by Ian Kershaw
Hull’s proposal, compiled without consulting either military chiefs or the representatives of Britain or other unofficial allies, was presented to Kurusu and Nomura late that same afternoon. Its ten points were an uncompromising restatement of American basic principles on which all previous attempts at negotiation had foundered. They made new demands, and were much sharper in tone than any previous American proposals.120 They summarily required Japan to withdraw her troops from China as well as Indochina, to renounce her extraterritorial rights and concessions dating back to the turn of the century, following the Boxer Rebellion, to recognize no other Chinese government but that of Chiang Kai-shek, and effectively to abrogate the Tripartite Pact. The United States in return would unfreeze Japanese assets and work towards a new trade agreement as a basis for restabilizing economic relations. Hull suggested the proposal might open the path to long-term discussions towards peace in the Pacific. This was simply disingenuous. Hull was clear in his own mind that negotiations had run into the buffers.121 ‘It’s as far as we can go,’ he told the dismayed Japanese envoys, who, recognizing the certain peremptory rejection of the proposal in Tokyo, wanted to discuss it informally with a view to tempering its demands before sending it on.122 Hull later acknowledged that ‘we had no serious thought that Japan would accept our proposal’.123
Predictably, the ‘Ten Points’ were seen, when the cable arrived in Tokyo on 27 November, as an ultimatum–practically an insult.124 There was anger as well as consternation among Japan’s leaders. More than all else, the demand to withdraw from the whole of China infuriated them. They took this to apply to Manchuria, too, which would indeed have meant a return to the situation before 1931, and a serious undermining of Japan’s economy. Hull had, in fact, not intended this specific reading. Manchuria, for him, was not an immediate concern.125 The misunderstanding had arisen from poor, overhasty drafting. It was a significant irritant. But it probably made no appreciable difference to Japan’s response.
Those who had pressed for continued negotiations in the hope of avoiding war now felt the rug pulled from beneath them. For those, mainly in the army and navy General Staffs, who had urged war, the ‘Hull Note’ (as it later came to be called) was a heaven-sent opportunity. The army, in particular, had feared all along that Plan B might pave the way for an accommodation. They had wanted tough new conditions on oil supplies inserted into Japanese demands, which would effectively have sabotaged any possibility of the plan being accepted.126 Now the General Staff reacted with relief, even elation: ‘This must be divine grace; this makes it easy for the Empire to cross the Rubicon and determine on going to war. That’s great, just great!’ was one response.127
Among the last pleas, based on dread at the consequences of military conflict, to continue negotiations and avoid war, even if it meant prolonged poverty and hardship for Japan, were those of a number of the ‘senior statesmen’, the former Prime Ministers who met Tojo and four members of his Cabinet on the morning of 29 November. But by this point even Togo conceded that negotiations had reached the end of the road. Tojo himself now spoke forcefully in favour of military action. Whatever their doubts, none of those present voiced fundamental opposition.128 Tojo recalled after the war the tenor of opinion expressed at the meeting, that ‘if this war was for self-existence, then we must be prepared to wage war, even if we foresaw eventual defeat’.129
