by Toland, John
3.
On the other side of the world Matsuoka’s ambassador in Washington, the good-natured, one-eyed Kichisaburo Nomura, a retired admiral, was already endeavoring to patch up the differences between Japan and America with Secretary of State Cordell Hull. Their talks had been inspired by two energetic Catholic priests, Bishop James E. Walsh, Superior General of the Maryknoll Society, and his assistant, Father James M. Drought. Some six months earlier, armed with an introductory letter from Lewis L. Strauss of Kuhn, Loeb & Company, the two priests had gone to Tokyo, where they visited Tadao Ikawa, a director of the Central Agricultural and Forestry Bank. They persuaded him that men of good will in both Japan and America could help bring about a peaceful settlement, and showed Ikawa a memorandum calling for a Japanese “Far Eastern Monroe Doctrine” and a stand against Communism, “which is not a political form of government but a corroding social disease that becomes epidemic.” Ikawa was impressed by the memorandum and felt sure any reasonable Japanese would agree to its terms. During several years’ service in the United States as an official of the Finance Ministry, he had made numerous friends in New York banking circles and acquired an American wife. He assumed that the proposal had the backing of President Roosevelt, since Father Drought had mentioned he was acting with the approval of “top personnel” in the U. S. government and, fired with enthusiasm, introduced the clergymen to Prime Minister Konoye and Matsuoka. The former suggested that Ikawa sound out the Army in the person of an influential colonel in the War Ministry named Hideo Iwakuro. He was a unique combination of idealism and intrigue and was just the man to put the priests’ project into action: he ardently believed that peace with America was Japan’s salvation, and plotting was a way of life with him. Behind his impish smile was one of the most agile brains in the Army. An espionage and intelligence expert, he had founded the prestigious Nakano School for spies, which was at the time sending out groups of well-trained agents throughout Asia imbued with his own idealistic views of a free amalgamation of Asian nations. It was he, too, who had dreamed up the idea for wrecking the Chinese economy by flooding that country with a billion and a half dollars’ worth of counterfeit yen. He had also succeeded in getting refuge in Manchuria for some five thousand wandering Jews who had fled Hitler, by persuading the Kwantung Army leaders on grounds that no true Japanese could deny: a debt was owed the Jews; the Jewish firm of Kuhn, Loeb & Company had helped finance the Russo-Japanese War.
Colonel Iwakuro arranged an interview for the two Americans with General Akira Muto, chief of the Military Affairs Bureau, and the latter was equally impressed by their proposal; he gave it his blessing. Around New Year’s the two priests returned to America, where they made an ally out of Postmaster General Frank C. Walker, a prominent Catholic. He set up an interview with President Roosevelt. The President met Bishop Walsh, read his long, enthusiastic memorandum and passed it on to Hull with the notation: “… What do you think we should do? FDR.”
“In general, I am skeptical whether the plan offered is a practical one at this time,” Hull replied in a note drafted largely by Dr. Stanley Hornbeck, his senior adviser on Far Eastern affairs, well known for his sympathy toward China and hostility toward Japan.c “It seems to me that there is little or no likelihood that the Japanese Government and the Japanese people would in good faith accept any such arrangement at this stage.”
But the President was so intrigued by the idea that he asked Postmaster General Walker to turn over his duties to an assistant and give Bishop Walsh whatever assistance he could. As a “presidential agent,” Walker was empowered to set up secret headquarters on the eighteenth floor of the Berkshire Hotel in New York City, and was given a code name, “John Doe.”
Late in January, Bishop Walsh cabled Ikawa: AS A RESULT OF MEETING WITH THE PRESIDENT, HOPEFUL OF PROGRESS, AWAITING DEVELOPMENTS. Ikawa wondered if he should go to Washington as well, to help the priests and Ambassador Nomura, who was about to sail for the United States, find a formula for coexistence. The admiral was a straightforward, honest man of good will and good nature, with many American friends, including President Roosevelt, but unfortunately had no foreign office experience and little aptitude for diplomacy.
