The Fugu Plan

by Marvin Tokayer

  Faithfully,

  Stephen S. Wise

  This was the man Mitsuzo Tamura wanted to convince of the wisdom of settling hundreds of thousands of Jewish refugees in Japan's Chinese empire.

  Tamura's meeting with Stephen Wise took place early in 1940 in Wise's office. Physically, it was Mutt and Jeff. Tamura was short, even for a Japanese. Wise was huge - six foot three, solid, an expansive man of broad gestures, a man who greeted even strangers with a warm handshake and an arm around the shoulders. And to Wise, Tamura was not a stranger. The rabbi had spoken often to Franz Hirschland about Tamura while Hirschland was trying to persuade him actually to meet with the man.

  Thus, in spite of his feelings toward the Japanese, Wise felt he had no choice but to meet Tamura. He agreed to Hirschland's suggestion that Tamura come to his office.

  Rabbi Wise's feelings, stated so bluntly in the 1938 letter to Lew Zikman, had never been conveyed directly to the Japanese. Nevertheless his negative attitude toward that nation's policies were as well known as the strength of his influence. From the moment in Shanghai that Inuzuka, Yasue and Ishiguro received word from New York that Tamura had been given an appointment with the Jewish leader they were on tenterhooks: this was the time for hooking the fugu.

  Like the three in Shanghai, Tamura was aware that Wise wasthe man. The enthusiasm of Gerson, Grunebaum and Hirschland was important only insofar as it was indicative of his response. If Stephen Wise was interested in the plan; if Stephen Wise began asking questions in his proverbially direct and highly perceptive manner; if Stephen Wise nodded, ran his hands through his wavy gray hair, developed a faraway look in his eyes; if he could be led to imagine that thousands of Jews could be rescued from the brutality and death they were now condemned to suffer in Europe . . . if all these responses, if any one of them came out of the meeting, then the bait had been taken and those who had had a hand in reeling the fugu in would receive their just rewards.

  Wise's office was immense and practically monastic in its simplicity. Aside from a desk lamp that spread a wide circle of light in one corner of the office, all was in shadow. The two men greeted each other cordially. Tamura took the offered chair and after a few moments of introductory small talk, brought the conversation around to the purpose of the visit.

  Throughout the brief meeting Tamura never discussed specifics. He spoke of the respect the Japanese people always held for the Jews; of the close and mutually successful business and cultural ties that had developed between Jews and Japanese from as early as the 1860s. He informed Wise that a Jew had played a crucial role in the writing of Japan's first constitution, and he referred to the fact that not only had the first English-language newspaper been founded by a Jew (Raphael Schoyer), but that the most influential present-day English newspaper, The Japan Advertiser, read even by the Emperor himself, was owned by a Jew. Tamura described the current position of Jews within the borders of Japan's authority. Jews were living in Kobe and Yokohama; and in Manchukuo and China there were communities in many of the more important commercial cities. All of these people lived in peace and security because, as Foreign Minister Hachiro Arita had stated on the floor of the Diet, Japan was not a racist country: she had a policy of treating Jews just as she treated all other foreigners. No doubt Rabbi Wise was familiar with the three conferences on Far Eastern Jews which had been convened strictly under the auspices of the Jews themselves during the past three years?

  Wise nodded; he was indeed aware of the conferences, he had received memos of their discussions and copies of their closing resolutions.

  Tamura continued. Japan, of course, is well aware of the difficult position in which many European Jews now find themselves. Would it not be mutually beneficial if a certain number of these European Jews - a certain sizable number, he said, without using any precise figure were to emigrate to some prearranged settlement area in either Manchukuo or China?

  Rabbi Wise did not run his hands through his hair, nor was there a faraway look in his eyes. He simply watched his visitor politely but steadily.

  Japan would be honored, Tamura went on, to have such a settlement. It would, of course, entail some expense which Japan herself could not be expected to pay. However, beyond the basic cost of construction of housing, factories, roads, and other amenities, Japan would not be interested in cash as such but would be happy to accept trade arrangements with the United States for such items as industrial machinery, scrap metal and fuel.

