Mutual Perceptions and Images in Japanese-German Relations, 1860–2010

Brill’s Japanese
Studies Library

Edited by

Joshua Mostow (Managing Editor)

Caroline Rose
Kate Wildman Nakai

Volume 59

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Mutual Perceptions and Images in
Japanese-German Relations,
1860–2010

Edited by

Sven Saaler, Kudō Akira and Tajima Nobuo

LEIDEN | BOSTON
Cover illustration: Unsen (active 1870–1880). New Invention: Picture of the Interior Machinery of a German
Warship, 1874 (detail). Color woodblock triptych.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Saaler, Sven, 1968– editor of compilation.

Title: Mutual perceptions and images in Japanese-German relations, 1860–2010
/ edited by Sven Saaler, Kudō Akira and Tajima Nobuo.
Description: Brill : Leiden, Boston, [2017] | Series: Brill's Japanese
studies library, ISSN 0925-6512 ; volume 59 | Includes bibliographical
references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017012383 (print) | LCCN 2017024984 (ebook) | ISBN
9789004345423 (E-book) | ISBN 9789004345416 (hbk. : alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Japan—Relations—Germany. | Germany—Relations—Japan. |
Japan—Foreign public opinion, German. | Public opinion—Germany. |
Germany—Foreign public opinion, Japanese. | Public opinion—Japan.
Classification: LCC DS849.G3 (ebook) | LCC DS849.G3 M87 2017 (print) | DDC
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Contents

Preface ix
Volker Stanzel
Acknowledgments xiii
List of Figures, Tables and Graphs xiv
Notes to Readers xviii
List of Contributors xix

Introduction: Japanese-German Mutual Images from the 1860s

to the Present 1
Sven Saaler

Part 1
Early Encounters

1 Prussia or North Germany? The Image of “Germany” during the

Prusso-Japanese Treaty Negotiations in 1860–1861 67
Fukuoka Mariko

2 Japanese-German Mutual Perceptions in the 1860s and 1870s:

The Eulenburg and Bunkyū Missions 89
Suzuki Naoko

3 The Image of Prussia in Japan during the Boshin War (1868–1869) 110
Hakoishi Hiroshi

Part 2
Perceptions of a “Golden Age” of Japanese-German Relations

4 Katsura Tarō’s Experiences in Germany and Kido Takayoshi’s Ideas

on a Constitution 137
Katō Yōko

5 The Image of Japan and the Japanese in the German Satirical

Journals Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus, 1853–1914 150
Rolf-Harald Wippich
vi contents

6 Images of Japan Held by German Legal Experts in the Meiji

Period 180
Heinrich Menkhaus

7 Japan in Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 192

Peter Pantzer

Part 3
Drifting Apart: Tensions and War

8 
The Image of Germany in Japanese Politics and Society,
1890–1914 221
Sven Saaler

9 Rathenau and Ludendorff: Two Japanese Images of Germany in

World War I 249
Kudō Akira

10 Images of Japan and East Asia in German Politics in the

Early Nazi Era 267
Tajima Nobuo

Part 4
Idealization of “The Other” in the Age of Totalitarianism

11 “Strength Through Joy” in Japan: Mutual Perceptions of Leisure

Movements in Germany and Japan, 1935–1942 289
Tano Daisuke

12 Images of German-Japanese Similarities and Affinities in

National-Socialist Germany (1933–1945) 313
Hans-Joachim Bieber

13 German Perspectives on Japanese Heroism during the Nazi Era 327

Gerhard Krebs

14 Colonialism through the Mirror: Japan in the Eyes of the SS and

the German Conservative Resistance 349
Danny Orbach
Contents vii

Part 5
Post-war Images

15 Images of Japan in Post-war German Media:

How the “Past” is Used to Reinforce Images of Self and Other 369
Kawakita Atsuko

16 The Consumption of Nazi Images in Post-war Japanese Popular

Culture 391
Satō Takumi

17 German and European Academic Images of Japan: The “Group Model”

and the “Cultural Importer Model” from the 1970s to the 1990s 409
Iwasa Takurō

Index 425
Preface
Volker Stanzel

Some time ago, and by pure coincidence, I heard an intriguing anecdote. The
former prime minister of the German Democratic Republic, Hans Modrow,
was visiting Japan on October 3, 1990 on an invitation from the Japanese gov-
ernment. It just so happened that this day coincided with the celebrations in
Berlin of the unification of East and West Germany, and Mr. Modrow watched
the festivities on television together with the Japanese Prime Minister Kaifu
Toshiki.
Was the relationship between East Germany and Japan truly as intimate
as this meeting might suggest? Chancellor Gerhard Schröder in 2003 had in-
vited Prime Minister Koizumi Jun’ichirō to attend a performance of a Wagner
opera in Bayreuth, but Prime Minister’s Kaifu’s invitation to Modrow was obvi-
ously much more personal. My curiosity piqued after having heard this story,
and I did some research that eventually resulted in a published article on the
subject.1 My investigations also led me to understand the power of images and
stereotypes in the history of the German–Japanese relations. Although the
two geographically remote countries were originally politically, socially, and
economically worlds apart, and had only limited contact for very different
(and mostly utilitarian) reasons, the impact of these images is enduring. So
enduring, in fact, that if there were a constant in the forty years of the East
German–Japanese relationship, it lies in the realm of the images that portray
the traditional culture of both nations over a longer span of time.
It is inevitable that in every long-standing bilateral relationship, people
come to possess particular images of each other and of each other’s national
culture. It is less evident in the case of countries that are not primary partners
over extended periods that these images should be persistent and influential
over a century or even longer. The case of Japan and East Germany is a case
in point: the interest that each took in the other was more intense than the
level of exchange that actually occurred. This is an aspect that Sven Saaler has
generally identified in Japanese–German relations in his introduction to this

1 Volker Stanzel (2016), “Peace, Business and Classical Culture: The Relationship between
the German Democratic Republic and Japan,” in Joanne Miyang Cho, Lee M. Roberts, and
Christian W. Spang (eds.), Transnational Encounters between Germany and Japan. Perceptions
of Partnership in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries. Houndmills and New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, pp. 227–46.
x preface

volume. This phenomenon must be connected, one would assume, with the
substance and specific character of the relationship. It has led to the creation
of a number of lasting images and stereotypes: both nations are considered dil-
igent, orderly, well-educated, and well-behaved, both are seen as lovers of clas-
sical music and literature, and both share a similar destiny and even some kind
of “kinship.” As a result of these perceived similarities, Germany and Japanese
even became “enemies” of the international community for a decade.2
It is with good reason then that Sven Saaler, Kudō Akira, and Tajima Nobuo,
the editors of this volume, have chosen not to disregard the earlier periods of
the more than 150 years of official relations between the two countries. They
also focus, with equal reason, on the lesser-known stories behind the shaping
of each set of national images, and on those who contributed to their creation.
This publication covers ground that stretches from early caricatures beginning
in the second half of the nineteenth century of Japanese in the German media
to images of Japanese thinking about war and the economy conjured up by
Walther Rathenau and Erich Ludendorff in the early twentieth century. For
later decades, contributions range from discussions of post-war Japanese im-
ages of Nazi culture to German academic images of Japan. Together the essays
offer a fascinating overview of the more unfamiliar aspects of the German–
Japanese relationship and are a valuable contribution in fostering a better
understanding of the origins of the prevalent views of Germany in Japan and
Japan in Germany.
In his introduction, Saaler makes an important point that highlights why
this volume is so timely. While the images both peoples have of each other are
mainly positive, and distinctive, they are gradually fading and unraveling. In
2015, the European Council on Foreign Relations conducted a survey of Japan’s
international image among political, economic, and academic elites in five
European countries, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Tokyo conducted
a poll of the general public in these same countries.3 The results showed that
among European elites, Japan’s image in Germany was significantly less af-
firmative than in any of the other countries audited. At the same time, the
Japanese poll revealed that in German society as a whole it was still clearly
positive. This was a view based primarily on the influence of Japan’s popular
youth culture of manga and anime, rather than on stereotypical memories of

2 
See Article 53 of the Charter of the United Nations, http://www.un.org/en/sections/
un-­charter/un-charter-full-text/index.html (last accessed August 29, 2016).
3 For a summary of the results of the audit and the poll, see http://www.ecfr.eu/article/
commentary_the_new_japan_paradox5044 (last accessed August 29, 2016).
Preface xi

an imagined Japanese past. (Similarly, in Japan, studies confirm that modern-

day Japanese admire Germany for its success in soccer at least as much as for
its traditional culture.)
All things considered, it seems that traditional images and stereotypes on
both sides are less solid and reliable than in the past. This development has
little to do with actual exchanges between the two countries. While the in-
teraction between two mature industrialized, democratic societies—so called
“middle powers”—is intense, and this intensity is mutually beneficial, it con-
tributes little to the maintenance of old images and stereotypes. If anything, it
contributes to their weakening. The growing multinational character of inter-
national relations only strengthens this trend. Today, all countries involved in
international trade, exchange, and communication have a multitude of part-
ners who are continually discovering new interests and concerns, be it climate
change, international governance and its rules, or terrorism. As they share
these common interests, it is possible that they will also increasingly come to
share identities. If, therefore, images of what is regarded as “typically” German
or “typically” Japanese seem desirable in order to maintain traditional notions
of a complex set of similarities between Germans and Japanese, then some
serious effort is required. Fortunately, the conditions are in place to facilitate
such efforts.
A number of individuals are engaged in cooperative ventures between
the peoples of both countries; these efforts that might well have a lasting im-
pact. On the German side, these are very often politicians such as the former
German federal president Christian Wulff or the politicians Volker Kauder
and Thorsten Schäfer-Gümbel, and in the past, Otto Graf Lambsdorff as well
as former Chancellor Helmut Schmidt. In the case of Japan, they are most
often artists or thinkers such as Tawada Yōko or Mishima Ken’ichi (who them-
selves have German counterparts, such as Doris Dörrie or Jacqueline Berndt).
Even more important are the institutions that facilitate bilateral engagement
across a broad range of areas. Both countries have set up cultural institutes;
they promote academic and research institutions as well as business organiza-
tions. And during 2011—widely remembered as the year of the tragic Tōhoku
Earthquake—Germany and Japan commemorated the 150th anniversary of
the establishment of official relations. Both countries have a shared interest
in fields such as energy policy and demographic change. Lastly, a number
of diverse civil society organizations in both countries are active in bilateral
exchanges. The events hosted by these organizations introduced dynamism
into the relationship that surprised many, myself included. The two govern-
ments and official institutions sponsored a great many events. Civil society
xii preface

