to voice his opinions. In November of the same year, he published a book entitled Tōron jieitai wa yaku ni tatsu no ka (Debate: Does the SDF serve a useful purpose?), together with Kaihara Osamu, a military commentator and former SDF offi cer, and Hasegawa Keitarō, a critic specializing in economic issues. Takeda contributed one chapter, entitled “Soredemo Soren no shinryaku wa soshi dekiru” (Even so, we can prevent a Soviet invasion), defending his statements in the Hōseki article. 10 A few more examples will suffi ce to illuminate top SDF offi cers’ attempts to improve the marginalized position of the SDF in national politics. In 1981, Mitsuoka Kenjirō, a former commander of the Ninth Division of the Ground SDF (headquartered in Aomori) and an army offi cer in Imperial Japan, together with Ozawa Kazuo, a military- aff airs expert, edited a book entitled Jieitai no mita Soren-gun (Th e Soviet military that the SDF saw). In this book, they discussed such topics as the danger of a third world war; Russians’/Soviets’ national characteristics and their military strategies; lessons the Japanese should learn from the Finns’ resistance against the Soviets; and Japan’s defense system against the Soviet Union. 11 In 1983, Hirose Eiichi, a former commander of the Twelft h Division (headquartered in Gunma), superintendent of the Northern Army, and principal of the Ground SDF Fuji School (a school off ering training in armored warfare and fi eld battles), edited a book entitled Jieitai kanbu OB hyakunin no bōei chokugen ( Frank talk on defense by one hundred former SDF offi cers , hereaft er Frank talk on defense). As this title suggests, Hirose produced the book in collaboration with more than a hundred former SDF offi cers. Th ey severely criticized the Japanese people’s complacent attitude toward the Soviets and articulated scenarios in which Japan might be dragged into war. Th e subtitle of the book was Inoru dake dewa heiwa wa konai (Peace won’t come through prayer alone), and this clearly attested to the authors’ frustration with Article 9. 12 In this way, a discourse arose between the late 1970s and early 1980s that fomented fear of a Soviet invasion and highlighted the impotence of national defense in the volatile Cold War atmosphere. Promoters of this discourse—that is, SDF offi cers and military-aff airs experts sympathetic to them—oft en resorted to magazine articles or published books to disseminate their ideas. Th e audience for these magazines and books were not pundits, intellectuals, or politicians, but readers who did not possess special expertise but wished to broaden their understanding of the topic in a short amount of time. To catch the attention of this kind of reader, these books and magazines repeatedly employed such terms as “Soviet threat” (Soren no kyōi) or “northern threat” ( hoppō kyōi) together with sensational and dramatic headlines and contents. 138 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

Did the northern threat campaign truly refl ect a sense of fear shared by people in Japan? On the one hand, it is true that bilateral relations between the Soviet Union and Japan had remained strained since the end of the Second World War. As a US ally in the Cold War international system, Japan had maintained a hostile position toward the Soviet Union. Th e relation between the two countries deteriorated further in the late 1970s. As one specialist in Russo- Japanese relations has pointed out, the period between the late 1970s and the early 1980s was “the coldest and most diffi cult” in the history of diplomacy between the two countries. 13 Th e MiG-25 incident symbolized the beginning of this “coldest and most diffi cult” time. On September 6, 1976, Lieutenant Belenko of the Soviet Air Force entered Japanese airspace in a MiG-25 fi ghter plane and landed at the Hakodate Airport in Hokkaido. Th e Air SDF had initially detected the fi ghter plane approaching Hokkaido on radar, but lost track just as it descended to land. Th e lieutenant, however, had not sought to attack Japan. His purpose was to ask for political asylum in the United States through the Japanese government’s mediation. Th e Ministry of Foreign Aff airs contacted the US government, confi rmed its willingness to accept Belenko’s request, and sent him to the United States on September 9. Aft er this, despite Soviet demands for the plane’s prompt return, the Defense Agency moved it for inspection to the Hyakuri Air Base in Ibaraki prefecture with the assistance of the US Air Force. In early October, the Defense Agency fi nished its inspection, and, on November 14, the Japanese government fi nally shipped it back to the Soviet Union.14 Although this incident did not cause any military confrontation or harm to human life, it made Japanese government offi cials highly conscious of the vulnerability of Japan’s air defense system. Th is was certainly not the only event to cause tension between Tokyo and Moscow in this era. Th e Soviet establishment of the 200-nautical- mile fi shing zone in 1976 was a serious blow to Japanese fi shermen, who had been active in the Sea of Okhotsk. Around the same time, the Soviets began pursuing military buildup in the so-called “Northern Territories.” Th e Soviet Union had been occupying these territories—the southern part of the Kuril Islands—since August 1945, and Japan had repeatedly requested that sovereignty of these islands revert to Japan. Moreover, in 1978, Japan signed the Treaty of Peace and Friendship with the People’s Republic of China. Th e Soviet Union, which had suff ered strained relations with the PRC since the death of Stalin, by no means welcomed this move. And, of course, this series of events must also be considered in connection with the deterioration in relation between the two superpowers in the global “Th e Th reat from the North” 139 context. Th e Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in 1979, claiming to protect the communist regime established the previous year. Th e Carter administration in the United States condemned this action and implemented economic sanctions against the Soviet Union, which Japan joined. Moreover, the United States, some of its allies, including Japan and West Germany, and anti-Soviet China, refused to participate in the Moscow Olympics the following year. Th is was the end of détente. Th e two superpowers adopted more a confrontational stance toward each other, and this would last until Gorbachev emerged as the General Secretary of the Soviet Communist Party in 1985. 15 However, the late 1970s was defi nitely not the only cold and diffi cult time for Japan and the Soviet Union. For example, the renewal and revision of the US– Japan Security Treaty in 1960 irritated Soviet leaders and terminated the short reconciliation that the two countries had enjoyed since restoration of diplomatic relations through the signing of the 1956 Joint Declaration. Th e Soviets retracted their promise to return Shikotan Island and the Habomai Group (parts of the Northern Territories) to Japan aft er signing a peace treaty. A top- level meeting between the two governments was not held until 1973. 16 Nevertheless, Japanese society did not immerse itself in the fear of a Soviet invasion at that time. Government offi cials did worry about the growing possibility of Soviet aggression and a nuclear war, but this did not develop into a chain reaction of panic about the Soviet Union or a large campaign insisting on security reinforcement. Th is indicates that increased tension between Japan and the Soviet Union alone does not explain the emergence of the northern threat campaign. Th ere have to be other factors that explain this event. Stuart Hall and colleagues’ Policing the Crisis provides a useful framework for deliberating this issue. Th is now- classic book researches the moral panic over “mugging” in British society in the early 1970s. Employing a term newly introduced from the United States, the media instilled the fear of street violence in people’s minds and grossly magnifi ed the sense of crisis. Th e authors, however, were less interested in why people mugged than why British society developed such an intense fear of mugging—which, according to them, was not a new phenomenon—at this specifi c moment in history. Th ey examined the larger economic context within which this fear-mongering took place and pointed out that British capitalist development was at a stalemate at the time, plagued by stagfl ation and high unemployment, which was closely associated with the predicament of the welfare state. Th e media, the police, and the government invented the fear of mugging in these circumstances, and this contributed to the scapegoating of urban black communities as hotbeds of crime, diverting 140 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society dissatisfi ed workers’ attention from the fundamental economic problems that British society was faced with. 17 Th is argument suggests that fear is by no means a sentiment spontaneously developed and shared by members of a given society. Rather, fear can be manufactured for particular political purposes, and people can be encouraged, instructed, or incited to fear something. When analyzing a fear- mongering campaign, therefore, one cannot simply focus on the content of the campaign. Instead, it is necessary to position such a campaign within its broader political and economic context, identify the problems, concerns, and anxieties that society was experiencing in the midst of that campaign, and clarify what outcomes such a campaign brought about.

Reinforcing defense autonomy, silencing Hokkaido

I particularly wish to emphasize that Japan’s capitalism entered a new phase in the second half of the 1970s. Although the oil crisis of 1973 severely aff ected the nation’s economy, which had long depended on cheap crude oil from the Middle East, Japanese companies managed to overcome this crisis and maintain high productivity through technological innovations and the so- called “operation scale-down” ( genryō keiei ), including a cutback in labor- related costs and fi nance costs. 18 Also, even in the aft ermath of the oil crisis, secondary industries in the machinery sector and tertiary industries continued to grow and yield large profi ts because the former produced high- value-added goods (e.g., automobiles), and the latter was not greatly aff ected by the increase in oil prices. As a result, the Japanese economy, compared with other developed nations in North America and Western Europe, maintained a relatively stable growth rate. 19 In 1979, Ezra Vogel wrote his famous Japan as Number One , pointing out the strengths of Japanese-style management. In 1982, Chalmers Johnson published MITI and the Japanese Miracle , which analyzed the Japanese bureaucrats and economic policies that enabled rapid economic growth. 20 In sum, in the late 1970s, Japan emerged as a global economic power that provided a solid model of growth for the other advanced capitalist nations with which Japan had previously been playing catch- up. Japan’s economic prosperity, however, impaired its relations with the United States. Since the occupation era, the United States had assisted Japan’s economic recovery by facilitating its eff orts to import cheap raw materials from Southeast Asia and by absorbing Japanese exports in order to transform the defeated nation “Th e Th reat from the North” 141 into a strong capitalist ally and contain the revolutionary surge in Cold War Asia. Th is arrangement benefi ted Japan far more than the United States had expected. From the mid-1960s, Japan began to run a trade surplus with the United States, as such companies as Toyota and Honda introduced their automobiles to the US market. In the 1970s, this became a serious diplomatic problem. Washington criticized Tokyo for not buying enough US products to resolve trade friction, and asked Tokyo to open up its markets and expand domestic demand. Neither Nixon’s devaluation of the dollar against the yen nor the 1973 oil crisis prevented Japanese car companies from boosting their sales.21 Anti-Japanese sentiment spread among Americans, particularly workers in the automobile industry. As John Dower has pointed out in his study of racism on both sides of the Pacifi c War, many Americans viewed Japanese aspirations to economic prosperity in this period as a manifestation of their desire to dominate the world once again, and accused the Japanese in racialized terms similar to those used during the previous war.22 Consequently, so- called “Japan bashing” from the early 1980s made the Japanese realize that the United States was willing to support Japan’s economic growth only as long as it remained a docile client state.23 When the northern threat campaign is placed within this context, we recognize that it was not simply about the Soviet menace, but also the aggravated tension that existed with the United States. For example, Kurisu Hiroomi, one of the fi rst to alert the Japanese to the northern threat, repeatedly voiced his profound skepticism of the validity of the US–Japan Security Treaty. He maintained that the United States would not mobilize its troops to help the SDF even if Japan’s confl ict with the Soviet Union developed into armed confrontation. He pointed to an “ethnic factor.” In his view, while the Americans saw the NATO nations—mostly European, though Kurisu did not say so explicitly—as their “relatives” and NATO as a “community of fate” (unmei kyōdōtai ), they did not see their relation with Japan in the same way. Th e United States and Japan were at most a “community of interest” (rieki kyōdōtai), which was temporary and fragile. Th erefore, in his opinion, the Americans would ultimately prioritize their own interests ahead of Japan’s. Th ere was a possibility that the Americans would give up Japan to the Soviets, depending on the conditions in which a confl ict developed. 24 While Kurisu’s utter distrust of the United States may have been extreme, his opinion was more or less shared by other proponents of the northern threat campaign. In Frank talk on defense , the editor Hirose Eiichi cautioned the Japanese against considering the US–Japan Security Treaty a panacea for international disputes. Like Kurisu, he stated that the Americans would help 142 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

Japan only when they believed that it served their own national interests. 25 In Th e Soviet military that the SDF saw , Fujii Haruo and Mitsuoka Kenjirō agreed that the Americans were essentially “selfi sh” ( riko shugi- teki ) and “isolationist” ( koritsu shugi-teki ) and that the Japanese had to bear this in mind as they planned for long- term defense. Mitsuoka further argued that, depending on changes in international relations, not only the Soviet Union but any other foreign country, including the United States, could become Japan’s enemy, and that the Japanese needed to resolve to protect the country independently, without counting on foreign support. 26 During this period, a fair number of fi ctional works were published that imagined Soviet aggression and a third world war, and these undoubtedly contributed to circulating the idea of Japan’s vulnerability among the populace in a vulgarized and oft en thrilling, entertaining language. Th e US abandonment of Japan was a recurring theme in these fi ctional works as well. Th e novel Hokkaido senryō saru (Hokkaido occupied), by Iwano Masataka, serves as a good example. One of the leading authors of the northern threat campaign, Iwano graduated from the Imperial Army Academy (1934) and the Army War College (1940). When the Second World War ended, he was serving as an offi cer at the Imperial General Headquarters. In 1951, he joined the NPR. Until he retired in 1966, he held important positions at the SDF, including vice-principal of the Joint Staff College and major general. Aft er retiring from the SDF, he worked as a fi ction writer and military commentator. As the northern threat campaign gained momentum in the late 1970s, Iwano published novels that described imaginary “hot wars” that escalated from the Cold War. In Hokkaido occupied , Iwano depicts the United States as a nominal and impractical ally of Japan. It does not send any troops to prevent a Soviet landing on Japanese soil despite the Japanese government’s repeated requests. In his other novel, Beiso gekitotsu su! Kunashiritō dakkai seyo! (Th e US and USSR clash! Recapture Kunashiri island!), a tension between the two superpowers turns into a worldwide nuclear war in July 198X (year unspecifi ed), involving the Middle East, Asia, and Europe. In Japan, Osaka becomes the victim of a one-megaton Soviet hydrogen bomb (which was far more powerful than the fi ft een-kiloton atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima). Th en the Soviets conquer Hokkaido, as half a million people fl ee their destroyed homes seeking refuge. Utterly unprepared for this type of emergency aft er a long period of peace, local governments are incapable of providing these refugees with suffi cient food and medical care, and as result, about half of them lose their lives during that year’s winter. While all this is happening, the United States is so occupied with its own war that it cannot off er “Th e Th reat from the North” 143 any assistance to Japan. In both novels, Japanese guerrilla forces, not American soldiers, must take charge of driving the Soviets out of Hokkaido.27 In novels by other authors, too, the US–Japan Security Treaty fails when Japan most needs it. In the freelance journalist Sase Minoru’s Hokkaido no jūichinichi sensō (An eleven-day war in Hokkaido), the US government declares neutrality in a Soviet–Japanese war as long as the Soviet Union does not interfere with the operation of US military facilities within Japan. Aware of the United States’ enormous military might, the Soviet Union accepts this condition. Because of this gentleman’s agreement, the US forces do not allow the SDF to use joint Japanese–US bases. Th ese include some of the most advanced air stations, such as Misawa in Aomori prefecture, and the prohibition of their use seriously weakens the SDF’s counterattack. 28 In Hokkaido ga jinmin kyōwakoku ni naru hi (Th e day Hokkaido becomes a people’s republic), authored by the Tokyo shinbun journalist Izaki Hitoshi, the commander of the Northern Army castigates the US–Japan Security Treaty as “practically non-existent” (nai ni hitoshii ) and expresses his frustration at the Americans, who choose to remain passive observers of the Soviet invasion of Japan. 29 Th us, those who propagated the northern threat shared anxieties about the loss of US support as the bilateral friendship that had once seemed so solid began to reveal its fragile nature. In other words, they were not simply apprehensive about growing Soviet power but cast fundamental doubt on the postwar political and military structure that the Japanese state had created under US tutelage over the past several decades. Th ey aspired to the enhancement of defense autonomy in order to curtail the nation’s military reliance on the United States. Here, they had to deal with one problem—the peace movement that had matured since the 1960s, especially in Hokkaido. As discussed in Chapter 3, two major court cases that questioned the legitimacy of the SDF had taken place on this island: the Eniwa case in 1962 and the Naganuma case in 1969. Participants in both cases resorted to the right to live in peace manifested in the Constitution to critique the SDF’s activities in their communities. In the latter case, the judge at the Sapporo District Court concluded in 1973 that the SDF was unconstitutional. Given that these were parts of the larger peace and anti-base movements of the era, it is safe to say that throughout the 1960s and early 1970s, the idea that peace could be attained without recourse to military forces formed one infl uential current of thought and activism. In the Naganuma case, however, the government immediately appealed, and in 1976, the Sapporo High Court overturned the district court’s decision. Th e case 144 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society went to the Supreme Court, which would eventually side with the high court and refuse to recognize a constitutional right to live in peace. We must also remember that, around the same time, the DFAA was making extraordinary eff orts to contain any more protest in communities with bases by rendering generous fi nancial assistance. Put another way, the Japanese government was at this moment seeking to counter the idea of unarmed peace and reconfi rm the indispensability of a military organization for the maintenance of the nation’s defense. Th e northern threat campaign came about within this context. SDF offi cers, and military experts and authors sympathetic to them, had grown annoyed at the SDF’s disputed, ambiguous status vis-à-vis the Constitution and its invisibility in the political arena. As the idea of unarmed peace gradually lost infl uence in the late 1970s, they fully leveraged this situation to silence critics of the SDF—particularly those in Hokkaido, which they regarded as the front line of any confrontation with the Soviet Union—and to warn that the neglect of national defense would bring about catastrophic consequences. Publications on the northern threat—whether fi ction or non- fi ction—frequently presented Hokkaido as the helpless object of Soviet attack. Hokkaido’s defense was always destined to fail, and Hokkaido people had to undergo humiliating and appalling occupation by the Soviets. In his 1980 article entitled “Soren-gun koko e jōriku!” (Th e Soviet military lands here!), Kurisu Hiroomi discussed four potential routes of Soviet invasion, three of which were in Hokkaido. He argued that no matter which route the Soviets took, the SDF lacked suffi cient power to fi ght back, and the Soviet occupation of Hokkaido would be inevitable. He claimed that he had surveyed the island from an SDF-owned helicopter and based this prediction on the results. 30 In another article, entitled “Kinkyū shirei, Hokkaido o hōki seyo!” (Emergency command: Abandon Hokkaido!), Kurisu discussed a potential military clash between the US and Soviet blocs in Europe. He maintained that if a war broke out in Europe, the Soviet Union would attack Hokkaido and nullify Japan’s military power in the region. Geographically, Hokkaido prevented the Soviet Union from mobilizing fl eets from such cities as Vladivostok on the Pacifi c. Th erefore, the control of Hokkaido would be high on the Soviets’ agenda in the event of war, and Soviet troops would either destroy Japan’s sea-lane near Hokkaido or ambush the island’s coastal cities. 31 We can also look at the representation of Hokkaido in fi ctional works. In Th e day Hokkaido becomes a people’s republic, Izaki described everyday life in Hokkaido during a Soviet occupation. Th e Soviet Union takes over the entire island, establishes a puppet regime, namely the People’s Republic of Hokkaido, and allows the Revolutionary Party—a pro-Soviet communist party in Japan—to “Th e Th reat from the North” 145 rule. Under the direction of the Soviet Union, the new government nationalizes industries and collectivizes agriculture and fi sheries. It expropriates wealthy residents’ properties and purges those who held high-rank positions within the old capitalist government. Th e Soviet prohibition of trade with mainland Japan places Hokkaido under a severe shortage of food and goods. Waiting in line for rationed food and goods soon becomes part of the landscape of Hokkaido’s everyday life, just as in the contemporary Soviet Union and Eastern Europe. Moreover, the masses are banned from traveling abroad, or even enjoying Japanese movies, TV programs, and other sources of information and entertainment. Popular resentment of the regime and the Soviet Union gradually mounts. Th e novel ends with former SDF members and other Japanese patriots preparing for a guerrilla war against the Soviet troops. 32 It was common for the authors of these novels to attribute the hypothetical failure of the defense of Hokkaido to the peace movement of the 1960s and 1970s. In Iwano’s Hokkaido occupied , when the Soviets take control of Sapporo, they arrest wealthy business owners and anti- communist intellectuals and send them to be reeducated in concentration camps built in a suburb of the city. Takimoto Ichirō, a professor of economics at Hokkaido University, escapes arrest because of his specialty in Marxist economics, but the Red Army does search his house to confi scate valuables. Several soldiers try to sexually molest his wife, though they are stopped by a Soviet offi cer, who is concerned about the reputation of the Red Army in the occupied area. Th at night, Takimoto cannot sleep because of the humiliation that he and his wife have suff ered. He fi nds his wife crying next to him, but has no words to console her. He can only ask her to endure the hardship together with him. He is fi lled with anger against the SDF, which easily surrendered to the Soviets. Th en, his anger shift s to the peace movement that has emasculated the SDF. Takimoto thinks:

We lacked military strength. If we had had more military strength, the enemy might not have invaded Hokkaido. In the 1970s, we used to hear that we could prevent a war only by observing the Peace Constitution, and I agreed with it and supported [the Constitution]. But what a ﬁ gment it was! Come to think of it, if a country could maintain its security only with a constitution, no country would spend a fortune on armaments. I am powerless, and don’t know how to use a weapon, but perhaps I should join the resistance force . . . 33

In Sase Minoru’s An eleven-day war in Hokkaido , Lieutenant Colonel Tamura is talking with his subordinate, Fujisaki, a young private, during a break in combat 146 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society against the Soviets in Wakkanai, the northernmost city on the island. As a senior service member, Tamura tells Fujisaki about his experiences with anti-SDF activists. Before coming to Hokkaido, he worked for the Th irteenth Division, headquartered in Hiroshima. Once, when members of the division visited Nihonbara in Okayama prefecture, where the Ground SDF operates a maneuver fi eld, for target practice, anti-SDF student activists threw stones at them. On another occasion, members of the Socialist Party and labor unions protested in the same place, intending to prevent SDF service members from entering the fi eld. Many passionate service members were furious at the protesters. Tamura, however, cautioned these angry service members against taking off ense at the protesters, reminding them that they were working to defend Japan not because other people asked them to do so but because they themselves wanted to do so. 34 While this novel does not condemn the peace movement directly, the reader is clearly aware that Tamura and Fujisaki are having their conversation in the middle of a war with the Soviet Union. Th is more than anything else proves that the anti-military peace movement, to which Tamura showed great tolerance, did not contribute to building peace in Hokkaido. On the contrary, the Soviet Union has taken advantage of the island’s vulnerability and caused immense distress among residents. Service members are now risking their lives to protect the same civilians who heavily criticized rearmament. Th e contrast is obvious between broad-minded, earnest service members and short-sighted, irrational, and powerless protesters.

A right- wing turn in national politics

What was the connection between the northern threat campaign and the government’s security policy? Th e government did not offi cially endorse the northern threat campaign, as we see in the Defense Agency’s dismissal of Kurisu Hiroomi as Chief of Staff of the Joint Staff Offi ce immediately aft er his “extralegal” statement in 1978. It is essential to note, however, that the main reason for Kurisu’s dismissal was that he had violated the principle of civilian control over the SDF. Th e fact that he magnifi ed the threat posed by the Soviet Union was not particularly seen as a problematic remark. Quite the opposite, Kurisu’s statement (and the discourse related to the northern threat that followed) in a way symbolized the government’s attitude toward national defense. Fukuda Takeo, the prime minister at the time (1976–1978), and one of the most right-wing members of the LDP, whose origins could be traced back to Kishi “Th e Th reat from the North” 147

Nobusuke, supported a rather aggressive security policy. Kanemaru Shin, appointed by Fukuda as the director of the Defense Agency and the very person who dismissed Kurisu, envisaged a “feared SDF” (osorerareru jieitai). In his opinion, true national defense must create a sense of fear among foreign countries so that they would not even contemplate invading Japan. Th is policy would obviously entail the modifi cation of the principle of “exclusive defense,” the fundamental defense principle that the government had long maintained under the Peace Constitution, which committed the nation to building and maintaining friendly relations with neighboring countries. 35 Kurisu’s statement therefore did not emerge out of the blue, but was a natural product of the contemporary political culture, which was increasingly drift ing to the right. On the other hand, it is also true that the northern threat campaign in turn encouraged, enabled, or even prompted the rightward tilt in the political arena. Th e government began pinpointing the Soviet Union as Japan’s potential enemy explicitly. First, we can clearly see this in the Defense White Papers edited by the Defense Agency. Th e Agency published its fi rst White Paper in 1970 when the conservative LDP member Nakasone Yasuhiro (whom I will discuss in detail below) became a director of the Agency. Th e second White Paper was published in 1976, and since then, the Defense Agency has published one annually. In the 1979 White Paper, the Agency mentioned the term “threat” (kyōi ), defi ning it as the combination of “intentions” (ito ) and “ability” (nōryoku ) to invade. Although that year’s White Paper addressed the Soviet Union’s growing military might, it was not yet considered a “threat” to Japan. 36 In the next year’s White Paper, the Defense Agency for the fi rst time characterized the Soviet Union with the expression “increase in potential threat” ( senzaiteki kyōi no zōdai), charging that the military situation surrounding Japan was growing more severe. Th is White Paper expressed special concern about the Soviet military’s buildup on Etorofu, Kunashiri, and Shikotan Islands—parts of the Northern Territories. It expressed a Soviet intention to make Japan recognize its “unlawful occupation” ( fuhō senkyo) of the islands, and emphasized that Japan could by no means “tolerate” (yōnin ) such activities. 37 Until the late 1980s, the Defense White Papers spent a signifi cant number of pages analyzing the types and quality of Soviet weaponry, particularly in Northeast Asia, and accentuated the probability of a Soviet attack. Second, let us consider emergency legislation. Today’s Japan is equipped with a series of laws that are to be applied in the event of an armed attack upon Japanese soil. Th is emergency legislation specifi es central and local governments’ responsibilities as well as how to protect the people from external attack while 148 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society restricting their constitutional rights if necessary. Th is legislation was established only in 2003 and 2004 aft er the September 11 attacks in the United States alerted the Japanese to the possibility of terrorism. As of the 1970s, the people remained skeptical of emergency legislation since it developed from the presupposition that Japan could face war in the future, and therefore seemed to contradict the Peace Constitution. In August 1977, under the auspices of Prime Minister Fukuda Takeo, the Defense Agency undertook the study of emergency law; a year later, Kurisu made his “extralegal statement.” Since his statement was a harsh criticism of the absence of a concrete legal procedure for responding to war, it ignited discussion of emergency legislation and prompted the Defense Agency to present its concrete views. In September 1978, soon aft er Kurisu’s controversial statement, the Agency issued its summary view on emergency legislation, confi rming that it did not envisage legislation similar to prewar martial law or intend to reintroduce conscription, and that the people’s individual rights must be respected even in an emergency. Th en, in April 1981 and October 1984, the Agency published two interim reports that clarifi ed the relations between future emergency legislation and existing laws. Th e fi rst report addressed how to enforce an emergency under Article 103 of the SDF Law, which stipulated the mobilization of service members as well as the expropriation of materials and the use of land for service members’ effi cient operation. Th e second report studied other relevant laws that would entail special provisions in an emergency— for example, the Road Traffi c Law and Aviation Law for the smooth travel of the SDF, and the Coast Law, Forest Law, and Natural Park Law for the deployment of the SDF in aff ected areas. 38 Th e Defense Agency ultimately failed to establish emergency legislation because resistance from opposition parties—the Socialist and Communist Parties in particular—was strong at the Diet and also because consensus could not be formed in society about the need for the kind of legislation that might be used to suspend the people’s constitutional rights and freedoms. It is crucial, however, for us to remember that the discussions and reports made at that time provided the LDP government with an important basis for enacting a series of emergency-related laws later in 2003 and 2004. 39 Moreover, this was the fi rst time in the history of postwar Japan that the Defense Agency publicly and openly presented the need for emergency legislation to the people; thereaft er, it was no longer taboo to predict a war scenario into which Japan might be dragged and to promote adequate preparations for such an eventuality. In this sense, Kurisu’s statement and the northern threat campaign that followed had a “Th e Th reat from the North” 149 long- lasting impact on the political arena, spreading the idea that the Constitution alone could not be the guarantor of peace in the hazardous international community. Lastly, the birth of the cabinet of Nakasone Yasuhiro symbolized the height of the right-wing tilt in national politics in the most vivid manner. Th is former Imperial Navy offi cer, former director of the Defense Agency, and enthusiastic proponent of the revision of Article 9 assumed his premiership between 1982 and 1987 and formed three cabinets. One of his major goals during this era was to break away from the postwar political tradition in which the reinforcement of the SDF was oft en viewed with suspicion and an attempt to disturb peace. In his fi rst policy speech before the Diet in December 1982, Nakasone expressed his desire that Japan would play a more active role in solidifying world peace as a member of the free world, and for this purpose, building “high-quality defense capability” ( shitsu no takai bōeiryoku ) was indispensible—though, he added, “within the limits necessary for self defense” ( jiei no tame no hitsu yˉ o na gendo ni oite). 40 During his tenure, Nakasone upheld this goal by elevating Japan’s military alliance with the United States against the Soviet threat to a new level: he authorized the export of military technology to the United States, abolished the policy that had limited military expenditure to under one percent of the national budget, and scaled up joint maneuvers between the SDF and US military (discussed below). Although the northern threat campaign facilitated the rise of Nakasone’s premiership, we should not overlook a fundamental diff erence between the SDF offi cers who launched the campaign and this new prime minister. Whereas the SDF offi cers voiced their outright skepticism of the validity of the US–Japan Security Treaty and insisted on greater autonomy in national defense, Nakasone, contrary to the offi cers’ aspiration, looked for every opportunity to bolster the Security Treaty, reiterating that the treaty was the very reason that Japan had been able to enjoy peace throughout postwar history. Th e consequence of this diplomatic approach was not greater autonomy in national defense but the perpetuation of Japan’s military subordination to the United States, which had been proceeding since the occupation era. In this sense, Nakasone’s regime was not as radical as he claimed, but must be seen as having further advanced Japan’s position as the United States’ loyal and assiduous client state in East Asia. While raising military expenditure, Nakasone at the same time aimed for a small government and advanced a neoliberal economic policy, as the model of the welfare state was found to be ineffi cient in Japan as well as other advanced capitalist states (e.g., Reagan’s United States and Th atcher’s Britain). Despite fi erce resistance from the socialists and labor unions, he managed to privatize 150 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society three major state-owned enterprises: the Japanese National Railways, the Japan Tobacco and Salt Public Corporation, and the Nippon Telegraph and Telephone Public Corporation. Th is move towards privatization and market fundamentalism on the one hand, and rising government spending for the military on the other, were actually complementary. As David Harvey points out, the neoliberal state’s glorifi cation of uninhibited corporate freedoms and its surrender of the role as arbitrator between individuals and corporations unavoidably leads to the loss of solidarity among its citizens and creates social chaos. Th is requires the neoliberal state to constantly highlight the presence of an enemy, whether at home or abroad, for the sake of preserving national unity. 41 And, in order to successfully continue promoting national unity, the neoliberal state always has to remind its citizens of the paucity of military resources for national defense and the high plausibility of being engulfed in war. As David Campbell states in his book on US foreign policy, “the constant articulation of danger through foreign policy is thus not a threat to a state’s identity or existence: it is its condition of possibility.” 42

M i l i t a r y b a s e H o k k a i d o

Th e rightward turn in the political arena altered the material condition of Hokkaido, the land imagined to be the fi rst victim of Soviet attack, in remarkable fashion. Starting in the late 1970s, the Defense Agency saw Hokkaido as the front line in a future war with the Soviet Union and pursued the augmentation and modernization of the SDF on this island more actively than ever before. In 1979, the Defense Agency announced that the Seventh Division, headquartered in Chitose, would be transformed into an armored division (an army division that possesses armored vehicles such as tanks) as a response to the buildup of the Soviet military deployed in the Far East. Th e Seventh Division would complete this transformation by 1981, and till this day it is the only armored division within the Ground SDF. Th e Defense Agency also declared its readiness to raise the fulfi llment rate for the Ground SDF (the ratio of the actual number of service members to the quota) from 86 to 89 percent, and the extra members thus generated were to be sent to Hokkaido. 43 Around the same time, the Air SDF resolved to introduce the latest fi ghter plane, the F-15, from the United States and produce a domestic version under license. Th e United States had repeatedly asked Japan to share the burden of defending the Japanese archipelago and surrounding sea areas, and the purchase of the license for this cutting- edge fi ghter plane was a manifestation of Japan’s willingness to meet this “Th e Th reat from the North” 151 request. 44 Th e Air SDF’s Second Air Wing at the Chitose Air Base, which was shared with commercial airlines and had grown into one of the busiest airports in Japan, was one of the fi rst to be equipped with the F-15, and by 1987, had come to possess forty of these planes. 45 Th e SDF’s activities in Hokkaido were also scaled up. It hosted (and still hosts) two of the largest maneuver fi elds in Japan: the Yausubetsu and Hokkaido maneuver fi elds. As of 1978, the land occupied by the maneuver fi elds in Hokkaido, including these two, amounted to 133 square miles, and this accounted for about 50 percent of the total land occupied by such fi elds across Japan. 46 Since the 1970s, Hokkaido had served as the site of annual long-distance transport training—that is, training that mobilized a Ground SDF division from elsewhere in Japan to the Yausubetsu maneuver fi eld for over a month in preparation for an emergency on the island. As the fear of the Soviet Union prevailed, the number of participating service members grew from 2,100 in 1981 to 3,600 in 1983, to 4,400 in 1985, and reached 5,000 in 1987. 47 In addition, in May 1982, the Ground, Maritime, and Air SDFs conducted joint training in Hokkaido by sending 13,400 service members, 260 vehicles, 16 ships, and 150 airplanes from the main island, with the purpose of ensuring a readiness to respond to an external attack. 48 Moreover, in October of the same year, as a part of the events commemorating its thirtieth anniversary, the Ground SDF’s Northern Army held fi repower combat training at the Hokkaido maneuver fi eld. Ten thousand Hokkaido civilians were invited to this event, where the Northern Army demonstrated the destructive power of its high- performance weapons, including missiles and howitzers. As an SDF offi cer stated with confi dence and pride, the aims of this event were to exhibit within and outside the country that the Northern Army was “the largest and strongest army” ( saidai saikyō no gundan ) in Japan and to act as a form of deterrence to “the northern giant” ( hoppō no kyojin )—the Soviet Far Eastern Army. 49 Not only the SDF but also US forces began using Hokkaido more for military purposes. Th e Guidelines for US–Japan Defense Cooperation provided a theoretical basis for this. Initiated at the meeting between President Ford and Prime Minister Miki in 1975, and approved by the Japan–US Security Consultative Committee in 1978, the Guidelines listed various eff orts that the two countries should make in order to deter aggression as well as concrete measures to be taken in the event of an armed attack on Japan. Th e Guidelines called for intimate cooperation between the SDF and the US forces in “such areas as operations, intelligence, and logistics.” Th e militaries of the two countries were supposed to “conduct studies on joint defense planning,” “undertake 152 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society necessary joint exercise and training,” and “study and prepare beforehand common procedures deemed necessary for operational needs in order jointly to undertake operations smoothly.” 50 In 1981, the Ground SDF began conducting joint training with the US forces on Japanese soil. Th is started as small-scale communication training at the Higashi-Fuji maneuver fi eld in Shizuoka with 60 members from the Ground SDF’s Eastern Army and 40 members from the US Marines. 51 In the following year, the two forces started military simulations as well as fi eld training exercises. While they chose diff erent venues all over Japan for their joint training, they favored the maneuver fi elds in Hokkaido because of their size. Th e scale of training there tended to be larger than that held in other parts of Japan. For example, the fi eld training exercise of 1983 at the Hokkaido maneuver fi eld lasted ten days, with 1,500 members of the Northern Army and 950 members of the US Army participating. 52 Outside Hokkaido, there were very few maneuver fi elds that could host such a large- scale exercise. In 1986, the two forces for the fi rst time realized a fi eld training exercise in which all the SDF branches (the Ground, Maritime, and Air SDF) and the US forces stationed in Japan were mobilized. Th e total number of participants reached 13,000, and again, the Hokkaido maneuver fi eld was chosen as the venue for the land exercise. 53 Did people in Hokkaido fear a Soviet invasion? On the one hand, it is clear that they did. A survey published on Hokkaido shinbun in June 1984 shows that almost 70 percent of the 773 respondents in Hokkaido said that they feared a Soviet threat either “strongly” or “a little”. It appears that the northern threat campaign had considerable impact on the ways that people in Hokkaido perceived their northern neighbor. On the other hand, they were also uneasy about the rapid military build-up on their island. In the same survey, when they were asked what they thought about the current SDF, about 30 percent of respondents said that it was so secretive they had no idea of what was really going on with the SDF; about 18 percent were concerned that the SDF had been further integrated into the United States’ Soviet- related strategy; and 14 percent said that they were scared because the SDF had become like a real military. In response to a question regarding the SDF in the future, many Hokkaido residents believed that it would be better to maintain its current size or even scale it down (38.2 percent and 12.6 percent, respectively). Also, almost 30 percent agreed that the SDF should focus more on such missions as disaster relief. 54 Th ese results indicate that, while sharing a fear of the Soviet Union, people in Hokkaido generally assumed a tepid and unenthusiastic attitude toward the central government’s policy of scaling up the SDF on the island. “Th e Th reat from the North” 153