  Not authorized to discuss the plan in any greater detail than this, Tamura said little more and then waited for the response. From Rabbi Wise's lack of obvious enthusiasm, he didn't expect much. But even less did he expect the response he got.

  "The Japanese authorities certainly seem to have persuaded a great many otherwise perceptive people that they have the interest of the Jewish people at heart," Wise said without hostility. "But I have noted, over the past several years, that the Japanese military . . . the military is, I believe the organization now in control in Japanese-occupied Manchuria and China?"

  Tamura nodded noncommittally.

  "... The Japanese military have been excessively, if not inhumanely, harsh with other minorities who have come under their power. The Manchurians, for example, or the Koreans who loathe the Japanese as perhaps no other conquered peoples in the history of mankind have loathed their overlords. Certainly the Chinese, particularly the residents of Nanking excluding, naturally, the three hundred thousand civilians who were massacred after that city surrendered in 1937 - certainly the Chinese would have little cause to recommend living in Japanese-controlled lands."

  Stephen Wise had not become a public spokesman for no reason. He spoke calmly, politely; his tone of voice was so reasonable as to be almost friendly.

  Not knowing what to say, Tamura said nothing. "Do you represent the Japanese military government, Mr. Tamura?" Wise asked. Tamura shook his head.

  "Has this matter, this settlement plan, been discussed with our State Department?" Wise asked.

  "I believe it has not," Tamura replied with all the calm he could muster. "It was felt, I believe, that the American Jewish community could deal with Japan directly. Or perhaps that the American Jewish community could use its considerable influence as a kind of 'power behind the throne', so to speak, to convince the government to trust Japan in this - and perhaps in other matters."

  "I see," Wise said, leaning back in his swivel chair as if weighing several possibilities. Then he spoke.

  "Let me say at the outset, Mr. Tamura, that I must correct one false impression you seem to have. American Jews are far far from being in any way what you referred to as a 'power behind the throne.' Our influence is exactly the same as that of any small minority in a democracy - no more and no less. Now, as to the question of America's exporting to Japan items such as fuel oil, heavy machinery and scrap metal.... These are items which might possibly be considered war material and are at any rate very similar to, if not identical to, the things covered by the 'moral embargo' which the American government has had in effect for several months now. Wouldn't you think, Mr. Tamura, that it might be a rather unpatriotic thing for American Jews to do, even to discuss the future export of these items to a non-allied country without consulting at length with the State Department?"

  The word "unpatriotic" rang a familiar bell. Hirschland had mentioned to Tamura that Wise was a "super-patriot," that he felt that the United States was the only really safe place for Jews these days in the whole world, and that Jews and especially the Jewish leaders ought to bend over backward not to show even a hint of disloyalty to the policies of the American government. But the question of whether he, Tamura, thought it would be unpatriotic clearly had been rhetorical. The Jewish leader had risen from his chair and was now towering over him, a friendly giant. Fearing the meeting might end on this negative note, Tamura spoke quickly, reluctantly rising from his chair.

  "Dr. Wise, there is no way of really knowing a thing except by seeing it first-hand. Please, come t
o Japan, to Manchukuo and China, come and see for yourself how some Jews are now living in the Japanese Empire and how so many more could be settled there safely and happily. If you yourself can not come, send a delegate anyone you can trust to report back honestly. We are completely open to investigation by anyone you send."

  They had reached the door of the office. Rabbi Wise was silent for an instant, once more simply looking steadily at his visitor.

  "It has been very interesting making your acquaintance, Mr. Tamura," he said courteously stretching out one hand to Tamura while opening the door with the other. "And I hope you have a good trip back to Japan."

  With no alternative, Tamura shook the hand and passed through the open door. He recognized his failure; but did not know what to do next. Wanting only to retreat to the familiarity of his hotel room, he left the building directly. Had he not, he might have overheard Rabbi Stephen Wise exploding to one of his assistants "I have no time for this nonsense!"