organizations were involved in further activities, including about sixty each

of the various German–Japanese and Japanese–German associations. These
events comprised concerts, performances, exhibitions, conferences, and in
their entirety they demonstrated that while old images were still very much
alive, there was also space for the creation of new perceptions.
Even if a situation such as a former German head of government being in-
vited to watch a television program with a Japanese prime minister will not
be easily replicated, there is still room to build on the positive elements in the
images, imaginings, and stereotypes that each country holds of the other.
Acknowledgments

The publication of this book was only made possible through the generous
support of a great many individuals and organizations. The Japanese Society
for the Promotion of Science (JSPS) supported the three-year research proj-
ect “Mutual Perceptions in Japanese-German Relations: Images, Imaginings,
and Stereotypes” (Grant-in-Aid for Scientific Research, Research Project no.
20320116, 2008–20111), organized by Sven Saaler. The project resulted in an inter-
national conference held at the OAG-Haus/Deutsches Kulturzentrum in Tokyo
in December 2010. Thanks are due to the Deutsche Gesellschaft für Natur- und
Völkerkunde Ostasiens (OAG), Sophia University, the Goethe-Institut Tokyo,
the Embassy of the Federal Republic of Germany in Japan, and the Friedrich-
Ebert-Stiftung (FES) for co-hosting this event. Sophia University’s Institute for
Comparative Culture (ICC), Sophia University’s program for the Promotion
of Gender Equality, and the Embassy of the Federal Republic of Germany in
Japan aided in the publication of this volume. The co-editors could not have
completed their work without the editorial assistance of Justin Aukema, Joah
Barnes, and Cédric Felix Klein. The editors would also thank Paul Sorrell, and
Amy Reigle Newland in providing thorough editorial guidance on the texts
(with the exception of chapter 12). Justin Aukema, Michael Wachutka, and I
translated the Japanese essays. The editors—Kudō Akira, Tajima Nobuo, and
myself—would like to extend a heartfelt thanks to everyone’s commitment
in realizing this publication. Finally, we wish to express our gratitude to Brill
for publishing this volume and in particular to Brill’s capable editor Patricia
Radder for her assistance, without whom this project would not have come
to fruition.

Sven Saaler
Tokyo, December 2016

1 For details of this project, see the website http://japanesehistory.de/wordpress/?page_id=152

(last accessed June 1, 2016).
List of Figures, Tables and Graphs

Figures

0.1 Haga Yaichi 10

0.2 Doitsu no hatsuden/Stromerzeugung in Deutschland 22
0.3 Die japanesische Gesandschaft, 1863. Illustrated broadsheet 26
0.4 Gountei Sadahide (1807–1873). A Prussian Man and Woman: Merchant
Visiting Yokohama, 1861. Color woodblock print 27
0.5 Coverage of the Eulenburg Mission in the Leipziger Illustrirte Zeitung
(1861) showing the signing ceremony of the Japanese-Prussian
Treaty 28
0.6 Charles Wirgman (1832–1891). Hunting the Gazelle 29
0.7 The Last Phase of Prussian Aggression. Japan Punch, 1869 30
0.8 Statues of Erwin von Baelz (1849–1913) and Julius Scriba
(1848–1905) 32
0.9 Unsen (active 1870–1880). New Invention: Picture of the Interior
Machinery of a German Warship, 1874. Color woodblock triptych 33
0.10 The “Knackfuss Painting” (1895). Reproduced in the Japanese journal
Taiyō 35
0.11 Reporting the Nichidoku sensō in a pictorial published by the Japanese
General Staff in 1914 38
0.12 Newspaper coverage of the signing of the Japanese-German
Anticomintern Pact in 1936 44
0.13 The pictorial Rekishi shashin reports the signing of the Tripartite Pact in
1940 45
0.14 Propaganda postcard commemorating the sinking of British warships
off the coast of Malaya in early 1942 48
1.1 The German Confederation (Deutscher Bund) 73
1.2 The Prusso-Japanese Treaty of Amity and Commerce (1861) 81
2.1 Prussian flags 94
2.2 German flags 95
3.1 Cover of The Japan Punch. 1868 111
3.2 Occupations of Ministers. The Japan Punch. January 1867 113
3.3 The Rival Organ Grinders. The Japan Punch. September 1868 116
3.4 The Trump Card. The Japan Punch. December 1868 117
3.5 Aidzu’s General. The Japan Punch. June 1868 119
3.6 Cincinnatus H. Snail. The Japan Punch. December 1869 131
4.1 Katsura Tarō (1848–1913) 138
List Of Figures, Tables And Graphs xv

4.2 Ōmura Masujirō (1825–1869) 140

4.3 Kido Takayoshi (1833–1877) 142
4.4 Aoki Shūzō (1844–1914) 144
5.1 Die Japanessen in Berlin. Kladderadatsch, June 29, 1862 156
5.2 The Ōtsu Incident. Kladderadatsch, June 28, 1891 157
5.3 Harakiri: Der Selbstmord aus dem japanischen ins politische übertragen.
Kladderadatsch, November 27, 1892 159
5.4 Japanische Dithyramben auf Bülow. Kladderadatsch, March 15, 1908 160
5.5 A Japanese Soldier. Kladderadatsch, March 31, 1895 161
5.6 Großmama Europa. Simplicissimus, 8/1903 162
5.7 Kultur. Simplicissimus, 52/1905 163
5.8 Korea und Macedonien. Kladderadatsch, November 3, 1903 166
5.9 Der japanische Panther. Simplicissimus, August 20, 1918 167
5.10 Kupferberg Gold: Tokio Eilgut. Simplicissimus, 1905 169
5.11 A. Batschari Cigarettes. Kladderadatsch, 1906 169
5.12 
Amerika und Japan empfehlen sich als Verlobte. Simplicissimus,
December 14, 1908 170
5.13 Vorschlag zur Güte. Kladderadatsch, April 14, 1907 171
5.14 Der japanische Windgott. Kladderadatsch, March 17, 1907 173
5.15 
Weihnachts-Familiennachrichten: An Herren Knackfuß & Co., in Berlin.
Kladderadatsch, December 13, 1908 174
5.16 Der japanische Windgott. Kladderadatsch, September 4, 1910 175
5.17 Cartoon of Ōyama Iwao. Simplicissimus, 9/1905 177
7.1 “Here is a dear little Jappy girl who wants to join your collection of
pretty cards,” from the series Japland, 1901 193
7.2 Untitled postcard, 1900 195
7.3 Gruss aus Ansbach (Greetings from Ansbach), postcard illustrating three
“little maids,” 1899 196
7.4 & 7.5 Two untitled postcards, 1900/1901 198
7.6 & 7.7 Two untitled postcards, 1900 199
7.8 Glückliches Neujahr! 1903 200
7.9 Fröhliche Pfingsten (Happy Pentecost), ca. 1900 201
7.10 Untitled postcard, 1905 202
7.11 Der Russisch-Japanische Krieg (The Russo-Japanese War), 1904 203
7.12 
Les Japonais detruisent la voie ferrée en Mandchouri/Beschädigung
der Mandschurischen Eisenbahn durch die Japaner (Damage to the
Manchurian Railway by the Japanese). German picture postcard,
1904 203
7.13 David und Goliath, 1904 204
7.14 “Japanese Army” Infantry, ca. 1904 205
xvi list of figures, tables and graphs