In fact, there were many vocal critics of the northern threat campaign in Hokkaido. In 1980, Tanaka Enshō, a high-school teacher in Rumoi in northwestern Hokkaido, described the northern threat campaign as “a war game” ( sensō gokko ) that obsessed people in Tokyo, expressing his anger at discussions over national defense in which the voices of Hokkaido residents were rarely heard. 55 Th e same year, the Hokkaido businessman Murai Yukio charged that people in Hokkaido were living as calmly as before without feeling particularly threatened by the Soviets, and that it was from Tokyo, not from Hokkaido, that the northern threat campaign transpired. He highlighted the example of the city of Wakkanai, where people suff ered enormous distress because the Tokyo-based media portrayed them as defenseless victims of a Soviet attack and even as opportunistic spies for the Soviets. Under these conditions, Murai continued, Wakkanai people felt compelled to demonstrate their patriotism to the rest of Japan. For him, the northern threat campaign was a modern-day “witch hunt” ( majo- gari ). 56 Matsui Satoru, a professor at Hokkaido University and outstanding peace activist, meticulously recorded the process of military augmentation in this prefecture and correctly identifi ed the campaign as a tool for manipulating popular opinion and thereby turning the whole island into a military base. 57 Criticism of the northern threat campaign and military augmentation in Hokkaido, however, did not engender a collective oppositional voice powerful enough to force the government in Tokyo to reconsider its Hokkaido-related military policy. Th is is not to deny the existence of dissidents. Each time the SDF held large- scale military exercises on the island, a citizen protest was organized. Kawase Hanji, a farmer in Yausubetsu, and probably the most famous individual protester, refused for decades to give up his land for the construction of a maneuver fi eld. His struggle would last until his death in 2009. 58 But it is also true that in contrast to the 1960s and the early 1970s, the reinforcement of the SDF proceeded fairly smoothly from the second half of the 1970s. Th e survey just cited helps us make sense of this. One question asked specifi cally about the impression of the SDF stationed in Hokkaido. To this question, 45.2 percent of the respondents said that they had a good impression while 32.3 percent said that they had a bad impression, while 22.5 percent gave no answer.59 Although many Hokkaido residents, as shown above, were concerned about the rapid military buildup, they viewed the SDF in Hokkaido with less skepticism, and in fact, many of them viewed it rather positively. It seems that Hokkaido residents distinguished between the SDF as a national organization controlled by the government and Defense Agency in Tokyo, and the SDF as a local organization represented by the units in their own communities, with 154 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society which they had close everyday interactions. Th is is understandable given the fact that the SDF had long worked as a welfare institution for island residents, and the DFAA had actively intervened in civil–military disputes to alleviate the base problem. As the DFAA provided individuals and local governments with much fi nancial support, many of them increasingly lost grounds for resisting the SDF (in Hokkaido at least) and found it more valuable to seek ways to co-exist with and benefi t from it. Th e economic quagmire of Hokkaido from the early 1980s further hastened this tendency. As pointed out earlier, even aft er the oil crises, the nation’s economy continued to grow steadily, but if we shift our attention to Hokkaido’s local economy, the story is quite diff erent. Th e scale of the manufacturing industry, which produced high- value-added goods and supported Japan’s vigorous exports, was relatively small in Hokkaido. Instead, Hokkaido had depended heavily on industries that produced basic materials such as iron, steel, lumber, and wood products, which were severely aff ected by the oil crises and began losing market- share quickly within the Japanese economy. In other words, the Hokkaido economy could not keep up with the structural changes that the national economy had experienced since the late 1970s. Moreover, the oil crises forced the central government to cut allocations for public works projects as part of its fi scal restraint policy. Th is contributed to Hokkaido’s economic stagnation, since public works projects had played a major role in stimulating the island’s economy for decades. In the 1983 White Paper on the Hokkaido economy, the prefectural government lamented that, in contrast to the national economy, the prefectural economy had shown no sign of recovery and that this recession was lasting longer than at any time previously. 60 Under these conditions, the number of communities that solicited the building of SDF bases or asked for the scale-up of already existing bases increased dramatically in the early 1980s. While there were only fi ve in 1978 and two in 1979, fi ft een communities launched such campaigns in 1980. By May 1982, the number had risen to thirty- one, most of which were small towns and villages with no major industries. 61 In 1984, the journalist Tsuboi Chikara, who visited the coal-mining town of Mikasa in central Hokkaido, reported on this issue. In its most prosperous time, this community had a population of 56,000 but this had fallen to 23,000 due to the decline of the mining industry, and accordingly launched a campaign to solicit an SDF base. Citing one of the members of the committee in charge of this campaign, who spoke about the terrible and lonely feeling of losing population, Tsuboi stressed how people in Hokkaido shared a positive attitude toward SDF units stationed on the island. 62 “Th e Th reat from the North” 155

In sum, as the prefectural economy suff ered from a long recession and as there was no eff ective way to stop depopulation, the SDF and DFAA were two of few remaining public organizations that would not be easily infl uenced by the economic trends of the time and thus continued to be appreciated as a panacea for the problems that distressed local communities.

C o n c l u s i o n

I have discussed a consequence of civil society’s long-term dependence on the SDF in Hokkaido. In the late 1970s, the northern threat campaign was initiated by former SDF offi cers displeased at the restrictions imposed on the SDF under the postwar constitutional order. Th ey insisted not only on the reinforcement of the SDF for a potential Soviet invasion but also the development of an autonomous defense that would not depend on the Security Treaty system. Th is campaign underlined the fragile nature of the defense of Hokkaido and represented this island prefecture as the fi rst victim of Soviet aggression. Th e government in Tokyo fully capitalized on this campaign, viewing it as an opportunity to further advance the heavy militarization of Hokkaido. Th e SDF on this island came to be armed with the most up- to-date weapons, and both the SDF and US forces began conducting large- scale exercises there. Eager to continue enjoying the economic benefi ts of the SDF, Hokkaido was extremely vulnerable to this militarizing force and had no choice but to accept it in order to maintain steady relations with the SDF. 156 C O N C L U S I O N

W h e r e i s M i l i t a r i z a t i o n H e a d e d ?

In this book, I have examined militarization in a mass democracy, taking as my case study post-Second World War Japan. I have described and analyzed diverse interactions between the SDF and civil society from 1950 to the 1980s, explaining how the SDF became an army for the people and how the people responded to the increasing presence of the SDF in their lives. Th e book has addressed the recruitment of service members, which targeted unemployed and marginally employed men in cities and farmers in the countryside; the SDF’s use of service members for the development of rural communities, particularly in Hokkaido; Hokkaido residents’ resistance to the SDF; the central government’s eff orts to contain protest through economic assistance; and the northern threat campaign, which resulted in further military buildup on the island. Th roughout, I have emphasized that, in a mass democracy, militarization advances in large part by relying on the people’s voluntary assent. Despite its promise to build a welfare state, postwar Japan could not off er eff ective solutions to class diff erence and uneven regional development. Th e SDF, the Defense Agency, and the DFAA sought to appeal to people’s desire to improve the quality of their lives through various forms of material support, which gradually promoted the view of the SDF as an organization vital to people’s everyday lives. I have paid particular attention to the SDF in Hokkaido. It is an ideal place for studying the relations between the SDF and civil society because of its high concentration of military facilities and personnel. Militarization on this island started with rearmament in the 1950s, and the northern threat campaign and the heavy use of the island for military purposes that followed in the 1980s symbolized the culmination of this process. While the perestroika undertaken by Mikhail Gorbachev and the subsequent collapse of the Soviet Union eventually ended the Cold War, and therefore undermined Hokkaido’s strategic importance, the intertwined relation between the SDF and Hokkaido communities was not easily severed. Or more precisely, Hokkaido communities did not easily relinquish their desire to maintain the perks of the SDF’s presence. Th e following story suggests the strength of this desire.

157 158 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

In 1995, aft er the Soviet threat evaporated, the cabinet approved the downsizing of the SDF across Japan, including the downsizing of two divisions in Hokkaido—the Fift h Division in Obihiro and the Eleventh Division in Sapporo— into two brigades. In 2000, a plan was presented to reduce the number of service members by 4,000 over fi ve years, starting in 2001. Th is news shocked the communities where the units from these divisions were stationed. Th e chamber of commerce of Obihiro city opposed the plan, insisting that the reduction of SDF personnel would seriously aff ect the city’s economy. In Shikaoi, about half of the town’s 6,000 residents signed a petition seeking to maintain the SDF at its current size. Th e mayor of Takikawa city visited the Defense Agency in Tokyo and asked leaders to pursue the proposed downsizing “carefully” (shinchō ni) since it would be a “matter of life and death” ( shikatsu mondai ) for depopulated communities. 1 Despite this strong resistance, the Defense Agency did eventually downsize the two divisions, but it chose to do so rather slowly: the Fift h and Eleventh Divisions were not turned into brigades until 2004 and 2008 respectively. Recognizing that the SDF had been contributing signifi cantly to the local economies, the Defense Agency tried to minimize the potential negative eff ects of this process. Th e downsizing of the SDF created a deep sense of anxiety even in those communities for which the Defense Agency did not propose any reduction in the number of service members. Th ese communities were afraid that the wave of downsizing might aff ect the whole of Hokkaido in the near future. For example, Chitose city, headquarters of the Seventh Division, started a major campaign against further downsizing in 2004 in collaboration with other SDF-related municipalities. Th e following year, the city founded a council for the exchange of information on the downsizing, closure, and consolidation of SDF units, which all Hokkaido communities agreed to join. Furthermore, in 2007, the city assembly passed a resolution calling for the maintenance of the status quo. Th is move was adopted at the prefectural level. In 2008, the Hokkaido assembly also approved a statement for the same purpose. 2 By relating this and other stories, I do not mean to stress Hokkaido’s uniqueness. While Hokkaido has certainly established the closest ties with the SDF, and therefore it has allowed us to see civil–military relations in postwar Japan in the most conspicuous and revealing manner, many communities throughout the rest of the country have shared the desire to benefi t from the SDF. Th e downsizing of the SDF aft er the end of the Cold War met resistance not only from Hokkaido but from many other parts of Japan as well; nationwide, more than fi ft y communities petitioned against the plan. 3 Th e country’s long economic recession since the 1990s and the continued trend of depopulation in Conclusion 159 the countryside prompted a fair number of communities to solicit the construction of SDF bases. Th ese communities included the city of Aki in Kōchi, the towns of Yamamoto and Gojōme in Akita, the town of Nakagawa in Tokushima, the city of Hyūga in Miyazaki, the town of Irabu in Okinawa, and the city of Tottori, to name a few. Among these communities, the town of Yonaguni in Okinawa, the westernmost island of Japan, has probably received the greatest media attention because in the 2009 election for mayor there, two candidates clashed over whether to promote the stationing of the SDF on the island. Th e result was a victory for the incumbent mayor, Hokama Shukichi, who was endorsed by the LDP and eager to promote the SDF. He beat his opponent, the unaffi liated Tasato Chiyoki, by a slim margin (619 and 516 votes respectively). Hokama had argued that the SDF could stop the town’s depopulation, boost its tax revenue, and improve its infrastructure. Once he was reelected as mayor, and aft er the Defense Agency agreed to locate a small Ground SDF unit of about one hundred service members on the island, Hokama surprised the Defense Agency by asking for one billion yen as compensation for the troubles and diffi culties that the island might experience by hosting a military base. Although this bold request was turned down by the Defense Agency, Hokama refused to sell the island’s land to the Agency, and insisted that the Agency pay an annual rent instead. In June 2013, the Agency fi nally agreed to pay an annual rent of 15 million yen for 21 hectares of town- owned land. 4 Not all campaigns for the stationing of the SDF necessarily result in the building of a base. Opposition within the community may be strong, and consensus may not develop among the mayor, the assembly, citizens, and civic organizations. Even if a community is determined to host the SDF, the Defense Agency may not be interested in building a base in that community owing to a lack of strategic importance. In fact, among the communities that I have mentioned above, only Nakagawa in Tokushima and Yonaguni successfully convinced the Defense Agency to build a base in their communities (as of 2014). Th e fact that a number of communities show interest in hosting SDF bases, however, suggests that the idea that the SDF can off er a remedy to economic malaise strongly persists to this day. As it continued to secure its place within Japan’s socio- economic structure even aft er the end of the Cold War, the SDF also expanded its roles and missions beyond the Japanese territories. In August 1990, Iraqi troops invaded and occupied Kuwait. Th e Security Council of the United Nations immediately responded by issuing a resolution denouncing the invasion and instituting economic sanctions against Iraq. Th e United States called for the formation of a 160 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society coalition, and 34 countries announced their participation, including its major Cold War allies: Great Britain, France, and Canada. In January 1991, coalition forces launched an off ensive against the Iraqi troops and expelled them from Kuwait. In March, the Iraqis surrendered, and the war ended. Th e SDF did not join the coalition forces. Both the LDP and left ist parties—the Socialist Party and the Communist Party—had long agreed that the overseas dispatch of SDF forces would violate Article 9 of the Constitution and the principle of “exclusive defense.” Th e Japanese government off ered only fi nancial support. Although that off er amounted to 9 billion dollars, the United States responded rather coolly, and expected Japan to contribute not only money but also troops to the international eff ort. Th e Japanese government reacted quickly. In April 1991, the Director of the Defense Agency ordered the Chief of Staff of the Maritime SDF to dispatch minesweepers to the Persian Gulf to help clear the seas in the aft ermath of the war. Th e SDF minesweepers were supposed to work only in the high seas. Th e government argued, therefore, that this should be regarded not as an overseas dispatch of the SDF but as part of the usual mission of the Maritime SDF. Obviously, there was a considerable diff erence between patrol in the high seas near Japan and minesweeping in the high seas near the Persian Gulf, but the government evaded criticism by denying the unusual nature of the mission. Th is became the fi rst overseas activity in the SDF’s history. Aft er this event, preparation for a legal basis for overseas dispatch began. Th e LDP government submitted a bill concerning Japan’s collaboration with the United Nations’ peacekeeping operations (PKO) in 1992. According to the government, the SDF’s participation in peacekeeping operations would not violate Article 9 because the SDF would only go to areas where wars and confl icts were already settled, and because service members would not fi ght against enemies but would engage in such activities as disaster relief, the construction of infrastructure, and patrolling in non- combat areas. Although the Socialist and Communist Parties strongly opposed the bill, the LDP managed to win support from the other two parties—the Kōmei Party and the Democratic Socialist Party—and the bill was passed in both houses. Forty- two years aft er the start of rearmament, Japan became able legally to dispatch the SDF abroad. Soon aft er the establishment of the PKO Law, the government dispatched the SDF to Cambodia, where the United Nations was supervising national reconstruction aft er the long civil war. Since then, the SDF has undertaken peacekeeping and humanitarian relief activities in a number of countries and areas, including Rwanda, East Timor, Afghanistan, and Iraq. 5 Conclusion 161