  In spite of the discouraging report Tamura sent back on his meeting with Wise, the clique in Shanghai continued to hope that something might come from it. Inuzuka even persuaded Ellis Hayim, a highly respected Sephardi in Shanghai, to send Wise the following cable: referring YOUR discussion TAMURA REGARDING REFUGEE IMMIGRANTS BELIEVE JAPANESE GOVERNMENT FAVORABLE STOP PRESENCE YOUR DELEGATION ESSENTIAL STOP REPLY TAMURA [SIGNED] ELLIS HAYIM. And only a few days later, the American Jewish Congress received a copy of a confidential resolution passed by the third Conference of Far Eastern Jewish Communities held in Harbin on December 23-26, 1939:

  We are also grateful to Japan ... for the kind treatment given the immigrants (refugees] as well as the Jewish residents. Jewish refugees are overflowing in some places in the Far East, particularly in Shanghai. Several thousand have no place in which to live and are being accommodated in school buildings and the like. We, the world Jewish community, will be much obliged to Japan if she offers to these refugees some place to live and settle comfortably in the Far East through imperial Japanese effort. In the case of Japanese compliance (i.e. if Japan offers some land) we shall be responsible for the construction of that settlement and hereby promise to cooperate in building a new Asia as much as we can.

  But by the end of January, 1940, the "experts" were forced to face reality: there had been no immediate response; there would be no delayed reaction. There was no delegation planning on visiting Japan to investigate further. At their headquarters on the battleship Izumo, Inuzuka, Yasue and Ishiguro writhed in disappointment and frustration that their fugu plan had been rejected completely out of hand. What had gone wrong? they asked themselves again and again. Why does Stephen Wise not investigate the idea for himself? Just as there had been no spokesman for the Japanese who could convince Stephen Wise of the possibilities of the fugu plan, so there was no American Jew in Shanghai who could explain Wise's response to the Japanese.

  Ironically, within months of his meeting with Tamura, Rabbi Wise began softening his animosity toward Japan. In July, 1940, he wrote to Dr. Karl Kindermann, a German Jew then residing in Tokyo:

  . . . any offer to settle Jewish refugees in Japan which would come from authoritative sources in Japan would certainly receive the fullest consideration of Jewish organizations. There will however, you will understand, be no need of persons who have authorizations neither from Jewish organizations nor from the Japanese government to initiate such negotiations.

  Tamura, moreover, did not give up. He continued his discussions with Gerson, Grunebaum and Hirschland and also made an approach to the New York headquarters of the one organization that could move refugees, the Joint Distribution Committee. The JDC was a little more receptive to the idea than Wise had been. But when its officials contacted the Japanese Consulate to find out who this Tamura was, they were informed that he had no government standing whatever. Since the Japanese Gaimusho below the highest levels was strongly pro-Nazi, the explanation for this disowning of Tamura is not hard to find. The Nazis did have some success in fostering anti-Semitism in Japan, particularly where it mattered most - in the government bureaucracy and the military. A sizable segment of the Japanese leadership believed, in 1939, that "any use of Jews would destroy the significance of the holy war and leave the empire to the same bitter ordeal ... as that of other countries with Jews." The influence of this view was to grow as war fever heightened. Time began to run out. In July 1940, Yosuke Matsuoka, president of the South Manchurian Railway and ally of the industrialist Ayukawa in his scheme to settle Jews in the empire, left his railway post to become the foreign minister of Japan. In that position, however, he had greater things on his mind than a scheme to rescue Jews. On the contrary, by the end of the month, he led the government into a military alliance with Germany and Italy. This tripartite pact, would not be publically signed until September. However, even its initial negotiation signaled, for the time being, at least, the end oijugu. No matter what agreements were reached now with the Jewish powers, they would be totally negated when the military alliance between Japan and the Jews' arch-enemy was announced. There would be no Jewish investment. There would be no refugee settlement. There would be no Jewish-inspired shift in the anti-Japanese opinions of America's public. Six years of planning, bridge-building and fence-mending between the Japanese and the Jews would be consumed in the explosion of Jewish wrath at the Pact.

  Yet it is central to Oriental philosophy that the only constant is change. The fugu plan, in the exact form which they had developed it, might be finished. But, after the inevitable furor caused by the announcement of the Tripartite Pact, there would still be Jews in the Japanese Empire. There would still be Jews controlling American public opinion. There would still be Jews who had the ear of the United States president. Could not some indirect use be made of these factors? Japan, after all, was not required by the Tripartite Pact to annihilate all the Jews within her borders. Might there not then be some way to keep the options open, something that could be salvaged from all these plans so carefully laid and bridges so carefully built?