Ikawa went to Colonel Iwakuro for advice. The colonel encouraged him to go and, moreover, wangled a commercial passport for him, as well as money for the trip from two industrialists who were willing to make a contribution toward peace. Ikawa would assist Nomura on the pretext of negotiating with American businessmen. When word of the trip leaked out, Matsuoka (just before his trip to Europe) accused the Army of “taking upon itself negotiations with America” and of “putting up the money.” War Minister Hideki Tojo knew nothing of the arrangement and summoned Iwakuro to his office. Iwakuro was so persuasive that Tojo categorically, and in good faith, informed the Foreign Ministry that the Army had no knowledge whatsoever of the Ikawa mission.
It was a dangerous game but Iwakuro felt that friendly relations with America were well worth it, and playing dangerous games was his hobby. He thought this ended his part in the matter but it had just begun, for Tojo had become so impressed with Iwakuro’s grasp of the situation that he was ordered to proceed to America to help Nomura in his mission.
To prepare himself for the assignment, Iwakuro consulted with those who called for war as well as those who wanted peace. One night at a party in the Ginza, Nissho Inoue, leader of the Blood Brotherhood, urged him to become a spy: “We are going to fight against Britain and the United States, since they are blockading us, and your duty in America is to find out when we should start the war.” But these saber rattlers were far outnumbered by those who urged Iwakuro to arrange any kind of honorable settlement.
Exuding an air of conspiracy, he arrived in New York City on March 30 to find an America widely split on the issue of war or peace. The interventionists, convinced their country’s future and ultimate safety depended on helping the democracies crush the aggressor nations, had just pushed through Congress the Lend-Lease Act committing America to unlimited aid, “short of war,” to the enemies of the Axis. She was to be the Arsenal of Democracy. Supporting this measure, and war itself, were such groups as “Bundles for Britain,” as well as national minorities whose European relatives had suffered at the hands of Hitler and Mussolini. Their antiwar opponents included strange bedfellows: the right-wing “America Firsters” of Charles Lindbergh, Senator Borah and the German-American Bund; the “American Peace Mobilization” of the American Communist and Labor parties; and the traditionally isolationist Midwest which, though sympathetic to Britain and China, wanted no part of a shooting war.
Iwakuro was taken from the airport to St. Patrick’s Cathedral to confer with Bishop Walsh and Father Drought. “Because of the Tripartite Pact, Japan cannot do anything to betray its co-signers,” he said. “The thirteenth disciple, Judas, betrayed Christ, and every Christian despises him. It is the same with us Japanese. So if you insist that we withdraw from the pact, it will be hopeless to go on.” The priests said they understood, and Iwakuro proceeded to Washington. He got a room at the Wardman Park Hotel, where Cordell Hull had recently taken an apartment. The next morning he reported to Admiral Nomura and found him affable and eager to utilize the unofficial channel opened up by the two priests and Ikawa. Most of the professional diplomats at the embassy, however, were hostile to this approach and were already treating Ikawa with open contempt. To them the new arrival was even more of an enigma. Iwakuro appeared to be “engagingly frank” but they felt he had come to camouflage the aggressive intents of the Army, and were wary.
On April 2 Father Drought began helping the two unofficial Japanese diplomats draw up a Draft Understanding between Japan and the United States. In three days it was completed. It was a broad agreement, conciliatory in tone, touching on problems ranging from the Tripartite Pact to economic activity in the southwest Pacific. Its most significant points concerned China, with Japan promising to withdraw troops and renounce all claims to any Chinese territory, prov
ided China recognized Manchukuo and provided the government of Chiang Kai-shek was merged with that of a rival regime in Nanking under a former premier of the Republic of China, Wang Ching-wei.d
Drought took one copy to Postmaster General Walker, who called it “a revolution in Japanese ‘ideology’ and policy, as well as a proof of the complete success of American statesmanship,” and passed it along to Roosevelt, with the recommendation that he sign it immediately before “the Japanese leaders [were] assassinated.” At the Japanese embassy Nomura, Minister Kaname Wakasugi, the military and naval attacheś and a man from the Treaties Section, after some changes in wording, unanimously approved it.