Th e overseas dispatch of the SDF did not win popular support at fi rst. A number of civic organizations protested, pointing out the incompatibility with the Constitution. One event, however, changed this popular sentiment: the earthquake that struck the island of Awaji and the Hanshin area (Kobe and its neighboring communities) in January 1995. At a magnitude of 6.8, it was the most catastrophic earthquake since the Great Kantō Earthquake of 1923 (the scale of the 2011 Tōhoku Earthquake would surpass that of the Hanshin and Awaji Earthquake). At the request of Hyōgo prefecture, the Defense Agency sent troops to the aff ected area to rescue victims, put out fi res, deliver emergency supplies, and remove collapsed houses and buildings. For about a hundred days until the area was normalized, a total of 2.2 million service members devoted themselves to disaster relief, mobilizing 340,000 vehicles, 13,000 airplanes, and 680 ships. 6 Th is was by far the largest- scale disaster relief in the history of the SDF. Every day on TV, people watched service members selfl essly assisting earthquake victims and rebuilding communities. While the SDF had been consolidating its ties mainly with rural communities, this disaster relief in Awaji and Hanshin undoubtedly contributed to raising the SDF’s visibility both in that metropolis and nationwide. 7 A survey conducted by the Cabinet Offi ce six months aft er the 1995 earthquake clearly shows that the SDF’s disaster relief in Hanshin and Awaji helped persuade many people to accept the overseas dispatch of troops as part of the SDF’s routine. Of 2,225 respondents from all over Japan, 90.2 percent thought that the SDF’s disaster relief “proved fruitful” (seika o ageta). Similarly, of 1,862 respondents, 74.8 percent thought that the SDF’s collaboration in peacekeeping operations “proved fruitful.” Compared with the previous year, the proportion of those who supported this collaboration had increased by 26.7 percent (from 48.4 percent in 1994 to 75.1 percent in 1995), while the proportion of those who opposed it fell by 16.4 percent (from 30.6 percent to 14.2 percent). 8 Since then, the SDF has continued to expand the scope of its activities beyond the Japanese territories at a quickening speed. In 1999, a law was passed allowing the SDF to take military action within non- combat areas on the high seas and in international airspace in the case of events that could turn into an armed attack upon Japan. In 2001, soon aft er the September 11 attacks in the United States, the Koizumi administration passed temporary legislation to off er logistic support for the US war on terror. Based on this law, the Maritime SDF was dispatched to the Indian Ocean. Th e law expired in 2007, but the following year, temporary legislation was again enacted allowing the Maritime SDF to continue to engage in its activities in the Indian Ocean (the law expired in 2010). In 2003, another 162 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society law was passed that would justify the dispatch of the SDF to non- combat areas in the aft ermath of the Iraq War to provide assistance for national reconstruction (the law expired in 2009). Furthermore, in 2014, Abe Shinzō’s cabinet approved a reinterpretation of the Constitution so that Japan could exercise the right not only to individual but also collective self- defense, the implication being that the SDF might take military action when an armed attack occurred against not only Japan itself but also its allies—most likely the United States. In relation to this series of expansions of the SDF’s activities, we need to recognize two things. First, the welfare of the people functioned as an important ideology to justify these activities. Th e assumption was that not only domestic but also overseas events might end up aff ecting the lives and properties of the Japanese people, and the SDF should be able to respond fl exibly to defend them both within and beyond the nation’s borders. In other words, the SDF’s overseas activities emerged as an extension of its domestic activities, such as civil engineering and disaster relief, which had been carried out in the name of the people over the past forty years. If we consider it in this way, then it was not surprising that in the post- Cold War world, which failed to bring about the expected peace and stability, the SDF, as an army for the people, became conscious of factors in the international community that could endanger the safety of the Japanese people. Second, in addition to the welfare of the Japanese people, another new ideology provided a rationale for the SDF’s overseas activities, that is, the welfare of human beings in general. Th e increasingly globalized world no longer allowed the SDF to purport to defend the peace of the Japanese people in isolation, but pressured it to contribute to international peace more broadly. Within this context, humanitarian support in peacekeeping operations came to constitute an important part of the SDF’s mission. Th e object of the SDF’s protection in humanitarian support was no longer solely the Japanese people, but people across the world in need of assistance to reconstruct their lives and nations damaged by war and armed confl ict. Th e nature of the SDF, however, did not fundamentally change as a benevolent force working for the disadvantaged and needy. In this sense, it is wrong to view the welfare of human beings as an ideology that arose suddenly in the 1990s. Instead, we should understand that the SDF’s practices over the previous forty years prepared the ground for its humanitarian support since the 1990s, enabling the ideology of the welfare of the Japanese people to grow into the new ideology of the welfare of human beings as a response to the demands of the new global era. Th e militarization that began in the early postwar period is an ongoing process. Should it be stopped? If so, why? Th ese are not easy questions to answer. Conclusion 163

But I hope that this book has at least demonstrated that the SDF has become complexly intertwined with the socio- economic interests of many people and communities and therefore that it will be extremely hard to stop the process of militarization. Th e critics of the SDF and continued militarization tend to frame these issues in terms of national defense, advocating pacifi st diplomacy and a pacifi st state that would not have to resort to possessing armed forces. If we are to critique militarization eff ectively, however, it is essential to correctly acknowledge that the SDF is not just about national defense but about the people’s livelihood and welfare and that some people do need the SDF to maintain their lives. At the same time, as long as the military exists, there will be people who suff er damage from it, and this suff ering has never been distributed equally to all people in Japan. Now that the DFAA vigorously intercedes on behalf of communities with bases with fi nancial assistance, the kind of anti-SDF movement that would call for the total dismantling of the force is unlikely to arise. 9 But as I have pointed out in Chapter 4, the base problem has only been alleviated, not completely solved: military bases continue to operate, and the SDF and the US forces continue to engage in military maneuvers. In 2007, residents living near the Atsugi Air Base in Kanagawa prefecture, which is used jointly by the Maritime SDF and the US forces, fi led a lawsuit against the government demanding compensation for noise pollution as well as an injunction against the nighttime operation of planes. Th e plaintiff s came from eight communities in the prefecture, and their number amounted to more than 7,000. In May 2014, the Yokohama District Court ruled in favor of the plaintiff s and ordered compensation of seven billion yen and an injunction against the operation of SDF planes (but not US planes) between 10:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m. Th is incident tells us that despite the DFAA’s incessant eff orts, a large number of residents in communities with bases do not yet fi nd their needs suffi ciently met, which seems to indicate the unsolvability of the base problem. Furthermore, overseas dispatch of the SDF since the 1990s has created a grave new concern, namely the death of service members abroad. According to information released by the cabinet, as of the end of October 2007, of 8,800 service members dispatched to Iraq, 35 had died there due to accidents, disease, or suicide. 10 In this situation, the right to live in peace, which I have examined in Chapter 3, once more drew intense scrutiny. Citizens opposed to the SDF’s dispatch to Iraq fi led twelve lawsuits in eleven cities all over Japan. In these cases, the plaintiff s resorted to the right to live in peace to argue for the suspension of the SDF’s mission to Iraq. Although none of the courts acknowledged that 164 Japan’s Postwar Military and Civil Society

Japan’s participation in the Iraq War resulted in a violation of the plaintiff s’ right to live in peace in any concrete manner, the Nagoya High Court delivered a landmark ruling on April 17, 2008. While supporting the original ruling of the district court, which had dismissed the plaintiff s’ petition for an injunction, the high court maintained that the right to live in peace was a legitimate constitutional right with concrete content, directly tied to other rights enumerated in the Constitution. Th is meant that the people could request a court to take legal measures if that right was violated—that is, if a war put people’s freedoms and lives at risk, or if people were forced to participate in the state’s war eff ort. 11 Now that the SDF’s withdrawal from Iraq is complete, no litigation against the SDF’s overseas dispatch is being pursued. But Japan’s exercise of collective self- defense, which the cabinet has recently approved, will increase the chance of being dragged into another country’s—especially the United States’—wars. In such circumstances, more service members will probably lose their lives abroad, and the right to live in peace may be contested once again. As I have argued in Chapter 1, for a long time young men who applied to the SDF did not have to worry about being sent abroad and dying there, which made it possible for them to regard the SDF simply as a secure public employer that could never go bankrupt. Now, enlistees have to make a diffi cult decision concerning whether they are truly willing to be sent to a foreign country where a war is being waged and whether the job they are about to take is worth risking their health and even lives. 12 And, of course, this is an issue that concerns not only enlistees but also their families and communities. How would it be possible to stop militarization, slow it down, or minimize its eff ect? Providing concrete solutions is beyond my capacity, and it has not been the aim of this book. But one crucial point that this book has made clear is that militarization is not a problem that individuals or communities alone face, but a structural problem deeply embedded in postwar Japan’s capitalist development. Militarization has advanced partly as a remedy for such problems as unemployment, marginal employment, class diff erence, and uneven development between regions, and as long as capitalism operates as a principle for managing the nation-state’s economy, these problems will persist. Th us, one thing we can say for certain at the end of this book is that if Japan wishes to stop militarization, slow it down, or minimize its eff ect, it will be essential to deal with these problems generated by capitalist development fi rst and to think about how to build a society whose members do not need a military’s assistance to sustain their livelihood and welfare. N o t e s

Introduction

1 On the making of the Constitution, see Ray A. Moore and Donald L. Robinson, Partners for Democracy: Craft ing the New Japanese State under MacArthur (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002); Koseki Shōichi, Th e Birth of Japan’s Postwar Constitution (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1997). 2 Jieitai Jūnenshi Henshū Iinkai, Jieitai jūnenshi (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1961), 254–255. 3 Bōeishō, Nihon no bōei: bōei hakusho, Heisei 25-nenban (Tokyo: Gyōsei, 2013), 312. 4 S. Perlo-Freeman and Carina Solmirano, Trends in World Military Expenditure, 2023 , SIPRI Fact Sheet (Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, April 2014), 1–2 [http://books.sipri.org/ﬁ les/FS/SIPRIFS1404.pdf ]. 5 Bōieshō, Nihon no bōei, Heisei 25-nenban , 400–401. 6 Anthony Giddens, Th e Nation-State and Violence: Volume Two of a Contemporary Critique of Historical Materialism (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1985). 7 Matsushita Takaaki, Guntai o yūchi seyo: rikukaigun to toshi keisei (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2007); Ichinose Toshiya, Kindai Nihon no chōheisei to shakai (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2004); Ichinose, Furusato wa naze heishi o koroshita ka (Tokyo: Kadokawa Gakugei Shuppan, 2010); Ueyama Kazuo, Teito to guntai: chiiki to minshū no shiten kara (Tokyo: Nihon Keizai Hyōronsha, 2002); Arakawa Shōji, Guntai to chiiki (Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 2001); Kitamura Riko, Chōhei, sensō to minshū (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1999). 8 Stewart Lone, Provincial Life and the Military in Imperial Japan: Th e Phantom Samurai (New York: Routledge, 2010). 9 Sheldon Garon, Th e State and Labor in Modern Japan (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1987); Gregory Kasza, “War and Welfare Policy in Japan,” Th e Journal of Asian Studies, 61 (2) (2002), 417–453; Kerry Smith, A Time of Crisis: Japan, the Great Depression, and Rural Revitalization (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001); Sabine Frühstück, Colonizing Sex: Sexology and Social Control in Modern Japan (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2003). 10 Sabine Frühstück, Uneasy Warriors: Gender, Memory, and Popular Culture in the Japanese Army (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2007); Satō Fumika, Gunji soshiki to jendā: jieitai to joseitachi (Tokyo: Keiō Gijuku Daigaku Shuppankai, 2004).

165 166 Notes

11 Cynthia Enloe, Maneuvers: Th e International Politics of Militarizing Women’s Lives (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2000), 3. 12 Catherine Lutz, Homefront: A Military City and the American Twentieth Century (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2001). 13 Laura McEnaney, Civil Defense Begins at Home: Militarization Meets Everyday Life in the Fift ies (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000); Michael Sherry, In the Shadow of War: Th e United States since the 1930s (New Haven, CT: Yale University, 1995); Seungsook Moon, Militarized Modernity and Gendered Citizenship in South Korea (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2005); Valentina Peguero, Th e Militarization of Culture in the Dominican Republic, from the Captains General to General Trujillo (Lincoln, NB: University of Nebraska Press, 2004); Vron Ware, Military Migrants: Fighting for Your Country (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012). 14 Okinawaken Chiji Kōshitsu Kichi Taisakuka, Okinawa no beigun oyobi jieitai kichi: tōkei shiryōshū (Okinawaken, 2013), 1–2. 15 Laura Hein and Mark Selden, Islands of Discontent: Okinawan Responses to Japanese and American Power (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefi eld, 2003); Masamichi Inoue, Okinawa and the US Military: Identity Making in the Age of Globalization (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007); Gavan McCormack and Satoko Oka Norimatsu, Resistant Islands: Okinawa Confronts Japan and the United States (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefi eld, 2012). 16 Setsu Shigematsu and Keith L. Camacho, eds., Militarized Currents: Toward a Decolonized Future in Asia and the Pacifi c (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2010). 17 Bōei Nippō, Jieitai nenkan, 1965–nenban (Tokyo: Bōei Sangyō Kyōkai, 1965), 319–324. Th e number 32,000 does not include service members who worked for the units that did not belong to any division but were controlled directly by the Northern Army, such as the Artillery Brigade in Chitose. Th e exact number of these service members was unknown as of 1965, but it was commonly believed that one- third of service members of the Ground SDF were in Hokkaido around that time. 18 Chantal Mouff e, Th e Democratic Paradox (London: Verso, 2000). 19 Paul Edward Gottfried, Aft er Liberalism: Mass Democracy in the Managerial State (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999). 20 Minobe Tatsukichi, Kenpō kōwa (Tokyo: Yūhikaku, 1923). 21 Andrew Gordon, Labor and Imperial Democracy in Prewar Japan (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1991). 22 T. H. Marshall and Tom Bottmore, Citizenship and Social Class (London: Pluto Press, 1992). 23 Yamanouchi’s discussion here certainly resonates with Foucault’s discussion of “population” as an object of the modern state’s constant intervention for the aggrandizement of national power. See Michel Foucault, Th e History of Sexuality, Notes 167

Vol. 1: An Introduction , trans. Robert Hurley (New York: Vintage, 1990), Chapter 5; “Society Must Be Defended”: Lectures at the Collège de France, 1975–76 , trans. David Macey (New York: Picador, 2003), 239–263. 24 Yasushi Yamanouchi, “Total War and System Integration: A Methodological Introduction,” in Total War and “Modernization,” Yasushi Yamanouchi, Victor Koschmann, and Ryūichi Narita, eds. (Ithaca, NY: East Asia Program, Cornell University, 1998); Yamanouchi Yasushi, “Sōryokusen taisei kara gurōbarizēshon e,” in Sōryokusen taisei kara gurōbarizēshon e , Yamanouchi Yasushi and Sakai Naoki, eds. (Tokyo: Heibonsha, 2003). 25 Peter Miller and Nikolas Rose, Governing the Present (Malden, MA: Polity Press, 2008), particularly Chapters 3 and 8. 26 Giorgio Agamben, Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1995), 121.

Chapter 1

1 Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūnenshi, jō, chū, ge (three volumes) (Tokyo: Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, 1961). 2 In the NPR’s fi rst recruitment in 1950, the age restriction was much looser (between twenty and thirty- fi ve), probably because there was an urgent need to recruit 75,000 people in a short period of time. Th e organization of ranks in the SDF diff ers from that of the US and British militaries, and the Japanese terms for ranks do not necessarily have exact equivalents in English. Th e Ministry of Defense oft en translates nitō rikushi , nitō kaishi , and nitō kūshi as “privates,” “seamen apprentices,” and “airmen third class.” In this book, however, to avoid confusion and to stress the meaning of nitō in Japanese, I use “second- class privates,” “second- class seamen,” and “second- class airmen.” 3 Th e National Police Reserve and the National Police were two diff erent organizations. While the National Police was a police force, the National Police Reserve would later develop into the NSF and then the SDF. 4 Jieitai Jūnenshi Henshū Iinkai, Jieitai jūnenshi , 23. 5 Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūnenshi, jō, 116–118. 6 Jieitai Jūnenshi Henshū Iinkai, Jieitai jūnenshi , 23. 7 On Dodge’s economic policies, see Takafusa Nakamura, Th e Postwar Japanese Economy: Its Development and Structure, 1937–1994 (Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press, 1995), 37–43. 8 Ōhara Shakai Mondai Kenkyūsho, Nihon rōdō nenkan 23 (Tokyo: Rōdō Junpōsha, 1951), 132–134. 9 Kōdansha, Shōwa niman’nichi no zenkiroku 9 (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1989), 93. 10 Yoshida Shigeru, Kaisō jūnen 2 (Tokyo: Shinchōsha, 1957), 147. 168 Notes