7.15 Korea, China, Japan, und Russland, 1904 206

7.16 What the “SEA SAW”, 1904 206
7.17 & 7.18 Two postcards from a set of five entitled Œufs brouillés,
1904 207
7.19 Postcard designed by Ludwig Koch 208
7.20 & 7.21 Untitled postcards, 1906/1910 210
7.22 Chrysanthemem-Fest in Tokio, August 15–16, 1903 211
7.23 & 7.24 Riviera-Fest im Stadtpark. Vienna, May 19, 1913 212
7.25 Au schau! Ich klau/mir schlau/Kiau-tschau, 1914 213
7.26 Hi-Hi-Hi grinste das Scheusal (Hee-Hee-Hee, Grinned This Monster of a
Man), 1914 214
7.27 Der gelbe Strauchdieb (The Yellow Thief), 1914 215
7.28 Greetings From One of Your Fair Allies, ca. 1914 216
8.1 Emperor Wilhelm II and General Count Maresuke Nogi at the Großer
Sand Exercise Area in Mainz 226
8.2 Unveiling Ceremony of a Bronze Statue of General Meckel 229
8.3 Military Review in Germany, Held in Honour of Prince Arisugawa 240
8.4 Commemorating the German Emperor’s Twenty-fifth Anniversary on
the Throne 241
9.1 The German General Headquarters during World War I. From left to
right: Chief of the General Staff, General Paul von Hindenburg; Kaiser
Wilhelm II; and Hindenburg’s deputy, General Erich Ludendorff 253
9.2 Walther Rathenau 254
9.3 Nagata Tetsuzan 259
11.1 Coverage of the Recreation Congress for Asian Development (Kōa Kōsei
Taikai) in the journal Shashin shūhō, no. 141, November 6, 1940 290
11.2 Report on the Japanese Kōsei undō in the journal Freude und Arbeit,
vol. 5, no. 7, 1940 301
11.3 Photo of a KdF event held in Japan. From Reichsamtsleitung Kraft durch
Freude (ed.): Unter dem Sonnenrad. Ein Buch von Kraft durch Freude.
Berlin: Verlag der Deutschen Arbeitsfront, 1938, p. 194 304
12.1 Cover of the journal Die Gartenlaube (Gazebo) 314
12.2 The SS journal Das Schwarze Korps (The Black Corps) 316
12.3 Cover of the journal Berlin-Rom-Tokio 318
12.4 Albrecht Fürst von Urach. Das Geheimnis japanischer Kraft 322
15.1 Image of Japanese soldier allegedly about to behead a Chinese 378
15.2 German Chancellor Willy Brandt kneeling before the monument to the
1943 Warsaw Ghetto Uprising on December 7, 1970 384
16.1 Cover of Hitorā no jubaku (Under Hitler’s Spell) 392
List Of Figures, Tables And Graphs xvii

16.2 Cover of Axis Powers—Hetaria 2 393

16.3 Cover of Zusetsu akunin jiten (Illustrated Dictionary of Villains) 395
16.4 The Production Committee of A Nazi Reader 396
16.5 Cover of Adorufu ni tsugu 400

Tables

0.1 Number of articles in Japanese journals with “Germany” (Doitsu) in the

title, 1881–2013 47
1.1 Types of Germany-related Images in 1860s Japan 79
5.1 Japan-related Events in the Satirical Journals Kladderadatsch and
Simplicissimus 151
6.1 German Law Experts in Japan 185
8.1 Numbers of Japanese Officers and Officer Cadets Sent to the German
Reich to Study or Serve at the Japanese Legation (Embassy from 1906)
in Berlin 227
8.2 Number of Japanese Journal Articles Relating to Germany by Subject
Matter, 1890–1914 232
10.1 Content Analysis of Hitler’s Interest in World Affairs as Recorded in
Mein Kampf and Zweites Buch 269

Graphs

15.1 Number of DER SPIEGEL articles making reference to Japan 371

15.2 Number of DER SPIEGEL articles making reference to various
countries 371
15.3 Number of DER SPIEGEL Articles on “Overcoming the Past” 380
15.4 Number of DER SPIEGEL Articles on “Nazism” 380
15.5 Number of DER SPIEGEL Articles on “Hitler” 381
Notes to Readers

East Asian names are listed in the conventional order, with surname followed
by personal name except for authors publishing in Western languages. East
Asian languages are romanized as follows: the Hepburn system for Japanese,
the Revised Romanization of Korean from 2000 for Korean, and Pinyin for
Chinese. Personal and place names in Chinese and Korean with established
readings in Western languages, such as Chiang Kai-shek or Shantung, have
been retained as such. In these cases, the Pinyin reading is provided in brackets
at first mention. Japanese names and terms established in Western languages,
such as Tokyo, Osaka or Kyoto, appear in their anglicized form without diacriti-
cal marks; this does not include organizations containing the names of these
cities. Unless otherwise indicated, all translations from German, Japanese, and
other languages into English are the translations of each individual author.
Images are from the collections of the authors or editors unless different other
copyright holders are listed. All dates before Japan’s adoption of the Gregorian
calendar in 1873 have generally been converted to the Western calendar. Dates
of individuals, when known, are generally included at first mention in each
chapter.
List of Contributors

Justin Aukema
is a PhD candidate at Sophia University, Tokyo. His publications include ar-
ticles for The Japan Times, The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus, and most re-
cently in the Routledge Handbook of Modern Japanese Literature (2016), which
introduces the literature of Tokyo air-raid survivor Saotome Katsumoto. He is
currently researching the physical and material remains of World War II war
sites (sensō iseki) and their preservation in Japan.

Hans-Joachim Bieber
received a PhD in history from the University of Hamburg in 1976, his disserta-
tion dealt with the development of the German trade unions from 1914–1920.
From 1977–1990, he was the head of the planning department of the University
of Kassel (est. 1972), from 1990–1994 a staff member of the German Science
Council (Wissenschaftsrat), and from 1994–2005 professor for modern his-
tory and administrator of the Interdisciplinary Center for Cultural Studies at
the University of Kassel. His fields of research are German social history, the
history of German Jews, the history of globalization and of German-Japanese
relations. His most recent book is SS und Samurai: Deutsch-japanische
Kulturbeziehungen 1933–1945 (Iudicium, 2014).

Fukuoka Mariko
is Associate Professor of History at the National Museum of Japanese History
(since 2014). She received a PhD in Japanese history and German studies from
the University of Tokyo in 2011 and was a JSPS postdoctoral research fellow at
the Historiographical Institute of the University of Tokyo. Her research focuses
on international relations in East Asia from the 1850s to the 1860s. Her doc-
toral thesis, Puroisen Higashi-Ajia ensei to bakumatsu gaikō, was awarded the
University of Tokyo Nambara Shigeru Publication Prize (2012) and was pub-
lished in 2013 (University of Tokyo Press). This book also received the Research
Encouragement Prize of the Japanese Society for German Studies (2014). She
has also written articles on the Schnell brothers (German traders in Japan in
the late 1860s) and on Dutch-Japanese relations. She is now conducting com-
parative research on Japanese, Chinese, and Siamese foreign policy of the mid-
nineteenth century, as well as biographical research on Townsend Harris, the
first American diplomatic representative to Japan.
xx list of contributors

Hakoishi Hiroshi
is Associate Professor at the Historiographical Institute of the University of
Tokyo (since 2007), and he received an M.A. from Kokugakuin University. His
publications include Boshin sensō no shiryōgaku (Bensei Shuppan, 2013), a se-
ries of articles on the image of Prussia in satirical journals of the foreign com-
munity in 1860s Yokohama (2004–2006) and contributions to Nichidoku kōryū
150nen no kiseki (Yūshōdō, 2013).

Iwasa Takurō
is Associate Professor at Osaka University of Economics. He received his PhD
in History and Civilization at the European University Institute in Italy. His
research focuses on changes in European academic images of Japan. His prin-
cipal publications include “From Homogeneity toward Heterogeneity. On
the Japanese Society in European Academic Images” (Studies in Comparative
Culture, 2010), “European Dichotomous Paradigms and Japan’s Images. ‘Self and
Other’, ‘West and East’, Eurocentrism, and Orientalism” (Studies in Comparative
Culture, 2011), and “Difference and Uniqueness in European Academic Images
of Japan” (Studies in Comparative Culture, 2016).

Katō Yōko
is Professor at the Department of Japanese History at the University of Tokyo.
She has written on the subject of middle-ranking army officers of the 1930s
and their visions of how to reform the Meiji state, and on the Japanese con-
scription system between 1868 and 1945, with publications including Sensō
no Nihon kingendaishi (Kōdansha, 2002), Sensō no ronri (Keisō Shobō, 2005),
Sore demo Nihonjin wa ‘sensō’ o eranda (Asahi Shuppansha, 2009), Mosaku suru
1930nendai (Yamakawa Shuppansha, 2012) and Sensō made (Asahi Shuppansha,
2016).

Kawakita Atsuko
is Professor of German Contemporary History at Chuo University in Tokyo.
After receiving a PhD in German studies from the University of Tokyo, she was
Assistant Professor and Associate Professor at the University of Tokyo (Center
for German and European Studies, 2004–2010), Associate Professor at Osaka
University (2010–2013), and Associate Professor at Chuo University (2013–2015).
Her publications include a book on history education in Germany (Doitsu no
rekishi kyōiku, Hakusuisha, 2005) and articles on the historical memory of
national socialism, the “expulsion” of the German population from Eastern
Europe, and the construction of a regional order in Europe after World War II.
List Of Contributors xxi

She is co-author/co-editor of Rekishi toshite no rejiriensu (Tōkyō Daigaku

Shuppankai, 2016) and Zusetsu doitsu no rekishi (Kawade Shobō Shinsha,
2007), History Education and Reconciliation (Peter Lang, 2012), and Bürger und
shimin: Wortfelder, Begriffstraditionen und Übersetzungsprozesse im Deutschen
und Japanischen (Iudicium, 2015).

Gerhard Krebs
taught history at universities in Tokyo, Freiburg/Br., Trier, and Berlin, and
has worked in research institutes in Tokyo and Potsdam. Presently he works
as an independent historian in Berlin. His publications include Japans
Deutschlandpolitik 1935–1941 (Deutsche Gesellschaft für Natur- und Völker­
kunde Ostasiens, 1984), Das moderne Japan 1868–1952 (Oldenbourg, 2009), and
Japan im Pazifischen Krieg (Iudicium, 2010). He was the editor of Formierung
und Fall der Achse Berlin-Tōkyō (Iudicium, 1994), 1945 in Europe and Asia
(Iudicium, 1997), and Japan und Preußen (Iudicium, 2002).

