Fateful Choices: Ten Decisions That Changed the World, 1940-1941

by Ian Kershaw

  Tojo assembled his Cabinet with great speed. In this, he quickly showed that he knew his own mind; he would not brook interference. He rejected Oikawa’s suggestion that he be replaced as Navy Minister by Toyoda Soemu. Tojo thought this would cause trouble with the army, well aware of Toyoda’s antipathy towards their leadership. Oikawa gave way, and agreed to Shimada Shigetaro, Commander-in-Chief of the Yokosuka naval station, as his replacement. Tojo also brusquely dismissed attempts by the army to influence his selection of ministers.68 Of particular importance was the position of Foreign Minister. Here, Tojo’s rejection of suggestions that he bring back the stridently anti-American and pro-Axis Matsuoka was a sign of his readiness to follow the Emperor’s instructions to find a way to prevent war, even at this late hour. Instead, he made Togo Shigenori, former ambassador in Berlin and Moscow, a highly experienced diplomat, his Foreign Minister. Togo accepted the nomination as long as there was a serious intention to work for successful negotiations with America. He was assured that this would be the case, and that the army would have to agree to concessions to make that possible. Tojo himself retained the Army Ministry as a lever to attempt to bend the army to his policy. He also took over home affairs, with a view to quelling possible internal unrest if a deal should be struck with the United States.69

  In fact, the prospects on the American side for such a deal, at least some sort of pieced-together arrangement to prevent the headlong rush to war and buy time for some months, were not wholly extinguished. Tojo’s appointment had sounded alarm bells in London and in Chungking. The British Foreign Office and Chinese nationalists alike feared an immediate move by Japan to cut off supplies to China, bringing Chiang Kai-shek’s struggle to its knees. They pressed the Americans for support.70 Washington, too, viewed Tojo’s appointment with foreboding. War seemed all at once much closer. At the State Department, Cordell Hull adjudged Tojo to be a ‘typical Japanese officer, with a small-bore, straight-laced, one-track mind’ and ‘rather stupid’. He feared the worst.71 President Roosevelt was, however, also listening to advice from the Joint Army-Navy Board, reminding him that the United States navy was still not ready to take on Japan in the Pacific without seriously, perhaps fatally, undermining the support it was giving to Britain in the Atlantic, still seen as the priority.72 So all chances of staving off war were not yet fully foreclosed on either the American or the Japanese side.

  However, Tojo had been ultra-hawkish in policy direction for too long to change course convincingly at the eleventh hour. And though, in contrast to the weak and vacillating Konoe, he had the appearance of being Japan’s strong man, he was no match for the military forces that he himself had helped to unleash. Despite his military background, and the retention of the position of Army Minister, he had no direct control over the operational staff of the army, let alone of the navy. Here, the personnel was unchanged. And both branches of the armed forces had gone too far down the line, wedded themselves too deeply to war preparations, to be prepared to back off now. The pressure they had exerted on Konoe, which had brought about the deadline of mid-October for the decision for war and, eventually, the fall of the Cabinet, had been predicated upon the assertion that Japan could not wait, militarily, without becoming weaker and losing advantage in the Pacific. Even though the Emperor had instructed Tojo to ignore the decision confirmed at the Imperial Conference of 6 September that had set that deadline, the premiss on which it rested could not be simply swept aside. Moreover, the Emperor’s instruction had not been formally conveyed to the High Command. The chiefs of the army and navy General Staffs, Sugiyama and Nagano, and their subordinates, therefore felt no compulsion to comply with it.73 Tojo was, in other words, still in the bind that had broken Konoe. His room for manoeuvre was limited in the extreme. Either he had to bring off at breakneck speed successful negotiations to prevent war, at least temporarily, or go to war.

  But negotiations meant substantial concessions. These had not been forthcoming under Konoe, and it was hard to see how they could become attainable under Tojo. Indeed, the first declaration of his Cabinet was to avow adherence to ‘the unshakable national policy of the Empire’. This, the declaration went on, was ‘to bring the China Incident to a successful conclusion, firmly establish the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere, and contribute to world peace’.74 But, as previous months had shown, precisely this policy had brought Japan to the brink of war. It did not offer a promising recipe for the major concessions on which peace depended.