  Toward the middle of August 1940, the foreign minister learned that one of his low-level officers in Kovno, Lithuania, in complete disregard of orders, had issued transit visas to several thousand Jewish refugees, some of whom had highly suspect destination visas for Curacao, some of whom had no destination visas at all. Logically, reasonably, the Foreign Ministry should have disavowed this entirely personal action on the part of the young consul and refused to honor the visas. Matsuoka's Ministry issued no disavowal. In Japan, as elsewhere, there is more than one way to skin a blowfish.

  5

  THERE WAS a chill in the air on September I, I940 as Consul Senpo Sugihara led his family to the Kovno railway station. The Russians had given him until that day to leave the country, and in the two months that had passed since they had annexed Lithuania, Sugihara had seen nothing to make him question their sincerity. It wasn't far from the Japanese Consulate to the station, but the departing diplomat had left plenty of time to cover the distance. He had no doubt his path would be jammed with Jewish refugees, striving even at this final moment to have the precious transit visa stamped on their papers. He was not mistaken. Sugihara did what he could - in the street, in the station, even through the window of the train car - until the moment the train actually began to pull away from the platform. Then he collapsed into his seat, drained and exhausted. During the past nineteen days, he had stamped and signed nearly six thousand visas entitling their bearers to remain in Japan for a maximum of twenty-one days while in transit between any two countries. Whether Tokyo would honor the visas, he did not know. Other than a cable ordering him temporarily to join the Embassy in Berlin, Sugihara had heard nothing from the Gaimusho. He had done all he could. Resting his feet on the seat opposite, he watched his six-year-old son staring entranced at the colorful landscape of Lithuania steadily disappearing to the north. Sugihara thanked his ancestors for having been born Japanese.

  Behind the departing consul, in Kovno and Vilna and i
n several of the smaller towns of Lithuania, six thousand Jews privately pondered the strange new stamps that guaranteed nothing more nor less than the right to enter a land so far away and alien that it might as well not exist at all. Then they carefully put their papers away in safe places and began worrying about a more immediate problem. Having a place to go, even temporarily, was one thing. Getting there was another. The Soviets were creating Utopia in Lithuania. One didn't ask to leave Utopia. Anyone wanting to leave must either be mad - or "unredeemably bourgeois." For either condition, there were only two responses: internal exile to Siberia, or execution. Such harsh controls were common knowledge to the Lithuanians. Many of them had already "disappeared." Why should anyone think it would not happen to the refugees? A Japanese transit visa would turn out to be like an insurance policy, the cynics were saying: before you can cash in on it, you have to be a corpse! The pessimists agreed, recalling the fate of the Jews of Lemberg. In 1939, after Stalin had successfully laid claim to eastern Poland, the new Russian authorities had let it be known that anyone who wished to move west, out of the Russian-controlled zone, could simply petition for permission. A group of Jews from the small city of Lemberg had done exactly that, and soon afterwards were asked to gather their belongings and board a train. The train did, indeed, move them out, but not to the west; the Jews of Lemberg went east, straight to the labor camps of Siberia. Hearing the story of the Lemberg Jews, the holders of Japanese transit visas had no doubt that the most dangerous part of their exodus asking leave of the Russian "pharaohs" - still lay ahead.

  Every day that passed seemed to make their position more precarious. Hostilities were intensifying all over Europe. Even unfamiliar Asia - a continent of little previous concern to the refugees was boiling with war. Indeed, they asked each other after the formation of the Axis alliance was announced, what hope was there that Japan, this new ally of Nazi Germany, might honor their transit visas? In every tiny apartment, in every Joint Distribution Committee boarding house and relief kitchen, the debate raged: how could a person best secure his own personal survival by staying put or by trying to leave? Further north, in four small towns where the famous Mir Yeshiva had taken refuge, the debate had broader overtones. On the Mir's decision would rest the future of Jewish scholarship.