Four Notes on Mishima Yukio's Political Essays

Four Notes on Mishima Yukio's Political Essays The following notes are excerpted from "What Does It Mean to Defend a Nation: Mishima Yukio's Political Essays." Note One

其際、天皇は、自分が恰もファシズムを信奉するが如く思われることが、最も堪え難きところなり、実際余りに立憲的に処置し来りし為めに如斯事態となりたりとも云うべく、戦争の途中に於て今少し陛下は進んで御命令ありたしとの希望を聞かざるには非ざるなり。しかも、努めて立憲的に運用した積りなり。(emphasis by Mishima) 私が傍点を附したこの個所はもちろんこの文章の主旨ではなく、陛下が立憲君主として一切逸脱せず振舞われたということが主旨である。しかしこの傍点の個所に、私は天皇御自身が、あらゆる天皇制近代化・西欧化の試みに対する、深い悲劇的な御反省の吐息を洩らされたようにも感じるのである。 日本にとって近代的立憲君主制は真に可能であったのか？……あの西欧派の重臣たちと、若いむこう見ずの青年将校たちと、どちらが究極的に正しかったのか？世俗の西欧化には完全に成功したかに見える日本が、「神聖」の西欧化には、これから先も成功することがあるであろうか？

— "The February 26 Incident and I"

"The Emperor himself found it most unbearable to be thought of as someone who believed in fascism. In fact, it may be precisely because he handled matters too constitutionally that things came to such a pass. During the war, it was not that he never heard wishes for His Majesty to take more initiative in issuing commands, yet he tried his best to operate as a constitutional monarch." "The passage above should reveal the Emperor's own deeply tragic reflection on the modernization of the Emperor system. Was modern constitutional monarchy truly possible for Japan? Between those Westernizing senior statesmen and those reckless young officers, which side was ultimately right? Will Japan, which appears to have succeeded in secular Westernization on the surface, ever succeed in Westernizing the 'sacred'?" My feelings toward Mishima have always been complicated. On one hand, I want to understand him; on the other, I've found him somewhat extreme. Only recently have I begun to realize that Mishima was far more clear-headed than I had imagined. In a country where the military was accountable only to the Emperor and not to the Diet, while the Emperor himself was legally bound by constitutional principles, the greatest problem was actually the design flaw from the very beginning. In the end, it was the Emperor—after two atomic bombs—who stepped outside the system as an individual and put the brakes on the "hundred million shattered jewels." After the war, of course, a few "madman" war criminals could be tried and that would be the end of it. But in substance, no one knew who to blame. And the deaths in war, whether heroic or like ants, all seemed meaningless. I increasingly feel that when Mishima wrote "Patriotism," he wasn't thinking "they were so calm in the face of death, therefore militarism was justified." Rather, it should have been: "Since they made such sacrifices, how can you, the living, choose selective amnesia and refuse to answer why we failed?" As if everything was simply: I came, I lost, I left. Note Two

今や後進諸国において、フランス革命以来老朽してすたりものになっていた諸理念がふたたび生色を蘇らすのを、生活の中に融け込んで忘れられていた諸理念がふたたび理想としてかかげられるのを、西欧人たちは見ている。彼らの絶望が、新興民族の希望となるかもしれないのだ。植民地時代にはただ主人であるにすぎなかった西欧人は、先達であり教師でさえあるようになった。アジアにおける西欧的理念の最初の忠実な門弟は日本であった。しかし日本は近代史をあまりに足早に軽率に通りすぎ、まがいもののファシズムをさえ通りすぎて、今や西欧的絶望の仲間入りをして、アメリカを蔑んだりしているのである。

— "Can the Tortoise Catch Up to the Hare? — Problems of So-Called Developing Countries"

"Everything since the French Revolution, all those things that had grown old and obsolete in the West, are being revived in new nations (nothing new under the sun—think carefully, are you really sure your feelings are historically unprecedented?). But Japan rushed too fast, skipping straight through fascism to arrive at the same Western despair, to the point of looking down on Americans..." The above is my rough translation of Mishima. But speaking of nothing new under the sun, I think the biggest "new thing" recently—technological optimism—actually had an almost identical version in the 1920s. Empires may collapse, ideologies may contradict each other, but technology seems neutral and can lead people to victory, so long live technology. (Has someone forgotten why WWI deaths were an order of magnitude higher than before?) Grab anyone on the streets of San Jose and ask what their biggest worry in life is—I'd guess that 99% of the time, it's not something AI alone can solve. But the problem isn't really AI; it's the person who promises everyone that technology can solve all their troubles. Note Three

たとえば資本の蓄積については、インドネシアと中国とは、まるで対照的な事情にあった。インドネシアには、民族資本というべきものは殆ど皆無であった。これはいうまでもなく、オランダの政策であるが、しかしそのことが、独立闘争に際して結束を固める結果になり、民族ブルジョアジーの裏切を生ぜしめなかったのである。中国では早くから中小規模の近代企業という形をとった民族資本が発達していた。しかしこの資本は、国民経済の本源的蓄積とはならず、無政府的資本ともいうべきものであった。革命はこれを徹底的に利用し、事実、中国革命における民族資本は特徴的な役割を果すことになった。革命第一期において、民族ブゥルジョアジーは反帝闘争に参加し、いわゆる新民主主義革命の時代において、民族資本はむしろ積極的に保護育成されつつ、国家資本主義の方向へむかって改造され、今日の社会主義経済下でも、なお一定の役割を担っている。これが中共の資本蓄積の基礎になったのである。さらに外国資本に結びついた大ブゥルジョアジーの資本と、外国資本は没収され、ソ聯邦の援助がこれに加わった。 さて、後進国の資本の原初蓄積は、最も困難な問題の一つである。近代日本における資本の本源的蓄積の過程は、後進国の苦しまぎれの表現であって、すこぶる特殊なものであった。よく言われるように、日本のそれは、上からの資本主義化であり、民主的な自由競争による資本蓄積は行われなかった。その構成も国家資本が優位を占め、英国の産業革命のような軽工業・平和産業から近代化が着手されたという過程は辿られず、造兵工業・軍事工業がまず近代化され、日本の資本主義そのものが、軍国主義的性格を帯びる端緒をなしたのである。 それと同時に、おそかれ早かれ、近代化を達成した後進諸国に生ずる知識人の幻滅に対しては、われわれは十分その治療法を準備して、彼らの医師とならなければならない。幻滅に対して、もっと強い幻滅が、効力のある薬餌になる場合もあろう。まずわれわれが、われわれ自身の幻滅に直面して、それを怖れない勇気を、わがものとしなければならないのだ。