  The alternative was to follow the military logic. This meant war before the year was out. The decision, having been put back from mid-October, could not be put off indefinitely. In fact, it would have to be taken within the following couple of weeks. This was the setting for the feverish activity that took place in the first fortnight of Tojo’s premiership.

  Tojo’s difficulties in dealing with the High Command began immediately. His first Cabinet meeting, on 18 October, the day of his government’s formation, had before it a number of hypothetical questions about the further course of the war and the prospects of Japan attaining in the immediate future even its minimum demands through negotiations with the United States. The questions were meant to serve as the basis for a re-examination of the decision of 6 September.75 The response of the High Command when it received a copy of the questions, however, was that ‘there really is no room for re-examination’. Nagano, the navy’s chief of staff, put it bluntly: ‘The decision of the Imperial Conference is not open to change.’76 His subordinates argued forcefully that a diplomatic solution at this stage could only come about through a complete volte-face, amounting ‘to throwing in our lot with the Anglo-American camp’ and incurring ‘the contempt of the Chinese and a great loss of national prestige’.77 The army’s General Staff also adopted a truculent stance. There was outright refusal to contemplate withdrawal of troops from China, in full recognition that this undermined any hope of successful negotiations. Resistance to the notion of re-examination of state policy even led to talk of overthrowing the new Cabinet no sooner than it had been formed. The unchanged stance of the High Command caused Tojo insuperable difficulties from the outset. He was unsure how to act. He told his new Navy Minister, Shimada, that he was ‘truly in the dark about what to do’.78

  The Liaison Conference, meeting every day (apart from 26 October) for over a week between 23 October and 1 November in almost permanent crisis session, faced the same quandary. The hypothetical questions on the likely course of the war and prospects for negotiations provided the framework for discussions which, despite pressure from Nagano and Sugiyama for a quick decision, were protracted and often contorted. A central issue was Japan’s ability to wage war if hostilities should drag on. This revolved largely around availability of raw materials, especially oil and steel, and her shipping capacity and shipbuilding capability. Strikingly, even at this stage the head of the Planning Board, General Suzuki Teiichi, and the newly appointed Finance Minister, Kaya Okinori, had only limited information at their disposal. Kaya complained at the inability to arrive at a ‘precise judgement, rather than a statement of generalities’.79 The new Foreign Minister, Togo, later recounted his astonishment at the lack of precise statistical data necessary for informed estimates, since the High Command was unwilling to divulge operational details or troop numbers.80 Even so, such information as was available left no room for doubt: Japan presided over insufficient raw materials, shipping and shipbuilding capacity to fight for more than two years, before the overwhelmingly superior resources of the United States would inexorably begin to tell. ‘We can manage somehow in 1942 and 1943,’ Tojo himself remarked in relation to army allocations. ‘We do not know what will happen after 1944.’81 Oil–even taking into account that which could be extracted from the Dutch East Indies–would only last for two and a half years. Synthetic oil production would not be in a position for three years to make good the shortfall, and even that would depend upon the availability of a million tons of steel and other large amounts of precious r
esources to construct the manufacturing plant. As it was, because of shortage of steel, shipbuilding capacity would fall drastically, rather than rise, by the third year of the war. The demands on state finances, meanwhile, were colossal.82 It was by any stretch of the imagination a gloomy prognosis. The military chiefs could counter the undeniable deficiencies in the long run only by pointing to the uncertainties of war, the need for clever strategy and good luck, and the necessity to maximize early advantages to prepare the ground for a longer struggle. It was planning for the best-case scenario, not preparing for the worst.