The Emperor still had his own anxieties. His brother, Prince Takamatsu, tried on 30 November to persuade him not to take the empire to war. But when Hirohito summoned his navy leaders later that day to ascertain the readiness for war, the Navy Minister, Shimada, expressed confidence in victory. Nagano told him that the navy’s large task force, including six aircraft carriers, was already at sea and steaming towards Pearl Harbor. Under sealed orders, it had set sail from Hitokappu Bay in the remote southern Kurile islands at 6.00 a.m. on 26 November, and was by now part-way across the Pacific, some 1,800 nautical miles from Hawaii.130 Nagano had already revealed, with some reluctance and in a low voice, to the Liaison Conference the previous evening that ‘zero hour is 8 December’. Even the Prime Minister learned this now for the first time. Surprise was of the essence. Negotiations would have to continue, but only as a cloak to conceal the impending strike.131
Only the Emperor’s sanction for war remained still to be granted. Kido had told Hirohito that ‘the decision this time will be enormously important. Once you grant the imperial sanction, there can be no going back. If you have even the slightest doubt, make absolutely sure until you are convinced.’132
The Imperial Conference met in the afternoon of 1 December. Nineteen leaders of the government and the military assembled before the Emperor, seated as usual on a dais in front of a gold screen at the end of the room.133 First Tojo, then–at great length–the Foreign Minister, Togo, rehearsed the tale of the breakdown of diplomatic negotiations with the United States. Other ministers described the readiness for war in their respective spheres. The most important statement was that of Nagano, speaking for both the navy and the army General Staffs. Preparations for military operations were complete, he said. ‘We are now in a position to begin these operations, according to predetermined plans, as soon as we receive the Imperial Command to resort to force.’134 Hara began his usual questioning by remarking that, although they were dealing with a very grave subject, ‘every step that could be taken has been taken’, so that he had ‘nothing in particular to add’.135 He ended–speaking, as always, on behalf of the Emperor–by stating that Japan could not tolerate the ‘utterly conceited, obstinate, and disrespectful’ attitude of the United States:
If we were to give in, we would give up in one stroke not only our gains in the Sino-Japanese and Russo-Japanese wars, but also the benefits of the Manchurian Incident. This we cannot do. We are loath to compel our people to suffer even greater hardships, on top of what they have endured during the four years since the China Incident. But it is clear that the existence of our country is being threatened, that the great achievements of the Emperor Meiji would all come to nought, and that there is nothing else we can do. Therefore, [he concluded] I believe that if negotiations with the United States are hopeless, then the commencement of war, in accordance with the decision of the previous Imperial Conference, is inevitable.
His final comment was to exhort the government to look for an early settlement of what promised to be a long war, and to do everything to prevent internal unrest.136 Tojo assured him that this would be done and adjourned the meeting with expressions of loyalty to the Emperor. Sugiyama noted that ‘His Majesty nodded in agreement with the statements being made, and displayed no signs of uneasiness. He seemed to be in an excellent mood, and we were filled with awe.’137 All those present bowed as the Emperor, expressionless, withdrew. The proposal for war, signed by all those present, was delivered shortly afterwards to Hirohito. After briefly reflecting on the gravity of his decision, and remarking that to accept Hull’s demands would have been humiliating, the Emperor put his seal to the documents. With that, he gave his approval to war.138
VII
The next day, he was fully initiated into the military plans by Sugiyama and Nagano. They explained the details of the attack on Pearl Harbor on 8 December (Japanese time, 7 December in Hawaii). Nagano explained that the day, a Sunday, was ideal since the American warships would be at anchor. He asked for the Emperor’s approval. It was swiftly given. Yamamoto, in command of the Combined Fleet, was immediately informed. He telegraphed the task force at 5.30 p.m. that day: ‘Commencement of hostilities set for 8 December. Carry out attack as planned.’139