Kudō Akira
is Professor Emeritus of the University of Tokyo. He graduated from the Faculty
of Economics and the Graduate School of Economics at the University of
Tokyo. He worked as assistant professor at the School of Economics at Shinshū
University and at the faculty of Liberal Arts at the University of Tokyo be-
fore becoming professor at the Institute of Social Science, the University of
Tokyo. He retired in 2010. His major works include Japanese-German Business
Relations (Routledge, 1998), Nichidoku kankeishi, 1890–1945 (3 vols., co-edited
with Tajima Nobuo, Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 2008), Japan and Germany:
Two Latecomers to the World Stage, 1890–1945 (3 vols., co-edited with Tajima
Nobuo and Erich Pauer, Global Oriental, 2009), Sengo Nichidoku kankeishi
(co-edited with Tajima Nobuo, Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 2014), and Doitsu
to higashi Ajia, 1890–1945 (co-edited with Tajima Nobuo, Tōkyō Daigaku
Shuppankai, 2017).

Heinrich Menkhaus
is Chair of German Law at the Faculty of Law, Meiji University in Tokyo.
He studied at the Faculty of Law of the University of Münster from 1974 to
1979, took his first state exam in 1980, the second state exam in law in 1986
and his doctoral degree in law in 1984. He was admitted to the German Bar
in 1986. He conducted legal studies at Chuo University in Tokyo (1987–1989)
and was a researcher at the German Institute for Japanese Studies (DIJ) in
Tokyo (1989–1993). His other activities include Director of the Permanent
xxii list of contributors

Office, European Association for Japanese Studies, Leiden, the Netherlands

(1994–1995), Director, Law Department, German Chamber of Commerce in
Tokyo (1995–2001), Professor of Japanese Law, Faculty of Law, University of
Marburg, Germany (2001–2008), Chairman of the German Society for Japanese
Studies (2005–2012). Since 2003 he has been the Chairman of the German
JSPS Alumni Association and since 2011 he has been a member of the board of
the Japanese-German Society Tokyo. He was awarded the Cross of Honour of
Federal Republic of Germany in 2001.

Danny Orbach
is a Senior Lecturer of East Asian Studies and history at the Hebrew University
of Jerusalem. He received a PhD in history from Harvard University and served
as a postdoctoral fellow in the Harvard program for U.S.-Japan Relations. As
an historian, commentator, and political blogger, he has published extensively
on German, Japanese, Chinese, Israeli, and Middle Eastern history, with a spe-
cial focus on military resistance, disobedience, rebellions, and political assas-
sinations. His two latest books are The Plots against Hitler (Houghton Mifflin
Harcourt, 2016) and Curse on This Country: Japanese Military Insubordination
and the Roots of the Second World War (Cornell University Press, 2017). Orbach
is currently studying the tairiku rōnin (Japanese adventurers in pre-war China)
and works on a comparative history of military adventurism in the twentieth
century.

Peter Pantzer
is Professor Emeritus of Bonn University and received his PhD in modern his-
tory and Japanese studies from the University of Vienna. After conducting re-
search in diplomatic history at the University of Tokyo (1968–1971), he became
a lecturer and later assistant professor at University of Vienna. Appointed
Professor in Japanese Studies at Bonn University in 1988, he has also served
as Chairman of the European Association of Japanese Resource Specialists
(1998–2002). He is the author of numerous books on the history, art, and culture
of Japan as well as Japanese-Austrian and Japanese-German relations: Nihon
Ōsutoria kankei shi (Sōzōsha, 1984), Die Iwakura-Mission (Iudicium, 2002),
Japanische Impressionen eines Kaiserlichen Gesandten. Karl von Eisendecher
im Japan der Meiji-Zeit (Iudicium, 2007, in German and Japanese), Nichidoku
kōryū 150-nen no kiseki (Yūshōdō, 2013), and Meiji shoki Nihon no genfūkei to
nazo no shōnen shashinka (Yōsensha, 2016), a book about the Austrian photog-
rapher Michael Moser (co-authored with Alfred Moser, Hakoishi Hiroshi, and
Miyata Nana).
List Of Contributors xxiii

Sven Saaler
is Professor of Modern Japanese History at Sophia University in Tokyo. After
receiving a PhD in Japanese studies and history from Bonn University, he
worked as a lecturer at Marburg University, research fellow, and later Head
of the Humanities Section of the German Institute for Japanese Studies (DIJ,
1999–2004) and Associate Professor at the University of Tokyo (2004–2008).
His publications include a book on history debates in Japan, Politics, Memory
and Public Opinion (Iudicium, 2005) and articles on the history textbook con-
troversy, the Yasukuni Shrine issue and the historical development and signifi-
cance of Pan-Asianism. He is co-author/co-editor of Pan-Asianism in Modern
Japanese History (Routledge, 2007), Japanische Impressionen eines Kaiserlichen
Gesandten. Karl von Eisendecher im Japan der Meiji-Zeit (in German and
Japanese, 2007), The Power of Memory in Modern Japan (Global Oriental, 2008),
Pan-Asianism: A Documentary History (2 vols., Rowman & Littlefield, 2011),
Under Eagle Eyes: Lithographs, Drawings and Photographs from the Prussian
Expedition to Japan, 1860–61 (in German, Japanese and English, 2011) and the
Routledge Handbook of Modern Japanese History (2017).

Satō Takumi
is Professor of Media Culture at the Kyoto University Graduate School of
Education. He received his undergraduate and graduate degrees in European
history at Kyoto University. After studying in Munich (1987–1989), he later
received a PhD at Kyoto University. He worked as an assistant at the Tokyo
University Newspaper Research Institute/Multi-media and Socio-information
Studies Archive, and as an assistant professor at Dōshisha University in Kyoto.
He was also employed as an assistant professor at the International Research
Center for Japanese Studies before taking up his current position. His prin-
cipal publications include Taishū senden no shinwa (Kōbundō, 1992), Gendai
me­­diashi (Iwanami Shoten, 1998), “Kingu” no jidai (Iwanami Shoten, 2002,
awarded the Japan Society of Publishing Studies Prize and the Suntory Gakugei
Prize), Genron tōsei (Chūō Kōron Shinsha, 2004, awarded the Yoshida Shigeru
Prize), Hachigatsu jūgonichi no shinwa (Chikuma Shobō, 2005), and Terebiteki
kyōyō (NTT Shuppan, 2008). He also edited the book Hitora no jubaku (Asuka
Shinsha, 2000).

Volker Stanzel
former ambassador of the Federal Republic of Germany to China (2004–2007)
and Japan (2009–2013), works at the German Institute for International and
Security Affairs in Berlin and at the Free University Berlin. He is Senior Advisor
xxiv list of contributors

to the German Marshall Fund of the United States and a Council Member of
the European Council on Foreign Relations. He received a PhD in Japanese and
Chinese Studies and Political Science from the University of Cologne and he
continues to publish on foreign policy and issues of Asian politics. His publica-
tions include Aus der Zeit gefallen. Der Tenno im 21. Jahrhundert (OAG, 2016),
Doitsu taishi mo nattoku shita, Nihon ga sekai de aisareru riyu (Gentōsha, 2015),
“Die Beziehungen zwischen Deutschland und Japan,” in Länderbericht Japan
(Bundeszentrale für Politische Bildung, 2014), Chinas Außenpolitik. Wege einer
widerwilligen Weltmacht (Oldenbourg, 2002), Im Wind des Wandels. Ostasiens
neue Revolution (Bouvier, 1997), and Japan, Haupt der Erde (Königshausen und
Neumann, 1982).

Suzuki Naoko
is Senior Analyst of Textbooks of World History in the Ministry of Education,
Culture, Sports, Science and Technology-Japan (MEXT). After receiving a
Ph.D. in Western History from Nagoya University (2004) and working at the
University of Konstanz in Germany as a postdoctoral fellow of the Japan
Society for the Promotion of Science (JSPS, 2005–2007), she was part-time lec-
turer at several universities in Japan and visiting scholar at Keio University in
Tokyo. Her book Doitsu teikoku no seiritsu to higashi Ajia (Minerva Shobō, 2012)
is an attempt to integrate the East Asian dimension into the domestic devel-
opment of Germany in the mid-nineteenth century. Recent articles include
“The Issue of Uniting German Consulates in China in the Process of Founding
German Empire. The Case of Milisch, Hanseatic Consul in Formosa” (2014) and
“Controlling ‘Germans’ under the Unequal Treaty System in Japan: A Study of
German-Japanese Negotiations in the 1870s over the Right of Foreigners to
Travel in the Interior of Japan” (2016).

Tajima Nobuo
is Professor at Seijō University in Tokyo. He studied law, political science
and modern history in Sapporo, Trier, and Bonn before receiving his PhD in
Law from Hokkaidō University in Sapporo. His major publications include
Nachizumu gaikō to ‘Manshūkoku’ (Chikura Shobō, 1992), Nachizumu kyokutō
senryaku (Kōdansha, 1997), Nichidoku kankeishi, 1890–1945 (3 vols., co-edited
with Kudō Akira, Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 2008), Japan and Germany: Two
Latecomers to the World Stage, 1890–1945 (3 vols., co-edited with Kudō Akira
and Erich Pauer, Global Oriental, 2009), Kokusai kankei no naka no Nicchū
sensō (co-edited with Nishimura Shigeo and Ishijima Noriyuki, Keiō Gijuku
Daigaku Shuppankai, 2011), Sengo Nichidoku kankeishi (co-edited with Kudō
List Of Contributors xxv

Akira, Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 2014), Doitsu to higashi Ajia, 1890–1945

(co-edited with Kudō Akira, Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 2017) and Nihon riku-
gun no taiso bōryaku (Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2017).