  The deliberations, given the pressure of time, were painstakingly slow, much to the irritation of the chiefs of staff. At one point, it was noted that ‘the Prime Minister took about thirty minutes to explain why every minute counted’.83 The question of the prospects in negotiations with the Americans was only reached on 30 October. It was recognized that there was no hope of immediate success. When possible Japanese concessions were broached, no changes of substance to what had been stipulated in early September proved acceptable, other than agreeing, with regard to commerce in China, that ‘the principle of equal opportunity throughout the world’ could be granted–something which Nagano said would show Japan’s generosity.84 A heated debate arose over the question of stationing troops in China. It had been decided that ‘as a diplomatic gesture’ this could be for about twenty-five years. Even that met with vehement army objections. Togo, the Foreign Minister, on the other hand, ‘forgetting reality’ (as the Conference notes had it), favoured withdrawing troops straight away. Eventually, Tojo–who as Army Minister under Konoe had been the most adamant opponent of any concession on the stationing of troops–proposed ‘that a certain number of years "close to being forever” be mentioned’. The feeling was, however, that whatever the number of years indicated, the proposal would be rejected by the United States. When it came to assessing the impact of the American conditions, were they to be accepted, all except Togo (‘who gave everyone a strange feeling’ by suggesting that everything could turn out for the better) were agreed that Japan ‘would become a third-rate country’.

  The Prime Minister drew proceedings to a close by declaring that a decision had to be reached on 1 November, even if the meeting should continue all night. He offered three possibilities for consideration. The first was that Japan should avoid war and undergo great hardships. The second was an immediate decision for war. The third was to decide on war but carry on military preparations and diplomacy side by side.85 Though there was still some hope, expressed at the Conference, that in the last case some compromise agreement could be stitched together even at this stage, this was neither the wish nor the expectation of the military representatives.

  The Liaison Conference that took place in the imperial palace on 1 November 1941–the sixty-sixth since such meetings had been established in 1937–was a historic one.86 It lasted for seventeen hours, amid great tension and some heated exchanges. By its conclusion, war was as good as certain.

  V

  Tojo’s efforts prior to the meeting to establish a consensus behind the proposal–the third of the options he had put forward on 30 October–to continue negotiations while completing preparations for military operations had not been successful. While the Army Ministry backed the proposal, the General Staff (directly responsible to the Emperor for matters relating to strategic planning) did not. Sugiyama was insistent: negotiations were at an end; the morale of the troops was at stake; there could be no pulling back; the only solution was war. His position was, therefore, clear–and different to that of the Prime Minister. In his view, the Liaison Conference had to adopt the second of the three propositions: to determine to go to war immediately. In a late-night meeting the previous day, Tojo had managed to persuade Kaya, the Finance Minister, and Suzuki, the director of the Planning Board, to support his third option. But the Foreign Minister, Togo, stood out alone for the first proposal: avoidance of war even at the cost of lasting privation. Shimada, the new Navy Minister and also present at the late-night discussion, had his own agenda. On the eve of a momentous decision, he made his approval of war dependent upon a major increase in allocation of steel for the navy, at the expense of the army and civilian use. This issue, in fact, was to take up the first half of the Liaison Conference, lasting several hours before being resolved in favour of Shimada’s demand. With that, the navy was, like the army, committed to war.87

  With the steel allocation issue decided, the Conference turned to discuss the three options proposed by Tojo. The divisions left unresolved in the prior discussions now resurfaced. Deliberations first focused upon the first proposition: not to engage in war. Kaya tried several times to press the navy on the long-term chances of success. ‘If we go along, as at present, without war, and three years hence the American fleet comes to attack us, will the Navy have a chance of winning or won’t it?’ he asked. ‘Nobody knows,’ was Nagano’s reply. Kaya asked again whether Japan could win a war on the seas. Nagano simply reasserted his view that ‘it would be easier to engage in a war now’, when the foundations had been laid, than in three years’ time. Kaya was not satisfied. ‘If there were chances of victory in the third year of the war, it would be all right to go to war,’ he stated. ‘But according to Nagano’s explanation, this is not certain. Moreover, I would judge that the chances of the United States making war on us are slight, so my conclusion must be that it would not be a good idea to declare war now.’ Togo backed the Finance Minister. Nagano pointed to the uncertainty of the future. America would be stronger in three years’ time. ‘Well, then, when can we go to war and win?’ retorted Kaya. It was the question Nagano had been waiting for. ‘Now!’ he declared, with vehemence. ‘[A better] time for war will not come later!’ He was backed in this judgement by Suzuki. Kaya remained unconvinced, but no longer pursued the first option. With that, the proposal to pull back from war at all costs was dead. Since this proposal had been tied to the assumption that its acceptance would condemn Japan to many years of hardship and privation it was hardly an attractive recommendation. Its dismissal out of hand was more or less a formality. Kaya’s stance had been largely rhetorical, since he had already committed himself at the meeting with Tojo the previous evening to the third proposition.