11 Taura Itaru, “Keisatsu yobitai no uchimaku,” Kaizō , 33 (4) (1952). 12 Hiruma Hiroshi, Jieitai yomoyama monogatari (Tokyo: Kōjinsha, 1983), 9–10. 13 Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūneshi, chū , 274. 14 Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūneshi, ge , 23. 15 Ibid., 52. 16 Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūneshi, jō , 48. 17 Ibid., 48; and Bōeichō Jinjikyoku Jinji Dainika, Boshū jūneshi, ge , 20. 18 Jieitai Jūnenshi Henshū Iinkai, Jieitai jūnenshi , 254–255. 19 Harry Harootunian, Overcome by Modernity: History, Culture, and Community in Interwar Japan (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000), 4. 20 Chapter 1 of Harootunian’s Overcome by Modernity provides an excellent description of the uneven development seen in the interwar years. 21 Sōrifu Tōkeikyoku, Nihon tōkei nenkan: Shōwa 36-nen (Tokyo: Nihon Tōkei Kyōkai, 1962), 46–47. 22 Sōrifu Tōkeikyoku, Nihon tōkei nenkan: Shōwa 46-nen (Tokyo: Nihon Tōkei Kyōkai, 1972), 50. 23 Minami Ryōshin, Nihon keizai no tenkanten: rōdō no kajō kara fusoku e (Tokyo: Sōbunsha, 1970). See also Nakamura, Th e Postwar Japanese Economy , 150. 24 Calculated from the data on the number of job applicants and job openings provided in the 1965 and 1970 Japan Statistical Yearbooks. Sōrifu Tōkeikyoku, Nihon tōkei nenkan: Shōwa 40-nen (Tokyo: Nihon Tōkei Kyōkai, 1966), 411; and Nihon tōkei nenkan: Shōwa 45-nen (Tokyo: Nihon Tōkei Kyōkai, 1971), 68. Th e data includes only the jobs that became available through the Public Employment Security Oﬃ ces and those who sought jobs through these oﬃ ces. New graduates and those who looked for jobs through connections, for example, are not included. Still, it gives us a general idea of how the labor market shift ed to a seller’s market in the 1960s. 25 Nōrinshō Daijin Kanbō Kikakushitsu, Nōrin hakusho: Nōrin suisangyō no genjō to mondaiten (Tokyo: Nihon Nōson Chōsakai, 1957), 16–23. 26 Calculated from the 1955 National Census. Sōrifu Tōkeikyoku, Shōwa 30-nen kokusei chōsa hōkoku: dai-3-kan, sono-2 (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1959), 28, 29, 37, 77, 84, and 85. 27 Sōrifu Tōkeikyoku, Shōwa 30-nen kokusei chōsa hōkoku: dai-1-kan (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1959), 32–34. 28 Calculated from the data provided in Sōrifu Tōkeikyoku, Nihon tōkei nenkan, Shōwa 35-nen (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1961), 70–71. 29 Sōrifu Tokeikyoku, Shōwa 30-nen kokusei chōsa hōkoku: dai-3-kan, sono-2 , 77. 30 Shigen Enerugīchō Chōkan Kanbō Sōmuka, Sōgō enerugī tōkei: Shōwa 48-nendoban (Tokyo: Tsūshō Sangyō Kenkyūsha, 1974), 168–176. 31 Sōrifu Tokeikyoku, Shōwa 30-nen kokusei chōsa hōkoku: dai-3-kan, sono-2 , 77; Shōwa 35-nen kokusei chōsa hōkoku: dai-3-kan, zenkokuhen, sono-1 (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Notes 169

Insatsukyoku, 1964), 208; Shōwa 40-nen kokusei chōsa hōkoku: dai-3-kan, zenkokuhen, sono-1 (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1969), 240. 32 Konishi Makoto, Hansen jieikan: kenryoku o yurugasu seinen kūsō no zōhan (Tokyo: Gōdō Shuppan, 1970), 44–50. 33 Daini Shidan, Shōwa 50-nendo daiikkai shidan iken happyōkai: Iken happyō bunshū (Asahikawa: Daini Shidan, 1975), n.p. 34 Ibid. 35 Daini Shidan, Shōwa 51-nendo shidan iken happyōkai bunshū (Asahikawa: Daini Shidan, 1976), 32. 36 Konishi, Hansen jieikan , 44. 37 Monbushō, Monbu kagaku tōkei yōran (Tokyo: Kokuritsu Insatsukyoku, 2008), 36–37. 38 Ibid. 39 Kinen Jigyō Kyōsan Jikkō Iinkai, Nanakamado: Asahikawa chiren sōsetsu 20-shūnen kinenshi (Asahikawa: Kinen Jigyō Kyōsan Jikkō Iinkai, 1976), 167–168, 213. 40 Hokkaido Heiwa Iinkai, Hokkaido kokusho: anpo taiseika no jieitai (Tokyo: Rōdō Junpōsha, 1969), 190–191. 41 Kinen Jigyō Kyōsan Jikkō Iinkai, Nanakamado , 169. 42 Bōei Nippō, Jieitai nenkan 1965-nen ban (Tokyo: Bōei Sangyō Kyōkai, 1964), 245. 43 Ibid., 247. 44 “Atsumaranai jieikan,” Sekai , 197 (May 1962), 174–177. 45 At the section meeting of the Budget Committee of the House of Representatives, February 24, 1962. Th e records of debates at the Diet are available at a database maintained by the National Diet Library [ http://kokkai.ndl.go.jp/ ]. 46 Asada Jirō, Hohei no honryō (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 2004). Th is book contains nine short stories concerning the lives of SDF service members in the 1970s. 47 Asahi shinbun , September 28, 1965, 14. 48 Asahi shinbun , June 6, 1958, 9. 49 Asahi shinbun , June 10, 1958, 9. 50 Inganaki Osamu, “Jieikan tekikakusha meibo sakusei no jittai: Aichi- kenka ni miru ichi danmen,” Gekkan shakaitō , 126 (1967), 134–153. 51 Anpo Hantai Seigaku Kyōtō Kaigi no Saikai o Mezasu Chūō Seinen Gakusei Daihyōsha Kaigi, Yurusuna chōheisei fukkatsu: “jieitai tekikakusha meibo” o haki saseru tame ni (Tokyo: Nihon Seinen Shuppankai, 1968), 10. 52 Kinen Jigyō Kyōsan Jikkō Iinkai, Nanakamado , 107. 53 Jacques Donzelot, Th e Policing of Families , trans. Robert Hurley (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977). 54 Giovanna Procacci, “Social Economy and the Government of Poverty,” in Th e Foucault Eﬀ ect: Studies in Governmentality with Two Lectures by and an Interview with Michel Foucault , Graham Burchell et al., eds. (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1991). 170 Notes

55 Asagumo Shinbun Shuppanbu, Ninkisei taiin no ninshiki to shidō (Tokyo: Asagumo Shinbunsha, 1968), 38. 56 Ibid., 88. 57 Daini Shidan, Shōwa 50-nendo dai 1kai shidan iken happyōkai iken happyō bunshū , 1975, n.p. 58 Ibid., n.p. 59 On the founding of the French Revolutionary Army, see Alan Forrest, Conscripts and Deserters: Th e Army and French Society during the Revolution and Empire (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989). For another example of the founding of a conscript national military, see Ute Frevert, A Nation in Barracks: A Modern Germany, Military Conscription and Civil Society (Oxford: Berg, 2004). 60 Bōei Nippō, Jieitai nenkan, 1963-nenban (Tokyo: Bōei Sangyō Kyōkai, 1963), 236–237. 61 Anthony Giddens, Th e Nation-State and Violence , 230. 62 Asahi shinbun , February 11, 1957, 7 and February 12, 1957, 7. 63 Asahi shinbun , October 25, 1962, 15. 64 Asahi shinbun , December 8, 1962 (evening edition), 11, and December 20, 1962, 14. 65 Nikos Poulantzas, State, Power, Socialism (New York: Verso, 1978), 76–86; Max Weber, Th e Vocation Lectures: “Science as a Vocation” and “Politics as a Vocation,” trans. Rodney Livingstone (Indianapolis, IN: Hackett Publishing, 2004), 32–33. 66 Forrest, Conscripts and Deserters . 67 On conscription evasion in Imperial Japan, see Kikuchi Kunisaku, Chōhei kihi no kenkyū (Tokyo: Rippū Shobō, 1977). 68 Kaigo Toshiomi and Shimizu Ikutarō, eds., Shiryō sengo nijūnenshi 5, shakai- hen (Tokyo: Nihon Hyōronsha, 1966), 109–110. 69 Sōrifu Tōkeikyoku, ed., Nihon tōkei nenkan: Shōwa 36-nen (Tokyo: Nihon Tōkei Kyōkai, 1962), 346. 70 Bōei Nippō, Jieitai nenkan, 1961-nenban (Tokyo: Bōei Sangyō Kyōkai, 1960), 206. 71 Asada, “Shinderera sutōrī,” Hohei no honryō . 72 Nakamura, Th e Postwar Japanese Economy , 162–168. 73 Katsumata Seiichi and Kitayama Airō, Nihon shakaitō kōryō bunkenshū (Tokyo: Nihon Shakaitō Chūō Honbu Kikanshikyoku, 1978), 207. 74 Jiyū Minshutō, Jiyū minshutō jūnen no ayumi (Tokyo: Jiyū Minshutō, 1966), 22. 75 Ōuchi Tsutomu, Nihon keizairon, ge (Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1963), 558–559. On the history of the postwar welfare state, see Mutsuko Takahashi, Th e Emergence of Welfare Society in Japan (Brookﬁ eld, VT: Ashgate, 1997). 76 Nakamura, Th e Postwar Japanese Economy , 163–164. 77 Iwamoto Jun, “Jūnenmae Ueno- eki ni tsuita aru shūdan shūshoku no unmei,” Shūkan shinchō , June 21, 1973, 142–153. Reprinted in Yoshikawa Hiroshi, Kōdo keizai seichō: Nippon o kaeta rokusen’nichi (Tokyo: Yomiuri Shinbunsha, 1997), 114–115. Notes 171

78 On mass employment, see Kase Kazutoshi, Shūdan shūshoku no jidai (Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 1997). 79 Konishi, Hansen jieikan , 44–50. 80 Bōei Nippō, Jieitai nenkan 1961-nenban , 206. 81 See Kase, Shūdan shūshoku no jidai. 82 Kinen Jigyō Kyōsan Jikkō Iinkai, Nanakamado , 400. 83 Yoshida Yutaka, Nihon no guntai: heishi- tachi no kindai- shi (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2002), 87–91. 84 David Segal, Recruiting for Uncle Sam: Citizenship and Military Manpower Policy (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 1989), Chapter 4. 85 Christian Appy, Working-Class War: American Combat Soldiers and Vietnam (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1993). 86 In 1991, in the aft ermath of the Gulf War, the Japanese government sent the Maritime SDF to the Persian Gulf for minesweeping. Th is was the ﬁ rst time the SDF was dispatched overseas. Since then, the SDF has been sent to many places outside the jurisdiction of Japan. Th is issue will be dealt with in the Conclusion.

Chapter 2

1 Nihon Shakaitō Kettō Yonjusshūnen Kinen Shuppan Kankō Iinkai, Shiryō Nihon shakaitō yonjūnenshi (Tokyo: Nihon Shakaitō Chūō Honbu, 1986), 227–233. 2 Ibid., 306–314. 3 Nihon Kyōshokuin Kumiai, Nikkyōso jūnenshi (Tokyo: Nihon Kyōshokuin Kumiai, 1958), 755–760. 4 Jieitai Jūnenshi Henshū Iinkai, Jieitai jūnenshi , 288. On the Youth Cadets, see Yasuda Takeshi, Shōnen jieitai (Tokyo: Azuma Shobō, 1956). 5 Nihon Kyōshokuin Kumiai, Nikkyōso jūnenshi , 773–779. 6 Heiwa Mondai Danwakai, “Mitabi heiwa ni tsuite,” in Sengo Nihon bōei mondai shiryōshū 1 , Ōtake Hideo, ed. (Tokyo: San’ichi Shobō, 1991), 558–582. See also Glenn D. Hook, Militarisation and Demilitarisation in Contemporary Japan (London: Routledge, 1996), Chapter 2. 7 Rikujō Bakuryō Kanbu Sōmuka Bunshohan Taishi Hensan- gakari, Keisatsu yobitai sōshi (Tokyo: Bōeichō Rikujō Bakuryō Kanbu, 1958), 13–14. 8 Ibid., 397. 9 Asahi shinbun , March 31, 1953 (evening edition), 3. 10 Bōei Daigakkō Jūnenshi Henshū Iinkai, Bōei daigakkō jūnenshi (Yokosuka: Bōei Daigakkō, 1965), 43. 11 Yoshida Shigeru, Kaisō jūnen 2 (Tokyo: Shirakawa Shoin, 1957), 156–158. 12 Ibid., 40. 172 Notes

13 Bōei Daigakkō Jūnenshi Hensan Iinkai, Bōei daigakkō jūnenshi , 42. 14 Maki Tomoo, Bōei no tsutome (Tokyo: Kōyō Shobō, 1965), 51, 99, and 127. In fact, service members and students at the Academy were required to swear their compliance with the Constitution on the ﬁ rst day they entered the SDF or the Academy. 15 Michele Mason, the author of Dominant Narratives of Colonial Hokkaido and Imperial Japan , which I introduce below, uses the English translation “Hokkaido Development Agency” for Kaitakushi. Th e central government, however, established agencies with similar names later: Hokkaidochō (1886) and Hokkaido kaihatsuchō (1950). For these agencies, I use “the Hokkaido Agency” and “the Hokkaido Development Agency.” To avoid confusion, I use “the Colonial Oﬃ ce” for Kaitakushi. 16 For the general history of Hokkaido, see Hokkaido, Shin Hokkaido-shi, dai-1-kan, gaisetsu (Hokkaido, 1981); and Tabata Hiroshi et al., Hokkaido no rekishi (Tokyo: Yamakawa Shuppansha, 2000). 17 Ōe Shinobu, “Maegaki,” in Kindai Nihon to shokuminchi I , Ōe et al., eds. (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1992). Tamura Sadao’s “Naikoku shokuminchi to shite no Hokkaido” in the same volume is also an excellent essay on the colonization of Hokkaido. 18 Michele M. Mason, Dominant Narratives of Colonial Hokkaido and Imperial Japan: Envisioning the Periphery and the Modern Nation-State (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012). 19 At a cabinet meeting in the House of Representatives, March 27, 1950. 20 At a cabinet meeting in the House of Representatives, May 29, 1951. 21 Anne Orford, Reading Humanitarian Intervention: Human Rights and the Use of Force in International Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). 22 Bōeichō Jieitai Jūnenshi Henshū Iinkai, Jieitai jūnenshi , 361. 23 Ibid., 361. 24 Asagumo , December 6, 1956, 2. 25 Hokubu Hōmentai Sōkanbu, Hokubu hōmentai (Sapporo: Hokubu Hōmentai, 1962), 6. 26 Asahikawashi Henshū Iinkai, Asahikawashi- shi dai-2-kan (Asahikawa: Asahikawa Shiyakusho, 1959), 868–869. 27 Shikaoichō-shi Hensan Iinkai, Shikaoichō 70-nenshi (Shikaoichō Yakuba, 1994), 841–843. 28 Hokkaido Kaihatsuchō Nijūnenshi Henshūshitsu, Hokkaido kaihatsuchō nijūnenshi (Tokyo: Hokkaido Kaihatsuchō, 1971), 66–68, 76–79. 29 Ibid., 74, 81–83. 30 Jieitai Jūnenshi Henshū Iinkai , Jieitai jūnenshi , 355. 31 Ibid., 357. 32 Nayoroshi- shi Hensan Iinkai, Shin Nayoroshi- shi, dai-2-kan (Nayoroshi, 2000), 683–684. Notes 173

33 Asahikawashi- shi Henshū Iinkai, Asahikawashi- shi dai-2-kan , 866–867; Engaruchō, Engaruchō hyakunenshi (Engaruchō, 1998), 379; and Takikawashi- shi Henshū Iinkai, Takikawashi-shi, gekan (Takikawashi, 1981), 734–735. 34 Akashiya , 48, March 1, 1958, 3. 35 Akashiya , 59, February 1, 1959, 3. 36 Akashiya , 80, March 15, 1961, 3 37 Hokkaido, Shin Hokkaido-shi dai-6-kan (Hokkaido, 1977), 178–184. 38 Takikawashi-shi Hensan Iinkai, Takikawashi-shi, zoku-kan (Takikawashi, 1991), 628–630. 39 Kishimoto Suigetsu, Kami-Furanochō-shi (Kami-Furanochō Yakuba, 1967), 251–258; Kami-Furano Hyakunenshi Hensan Iinkai, Kami-Furano Hyakunenshi (Kami- Furanochō, 1998), 800–811. 40 Shikaoichō-shi Hensan Iinkai , Shikaoichō 70-nenshi , 830–831. 41 Kishimoto, Kami-Furanochō-shi , 260–261; Kami-Furano Hyakunenshi Henshū Iinkai, Kami-Furano Hyakunenshi , 821–822; and Shikaoichō-shi Hensan Iinkai , Shikaoichō 70-nenshi , 843–844. Here, I am not arguing that anti-SDF sentiment withered away completely. On the contrary, some residents, particularly farmers, were not fully convinced of the beneﬁ ts of the SDF and continued to see the SDF as bringing damage to their communities. Resistance to the SDF would grow in the 1960s as the peace movement ﬂ ourished nationwide. Th is issue will be dealt with in Chapter 3. 42 Bibaishi Hyakunenshi Hensan Iinkai, Bibaishi hyakunenshi tsūshihen (Bibashi, 1991), 1426–1428. 43 Daini Shidan, Shōwa 50-nendo daiikkai shidan iken happyōkai , n.p. 44 Daini Shidan, Shōwa 51-nendo shidan iken happyōkai bunshū , 5–6. 45 Daini Shidan, Shōwa 52-nendo shidan iken happyōkai bunshū (Daini Shidan, 1977), 3–7. 46 Ibid. 47 Daini Shidan, Shōwa 50-nendo daiikkai shidan iken happyōkai , n.p. 48 Daini Shidan, 51-nendo shidan iken happyōkai bunshū , 11–13. 49 Ibid., 32–34. 50 Daini Shidan, Shōwa 52-nendo shidan iken happyōkai bunshū , 21–23. 51 Ibid., 30–31. 52 Kōjin Karatani, Origins of Modern Japanese Literature (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1993), Chapter 3. See also Foucault, Th e History of Sexuality , Vol. 1, Chapter 3. 53 Nikolas Rose, Powers of Freedom: Reframing Political Th ought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999). 54 Asagumo Shinbun Shuppanbu, Ninkisei taiin no ninshiki to shidō, 39. Th e Defense Agency launched its First Defense Buildup Plan in 1958, which lasted until 1963. Th e Second, Th ird, and Fourth Buildup Plans were pursued in the following years: 174 Notes