— "Can the Tortoise Catch Up to the Hare? — Problems of So-Called Developing Countries"

"From the perspective of primitive capital accumulation: compared to Indonesia, which due to Dutch colonial policy never developed national capital, China's national capital existed but never developed into original accumulation for the national economy, existing instead as anarchic capital—this contributed to the Chinese revolution's success, later absorbed as CCP state capital... Japan accepted capitalism from the top down, lacking free-competition capital grown through industrial revolution, bearing a militaristic character from its very origins." "Our task as an advanced nation is to advise developing countries so that the dangerous distortions that appeared in our radical modernization are not repeated. For the disillusionment of the intellectual class that will sooner or later emerge after modernization in developing countries, the best remedy is an even stronger disillusionment. And to become physicians, we must first summon the courage to face our own disillusionment." It's hard to believe this was written by the same Mishima Yukio who would later commit seppuku. Indeed, to understand a person, one should start from where the sense of incongruity is strongest. One could say Mishima's actions followed his words and his words matched his person—to the extent that what he wrote doesn't quite read like Japanese. Japanese argumentative writing has always had the stylistic habit of creating distance between oneself and one's views, avoiding being held accountable and losing face. But this culture, after the Meiji era, evolved into a leaderless state—watching a driverless car spin out of control while no one steps forward. But humans as subjects must make judgments and bear responsibility. Neither institutions nor algorithms can help with this. That he ultimately rushed to commit seppuku was probably because this man who had spent half his life writing had lost faith in language itself. Note Four "203 Hill" is a film about the Russo-Japanese War. The story begins with the protagonist, a schoolteacher, writing on the blackboard before going to battle: 「美しい日本　美しいロシア」(Beautiful Japan, Beautiful Russia). Although the Russo-Japanese War doesn't have a strong presence in our history textbooks, for Japanese people (or at least those who read history), the significance of the Russo-Japanese War and the complex emotions it evokes far exceed those of a mere war. It not only symbolized the completion of the Meiji founding myth. It was also the prototype of island nation strategic thinking before Pearl Harbor: lacking resources means prolonged war means defeat, so quick resolution is necessary; even without confidence in victory, one must gamble big. It directly gilded Manchuria in the imagination of ordinary Japanese people as a continent where youth could shed their passionate blood. Natsume Soseki's "Kusamakura" ends with the billowing smoke of trains carrying people to Manchuria. And the Kwantung Army, which existed to protect the rights won in the Russo-Japanese War by guarding the South Manchuria Railway, bypassed the Diet to launch the Manchurian Incident (September 18th)—directly determining the course of history. "203 Hill" in the film's title is now called Erling Mountain. It's a hilltop overlooking Port Arthur. At the start of the Russo-Japanese War, Japanese naval commander Togo Heihachiro had forced the Russian fleet stationed at Port Arthur to retreat into the harbor. Tsarist Russia dispatched an even more powerful Baltic Fleet around the Cape of Good Hope as reinforcement. The disparity at the war's start was enormous—Russia had several times Japan's industrial output and military strength. For Togo, being attacked from both sides meant annihilation; all hope lay in occupying this 203 Hill to bombard the Russian warships in Port Arthur from the heights. All the pressure fell on Nogi Maresuke, the commander of this small battle. Nogi represented the old-style Japanese military: strong and proud, but lacking flexible thinking and room for maneuver. The Russians knew well the importance of 203 and had built impregnable fortifications in preparation. But Nogi, following old-style warfare thinking (while also executing the predetermined plan), organized three death charges—failing to take it even at the cost of 10,000 casualties, with both his sons dead. Nogi fell into deep self-doubt, even wanting to hand over command and personally lead soldiers in a final charge at the front. Finally, under the observation of Kodama Gentaro (the Taiwan Governor-General who promoted colonial rule/construction after the Treaty of Shimonoseki), the strategy was revised—charging while simultaneously bombarding (initially thought this would cause friendly fire)—and success was achieved. After victory, throughout Japan, aside from soldiers' families clutching urns of ashes, the common people were jubilant. But reportedly, when Nogi met the Emperor and read the line "Leading His Majesty's elite troops, yet it still took half a year to capture it—I have no face to show," he couldn't continue and broke down in tears. Shortly after, when Emperor Meiji passed away, Nogi and his wife committed seppuku in martyrdom (Sensei in Natsume Soseki's "Kokoro" also chose suicide upon hearing of General Nogi's death by martyrdom). At this moment, was Nogi a general who won but caused massive soldier deaths due to stubbornness? A father who lost all his sons? Or someone placed in an extremely cruel position bearing heavy burdens? The film has no answer—just like the fiancée who knew the protagonist through Russian literature, standing before his memorial portrait, begins to rewrite 「美しい日本　美しいロシア」on the blackboard but can no longer continue halfway through.