Tano Daisuke
is Professor of Sociology at Kōnan University in Kobe. After studying sociol-
ogy and modern history at Kyoto University and Munich University, he re-
ceived his PhD for a doctoral thesis on political aesthetics of the Third Reich
titled Miwaku suru teikoku (Nagoya Daigaku Shuppankai, 2007). From 2000
to 2009 he was Lecturer and then Associate Professor at Osaka University of
Economics. He is also author of a study on sexuality in the Third Reich titled
Ai to yokubō no Nachizumu (Kōdansha, 2012), co-translator of Dagmar Herzog’s
book Sex after Fascism (Iwanami Shoten, 2012) and author of “ ‘Achse der
Freizeit’: Der Weltkongress für Freizeit und Erholung 1936 und Japans Blick auf
Deutschland” in the Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaft (2010). His current
research focuses on the Japanese-German cultural exchange during the 1930s
and 1940s, especially in the field of leisure and welfare.

Michael Wachutka
is Director of Tübingen University’s Center for Japanese Studies (TCJS) at
Dōshisha University in Kyoto. He studied Japanese and Chinese studies at
the University of Tübingen, Germany, followed by the study of Comparative
Cultures at Sophia University in Tokyo. After conducting research in Tokyo
for several years, he returned to Tübingen University where he received a PhD
in Japanese studies in 2007. He then served as interim acting professor at the
University of Halle-Wittenberg, before taking up his current position in 2009.
He has published articles and books on Japanese intellectual history, national
identity, the mythology and sacred scriptures of Shinto, and aspects of the
Tennō system. His most recent publications include Kokugaku in Meiji-period
Japan: The Transformation of ‘National Learning’ and the Formation of Scholarly
Societies (Global Oriental, 2013) and Staatsverständnis in Japan: Ideen und
Wirklichkeiten des japanischen Staates in der Moderne (with Takii Kazuhiro,
Nomos, 2016).

Rolf-Harald Wippich
received his PhD in modern and medieval history at the University of Cologne.
Professor of European History at Sophia University in Tokyo from 1991 to 2011,
he now lives in Switzerland as an independent historian. His research fo-
cuses on European-East Asian contacts during the nineteenth and twentieth
xxvi list of contributors

centuries, particularly on German-Japanese relations. He is co-author/co-editor

of Japanese-German Relations, 1895–1945 (with Christian W. Spang, Routledge,
2006), Lexikon zur Überseegeschichte (Steiner, 2015), and OAG—Geschichte der
Deutschen Gesellschaft für Natur- und Völkerkunde Ostasiens (with Christian W.
Spang and Sven Saaler, Iudicium, 2017). His most recent publication, Ein
Husar in Ostasien, is a biography of the German envoy in Japan, Theodor von
Holleben (Iudicium, 2012).
Introduction: Japanese-German Mutual Images
from the 1860s to the Present

Sven Saaler

This volume explores the development of mutual perceptions and images of

Japan and Germany, as well as Japanese and Germans, over the last 150 years
as expressed in political writings and visual media. The seventeen chapters
address the factors shaping these images and examine their influence on the
bilateral relationship between these two countries.
Modern nations and nation states are highly sensitive about the “images”
other nations and individuals have of them. States, governments, and nations
all seek to be respected members of international society and, for a number
of reasons to be considered below, desire to have a positive “image” in world
public opinion. To that end, they pursue what has been called “cultural foreign
policy” (Jp. bunka gaikō; Ger. Kulturaußenpolitik) or “public diplomacy,”1 aim-
ing at strengthening their “soft power.”2 Modern Japan and Germany have fol-
lowed this pattern since the nineteenth century and have developed a broad
range of strategies and policies to fashion the images and perceptions held
of their country and society on the world stage. The two cases of Japan and
Germany are characterized by a strong degree of continuity and they share
remarkable similarities.
Germany and Japan today not only finance television and radio stations
(Deutsche Welle, Deutschlandfunk, NHK International), but have also es-
tablished cultural and language institutes (Goethe Institute; institutes af-
filiated to the Japan Foundation) and institutions to encourage international
academic exchange (Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst or DAAD, the
Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung; the Japan Foundation, the Japan Society for

1 On these terms in the Japanese and German context, see Düwell and Link 1981; Snow 2009;
Kaneko 2007; for a historical analysis of the Japanese case, see Valliant 1974.
2 The term “soft power” was first used by political scientist Joseph Nye in 1990 (Nye 1990; 2004)
and is often used in studies relating to the spread of Japanese popular culture in Asia and
the West (Yoshino 1992; McGray 2002; Manzenreiter 2007; Otmazgin 2012). Nye originally
used the term with reference to the “soft power” of the United States, whose foreign policy
combines culturally focused strategies with “hard” diplomacy and military efforts aimed at
preserving and expanding its impact.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_002

2 Saaler

the Promotion of Science, or JSPS; see Saaler 2014c). Both countries support
the translation of literature into foreign languages,3 and Germany addition-
ally funds the political foundations, global think tanks with links to political
parties.4 In addition, the two nations organize diverse cultural, academic, and
business-related events in other countries, such as the “Japan in Germany
Year” 1999/2000 and the “Germany in Japan Year” 2005/06. From time to time,
Germany and Japan cooperate in the field of public diplomacy, indicating that
the two countries share a common political agenda.5 State-led efforts are often
boosted by privately funded initiatives, including the “international under-
standing” program run by the Robert Bosch Foundation,6 or the activities of
NGOs such as Peaceboat, Genron NPO, or Nippon.com in Japan.7 Moreover, the
economic considerations of private corporations also play an important role in
the creation of a positive image of export-oriented nations.8
The image of Japan and Germany has fluctuated sharply in world opin-
ion over time. Respected states until the 1920s—with an hiatus during World
War I in Germany’s case—by 1945 the two countries had become we would
today call “rogue states.” This classification was made explicit in the “enemy
state clause” in the United Nations Charter signed in June 1945. Although the
United Nations General Assembly in 1995 declared that the clause is consid-
ered obsolete, it has never been erased from the charter.9 Nonetheless, Japan
and Germany have enjoyed considerable success in restoring their respective

3 While the influence of literature on a nation’s “image” cannot be disputed and has been
the subject of a number of excellent studies, it is beyond the scope of this volume. For the
Germany image in Japanese literature, see, for example, Matsuda 2000.
4 See the websites of the Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung (www.kas.de/japan) and the Friedrich-
Ebert-Stiftung (www.fes-japan.org) (both last accessed June 1, 2016).
5 See, for example, the international symposium “Fostering Peace through Cultural Initiatives:
Perspectives from Japan and Germany” (JF 2009).
6 On its website, the foundation uses “international relations” as the heading for this area
of its activities; see http://www.bosch-stiftung.de/content/language2/html/international
-relations.asp (last accessed December 1, 2016).
7 See http://www.genron-npo.net/en, www.peaceboat.org, and www.nippon.com, respectively
(last accessed June 1, 2016).
8 Regarding the focus on economic considerations in the planning stages of the “Germany in
Japan Year” 2005/06, see Schmiegelow 2003: 2.
9 See the “Report of the Special Committee on the Charter of the United Nations and on the
Strengthening of the Role of the Organization” of December 1995, which, on “the question
of the deletion of the ‘enemy State’ clauses from Articles 53, 77, and 107 of the Charter of the
United Nations” declared that “the clauses in Articles 53, 77, and 107 of the Charter of the
United Nations have become obsolete,” http://www.un.org/documents/ga/docs/50/plenary/
a50-642.htm (last accessed June 1, 2016).
Introduction 3

“images” during the post-war period. In a poll conducted by the British news
channel BBC on the “popularity of nations” in 2012, Japan ranked first. In the
same poll in 2013, Germany ranked first,10 attesting to an impressive comeback
by the two countries that started the Asia-Pacific War (1931–1945) and World
War II (1939–1945), respectively, causing the deaths of tens of millions of peo-
ple in Europe and East Asia, respectively.
“Image restoration,” however, has not been easy. As late as the 1960s, in a
report on “the image of Germany in the world,” the press office of the Federal
Government of Germany (Bundespresseamt) stated that “the Germans are, on
average, the most unpopular people in the world.”11 Japan has had similar prob-
lems and continues to face fears of a “resurgence of Japanese militarism” in
countries that had experienced Japanese colonial rule or military occupation
during the twentieth century.
Notwithstanding the drastic changes of the images of Japan and Germany
throughout the twentieth century, generally images of nations are conspicu-
ously stable and only change over long periods. In the 1980s, former German
diplomat Hans Schwalbe emphasized that “it is almost impossible to change
a popular image once it has developed roots in wider circles [of a society]”
(Schwalbe in Klein 1984: 19). He added that the “image held by the popula-
tion of one country of another is at least one generation behind reality” (ibid.:
18). With regard to stereotypes, a particular category of national images, so-
ciologists Muzafer Sherif and Carolyn W. Sherif have pointed out that “once
established in a group, stereotypes tend to persist” (Sherif and Sherif 1956).
Rosemary Anne Breger, author of one of the few books on mutual represen-
tations of Japan and Germany, states that “contemporary images of Japan …
come from an old stock, i.e. there is a high degree of recurrence of a relatively
small number of already extant images” (Breger 1990: 12). In his classic study
Misunderstanding: Europe vs. Japan (Wilkinson 1990),12 diplomat turned schol-
ar Endymion Wilkinson reported the same phenomenon:

10 More than 26,000 people were surveyed internationally for the poll; see BBC 2013. For an-
other survey with similar results, see the “Soft Power Survey” on the website of the global
affairs magazine Monocle (https://monocle.com/film/affairs/soft-power-survey-2015-16/)
(last accessed June 1, 2016). See also the international comparative polls conducted by the
Pew Research Center (http://www.pewglobal.org/) (last accessed June 1, 2016) and Gallup
(www.gallup.com) (last accessed June 1, 2016).
11 See the article “Deutschland-Bild” in Der Spiegel, October 10, 1966, emphasis added by the
author.
12 Wilkinson’s book was first published in 1980 in Japanese and in 1981 in English. The pas-
sages quoted here are taken from the revised edition published in 1990 under the title
Japan Versus the West: Image and Reality.
4 Saaler

The more I read, the more I found the same things about Japan and the
Japanese appearing over and over again.… Observations of the amateur
European or American Japanologist of the nineteenth century would
suddenly pop up in late twentieth-century works.… Even with the ra-
pidity of modern communications, it still appears to take at least one
generation to absorb and encapsulate perceptions of another country in
a memorable stereotype. Idées reçues are not formed overnight in the
minds of individuals; still less so in the collective unconscious of a coun-
try. (ibid.: 30–33)

With a view to changing popular images of a nation or society considered out-

dated or distorted, governments around the world have invested an increas-
ing amount of time, effort, and resources in devising “image policies.” While
Germany and Japan are two prominent examples of countries actively engaged
in strategies aimed at improving their image in world opinion, they are not
unique, as China’s twenty-first century “charm offensive” (Kurlantzick 2008)
and other examples demonstrate.

Formal relations between Japan and Germany—and their mutual represen-

tations—had their beginnings in the Prussian-German mission to Japan of
1860/61 (Stahncke 1987; 2000; Dobson and Saaler 2011);13 the two nations are
now looking back on a history spanning more than 150 years.14 Germany and
Japan are geographically distant and do not share a topography that would
naturally draw them into a close relationship, one being an archipelago in East
Asia and the other being a continental state in central Europe. However, the
two countries have exerted considerable influence on their respective devel-
opment. This is the result of a strong presence in each other’s collective mind,
albeit with a variety of imbalances throughout the two countries’ modern his-
tory, as the chapters in this volume show.

13 While the mission itself was organized and dominated by Prussia, its objective was the
conclusion of a commercial treaty between Japan on the one side and thirty German
states on the other. Representatives of several German states other than Prussia were
aboard the mission’s ships when it arrived in Japan. See below and chapters 1 and 2.
14 Some studies date the contacts between “Germany” and “Japan” back to the late seven-
teenth century, when German doctor Engelbert Kaempfer (1651–1716) had come to Japan
as an employee of the Dutch East India Company (Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie;
VOC). See, for example, the publication “300 Years German-Japanese Relations in
Medicine” (Kraas and Hiki 1992).
Introduction 5

This introductory chapter will first define what is meant by national

“images” in this publication, then outline the significance of the topic within
the field of international relations and introduce the methodological ques-
tions involved. This is followed by an overview of mutual representations of
Japan and Germany over the past 150 years.

What Are National Images?

The Ambivalent Meaning of “Images”

In this publication, the term “image” is not to be exclusively understood in its
primary or literal meaning—that is, as a visual representation of a thing or
a person. It also subsumes mental images, which are often based on and ex-
pressed in texts.
The Oxford English Dictionary gives three definitions for the term “image,”
including “a physical or digital representation of something, originally cap-
tured using a camera from visible light, and typically reproduced on paper,
displayed on a screen, or stored as a computer file,” or “a mental representation
of something … created not by direct perception but by memory or imagina-
tion; a mental picture or impression; an idea, conception,” and “a concept or
impression, created in the minds of the public, of a particular person, institu-
tion, product, etc.” (Oxford English Dictionary, third edition, September 2009).
This first definition in the OED is what we would usually consider an “image”
in the literal sense—in other words, it refers to visual media, most notably pho-
tography. Visual sources, long neglected by historical research, play an impor-
tant role in many of the following chapters, even though the research presented
here is not limited to the analysis of visual imagery. The second definition deals
with “images” in the non-literal sense—that is, an “image” formed in the mind
that can be shaped by diverse factors, among them the visual, as well as tex-
tual sources and the mass media. The third definition is equally relevant in the
context of this volume because it implies that “images” are not only formed by
individuals, but also by collectives. These are images of people or institutions,
including states. As suggested in the OED definition, representations of states
or nations in postmodern, consumerist societies are often closely related to
their commercial products. And, as we will see below, this is a highly pertinent
issue when considering mutual images of Japan and Germany.15 Moreover,

15 The history of the label “Made in Germany” is of particular interest in this context.
Carrying a generally positive connotation today, it was devised by the British government
to mark imports from Germany, which, at the beginning of the twentieth century, were
6 Saaler

this third definition helps explain why, although we speak of images of “Japan”
and “Germany,” it is not always entirely clear whether the entity being referred
to is the state, its members, society, or the vaguely defined collective we call
the nation.

Images, Reality, and the Media

In their discussion of “images,” the authors in this study are cognizant that
they are dealing with constructs, and not reality per se. Even visual sources
such as photography do not necessarily represent “reality,” as Susan Sontag and
others have demonstrated (see Sontag 1977; 2003; also Burke 2001: ch. 1). Some
commentators insist that there is often, if not always, some kernel of truth in
“images.” However, the truthfulness of this assertion falls outside the scope of
this volume. The point is that these kinds of representations exist, that people
believe in such images and their relation to reality, and that political decisions
and even the course of international relations continue to be influenced by
images, however outdated or distorted they might be. Thus, the question of the
degree of reality exhibited by a given visual image, as well as the question of its
reliability as an historical source (Schwartz 2004), is not a topic of discussion
here.
What can be asserted, however, is that the rapid diffusion of the mass media
since the late nineteenth century has brought about a wide dissemination of
visual media in modern societies. Governments are only too aware of this.
Although they compete for influence with independent mass media organiza-
tions, they also cooperate with them, finance them, bribe them, and even run
radio or television stations, at home and for international consumption. While
this level of involvement has not necessarily contributed to the rectification
of outdated and distorted national images, it has profoundly impacted how
nations perceive each other. Visual media have been particularly influential in
this context because of the broad circulation of “images” that are easy to un-
derstand, consume and internalize. For this reason, some of the contributors
to this volume place a strong emphasis on the investigation of visual sourc-
es. Previously neglected by historical research, visual sources have received
more attention from historians in recent decades as an important and inde-
pendent source of historical knowledge, rather than merely an illustration of

considered of lower quality than British products, albeit cheaper. See the definition in
James Redding Ware’s slang and catchphrase dictionary, Passing English of the Victorian
Era (1909): “Made in Germany: bad, valueless. Outcome of the vast quantity of inferior
goods imported from Germany.” The reputation of goods “Made in Japan” has evolved in
a similar way from the 1950s to the present day.
Introduction 7

“conclusions that the author has already reached by other means” (Burke 2001:
10). Scholars such as the cultural historian Peter Burke even speak of a “picto-
rial turn” (ibid.: 12) or a “visual turn” (Schwartz 2004) in the humanities, partly
as a result of culture in general “becoming increasingly visual” (Burke 2001: 10).
A broad range of media used to spread images of “the other” have figured
significantly in modern Japanese-German relations. One of the early examples
of “visual texts” relevant to the present inquiry are woodblock prints, a por-
tion of which played the role of “tabloids” in early modern societies (Formanek
and Linhart 2005). Printed in the hundreds or even thousands, they often in-
fluenced a larger audience due to their wide dissemination. Lithographs and
picture postcards, new visual media appearing in the second half of the nine-
teenth century in Japan and Germany, were produced in even greater numbers.
The first newspapers and journals to include images and photographs—such
as the Leipziger Illustrirte Zeitung, the satirical journals analyzed in chapter 5
by Rolf-Harald Wippich, or the Japan Punch published in Yokohama and dis-
cussed by Hakoishi Hiroshi in chapter 3—reached tens of thousands of readers.
In the 1920s and 1930s, the circulation of such journals expanded to hundreds
of thousands. Radio, introduced in the 1920s, and television, introduced in the
1930s, would become part of the everyday lives of millions of people. In the
new millennium, YouTube clips and internet television are accessible to broad
audiences world-wide.
This ability to reach mass audiences on a global scale makes it highly attrac-
tive for states to engage in international broadcasting, such as Germany with
Deutsche Welle (DW) and arte (a German-French collaboration), Japan with
NHK World, and Great Britain with BBC, the latter considered the epitome of
“international public diplomacy.” More recently, new actors have joined the
struggle for hegemony in world opinion, such as CCTV from China, Russian
international broadcaster RT, and Al-Jazeera, based in Qatar. These networks,
in combination with the few remaining global news agencies (Reuters, AP) and
a handful of influential newspapers (International New York Times, The Times),
today exert an immeasurable impact on international public opinion.