The Draft Understanding was carefully examined at the State Department by the Far Eastern experts. They concluded that “most of its provisions were all that the ardent Japanese imperialists could want.” Hull concurred but felt that “however objectionable some of the points might be, there were others that could be accepted as they stood and still others that could be agreed to if modified.” On April 14 Ikawa told Nomura that he had arranged a private meeting with Hull at the Wardman Park Hotel that evening. Nomura was to go to Hull’s apartment by a rear corridor and knock on the door at eight o’clock. Nomura did this, but he was afraid it was a practical joke. To his surprise, Hull opened the door. His was a sad, thoughtful face and he spoke slowly and gently except—as Nomura was to learn—when aroused. He came from Tennessee, land of mountain feuds, and was himself a man of implacable hatreds.
Nomura announced cryptically that he knew all about a certain “Draft Understanding,” and though he hadn’t yet forwarded it to Tokyo, thought his government “would be favorably disposed toward it.” Hull raised objections to some of the points in the agreement but said that once these had been worked out, Nomura could send the revised document to Tokyo to ascertain whether the imperial government would take it as a “basis for negotiations.” The inexperienced Nomura inferred from this that a revised Draft Understanding would be acceptable to the United States.
But the admiral was seriously mistaken. Hull had unwittingly misled Nomura, since he did not regard the proposals as a solid basis for negotiations. Perhaps the misunderstanding was a result of Nomura’s faulty English. Or perhaps Nomura’s great desire for a settlement had influenced his interpretation of Hull’s vague phraseology. Nevertheless, it was largely Hull’s fault. He should have known he was giving some encouragement to Nomura, when he had no such intentions. He had committed a tactical error.
The two diplomats met again two days later at Hull’s apartment. “The one paramount preliminary question about which my Government is concerned,” Hull began in his slow, circuitous manner, “is a definite assurance in advance that the Japanese Government has the willingness and ability to go forward with a plan … in relation to the problems of a settlement; to abandon its present doctrine of military conquest by force and … adopt the principles which this Government has been proclaiming and practicing as embodying the foundation on which all relations between nations should properly rest.” He handed over a piece of paper listing these four principles:
1. Respect for the territorial integrity and the sovereignty of each and all nations.
2. Support of the principle of noninterference in the internal affairs of other countries.
3. Support of the principle of equality, including equality of commercial opportunity.
4. Nondisturbance of the status quo in the Pacific except as the status quo may be altered by peaceful means.
Wondering if his earlier optimism had been well founded, Nomura asked if Hull “would to a fairly full extent approve the proposals contained” in the Draft Understanding. Some would be readily approved, Hull replied, while others would have to be changed or eliminated. “… But if [your] Government is in real earnest about changing its course,” he continued, “I [can] see no good reason why ways could not be found to reach a fairly mutually satisfactory settlement of all the essential questions and problems presented.” This reassured Nomura and he remained optimistic even when Hull pointed out that they had “in no sense reached the stage of negotiations” and were “only exploring in a purely preliminary and unofficial way what action might pave the way for negotiations later.”
Nomura transmitted Hull’s suggestions and objections to the unofficial diplomats and most of his comments were incorporated in a revised Draft Understanding. The document was enciphered and dispatched to Tokyo, accompanied by a strong recommendation from Nomura for a favorable response. He added that Hull had “on the whole no objections” to the Draft Understanding (which Hull had said, in so many words) and was willing to use it as a basis for negotiations (which he had no intention of doing).
It was now Nomura’s turn to commit a diplomatic blunder—as serious as Hull’s. He failed to relay the Secretary of State’s four basic principles to Tokyo. Certainly this information would have cooled some of Prime Minister Konoye’s enthusiasm for the Draft Understanding. As it was, the Prime Minister was so encouraged by the way things seemed to be working out that he convened an emergency meeting of government and military leaders. They were just as enthused, including the military, and agreed that the American proposal—for that is what they thought the Draft Understanding was—should be promptly accepted in principle.e
Matsuoka’s deputy protested. They should wait for a few days, until the Foreign Minister returned from Moscow. Konoye wanted no collision with the troublesome Matsuoka and acquiesced. On April 21 he learned that Matsuoka had at last arrived at Dairen, not far from the battlefields of the Russo-Japanese War, and told him over the phone to come home at once to consider an important proposal from Washington. Matsuoka assumed this was a result of his talk in Moscow with U. S. Ambassador Laurence Steinhardt and triumphantly told his secretary that he would soon be heading for America to complete his plan for world peace.