1962–1966, 1967–1971, and 1972–1976 respectively. For each, the Defense Agency made plans for the defense budget, fundamental defense policies, and the types of weapons to be developed over the next several years. 55 Yomiuri shinbun , October 12, 1955, 1, and November 13, 1955, 2. 56 Asagumo , 136, May 10, 1956, 1, and 142, June 28, 1956, 2. 57 Asagumo , 158, October 25, 3, and 159, November 1, 1956, 3. 58 Hokkaido, Shin Hokkaiddoshi, dai-1-kan , 311. 59 Ibid.; Hokkaido Kaihatsuchō 20-nenshi Henshūshitsu, Hokkaido kaihatsuchō 20-nenshi (Sapporo: Hokkaido Kaihatsuchō, 1971), 11–12, 53. 60 Asagumo , 210, November 7, 1957, 3. 61 Akashiya , 91, March 5, 1962, 3 62 Asagumo , 210, November 7, 1957, 3. 63 Bōei Nippō, Jieitai nenkan 1961 , 206. 64 Onodera Masami, “Hokkaido ni okeru sengo kaitaku jigyō no tenkai to kaitaku nōmin,” in Hokkaido no kenkyū, dai-6-kan , Kuwabara Masato, ed. (Osaka: Seibundō Shuppan, 1983), 378. Nozoe Kenji’s Kaitaku nōmin no kiroku: Nōsei no hizumi o otte (Tokyo: Nippon Hōsō Shuppan Kyōkai, 1976) is an excellent study of the government- funded land reclamation project. Researchers of this topic generally agree that this project failed mainly due to the central government’s poor management and the insuﬃ cient assistance oﬀ ered to settlers. 65 Asagumo , 325, January 21, 1960, 2. On the process by which the Taiyūkai was founded, see Shadan Hōjin Taiyūkai, Shadan hōjin taiyūkai 30-nenshi (Tokyo: Shadan Hōjin Taiyūkai, 1990). 66 Asagumo , 395, May 25, 1961, 1, and 405, August 3, 1961, 1. 67 Asagumo , 514, September 5, 1965, 3. Kamata Satoshi’s Jidōsha zetsubō kōjō: aru kisetsukō no nikki (Tokyo: Gendaishi Shiryō Sentā Shuppankai, 1973) is an account of working at Toyota, and the author mentions the prominence of former service members. 68 Asagumo , 361, September 29, 2. 69 Asagumo , 399, June 22, 1961, 2. 70 Asagumo , 519, October 10, 1965, 3. 71 See Hokkai Taimususha, Machimura Kingo- den (Sapporo: Machimura Kingo- den Kankōkai, 1982). 72 Hokkaido Kaihatsuchō 20-nenshi Henshūshitsu, Hokkaido kaihatsuchō 20-nenshi , 84–85. 73 Akashiya , 99, January 1, 1963, 1. 74 Akashiya , 100, February 20, 1963, 1. 75 Hokkaido Jietai Jotaisha Koyō Kyōgikai, Wakōdo ni yume o ataeru Hokkaido (year of publication unknown), 4, 9–10; Akashiya , 149, June 25, 1967, 1, and 150, July 25, 1967, 2. Notes 175

Chapter 3

1 Eniwa Jiken Taisaku Iinkai, Eniwa jiken: Jieitaihō ihan: kōhan kiroku 1, 2 (Sapporo: Eniwa Jiken Taisaku Iinkai, 1964), 1–3. 2 Eniwa Jiken Taisaku Iinkai and Hokkaido Heiwa Iinkai, Eniwa wa kokuhatsu suru (Kyoto: Chōbunsha, 1967), 54–56, 90–92. 3 Ibid., 90–91. 4 Eniwa Jiken Taisaku Iinkai, Eniwa jiken 1, 2 , 4. 5 Maeda Tetsuo, Jieitai wa nani o shite kitanoka: waga kokugun no yonjūnen (Tokyo: Chikuma Shobō, 1990), 103. 6 Eniwa Jiken Taisaku Iinkai, Eniwa jiken 1, 2 , 47. 7 John O. Haley, “Waging War: Japan’s Constitutional Constraints,” Constitutional Forum , 14 (2) (2005), 28. 8 On the Kellog-Briand Pact and the Charter of the United Nations, see David Rodin, War and Self-Defense (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 103–121; and Yoram Dinstein, War, Aggression, and Self-Defense (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 83–91. 9 Watanabe Minoru, ed., Eniwashi- shi (Eniwa Shiyakusho, 1979), 515–516. 10 Th e following accounts of the Nozaki brothers’ experience is based on their statements and that of one of their lawyers at the fourth hearing on March 16, 1964. Eniwa Jiken Taisaku Iinkai, Eniwa jiken 1, 2 , 49–61. 11 Th e Procurement Agency (Chōtatsuchō) was an agency affi liated with the Defense Agency, and was responsible for mediating disputes between the US forces and Japanese civilians. Th e Procurement Bureau in Sapporo was one of the eight local bureaus administered by this Agency. Th e other seven were in Sendai, Tokyo, Yokohama, Nagoya, Osaka, Kure, and Fukuoka. Chapter 4 will discuss the Procurement Agency in more detail. 12 Eniwa Jiken Taisaku linkai, Eniwa jiken 1, 2, 57. 13 At the fi ft h hearing on March 18, 1964. Ibid., 105–107. 14 Deborah J. Milly, Poverty, Equality, and Growth: Th e Politics of Economic Need in Postwar Japan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 1999), Chapter 7. 15 See Asahi Soshō Chūō Taisaku Iinkai, Ningen saiban jūnen (Tokyo: Rōdō Junpōsha, 1967); and Asahi Shigeru, Ningen Saiban (Tokyo: Sōdo Bunkasha, 1965). 16 On the pressure on the district court’s ruling from the United States, see Niihara Shōji and Nunokawa Reiko, Sunagawa jiken to Tanaka saikōsai chōkan (Tokyo: Nihon Hyōronsha, 2013). 17 Tsurumi Shunsuke, “Nemoto kara no minshu shugi,” in Nichijō no shisō: sengo Nihon shisō taikei 14 , Takabatake Toshimichi, ed. (Tokyo: Chikuma Shobō, 1970), 284–295. Tsurumi fi rst published this article in Shisō no kagaku , July 1960. 176 Notes

18 Th omas Havens, Fire Across the Sea: Th e Vietnam War and Japan 1965–1975 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1987); Vera Mackie, Feminism in Modern Japan: Citizenship, Embodiment, and Sexuality (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), Chapter 7; Timothy George, Minamata: Pollution and the Struggle for Democracy in Postwar Japan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 2001), Chapters 6 and 7. 19 Wesley Sasaki-Uemura, Organizing the Spontaneous: Citizen Protest in Postwar Japan (Honolulu, HI: University of Hawaii Press, 2001). On civic activism and democracy in postwar Japan, see also Simon Andrew Avenell, Making Japanese Citizens: Civil Society and the Mythology of the Shimin in Postwar Japan (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2010). 20 Immanuel Wallerstein, Geopolitics and Geoculture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), Chapter 5. 21 Hoshino Yasusaburō, “Heiwateki seizonken joron,” in Nihonkoku kenpōshi- kō: sengo no kenpō seiji , Kobayashi Takasuke and Hoshino Yasusaburō, eds. (Kyoto: Hōritsu Bunkasha, 1962), 3–25. 22 Watanabe Yōzō and Matsui Yasuhiro, eds., Eniwa Jiken (Tokyo: Rōdō Junpōsha, 1967), 49–50. 23 Eniwa Jiken Taisaku Iinkai, Eniwa jiken kōhan kiroku 10 (Sapporo: Eniwa Jiken Taisaku Iinkai, 1967), 51–71. Th is fi nal plea was also published in Fukase Tadakazu, Eniwa saiban ni okeru heiwa kenpō no benshō (Tokyo: Nippon Hyōronsha, 1967). 24 Eniwa Jiken Taisaku Iinkai, Eniwa jiken kōhan kiroku 10 , 289–294. 25 Ibid., 379–383. 26 Ibid., 371–379. 27 Eniwa Jiken Taisaku Iinkai, Eniwa jiken kōhan kiroku 11 (Sapporo: Eniwa Jiken Taisaku Iinkai, 1967), 1–4. 28 Asahi shinbun , March 29, 1967 (evening edition), 11. 29 On Japanese fi rms’ eff orts to domesticize armaments production, see Richard Samuels, “Rich Nation, Strong Army”: Th e National Security and the Technological Transformation of Japan (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1996). 30 See Naganumachō- shi Hensan Iinkai, Naganumachō no rekishi, gekan (Naganumachō, 1962). 31 Hayashi Takeshi, Naganuma Saiban: Jieitai iken ronsō no kiroku (Tokyo: Gakuyō Shobō, 1974), 15–16. 32 Hayashi, Naganuma saiban , 16–24. 33 Asahi shinbun , May 8, 1969 (evening edition), 11, and May 11, 1969, 14. 34 Naganuma Jiken Bengodan, Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku 1 (Sapporo: Hokkaido Heiwa Iinkai, 1970), 10–26. 35 “Hoanrin kaijo shobun shikkō teishi mōshitate jiken,” attached to Naganuma Jiken Bengodan, Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku 1 , 1–17. Notes 177

36 Ibid., 53–58. 37 “Shikkō teishi kettei ni taisuru sokuji kikkō mōshitate jiken,” attached to Naganuma Jiken Bengodan, Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku 1 , 1–50. 38 Naganuma Jiken Bengodan, Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku 1 , 26–37. On the competing interpretations of the public and the private and the trend that individual freedoms have been oft en restricted in the name of the public in modern Japan, see Sasaki Takeshi and Kim T’ae- ch’ang, eds., Nihon ni okeru ōyake to watakushi (Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 2002). 39 Ibid., 45–52. 40 Ibid., 87–101. 41 Ibid., 103–115. 42 Ibid., 75–77. 43 Summary of the testimonies of Genda Minoru (former Chief of Staff of the Air SDF) on October 9, 1970 and January 29, 1971, Ogata Kagetoshi (Chief of Staff of the Air SDF) on May 14, 1971, Uchida Kazutomi (Chief of Staff of the Maritime SDF) on September 30, 1971, and Nakamura Ryūhei (Chief of Staff of the Ground SDF) on November 25, 1971. Naganuma Jiken Bengodan, Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku 2 (Sapporo: Hokkaido Heiwa Iinkai, 1972), 23–67, 129–185, 253–321, and 375–421; Naganuma Jiken Bengodan, Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku 3 (Sapporo: Hokkaido Heiwa Iinkai, 1972), 481–541. 44 Testimonies of Hayashi on November 26, 1971, and Osanai on March 31, 1972. Naganuma Jiken Bengodan, Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku 3 , 579–581, 732–735, and 741–742. 45 Testimony of Osanai on March 31, 1972. Naganuma Jiken Bengodan, Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku 3 , 720–724. Today, we know that Osanai’s fear was by no means irrational. Before its reversion to Japan, Okinawa was armed with nuclear weapons. Although nuclear weapons were removed from Okinawa when Japan regained sovereignty, it was recently revealed that President Nixon and Prime Minister Satō had made a secret agreement in 1969 that, even aft er Okinawa’s reversion, the United States could bring nuclear weapons to the prefecture in an emergency situation. See Yomiuri shinbun , December 22, 2009 (evening edition), 1. Moreover, George Packard has recently indicated that despite the Japanese government’s insistence on the Th ree Non-Nuclear Principles (neither possessing nor manufacturing nuclear weapons, and not permitting them to be brought to Japan), the Japanese government, under a secret agreement, allowed US ships and planes carrying nuclear weapons to stop in Japan. See George Packard, “Th e United States–Japan Security Treaty at 50,” Foreign Aff airs , March/April (2010), 92–103. 46 On US–Japan relations during this era, see Michael Schaller, Altered States: Th e United States and Japan since the Occupation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), Chapter 12. 178 Notes

47 Testimonies of Yamada on July 16, 1971, and Takahasi on March 12, 1971. Naganuma Jiken Bengodan, Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku 2 , 342–343, 364–367, and 224–225. 48 Naganuma Jiken Bengodan, Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku 5 (Sapporo: Hokkaido Heiwa Iinkai, 1973), 1315–1318. 49 Ibid., 1318–1320. 50 Ibid., 1351–1352. 51 Asahi shinbun, September 7, 1973, 11 (evening edition); Yomiuri shinbun, September 8, 1973, 3. 52 Th e ruling of the Sapporo High Court is available on the database of judicial precedents on the court’s website [ http://www.courts.go.jp/ ]. On the record of the trial, see Naganuma Jiken Bengodan, Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku 6 (Sapporo: Hokkaido Heiwa Iinkai, 1975), and Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku 7 (Sapporo: Hokkaido Heiwa Iinkai, 1976). 53 Kenneth L. Port, Transcending Law: Th e Unintended Life of Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution (Durham, NC: Carolina Academic Press, 2000), 129–131; Hidenori Tomatsu, “Judicial Review in Japan: An Overview of Eff orts to Introduce U.S. Th eories,” in Five Decades of Constitutionalism in Japanese Society , Yoichi Higuch, ed. (Tokyo: Tokyo University Press, 2001). 54 Th e ruling of the Supreme Court is available on the database of judicial precedents on the court’s website [ http://www.courts.go.jp/ ]. 55 Mouff e, Th e Democratic Paradox , 43. 56 Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America (New York: Library of America, 2004); see particularly Vol. 1, Part II, Chapter 7. 57 Mouff e, Th e Democratic Paradox , 56.

Chapter 4

1 John Dower, “Peace and Democracy in Two Systems: External Policy and Internal Conﬂ ict,” in Postwar Japan as History , Andrew Gordon, ed. (Berkeley, CA: University of California, Press, 1993), Chapter 1. 2 Sheldon Garon and Mike Mochizuki, “Negotiating Social Contracts,” in Postwar Japan as History, Chapter 6. 3 Bōei Shisetsuchō-shi Hensan Iinkai, Bōei shisetsuchō-shi: kichi mondai to tomo ni ayunda 45-nen no kiseki (Tokyo: Bōei Shisetsuchō, 2007), 4–34. 4 Ibid.; Bōei Shisetsuchō-shi Hensan Iinkai, Bōei shisetsuchō-shi, dai-2-kan, kakuron- hen, dai-3-bu/dai-4-bu (Tokyo: Bōei Shisetsuchō Sōmubu Sōmuka, 1978), 1–12, 54. 5 Bōei Shisetsuchō-shi Hensan Iinkai, Bōei shisetsuchō-shi , 36–41. 6 Ibid., 37. Notes 179

7 Satō Shōichirō, Chihō jichitai to gunji kichi (Tokyo: Shin Nihon Shuppansha, 1981), 58. 8 Bōei Nippō, Jieitai nenkan 1965 (Tokyo: Bōei Sangyō Kyōkai, 1965), 721. 9 Ogasawara Kenzō, “Kichi mondai to kichi- nado taisaku no zenshin: bōei shisetsu shūhen no seibi- nado ni kansuru hōritsu no seitei,” Seisaku geppō , 133 (1967). 10 Ibid.; Bōei Shisetsuchō-shi Hensan Iinkai, Bōei shisetsuchō-shi , 56–64, 500–502. Th e explanation of the Improvement Law hereaft er is based on these two sources. 11 Frank Upham, Law and Social Change in Postwar Japan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989). 12 Asahi shinbun , October 14, 1965, 2. 13 Asahi shinbun , September 22, 1966, 2. 14 Chitoseshi Kikakubu Kūkō Kichi Taisakuka, Chitoseshi to kichi (Chitoseshi, 1999), 74. 15 Asahi shinbun , April 5, 1968, 14. 16 Asahi shinbun , December 19, 1968, 5. 17 On the history of industrial pollution, particularly the Minamata disease, see George, Minamata . 18 Yomiuri shinbun , June 16, 1968, 15; June 18, 1968, 14; June 19, 1968, 14; June 21, 1968, 14; June 22, 1968, 14; June 23, 1968, 14; June 24, 1968, 14; and June 25, 1968, 14. 19 Asahi shinbun , February 28, 1969, 2. 20 Yomiuri shinbun , March 3, 1969 (evening edition), 1. 21 At the plenary session of the House of Representatives, March 25, 1969. 22 “Kichi shūhen taisaku no kihonhō ni tsuite,” Gekkan Jiyū minshu 223 (September 1974), 178–183; Bōei Shisetsuchō-shi Hensan Iinkai, Bōei shisetsuchō-shi , 109–115. 23 “Kichi shūhen taisaku no kihonhō ni tsuite.” 24 At the plenary session of the House of Representatives, January 21, 1974. 25 Bōei Shisetsuchō-shi Hensan Iinkai, Bōei shisetsuchō-shi , 128–131. 26 Naganumachō-shi Hensan Iinkai, Naganumachō 90-nenshi (Naganumachō, 1977), 574–577. 27 Bōei Shisetsuchō-shi Hensan Iinkai, Bōei shisetsuchō-shi , 133–135. 28 On the history of the Imperial Navy, US forces, and SDF in Chitose, see Chitoseshi- shi Hensan Iinkai, Shin Chitoseshi- shi (Chitoseshi, 2010), 799–804; Chitoseshi- shi Hensan Iinkai , Chitoseshi- shi (Chitoseshi, 1983), 349–365; Chitoseshi Kikakubu Kūkō Kichi Taisakuka, Chitoseshi to kichi , 111–115. 29 “Zadankai: korekara no kichi taisaku,” Chōwa: kichi to jūmin 5 (September 1982), 4. 30 Chitoseshi Kikakubu Kūkō Kichi Taisakuka, Chitoseshi to kichi , 42 and 82; Chitoseshi- shi Hensan Iinkai, Chitoseshi- shi , 1108–1109. 31 Chitoseshi Kikakubu Kūkō Kichi Taisakuka, Chitoseshi to kichi , 50–55 and 67. 32 Chitose minpō , December 9, 1969, 1. 33 Chitose minpō , June 5, 1970, 1; Chitoseshi- shi Hensan Iinkai, Chitoseshi- shi , 1109. 180 Notes