The pretence of maintaining diplomatic negotiations until the very last moment, to maintain the element of military surprise, required delicate timing. A lengthy document, comprising fourteen points, was drawn up. It ended by stating that hope of cooperation with the United States had finally been lost, and that no accord could be reached even if negotiations were to continue.140 It was meant to be presented to the American gover
nment at 1.00 p.m. in Washington (7.30 a.m. in Hawaii) half an hour before the attack on Pearl Harbor began.141 This was cutting it fine–in fact, too fine. Incompetence by the Japanese embassy in Washington meant the decoding of the vital message was inexcusably delayed. And the fourteenth and last point was deliberately held back as long as possible in Tokyo. This part of the text was eventually decoded only by 12.30 p.m., and a clean copy of the entire text was not ready until 1.50 p.m.142
The American administration had itself, however, been able to intercept the Japanese cable. Roosevelt received the first thirteen parts at 9.30 p.m. on 6 December, remarking: ‘This means war.’143 (The President had sent a personal message to Hirohito earlier that evening, seeking the withdrawal of Japanese troops from Indochina to preserve peace in the region. But he was aware how futile the attempt was. It was duly dismissed out of hand by Tojo, without bothering to put it before the Emperor, who was said to have been annoyed by it.144) Hull, Stimson and Knox had sight of the decoded text an hour earlier. They arranged to meet next morning. They had not thought it necessary to meet earlier, or to issue special warnings to military bases to add to the earlier warnings already dispatched to American commanders across the Pacific, including Hawaii and the Philippines, that war with Japan was imminent.145 A Japanese attack was by now expected any day–though no one imagined this would be on Pearl Harbor.146 The sighting on 5 December (Washington time) of three Japanese convoys off the southern tip of Indochina and heading into the Gulf of Siam suggested that the attack was likely, and in the very near future, against Malaya or Siam–at any rate somewhere in south-east Asia and the south Pacific. A direct attack on American possessions was thought less likely (though when the first news of Pearl Harbor came through, one immediate response was that it was a mistake, and that the Philippines had been attacked).147
But incompetence was not confined to the Japanese embassy. The office of Admiral Stark, chief of US Naval Operations, had possession of the last part of the decoded text no later than 11.30 a.m. (Washington time; 6.00 a.m. in Hawaii) on 7 December. George Marshall, the army chief of staff, also had the decoded message by that time. He and Stark spoke twice on the telephone. They eventually decided to send out a warning. It reached the commanders in San Francisco, the Panama Canal and the Philippines by noon, Washington time. But atmospheric conditions blocked communication with Hawaii. Neither the direct scramble telephone nor naval radio communications were used. Remarkably, the message was sent instead by Western Union’s commercial telegram service, which had no direct line to Honolulu. It still had not arrived in Hawaii when the Japanese attack began.148
Out of a clear blue sky, the first wave of Japanese dive-bombers began their attack on the American fleet at anchor in Pearl Harbor at 7.50 a.m., Hawaiian time (1.20 p.m. in Washington).149 When the attack subsided at 9.45 a.m. and the pall of smoke over the big naval base finally cleared, the mighty battleships Arizona, Oklahoma and California had been sunk, the West Virginia was going down in flames, the Nevada was aground and a further three battleships were damaged. In all, eighteen ships were sunk or damaged; 188 planes had been destroyed and a further 159 damaged. The death toll of American servicemen reached 2,403; another 1,178 were wounded.150 But, crucially, the aircraft carriers were at sea. The submarine pens also escaped the bombing. And, in fact, most of the damaged ships turned out to be repairable and later returned to action. So it was a mighty–though not a knockout–blow to the American war machine.