Stereotypes and “National Character”

Against this background of the growing influence of images disseminated by
the mass media, the question of whether the images dealt with in this study are
based on or reflect some kind of “reality” or “truth,” is a secondary. However, we
need to be aware of the processes that separate images from reality and imbue
them with a life of their own. One of the principal processes at work in the
dissemination of imagery is simplification. Reality is complex, but in order to
have an effect on the broader public, images—visual or otherwise—need to
8 Saaler

be simple. They exist to assist people to understand an intricate world. The

process of simplification often leads to the creation of stereotypes, and Breger
(1990: 5) maintains that stereotyping “is a major modality in collective image
construction.” In the process of stereotyping, Breger also notes that “logical
consistency is not as important to symbolic efficacy as expressiveness” (ibid.).
It is a very common process in encounters between cultures (Burke 2001: 125;
see ibid.: ch. 7 for examples of stereotyping throughout history).
The term “stereotype” was first used for an oversimplified image in a socio-
logial context in Walter Lippmann’s (1889–1974) famous 1922 study of the role
of public opinion in the age of mass democracy (Lippman 1922: chs. 6 and 7).
Lippmann borrowed the term from the language of printing and offers a more
radical definition than Breger:

[Stereotypes] are an ordered, more or less consistent picture of the

world, to which our habits, our tastes, our capacities, our comforts and
our hopes have adjusted themselves. They may not be a complete picture
of the world, but they are a picture of a possible world to which we are
adapted. In that world people and things have their well-known places,
and do certain expected things. We feel at home there. We fit in. We are
members. (Lippmann 1922: 68)

Lippmann placed particular emphasis on the power of visualized stereotypes.

He acknowledged the power of the then still young medium of photography:

Photographs have the kind of authority over imagination to-day, which

the printed word had yesterday, and the spoken word before that. They
seem utterly real. They come, we imagine, directly to us without human
meddling, and they are the most effortless food for the mind conceiv-
able. (Lippmann 1922: 65; see also Breger 1990: 112 and the classic study
On Photography, Sontag 1977)

A second essential factor in the establishment of a stereotype is the process

of boundary-drawing between the in-group and the out-group. This aspect is
addressed in Lippmann’s definition above when he states that in a stereotyped
world, “we feel at home” or “we are members.” Accordingly, the constructed
groups need to be clearly defined and largely homogenous (Breger 1990: 6–7).
In the context of relations between two nations or nation states, this mecha-
nism often leads to the creation of “national character” (Ger. Volkscharakter;
Jp. kokuminsei). The rich history of mutual national imagery is partly the re-
sult of the fact that modern Japanese and German writers and thinkers have
Introduction 9

been very active in constructing their own distinctive “national identities”

and “national characters.” While the validity of overly generalizing “national
characters” is often questioned by academics today, their study has remained a
popular topic in literature for travelers (travel guides, travelogues, and others),
pseudo-scientific publications, and opinion polls.16
Discussions of a German Volkscharakter and a Japanese kokuminsei date back
to the early twentieth century. In Germany, the first publications on the subject
focused on the Volkscharakter of the British, the Belgians, and other nations;
the first book-length study containing the phrase “German Volkscharakter” in
the title only appeared in 1932. Japanese scholars wrote much earlier about the
kokuminsei of the Germans. In 1914, the scholar of German literature, Katayama
Koson (1879–1933), defined what he called the “German national character”
(Katayama 1914). His views of Germany were largely positive, despite the
fact that Japan and Germany were at war when his book appeared. The main
features of the Germans, according to Katayama, were individualism, which
Katayama believed did not stand in the way of patriotism; followed by dili-
gence, rationalism, and tenacity (ibid.: 98–107). In contrast to Germanophile
Katayama, political scientist Yoshino Sakuzō (1878–1933) arrived at a more crit-
ical assessment of the German kokuminsei around the same time, calling upon
his fellow Japanese to rid themselves of “German thinking” (Yoshino 1914: 57).
These early writings on national character were strongly influenced by the
writings of University of Tokyo professor Haga Yaichi (1867–1927), who had
inaugurated the field of “national character” studies in 1907 with his influen-
tial Ten Theses on National Character (Kokuminsei jūron; Haga 1907) (fig. 0.1).17
Haga’s book was one of the first attempts to define the Japanese “national char-
acter” in easily understandable categories. Active as an advocate of kokugaku
(National Learning) during the Meiji (1868–1912) and Taishō (1912–1926) pe-
riods, Haga had spent time in Germany in 1900/01, researching “methods for
studying the history of literature” (Burns 2003: 199). Upon his return to Japan, he
reassured his fellow countrymen that they had nothing to learn from Europe in
terms of literary theory because kokugaku had everything needed to be called
“an academic discipline” (ibid.). His 1907 work on national character became a
bestseller, reaching its thirtieth edition in 1934, and today it is considered part

16 See, for example, the “Survey on Japanese National Character” (Nihonjin kokuminsei
chōsa) conducted by the Institute of Statistical Mathematics every five years since 1958
(results are online accessible at www.ism.ac.jp/kokuminsei). See Saaler 2016 for an analy-
sis of this survey.
17 On Haga’s role in the development of modern Japanese nationalism, see Burns 2003: ch.
7; Wachutka 2013: ch. 9.
10 Saaler

Figure 0.1
Haga Yaichi.
Source: Haga Yaichi, Kokuminsei
jūron. Tokyo: Toyama Shobō,
1907.

of the canon of classic writings in the genre of “discourses of the Japanese”

(Nihonjinron). In this work, Haga defines “loyalty to the emperor and love for
the fatherland” (chūkun aikoku) as the central pillar of the Japanese national
character, followed by exclusively positive traits such as “respect for the an-
cestors and esteem for the family” (senso o agamai, kamei o omonzu), “love of
flowers and nature” (kusaki o aishi, shizen o yorokobu), “cleanliness” (shōjō kep-
paku) and “good manners” (reisetsu sahō). It is hardly surprising that it was in
the 1930s, when Japan and Germany were looking to each other for ideological
inspiration more than ever before (see below), that his book came to the at-
tention of German scholars who introduced Haga’s work to a wider German
audience (Gundert 1935).
The shared interest of Japanese and German scholars in this subject went
hand in hand with a search for commonalities in the respective national char-
acters of the two nations. However, as the publication of the first German
discussion of Haga’s Ten Theses on National Character in 1935 illustrates, this
quest did not really begin until the 1930s. An interesting study of the image
Introduction 11

of Japan shared by Germans in Meiji Japan (Freitag 1939) underlines the fact
that the idea of a “spiritual kinship” or “cultural similarities” between the
two nations—until today considered by many a fundamental characteristic
of Japanese-German relations (Kiuchi 2014)—was an invention of the 1930s.
The 1930s saw a constant stream of Japanese and German publications em-
phasizing the similarities between the two nations. A prime example in this
context was the 1931 book by the philosopher Kanokogi Kazunobu (1884–1949;
on Kanokogi, see Szpilman 2014) in 1931 with the telling title Yamato-gokoro
to Doitsu seishin (Japanese Soul and German Spirit; Kanokogi 1931). The book
stresses the “highly conspicuous” similitudes in the historical trajectories of
the two countries (ibid.: ch. 3, section 8–9) and claims that this process has led
to the development of an underlying compatibility between the Japanese and
German national characters (ibid.: 142).
However, even in the 1930s Kanokogi was something of an exception
in Japan. Japanese writers generally tended to place greater emphasis on
Japanese uniqueness rather than on commonalities with Germany. The topic
of Japanese-German similarities, a “spiritual kinship” of the two nations,
and a “common destiny” was more frequently expressed in German writings
(see Bieber 2014: 268–276, 873–881, 1073). For example, the short essay “Die
Samurai—Ritter des Reiches in Ehre und Treue” (The Samurai. Knights of
the Reich in Honor and Loyalty) by Nazi propagandist Heinz Corazza (1908–
1978), first serialized in 1936 in the SS journal Das Schwarze Korps (The Black
Corps) and then reprinted as a booklet by the publishing house of the National
Socialist party (Corazza 1937) with a foreword by SS Reichsführer Heinrich
Himmler (1900–1945). It played a crucial role within Nazi ideology (Orbach
2008, see also ch. 14 in this volume). Corazza’s work would be reprinted numer-
ous times until the end of the war (Bieber 2014: 17; 270f) and strongly influenced
the German perception of similarities between the Japanese and German na-
tional spirit, the ideas of loyalty to the state, and the spirit of sacrifice. German
academics initially attempted to resist this trend (ibid.: 275), but the signing
of the Japanese-German Anti-Comintern Pact of 1936 made this increasing-
ly difficult. In his inaugural lecture at Hamburg University in the same year,
Japanologist Wilhelm Gundert (1880–1971) advocated a “politically engaged
Japanology” (ibid.: 385f). Another Japanologist, Walter Donat (1882–1960),
clearly understood the sign of the times when he characterized Japan and
Germany in a 1943 publication as “two peoples with an extremely similar na-
tional spirit,” the consequence of “almost identical paths in their historical de-
velopment.” Donat stressed the military element in the evolution of modern
Germany and Japan:
12 Saaler

Both the Germanic tribes and the proto-Japanese were bellicose war-
rior-peasants. The spirit of the Prussian officer corps and the Tokugawa
samurai, but also the political soldier of National Socialist stamp and the
heroic soldierly attitude of the Japanese nation in the present—all these
offer important parallels. (Donat 1943)

Publications on alleged Japanese-German similarities and a “common destiny”

of the two nations (Bieber 2014: 795) reached their climax in the first half of
1942 (ibid.: 866), yet they remained influential until the final days of the war
(ibid.: 904, 1051; see also below).
In some conspicuous ways, such writings are echoed in post-war discourse.
As late as 2000, former Japanese ambassador to Germany Kume Kunisada
emphasized that Germany and Japan have a “similar national character,” ex-
pressed in “diligence, exactness, discipline, and organizational talent” (Kume
2000: 5; see also Kiuchi 2014). It is only in more recent times with the younger
generation that such images have been challenged,18 and with them, perhaps,
the whole idea of a “national character.”19

The Study of National Images in International Relations

In historical studies and studies in the field of international relations, the issue
of “mutual images” has received increasing attention in recent years. While it
has been acknowledged that the processes of globalization have reduced the
value of analyzing international relations at the level of single nation states,
it is evident that nation states continue to invest a great deal of energy on
attempts to improve their image in other countries and in “world opinion.”
Images of “others” are still predominantly defined in national contexts,20 and,
as we have seen above, government-related institutions are first in line when it