34 Chitoseshi- shi Hensan Iinkai, Chitoseshi- shi , 1112–1114. 35 Chitoseshi Kikakubu Kūkō Kichi Taisakuka, Chitoseshi to kichi , 72–73; information earned from the city of Chitose. 36 Ibid., 75–76. 37 Jichishō Kaso Taisaku Kanri Kanshitsu, Kaso chiiki no genjō to taisaku (1972), 215–217. 38 Hokkaido, Shin Hokkaido-shi, dai-6-kan , 1410–1411. 39 Jichishō Zaiseikyoku Shidōka, Shichōsonbetsu kessan jōkyō shirabe: Shōwa 54-nendo , 1. 40 Asahi shinbun , December 7, 1973, 1; Asahi shinbun , January 9, 1974, 5. 41 “Kichi shūhen taisaku no kihonhō ni tsuite.” 42 Chitoseshi- shi Hensan Iinkai, Chitoseshi- shi , 1118–1119; “Zadankai: korekara no kichi taisaku,” 12. 43 Chitoseshi, Chitose kichi- nado shūhen machizukuri keikaku (Chitoseshi, 2000), 111. 44 Chitose minpō , December 10, 1984, 1. 45 Chitoseshi, Chitose kichi- nado shūhen machizukuri keikaku , 10, 63, and 115. 46 Nancy Fraser, “Women, Welfare, and the Politics of Need Interpretation,” in N. Fraser, Unruly Practices: Power, Discourse and Gender in Contemporary Social Th eory (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1989). 47 At the plenary session of the House of Councilors, August 5, 1968; plenary session of the House of Councilors, August 6 1968; plenary session of the House of Representatives, December 12, 1968. 48 “Zadankai: kichi taisaku ni nozomu,” Chōwa 1 (September 1981), 11. 49 Jürgen Habermas, Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1991).

Chapter 5

1 Antonio Gramsci, Selection from the Prison Notebooks of Antonio Gramsci , edited and translated by Quintin Horae and Geoﬀ rey Nowell Smith (New York: International Publishers, 1971), 12–13, 80, 158–161, 210, and 275–276. 2 “Moshi Jieitai ga kenpō kyūjō o mushi shitara dō naru,” Shūkan posuto (July 28/ August 4, 1978), 203–210. 3 Asahi shinbun , July 20, 1978, 2 4 Asahi shinbun , July 25, 1978, 1. 5 Kurisu Hiroomi, Kasō tekikoku Soren: warera kō mukae utsu (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1980). 6 Asahi shinbun , March 29, 1979, 1. 7 Asahi shinbun , March 30, 1979, 2. Notes 181

8 “Jissen keiken naki Jieitai no ‘jitsuryoku’ wa?: chokugeki intabyū, Takeda Gorō tōbaku gichō ni kiku,” Hoseki (March 1981), 58–69. Th e LDP government had been denying the possibility of implementing conscription. Th ey argued that conscription would violate Article 18 of the Constitution, which prohibited “bondage in any kind” and “involuntary servitude.” 9 Asahi shinbun, February 2, 1981, 1. 10 Kaihara Osamu, ed., Jieitai wa yaku ni tatsu no ka (Tokyo: Bijinesusha, 1981). 11 Ozawa Kazuo and Mitsuoka Kentarō, eds., Jieitai no mita Soren- gun: rikukaikū no taiso bōei senryaku (Tokyo: Hara Shobō, 1981). 12 Hirose Eiichi, ed., Jieitai kanbu OB hyakunin no bōei chokugen: inoru dake de wa heiwa wa konai (Tokyo: Nihon Kōgyō Shinbunsha, 1983). 13 Hiroshi Kimura, “Japan–Soviet Political Relations from 1976–1983,” in Japan and Russia: Th e Tortuous Path to Normalization, 1949–1999 , Gilbert Rozman, ed. (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000), 87. Other scholars tend to agree that the late 1970s was one of the most diffi cult times for Soviet–Japan relations. See, for example, William Nimmo, Japan and Russia: A Reevaluation in the Post-Soviet Era (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1994). 14 For a detailed description of the incident, see Bōeichō, Bōei hakusho, Shōwa 52-nenban (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1977), 135–149. 15 Kimura, “Japan–Soviet Political Relations from 1976–1983.” 16 Alexei V. Zagorsky, “Reconciliation in the Fift ies: Th e Logic of Soviet Decision Making,” in Japan and Russia , Gilbert Rozman, ed., Chapter 2. 17 Stuart Hall, Chas Critcher, Tony Jeff erson, John Clarke, and Brian Roberts, Policing the Crisis: Mugging, the State, and Law and Order (London: Macmillan, 1978). 18 When the value of the Japanese yen appreciated sharply aft er the 1985 Plaza Accord, Japanese companies began moving factories off shore in order to reduce labor costs, and this trend became conspicuous throughout the next decades. As of the 1970s, however, this strategy had not yet been adopted by many companies. 19 Nakamura, Th e Postwar Japanese Economy , 222–235. 20 Ezra F. Fogel, Japan as Number One: Lesson for America (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1979); Chalmers Johnson, MITI and the Japanese Miracle: Th e Growth of Industrial Policy, 1925–1975 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1982). 21 See Schaller, Altered States , Chapter 12. 22 John Dower, War without Mercy: Race and Power in the Pacifi c War (New York: Pantheon, 1987). 23 Certainly, it is reasonable to see the “Japan bashing” of that time as a manufactured fear- mongering campaign on the part of the United States as it was hit by two oil crises, struggled to combat recurring recessions, and sought to appease discontented workers. 182 Notes

24 Kurisu, Kasō tekikoku Soren , 173–183. Th e title of this section is “Beigun ga tasuke ni kuru to wa kagiranai” (US forces will not necessarily come to help us). 25 Hirose, Jieitai kanbu OB hyakunin no bōei chokugen , 199. 26 Ozawa and Mitsuoka, eds., Jieitai no mita Soren- gun , 14–17. 27 Iwano Masataka, Hokkaido senryō saru (Tokyo: Futami Shobō, 1983), and Daisanji sekai taisen, beiso gekitotsu su!: Kunashiritō dakkai seyo! (Tokyo: Futami Shobō, 1979). 28 Sase Minoru, Hokkaido no jūichinichi sensō (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1978), 53–56. 29 Izaki Hitoshi, Hokkaido ga jinmin kyōwakoku ni naru hi: Sorengun ga shinchū suru sankagetsu (Tokyo: Gakushū Kenkyūsha, 1980), 113–114. 30 Kurisu Hiroomi, “Soren- gun koko e jōriku! Warera kō mukae utsu,” Gendai (January 1980), 54–86. 31 Kurisu Hiroomi, “Kinkyū shirei ‘Hokkaido o hōki seyo’: ‘Soren shinkō’ nichibei gokuhi sakusen no shinsō,” Gendai (October 1982), 56–70. 32 Izaki, Hokkaido ga jinmin kyōwakoku ni naru hi . 33 Iwano, Hokkaido senryō saru , 262. 34 Sase, Hokkaido no jūichinichi sensō , 144–146. 35 Asahi shinbun , January 20, 1978, 2. 36 Bōeichō, Bōei hakusho, Shōwa 54-nenban (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1979), 72–73. 37 Bōeichō, Bōei Hakusho, Shōwa 55-nenban (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1980), 52–55. 38 Matsuo Takashi, ed., Heiwa shiryō nichibei gaido rain to senzen “yūji hōsei” 1 (Kamakura: Minato no Hito, 1998), 435–464. 39 Aft er establishing the emergency legislation in 2003 and 2004, the LDP, the Democratic Party, and the Kōmei Party agreed upon the need for a law that would deal not only with an armed attack but also natural and man- made disasters, namely the Basic Law for the State of Emergency (Kinkyū jitaihō). As of the end of 2014, however, this law had not been approved by the Diet. 40 At the plenary session at the House of Representatives, December 3, 1982. 41 David Harvey, A Brief History of Neoliberalism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 64–86. 42 David Campbell, Writing Security: United States Foreign Policy and the Politics of Identity (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1998), 12–13. 43 Asahi shinbun , July 18, 1979, 2. 44 Asahi shinbun , March 13, 1981, 1. 45 Asahi shinbun , August 20, 1987, 27. 46 Bōeichō, Bōei hakusho: Shōwa 53-nenban (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1978), 109. Notes 183

47 Bōeichō, Bōei hakusho: Shōwa 57-nenban (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1982), 199; Bōei hakusho: Shōwa 59-nenban (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1984), 144; Bōei hakusho: Shōwa 61-nenban (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1986), 156; and Bōei hakusho: Shōwa 63-nenban (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1988), 313. 48 Bōei hakusho: Shōwa 58-nenban (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1983), 192; Asahi shinbun , May 24, 1982 (evening edition), 2; Asahi shinbun , May 26, 1982 (evening edition), 10. 49 Ōkoda Yahiro, Kitano daichi o mamorite 50-nen: sengo Nihon no hoppō jūshi senryaku (Tokyo: Kaya shobō, 2005), 298–303. 50 Matsuo, ed., Heiwa shiryō nichibei gaidorain to senzen “yūji hōsei” 1 , 69–78. 51 Bōei hakusho: Shōwa 57-nenban , 322. 52 Bōei hakusho: Shōwa 59-nenban , 306; Ōkoda, Kita no daichi o mamorite 50-nen , 384–392. 53 Bōei hakusho: Shōwa 62-nenban , 358. 54 Hokkaido shinbun , June 27, 1984, 1 and 7. 55 Tanaka Enshō, “Hokkaidomin wa Soren shinkō ni hiyayaka: seikatsu ni mitchaku shinai bōeiron wa munashii,” Sekai seikei 74 (1980), 109–116. 56 Murai Yukio, ed., Tokyo hatsu hoppō kyōiron: Hokkaido kara no teigen (Tokyo: Gendai no Rironsha, 1980). 57 Matsui Satoru, “Henbō suru Hokkaido no gunji kichi,” in Korekara no nichibei anpo: Hōgaku seminā zōkan, sōgō tokushū shirīzu 38 (Tokyo: Nihon Hyōronsha, 1987), 34–40; Matsui, “Gunji kichi Hokkaido,” in Hokkaido de heiwa o kangaeru, Fukase Tadakazu, Mori Takashi, and Nakamura Kenichi, eds. (Sapporo: Hokkaido Daigaku Tosho Kankōkai, 1988), 21–51. 58 On Kawase’s struggle, see Fuse Yūji, Kita no hansen jinushi Kawase Hanji no shōgai: Yausubetsu enshūjō no domannaka de ikikitta! (Tokyo: Kōbunken, 2009). 59 Hokkaido shinbun , June 27, 1984, 1 and 7. 60 Hokkaido Kaihatsu Chōseibu, Kiezai hakusho: Shōwa 58-nendoban (Hokkaido, 1984), 5–39. 61 Hokkaido shinbun , May 29, 1982, 15. 62 Tsuboi Chikara, “Hokkaido de Nihon no bōei o kangaeru,” Economist (September 11, 1984), 60–65.

C o n c l u s i o n

1 Hokkaido shinbun , July 26, 2000, 3, and July 27, 2000, 4. 2 “Chitose kara jieitai ga saru hi,” Kōhō Chitose , 947 (February 2009), 2–5. 3 Asahi shinbun , November 22, 1995, 2. 184 Notes

4 Asahi shinbun , July 28, 2009 (evening edition), 1; August 3, 2009, 2; October 3, 2011, 1; March 21, 2013, 2; and June 28, 2013, 3. 5 On the process by which the PKO Law was made, see the Bōeichō, Bōei hakusho, Heisei 4-nenban (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1992), 149–163. 6 Bōeichō, Bōei hakusho, Heisei 7-nenban (Tokyo: Ōkurashō Insatsukyoku, 1995), 166–167. 7 On the SDF’s disaster relief in the aft ermath of this earthquake, see Tanaka Norichika, Saigai to jieitai: kiki kanri no ronri (Tokyo: Ashi Shobō, 1998). 8 Naikaku Sōri Daijin Kanbō Kōhōshitsu, Yoron chōsa hōkokusho, Heisei 7-nen 7-gatsu: kongo no jieitai no yakuwari ni kansuru yoron chōsa , 1995. 9 While I pointed out the similarities between the SDF in Hokkaido and US forces in Okinawa in the Introduction, it is noteworthy that while the SDF has been progressively naturalized in Japanese society, protest movements against US bases persist in Okinawa to this day. Th is is largely because under the US–Japan Status of Forces Agreement, the two governments make decisions concerning US bases in ways that lack transparency, and the Japanese legal system, including the Constitution, has little power to deal with problems caused by US forces and personnel, such as environmental destruction, accidents, and crimes. Th is means that channels of contesting US bases are much more limited than in the case of SDF bases. On problems with the Status of Forces Agreement and Okinawa, see Maedomari Hiromori, ed., Hontō wa kenpō yori taisetsu na nichibei chii kyōtei (Osaka: Sōgensha, 2013). 10 Response to the question raised by Teruya Kantoku, a member of the Social Democratic Party, at the 168th Diet in 2007 (Question number: 182). Available on the House of Representatives’ homepage [ http://www.shugiin.go.jp ]. 11 Th e ruling and the explanation of its signifi cance by a lawyer for the plaintiff s are available in Kawaguchi Hajime and Otsuka Eiji, “Jieitai no Iraku hahei sashidome soshō” hanketsubun o yomu (Tokyo: Kadokawa Shoten, 2009). 12 I have not addressed the issues of gender and female service members in this book. Th e SDF, however, today relies on a fair number of female workers, which, according to the Defense Agency [ www.mod.go.jp ], account for more than 5 percent of the total number of service members (as of 2013). Since the 1970s, the Defense Agency has sought to integrate women into the SDF, and today, most positions are open to them. Th erefore, in present- day Japan, not only male but also female enlistees have to make this diffi cult decision. B i b l i o g r a p h y

Newspapers

Asahi shinbun Chitose minpō Hokkaido shinbun Yomiuri shinbun

SDF-related newspapers

Asagumo Akashiya

Record of court cases

E n i w a J i k e n T a i s a k u I i n k a i , Eniwa jiken: Jieitaihō ihan: kōhan kiroku , 11 volumes. Sapporo : Eniwa Jiken Taisaku Iinkai, 1964–1967 . N a g a n u m a J i k e n B e n g o d a n , Naganuma misairu kichi jiken soshō kiroku , 7 volumes. Sapporo : Hokkaido Heiwa Iinkai, 1970–1976 .

Sources published by the SDF, Defense Agency, DFAA, and related organizations

A s a g u m o S h i n b u n H e n s h ū k y o k u . Bōei hando bukku, Shōwa 50-nenban . To k y o : Asagumo Shinbunsha , 1975 . —— . Bōei handobukku, Shōwa 54-nenban . Tokyo : Asagumo Shinbunsha , 1979 . A s a g u m o S h i n b u n S h u p p a n b u . Ninkisei taiin no ninshiki to shidō . To k y o : A s a g u m o Shinbunsha, 1968 . B ō e i D a i g a k k ō J ū n e n s h i H e n s h ū I i n k a i . Bōei daigakkō jūnenshi . Yo k o s u k a : B ō e i Daigakkō , 1965 . B ō e i N i p p ō . Jieitai nenkan. Tokyo : Bōei Sangyō Kyōkai, 1957–1985 . Bōei shisetsuchō kōhō . Tokyo : Bōei Shisetsuchō Sōmubu Sōmuka , 1968–1976 . B ō e i S h i s e t s u c h ō . Bōei shisetsu shūhen no seikatsu kankyō seibihō no yōshi , 1974 . B ō e i S h i s e t s u c h ō - s h i H e n s a n I i n k a i . Bōei shisetsuchō-shi, dai-1-kan . To k y o : B ō e i Shisetsuchō Sōmubu Sōmuka , 1973 .