  The Conference then turned to the second proposition, to go to war immediately. Sugiyama produced a statement of the army’s position: abandonment of hope in successful negotiations; determination to begin war against the United States, Britain and the Netherlands at the beginning of December; negotiations with the United States to continue until then but only as a pretext to give Japan an early advantage in war; and, finally, strengthening of ties with Germany and Italy. Kaya and Togo objected straight away. It was a great turning point in Japan’s long history. The fate of the nation was at stake. ‘It’s outrageous to ask us to resort to diplomatic trickery,’ they said. ‘We can’t do it.’ They pressed for a last attempt at negotiations. The blunt and forthright Tsukada Osamu, the army vice-chief of staff, a man not given to nuance and intellectual refinement, could hold back no longer. He was impatient with the calls for further negotiations. He wanted a decision on going to war immediately, which he specified as 1 December, and only then to consider the question of diplomacy. Nagano’s deputy, the navy vice-chief of staff Ito Seiichi, suddenly threw a new date into the discussion. ‘As far as the Navy is concerned,’ he interjected, ‘you can negotiate until 20 November.’ Tsukada immediately rejoined: ‘As for the Army, negotiations will be all right until 13 November, but no later.’ The military leaders were, therefore, now introducing dates not previously discussed, and imposing an even tighter deadline on negotiations than had been envisaged up to now. Togo was appalled. ‘I cannot accept deadlines or conditions if they make it unlikely that diplomacy will succeed,’ he objected. ‘You must obviously give up the idea of going to war.’

  It was by now impossible to separate discussion of the second proposal (an immediate decision for war) from the third (simultan
eous negotiations and war preparations). Tojo and his Foreign Minister both sought guarantees from the army that ‘if diplomacy is successful we will give up going to war’. ‘That’s impossible,’ Tsukada shot back. The chiefs of staff agreed that this would throw military preparations into confusion. When, in an aside to his deputy, Shimada suggested negotiations could be continued until two days before the outbreak of war, Tsukada brusquely told him: ‘Please keep quiet. What you’ve just said won’t do.’ Tempers were fraying. Tojo suggested a twenty-minute break. During that time, the army and navy chiefs of operational planning, Tanaka and Fukudome, were called in. It was eventually agreed that negotiations could continue until five days prior to the outbreak of war. This was stipulated as 30 November. Under further pressure, Tsukada accepted that this meant midnight on that date. The final time for decision was now fixed. If diplomacy were successful by that date, war would be called off. But if diplomacy failed by this tight deadline, Japan would go to war.

  By now it was 10 o’clock in the evening and the Conference had been in session for eleven hours. There was still the question of the negotiating terms to discuss. Before the Conference was the plan already agreed in essentials two days earlier. The plan posited a comprehensive settlement of the issues separating Japan and the United States. The only concession on the stationing of troops in China was that this was foreseen as lasting for twenty-five years. On troops in Indochina, it was agreed to evacuate them once the ‘China Incident’ was solved and a ‘just peace’ concluded in the Far East. The principle of non-discrimination in trade was accepted, if applied throughout the world (something quite unachievable in practice). On the Tripartite Pact, Japan’s own discretion in deciding whether to take action was reiterated. Finally, Japan continued to reject the inclusion of the American ‘Four Principles’ in any formal agreement.88 The plan offered only a marginal adjustment to the position effectively already rejected by the United States. It stood, therefore, scant chance of success now. But Togo now surprised the Conference by referring to this as Plan A and introducing a Plan B which had not been the subject of any prior consultation with the military leaders. Sugiyama had, before the Conference began, sought and obtained from Tojo assurances that there would be no reduction in the terms proposed under what was now Plan A. But precisely that was now on the table as Plan B.