Nor was there any follow-up to Pearl Harbor, an indication of the barren strategic armoury of the Japanese in their attempt to inflict a decisive defeat upon the United States. Yamamoto had, in fact, foreseen this crippling limitation in a private letter written the previous January. ‘Should hostilities once break out between Japan and the United States,’ he had written, ‘it is not enough that we take Guam and the Philippines, nor even Hawaii and San Francisco. We should have to march into Washington and sign the treaty (i.e. dictate the terms of peace) in the White House’.151
Even so, Pearl Harbor had been a massive shock.152 The wider Japanese offensive had also begun. By an error in timing, the assault on the Malay peninsula had started even before the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Landings were soon under way as well in the Philippines. In the early hours, Singapore was bombed. Hong Kong was attacked some hours later. As news of the Japanese military successes was broadcast early in the morning of 8 December in Tokyo, bystanders in the streets applauded.153 Japan was still not officially at war. At 11 o’clock that morning, seven and a half hours since the news of the successful onslaught on Pearl Harbor had reached the imperial palace, Emperor Hirohito put his seal on the declaration of war. He was said to have been ‘in a splendid mood’ that day.154
In Washington, Cordell Hull received the news of Pearl Harbor from the President just after two o’clock. He was about to receive Nomura and Kurusu. A quarter of an hour later, the Japanese envoys entered the room. The Secretary of State refused to shake hands, and left them standing. He looked at the final Japanese note. ‘In all my fifty years of public service,’ he then witheringly declared, ‘I have never seen a document that was more crowded with infamous falsehoods and distortions–infamous falsehoods and distortions on a scale so huge that I never imagined until today that any Government on this planet was capable of uttering them.’ He nodded curtly towards the door. Nomura and Kurusu were peremptorily dismissed.155
At one o’clock the next day, President Roosevelt addressed Congress. He told the packed chamber of the House of Representatives: ‘Yesterday, December 7, 1941–a date which will live in infamy–the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.’ Applause repeatedly broke into his speech, which ended by asking Congress to declare ‘that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire’. A roar of approval greeted the words. When the formal vote was taken, a single Representative, Jeannette Rankin of Montana, was opposed to war, as she had been in 1917. All other 388 members of the House of Representatives, and all members of the Senate, were in favour.156 The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor had ensured that the United States had never been more united. Without the Japanese attack, it is doubtful that Roosevelt could have attained a declaration of war in the Pacific from Congress. Pearl Harbor had removed the need to put that to the test. The President signed the declaration of war at 4.10 p.m. Great Britain and the governments of the British Commonwealth followed immediately with their own declarations. The Pacific War had begun.157
VIII
Less than four years later, Japan lay prostrate, two of her cities obliterated by the only nuclear bombs so far to be dropped in war, her population defeated and demoralized, her economy wasted, the country under enemy occupation. These were the dire consequences of the fateful choices made by Japan’s leaders. How open and unconstrained had those choices been? And when, if at all, did they narrow down to the point where options had in effect disappeared, where no real choice remained? What by then, if not earlier, were the genuine limitations on Japan’s freedom of choice? And is it possible to distinguish between objective constraints on decisions, and psychological, subjective determinants?
The questions are easier to pose than to answer. But it seems possible to highlight a number of crucial steps taken by Japan’s civilian and military leadership, backed by a manipulated public opinion, which had the effect of significantly and consistently narrowing the range of choice available, until options all but disappeared in the autumn of 1941.
The first narrowing of options had begun way back in 1931, with the ‘Mukden Incident’ that led to the effective annexation of Manchuria. Increasing unrest within Japan had accompanied mounting animosity towards western industrial competitors, especially the United States and Great Britain, in part because of high tariffs on imported Japanese goods. Hostility towards the perceived disadvantages of the postwar ‘Wa
shington system’ shaped a climate which fostered nationalism and militaristic tendencies. Neo-mercantilist tendencies, looking to the benefits of autarky to be derived from a colonial system, or at least territories dependent upon Japan, gained ground.158 This was the backcloth to the support given by the Japanese government to the independent action taken by the Kwantung Army in Manchuria. Japan had had a stake in Manchuria since the war with China in 1894–5. Control of the region would strengthen Japan economically. And it would bolster Japanese defences against the Soviet Union, seen as a growing threat. So the reasons–economic, military and in terms of domestic politics–for supporting the independently initiated aggression by the Kwantung Army are evident. But they did not compel that support. The Japanese government had a choice. In deciding to back aggression, it gave a substantial boost to the military in Japan, which was now in the process of regaining much of the influence in domestic politics that it had lost in the 1920s, and was beginning to flex its muscles. And it also promoted the populist nationalist rhetoric which was starting to sound ever more shrill. In years to come Manchuria became almost totemic: a return to the ‘Washington system’ that had existed before 1931, with its implied exploitation of Japan by the western powers, was invariably put forward as a prospect that could not be contemplated. Manchuria in this way helped to shape later decisions.