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History books compiled by communities in Hokkaido

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Abe Shinzō 162 Communist Party (Japan) 3–4, 48, 144, adjustment subsidy (chōsei kōfukin ) 117, 160 124, 125 Communist Party (Soviet Union) 139 Agamben, Giorgio 14 Comprehensive Development Project for Akashiya 67, 77 Hokkaido Anpo see US –Japan Security Treaty First 64, 76, 80 Appy, Christian 48 Second 80 Asada Jirō 36, 43 Comprehensive National Development Asagumo 77 Project 81 Asahi shinbun (newspaper) 37, 114 congestion (kamitsu ) 124 Asahikawa 10, 34, 38, 61–72, 126 conscription 2, 6–7, 40, 42–3, 134, Asahi Shigeru 91–2 136, 148 Association for SDF Cooperation (Jieitai Constitution of the Empire of Japan kyōryokukai) 69–70 (Meiji Constitution) 12–13, 58 Atsugi Air Base 115, 163 Constitution of Japan 1–5, 11, 13, 44, 51–6, 60, 85–99, 102, 104–5, 107, base pollution see pollution 134, 136, 143–5, 147–9, 155, base problem ( kichi mondai ) 16, 107, 110, 161–2, 164 112, 113, 115–17, 129–32, 133, 154, Article 9 of 2, 52, 54, 85, 87–8, 92, 94–5, 163 102, 130, 160 base subsidy (kichi kōfukin ) 113–14, 117, Article 13 of 94 124–5 Article 18 of 181 n. 8 Belenko, Viktor 138 Article 25 of 13, 44, 91 bourgeoisie 12–13, 133 Preamble 2, 13, 85, 93–4, 102, 104 Britain 4, 8, 13, 88, 149, 160 Construction Department (Kesetsu honbu) 108–9 Cabinet Council for the Base Problem Council for the Employment of (Kichi mondai kakuryō kondankai) Discharged Service Members 78, 81 110 in Hokkaido 81 Cabinet Legislative Bureau 87–8 court 11, 16, 85–7, 90, 92, 95–107, 143–4, Campbell, David 150 163–4 Carter, Jimmy 139 Supreme Court 92, 98, 104–7, 144 Chitose 10, 64, 86, 101, 119–30, 150–1, 158, 166 Declaration of Independence (United Chitose Air Base 120, 122–3, 151 States) 94 Coastal Safety Force (Kaijō keibitai) 3 Defense Agency 57, 70, 74, 96–7, 100, 107, Cold War 2, 8, 10, 16, 20–1, 25, 35, 54, 110, 116–17, 121–2, 135–6, 138, 57, 60, 93, 95, 101–2, 133–4, 146–50, 153, 157–61 137–8, 141–2, 157–60, 162 Base Problem Settlement Headquarters collective relocation ( shūdan iten ) (Kichi mondai chōsei honbu) 122 122, 128 Defense White Papers 147 Communist Party (China) 2 founding of 3, 55, 109

203 204 Index

overseas dispatch of the SDF 160–1 (Kaso chiiki taisaku kinkyū recruitment of service members sochihō) 126 25, 27, 32, 36, 37, 38 Eniwa 16, 68, 85–96, 98–9, 102, 105, 107, support for discharged service 120, 126, 130, 143 members 75–6, 78–9, 82–3 Enloe, Cynthia 7–8 Defense Buildup Plan 173–4 n. 54 Environmental Pollution Settlement Law Fourth 122 (Kōgai shorihō) 116 Th ird 74, 97 Etorofu see Northern Territories defense capability (bōeiryoku ) 87–8, 91, 99, extralegal statement ( chōhōki hatsugen ) 102, 149 135–6, 146, 148 Defense Discussion Society (Bōei konwakai) 136 February 26 Incident 56 DFAA (Defense Facilities Administration Fift h Division ( SDF ) 10, 57 Agency) 16, 107–33, 144, 154–5, Fire Organization Law 67 157, 163 First World War 6, 13, 88 democracy 11–15, 51, 54, 56–7, 60, 86, 92, Forestry Agency 97 105, 107, 112 Forestry Law 98 liberal democracy 12–13, 56, Forrest, Alan 42, 170 n. 59 86, 134 Foucault, Michel 73, 166 n. 23 mass democracy 13–14, 40, 108, Foundation for the Improvement of the 131, 157 Surrounds of Defense Facilities Democratic Party (Japan) 4 (Bōei shisetsu shūhen seibi kyōkai) Democratic Socialist Party (Minshatō, 130 Japan) 130, 160 France 1, 4, 42, 88, 93, 160 depopulation ( kaso ) 15, 39, 124, 155, Fraser, Nancy 129 158–9 French Revolution 12, 40, 42, 44, 170 n. 59 détente 139 Frühstück, Sabine 7 Diet (Japan) 2, 5, 12–13, 36, 41, 92, 99, Fukase Tadakazu 87, 94–5 104, 109–11, 115–18, 126, 136, Fukuda Takeo 146–8 148–9 Fukushima Shigeo 98, 102 disaster relief (SDF ) 9, 16, 51, 59–60, 65, Fundamental Law of Education 53 67–9, 72, 83, 85, 152, 160–2 Dodge, Joseph 21 Garon, Sheldon 108 Donzelot, Jacques 20, 38 General Council of Trade Unions of Japan Dower, John 107, 141 (Sōhyō) 53 dual structure (in the Japanese economy) Germany 4, 14, 21, 139 44–6, 70 Giddens, Anthony 6, 41 Gorbachev, Mikhail 139, 157 earthquake Gordon, Andrew 13 Great Chilean (1960) 65 Gottfried, Paul Edward 12 Great Kantō (1923) 161 Gramsci, Antonio 133–4 Hanshin and Awaji (1995) 161 Guidelines for US –Japan Defense Tōhoku (2011) 5, 161 Cooperation 151 Tokachi- oki (1952) 65 Eisenhower, Dwight 92, 109 Habermas, Jürgen 131 Eleventh Division ( SDF ) 10, 57, 158 Habomai see Northern Territories emergency legislation 147–8 Hall, Stuart 139 Emergency Measure for Dealing Harvey, David 150 with Depopulated Areas Law Hasegawa Keitarō 137 Index 205

Hayashi Keizō 54–5 Iwano Masataka 142, 145 hegemony 2, 101, 108, 133 Izaki Hitoshi 143–4 high- speed economic growth 15, 19–20, 22, 28, 29, 35, 49, 51, 68, 70, Japan bashing 141, 181 n. 23 115, 124 Japan Business Federation 78–9 Hirose Eiichi 137, 141 Japan Chamber of Commerce 79 Hōeikai 79 Jieikan no kokorogamae 41, 55 Hokama Shukichi 159 Johnson, Chalmers 140 Hokkai Times (newspaper) 89 Hokkaido Agency 58 Kaihara Osamu 137 Hokkaido Development Agency 58–9, Kaishin Party 80 64–5, 75, 80 Kanemaru Shin 135, 147 Hokkaido Development Bureau 75 Karatani, Kōjin 73 Hokkaido maneuver ﬁ eld 151–2 Katayama Tetsu 4 Hokkaido shinbun (newspaper) 89 Katō Kōmei 13 Home Ministry see Ministry, Home Kawase Hanji 153 Honda 141 Kellogg-Briand Pact 88 Hoshino Yasusaburō 93–4 Keynesian economy 13 House of Councilors 59, 99 Kishi Nobusuke 92, 109, 146 House of Representatives 4, 58, 80 Koizumu Jun’ichirō 161 Human Trial ( ningen saiban ) 92 Koizumi Shinzō 56 kokutai see national polity Ikeda Hayato 110 Konishi Makoto 32–3, 46 Imperial Army (Japan) 2, 6–7, 33, 40–1, Korean War 2–3, 20, 22, 54, 89 56–7, 61, 82, 89, 120 Kunashiri see Northern Territories Army War College 142 Kuril Islands 133, 138 Imperial Army Academy 142 Kurisu Hiroomi 134–6 Imperial Navy (Japan) 2, 6–7, 33, 40, 56–7, Kuwait 159–60 82, 99, 101, 120, 134, 149 Kyushu 17, 29–34, 42, 45–6, 49, 126 Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors 40 land reform 2, 29 Improvement Law (see Improvement League of Blood Incident 56 of the Surrounds of Defense Liberal Democratic Party ( LDP ) 4, 5, Facilities Law) 44, 48, 53, 80, 87, 92, 103, 104, Improvement of Living Environment 107–8, 110, 112, 116–17, 122, around Defense Facilities Law 129–31, 136, 146–8, 159–60, (Bōei shisetsu shūhen no seikatsu 181 n. 8, 182 n. 39 kankyō no seibi nado ni kansuru Liberalism 11–12 hōritsu) 118, 120–1, 124, Livelihood Protection Law 39, 91 127–8, 131 Lone, Stewart 6 Improvement of the Surrounds of Lutz, Catherine 8–9 Defense Facilities Law (Bōei shisetsu shūhen seibi nado ni MacArthur, Douglas 2, 52 kansuru hōritsu) 110, 112–14, MacArthur, Douglas, II 92 117–19, 121, 124, 127, 129, 131 McNamara, Robert 48 invasion of Kuwait 159–60 Machimura Kingo 80–1 Iraq War 4, 159–60, 162–4 Maki Tomoo 56–7 Itazuke Air Base 116 Marshall, T. H. 13 Iwamoto Jun 45–6 Maruyama Masao 54 206 Index

Mason, Michele 58, 172 n. 15 National Council for the Improvement of mass employment (shūdan shūshoku ) the Surrounds of Defense Facilities 45–6 (Bōei shisetsu shūhen seibi zenkoku Masuda Kaneshichi 58–9 kyōgikai) 114 Matsui Satoru 153 National Police Reserve ( NPR ) 3–4, 20–2, May 15 Incident 56 25, 43, 54–5, 61, 65, 69, 87, 109, 120, Meiji 142, 157 n. 2 and 3 Constitution see the Constitution of national polity ( kokutai ) 12, 41 the Empire of Japan New Improvement Law see Improvement Emperor 40 of Living Environment around era 27, 64, 73, 76–7 Defense Facilities Law government 12, 57, 97 Nike-Hercules missile 96, 100 Restoration 12, 33, 58 Nike J missile 96–7, 99–101, 119 Miike Mitsui dispute 31, 80 Nissan 75 Miki Takeo 134, 151 Nixon, Richard 101, 141, 177 n. 45 militarization 1, 3, 6–11, 14–15, 17, 19, 52, noise index (urusasa shisū ) 127–8 60, 86, 106–8, 119, 133–4, 155, 157, North Atlantic Treaty Organization 162–4 ( NATO ) 141 Miller, Peter 14 North Korea (Democratic People’s Minamata 115 Republic of Korea) 2, 135 Minami Ryōshin 28 Northern Army ( SDF ) 10, 57, 67, 76–7, 81, Ministry 86, 90–1, 137, 143, 151–2, 166 n. 17 Agriculture and Forestry 29, 76, 96–8 Northern Territories ( hoppō ryōdo ) 57, Army (Imperial Japan) 120 138–9, 147 Defense 167 n. 2 northern threat (hoppō kyōi ) 16, 133–55, Environment 127 157 Finance 114 Nozaki brothers 86–96, 102, 105–6, 107, Foreign Aff airs 117, 138 110, 120, 175 n. 10 Health and Welfare 45, 92, 116 Home (Imperial Japan) 80, 134 Obihiro 10, 64, 68, 120, 126, 158 Home Aff airs 114, 117 O¯ hira Masayoshi 117, 136 International Trade and Industry 79, oil crises 140–1, 154, 181 n. 23 140 Okinawa 9–11, 29, 58, 95, 100–1, 103, 159, Labor 79 177 n. 45, 184 n. 9 Misawa Air Base 11, 89, 101, 143 operation scale- down ( genryō keiei ) 140 Mitsuoka Kenjirō 137, 142 Orford, Anne 60 Mochizuki, Mike 108 O¯ uchi Tsutomu 45 Mouff e, Chantal 12, 105–6 Ozawa Kazuo 137 Murai Yukio 153 Murayama Tomiichi 4 Packard, George 93, 177 n. 45 Peace Constitution see Constitution of Nagano Shigeto 136 Japan Naganuma 16, 85, 96–106, 107, 110, Peace Issues Discussion Group (Heiwan 119–20, 143 mondai danwakai) 54 Nakasone Yasuhiro 147, 149 Peace Preservation Law 2 nation- state 1, 11–12, 27, 39–42, 48, 56–8, people’s livelihood stabilization ( minsei 72, 91, 105, 116, 164 antei ) 111, 113–15, 119, 127 National Base Council (Zenkoku kichi people’s livelihood support (minsei kyōgikai) 114 kyōryoku ) 60, 68, 83, 113 Index 207

People’s Republic of China 2, 4, 138–9 Shimamatsu maneuver fi eld 86, 89, 120, Phantom fi ghter planes 122 126 Plaza Accord 181 n. 18 Sino-Japanese War 13 pollution 93, 112, 115–17, 121–2, 124, Social Democratic Party (Shamintō, 127–9, 163 Japan) 4 Potsdam Declaration 1 Socialist Party (Japan) 4, 33, 36, 37, 41, 44, Poulantzas, Nikos 42 48, 52–4, 59, 87, 129–30, 136, 146, Procacci, Giovanna 39 160 Procurement Agency (Chōtatsuchō) 90, South Korea (Republic of Korea) 2, 10, 135 108–9, 175 n. 11 sovereignty 2–3, 6, 9, 13, 15, 25, 40, 102–3, Procurement Bureau 90 105, 138, 177 n. 45 Project 100,000 48 Soviet–Japanese Joint Declaration 139 Provincial Liaison Offi ce ( SDF ) 34, 37–8, Soviet Union 2, 10, 16, 57, 133, 135–9, 78–9 141–6, 150–3, 155 Public Employment Security Offi ce 28, 37, collapse of 157–8 46, 78, 168 n. 24 and invasion of Afghanistan 139 public good (kōeki ) 98–9, 102 as Japan’s potential enemy 147, 149 and MiG-25 138 Reagan, Ronald 149 and the Moscow Olympics 139 Red Purge 3 and 200-nautical-mile fi shing zone 138 reverse course 3 Special Committee on Measures for Bases right to life ( seizonken ) 91 (Kichi taisaku tokubetsu iinkai) 110 right to live in peace ( heiwateki seizonken ) Special Higher Police 2 2, 85, 87, 91–6, 99, 102–6, 143–4, Special Procurement Board (Tokubetsu 163–4 chōtatsuchō) 108 Rose, Nikolas 14, 74 Stalin, Joseph 138 Russian Revolution 13, 133 status system 1, 12 Russo-Japanese War 13 Sunagawa incident 92, 98, 106 Supreme Commander for the Allied Safety Security Force (Keibitai) 3 Powers ( SCAP ) 2–3, 20–1, 53, 59, San Francisco Peace Treaty 3 80, 91, 108 Sapporo 10, 61, 64–5, 67, 81, 86, 89–90, 96, surplus population 16, 19, 28, 32–3, 49, 51 120, 145, 158 Suzuki Mosaburō 53, 87 Sasaki-Uemura, Wesley 93 Sase Minoru 143, 145 Tachikawa Air Base 92 Satō Eisaku 101, 117, 129 Taiyūkai 78 Satō Fumika 7 Takeda Gorō 136–7 Saudi Arabia 4 Tanaka Enshō 153 Second Air Wing ( SDF ) 10, 120, 151 Tanaka Kakuei 117 Second Division ( SDF ) 10, 61, 70, 126 Tanaka Toshibumi 59, 80 Second World War 1, 7–8, 10, 13–14, Teachers’ Union 34, 53–4 19, 32, 61, 76, 88, 131, 134, 138, Th atcher, Margaret 149 142, 157 Tokyo shinbun (newspaper) 143 Segal, David 47–8 Tōmine Motoji 121, 130 Self-Defense Forces Law 37, 40, 55, 60, 65, tondenhei (farmer- soldiers) 58, 77 86–7, 95, 134–5 Toyota 79, 141 Seventh Division (Imperial Army) 61, 89 Treaty of Peace and Friendship between Seventh Division ( SDF ) 10, 150, 158 China and Japan 138 Shikotan see Northern Territories Tsuji Mitsuo 95 208 Index

Tsurumi Shunsuke 93 1970 renewal 32 tutelary complex 20, 38, 75 protest against the 1960 renewal 35, 80, 92, 93, 106, 110 uneven development 15, 19, 27, 164 skepticism of 141, 143, 149, 155 United Nations 54, 60, 159 US –Japan Status of Forces Agreement 10, Charter of 88 115, 184 n. 9 peacekeeping operations 4, 160 United States of America 4, 7, 8, 13, 88, 96, Vietnam War 7, 8, 48, 93, 95, 96, 101 100, 101, 105, 106, 129, 139, 150 Vogel, Ezra 140 in the Cold War 25, 35, 93, 102, 138, 139, 149, 152, 177 n. 45 Wallerstein, Immanuel 93 critique of 141, 142 war potential ( senryoku ) 2, 51, 87, 88, 92, in imaginary wars 135, 142, 143 99, 100, 102 and Japanese economy 140, 141 Watsuji Tetsurō 54 occupation of Japan 3, 21, 25, 55, 108 Weber, Max 42 in the post-Cold War era 159, 160, Weighted Equivalent Continuous 162, 164 Perceived Noise Level in the Second World War 14, 76 ( WECPNL ) 127 September 11 attacks 148, 161 welfare state 13–15, 44, 45, 91, 108, 131, US forces in Japan 3, 92, 109 139, 149, 157 US forces in Okinawa 95 welfarism 14 in the Vietnam War 96, 101 working class 12, 47, 48, 93 Universal Declaration of Human Rights 90 Upham, Frank 112 Yamanouchi, Yasushi 14, 166 n. 23 US –Japan Administration Agreement Yausubetsu maneuver ﬁ eld 151, 153 108–9, 115 Yokota Air Base 116–17 US –Japan Mutual Defense Assistance Yomiuri shinbun 43, 116 Agreement 25 Yoshida Shigeru 21, 55–7 US –Japan Security Treaty 3, 4, 53, 89, 92, Yoshida Yutaka 47 101, 108–10, 129, 130, 139 Youth Cadets (Shōnen jieitai) 53 209 210