The next afternoon Matsuoka’s plane landed at Tachikawa Air Base and he stepped out warmed by the cheers of the waiting crowd. Prime Minister Konoye was on hand, even though he was suffering so intensely from piles that he had to sit on an inflated circular tube. He offered to take Matsuoka to the Prime Minister’s official residence, where other Cabinet ministers were waiting; he would brief the Foreign Minister on the negotiations with America en route. Matsuoka mentioned that he wanted to stop briefly at the plaza outside the Palace moat to pay his respects to the Emperor. To Konoye it was pretentious and in bad taste to bow deeply while newsmen took pictures, and he could not stand to the side while Matsuoka went through the ceremony or he’d be accused of insolence to the Emperor.
Since Matsuoka insisted on having his own way and Konoye was too proud to join him, the two left the airport in separate cars.f On the drive to the Palace, Matsuoka learned from his Vice Minister that the proposal for a peaceful settlement was not his own doing but the work of a couple of amateur diplomats. He was mortified, and that night was late for a conference at the Prime Minister’s official residence, convened to discuss the Draft Understanding. He avoided not only Konoye but the subject of the meeting as well, talking incessantly of Hitler-san and Stalin-san as if they were his closest friends. Piqued at first, he became spirited and expansive as he boasted of how he had told Steinhardt that Roosevelt was “quite a gambler” and that the United States was keeping both the China Incident and the war going with her aid. “I told him the peace-loving President of the United States should co-operate with Japan, which is also peace-loving, and that he should inveigle Chiang to make peace with us.” He also related that Ribbentrop had told him that Germany had signed the pact with Russia only because of “unavoidable circumstances” and that if it came to war, Germany would probably be able to defeat Stalin in three or four months.
But the business of the conference could not be avoided indefinitely. When the Draft Understanding was finally brought up, Matsuoka burst out stridently, “I cannot agree to this, whatever you Army and Navy people say! First of all, what about our treaty with Germany and Italy?
In the last war the United States made use of Japan through the Ishii-Lansing agreement,g and when the war was over, the United States broke it. This is an old trick of theirs.” Suddenly he announced that he felt very tired and needed “a month’s rest” to think things over, and went home.
His arrogant manner had not been of a kind to bring reassurance, and as the meeting continued far into the night, both Tojo and General Muto recommended that the Draft Understanding be approved without further delay. The following day Konoye summoned his Foreign Minister. Matsuoka had calmed down, but about all he would say was, “I wish you would give me time to forget all about my European trip; then I’ll consider the present case.”
A week passed without any action from Matsuoka, and pressure began to build in the Army and Navy for his removal. Whether he was so offended that negotiations had been initiated without him that he was deliberately sabotaging them or was merely being properly cautious for fear that an amateur attempt at peace might lead to disaster, it was difficult to tell.
The reason Matsuoka himself gave was that the Draft Understanding was merely a plot of the Army, and Colonel Iwakuro was making a cat’s-paw out of him. So he did nothing, while the Army and Navy fumed and the negotiators in Washington wondered what had gone wrong. It was hardest on the impetuous Iwakuro. Finally, on April 29, the Emperor’s birthday, he could restrain himself no longer and suggested telephoning Matsuoka. It was indiscreet, but indiscretion was Iwakuro’s creed and his associates were persuaded by his enthusiasm. It was decided that he and Ikawa should make the call from Postmaster General Walker’s secret headquarters in New York City. By the evening they were in Room 1812 at the Berkshire Hotel, and began toasting the Emperor in port. The colonel had a small tolerance for wine and after two glasses he was feeling light-headed. At eight o’clock (it was ten o’clock the next morning in Japan) he put in the call to Matsuoka’s home in Sendagaya.