18 Young Japanese who have traveled to Germany or have had interaction with Germans
have developed a very different set of images. They regard Germans as being fairly re-
laxed, but also not entirely reliable, poor service providers, and not very flexible or ef-
ficient; see Yoshida in Vondran 2006: 32–33.
19 However, the continuing popularity of Nihonjinron indicate that simplifying images of a
whole nation remain attractive to a certain group of consumers of writings on “national
character.” See Dale 1986; Oguma 1995; 1998.
20 See, for example, the Simon Anholt “Nation Brands Index” (http://www.simonanholt.
com/Research/research-introduction.aspx) (last accessed June 1, 2016).
Introduction 13

comes to waging campaigns to improve the “national image.” Images of nations

and nation states are communicated to society at large by the mass media and
eventually influence bilateral relations.
Sometimes, images and perceptions—often misperceptions—disseminat-
ed by the media are responsible for international incidents and tensions. The
outrage expressed in Muslim countries over caricatures allegedly defaming the
Prophet Muhammad published by Danish (Hervik 2012) and French (Vincour
2012) satirical journals in 2010 and 2012, respectively, are prime examples for
such tensions within a transnational media setting. Japan and Germany are
also involved in debates of this kind. For example, a British television program
reportedly ridiculed a Japanese man who had escaped the atomic bombing of
Hiroshima and fled to Nagasaki, only to experience another nuclear attack, as
“The Unluckiest Man in the World.” The Japanese government filed a protest in
response to what it saw as an affront to the dignity of the victim and of Japan
itself.21 Japan has filed a number of similar protests with several countries in
recent years. This appears on face value to be a contradictory policy given the
discriminatory remarks often made by Japanese officials about foreigners, but
also about domestic minorities.22
In an unequal fight between state and non-governmental organiza-
tions, various arms of the Japanese government, above all the Ministry of
Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries, have crossed swords with Greenpeace,
the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF), and other NGOs over Japan’s right
to conduct whaling “for research purposes.” While the WWF and Greenpeace
have distributed millions of brochures and leaflets worldwide and have im-
pressive websites canvassing the whaling issue,23 the Ministry of Agriculture’s
sparse English-language website includes, at the time of writing, only two
links to official speeches made by Japan’s representatives at the last meeting
of the International Whaling Commission (IWC).24 By contrast, the ministry’s

21 See “Japan Protests to BBC Over Treatment of ‘Double A-Bomb Survivor’.” (http://www
.japanherald.com/index.php/sid/42221063/scat/c4f2dd8ca8c78044) (last accessed June 1,
2016).
22 See Hoffmann, Michael (2011), “A Short History of Big Gaffes by Japanese Politicians,” The
Japan Times, October 3, 2011 or coverage of an incident, during which a local assemblyman
called gay people “abnormal animals” (http://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2015/12/03/
national/local-assemblyman-urged-resign-calling-gay-people-abnormal).
23 See http://www.greenpeace.org/international/en/campaigns/oceans/whaling/ending-
japanese-whaling/ and http://wwf.panda.org/what_we_do/endangered_species/
cetaceans/threats/whaling/ (last accessed June 1, 2016).
24 See http://www.jfa.maff.go.jp/e/whale/ (last accessed June 1, 2016).
14 Saaler

Japanese-language website contains a number of links to videos showing ships

belonging to the NGO “Sea Shepherd” obstructing Japanese whalers, clearly for
the purpose of mobilizing domestic support for Japan’s whaling policies and
damaging Sea Shepherd’s reputation. However, the ministry’s lackadaisical
attempt at presenting Japan’s case on whaling to the international commu-
nity can only be regarded as a PR debacle that has clearly harmed the nation’s
image in the court of international public opinion.25
As these examples show, the study of national “images” is not merely an
academic exercise. It also helps us to understand contemporary international
relations and the roots of ongoing global conflicts. Images, as well as percep-
tions and misperceptions, of other states and societies form the basis of much
political judgment; such representations strongly influence national decision-
making. As early as 1922, Walter Lippmann asserted in his book Public Opinion:
“We shall assume that what each man does is based not on direct and cer-
tain knowledge, but on pictures made by himself or given to him” (Lippmann
1922: 21). Over half a century later, in his pioneering 1976 work Perception and
Misperception in International Politics, political scientist Robert Jervis empha-
sized that outdated information, wishful thinking, and selective cognition re-
garding a country or a situation often lead to poor decisions in international
politics. Deeply rooted images of countries, governments, and societies, in-
cluding judgments about their stability or lack of it, frequently cause misper-
ceptions and misunderstandings and result in wrong decisions. In order to
appreciate why such decisions are made, Jervis points out, it is important to
understand the perceptions on which they are based (Jervis 1976: 7). He goes
on to ask how national images are formed, how they change, and how they
impact decision-making processes (ibid.: 8). In conclusion, Jervis claims that
“it is often impossible to explain crucial decisions and policies without ref-
erence to the decision-makers’ beliefs about the world and their images of
others” (ibid.: 28).
Research on international relations in East Asia has shown an increasing
interest in the role of such images in recent years. In particular, the influence
of “images of the other” in educational contexts has received some atten-
tion in the study of Japanese–Korean and Sino-Japanese relations as a con-
sequence of the growing significance of the “history problem” (Saaler 2013;
2014a; 2016). Historians of Japanese-American relations (in Iriye 1975; Sawada

25 A direct outcome of Japan’s lack of “public diplomacy” on the whaling issue was the rul-
ing of the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in April 2014 that Japan’s whaling activities
in the Antarctic were not being undertaken for scientific purposes and must cease. See
“Ruling Puts Whaling in Doubt,” The Japan Times, April 1, 2014.
Introduction 15

1999) have begun to consider the place of “mutual images” in their research.
Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) scholar John Dower (1986) and
Shibusawa Naoko (2006) have published groundbreaking studies of “images”
and “imaginings” in wartime and post-war relations between Japan and the
United States. Dower has also contributed to MIT’s online project “Visualizing
Cultures,” a prime example of scholarship focusing on the analysis of visual
sources in the field of international relations.26
As early as 1980, Dower was one of the first scholars to note the insufficient
use of visual sources in research on Japan. In the foreword to the English edition
of A Century of Japanese Photography, he wrote that “among Westerners, the
historians of photography have neglected Japan, and the historians of modern
Japan have neglected photography” (Japan Photographers Association 1980: 3).
In recent years, a number of studies have been published on “mutual imag-
es” of Japan and the West, such as Bert Edström’s The Japanese and Europe:
Images and Perceptions (Edström 2000), volume 1 of William McOmie’s Foreign
Images an Experiences of Japan (McOmie 2005)27 and The Image of Japan in
Europe (Koma et al. 2008). Other publications have dealt with visual wartime
propaganda and include a discussion of mutual images in conflict situations
(Earhart 2008; Ichinose 2008).
In research on Japanese-German relations, a focus on diplomatic and
economic ties continues to dominate the field.28 Only in the last decade has
there been a number of publications that mark the beginnings of a systematic
analysis of visual sources and the role of visual media in shaping Japanese-
German relations. Notable examples are Sepp Linhart’s ‘Dainty Japanese’ or
‘Yellow Peril’? (Linhart 2005), a discussion of European postcards as expres-
sions of European images of Japan; the exhibition catalogue Der Russisch-
Japanische Krieg im Spiegel Deutscher Bilderbogen, co-edited by this author

26 See the project website at http://ocw.mit.edu/ans7870/21f/21f.027/home/index.html (last

accessed June 1, 2016).
27 Volume 1 is limited to the period up to the 1840s.
28 As a summary of the state of the field, see the three-volume set Japan and Germany: Two
Latecomers to the World Stage, 1890–1945 (Kudō, Tajima, and Pauer 2009) and the origi-
nal Japanese version (Kudō and Tajima 2008), as well as Spang and Wippich 2006. Sakai
Tetsuya has stressed that although research on Japanese-German relations has generally
focused “on the era of the Tripartite Pact, there has been little in the way of a comprehen-
sive history of relations between the two countries” until the publication of the above
work by Kudō and Tajima (see Sakai 2011). Cho, Roberts, and Spang 2016 presents studies
of “cultural encounters” between the two countries that go beyond the previous concen-
tration on diplomatic and economic contacts; it also covers the post-war period. On post-
war Japanese-German relations, see Kudō and Tajima 2014, and Saaler 2014c.
16 Saaler

and Inaba Chiharu (Inaba and Saaler 2005); Impressions of an Imperial Envoy
(Pantzer and Saaler 2007); Takenaka Tōru’s research on satirical journals
(Takenaka 2007); Under Eagle Eyes (Dobson and Saaler 2011) and a number
of exhibition catalogues published during and after the 150th Anniversary of
Japanese-German relations in 2011.29 A number of further studies have also
analyzed the formation of “images” through textual sources, such as Iwasa
Masashi’s analysis of “pre-war Japanese perceptions of Germany” (Iwasa
2005); Nakano Yoshiyuki’s analysis of German images of Japan (Nakano 2005);
Maltarich’s study of National Socialist views of Japan (Maltarich 2005), and Till
Koltermann’s study of Japanese-German cultural exchange between 1933 and
1945 (Koltermann 2009).
While many of these studies have focused either on the late nineteenth cen-
tury or the 1930s, the present volume, the result of a year-long international
cooperative research project, offers a broader and more balanced analysis. It
deals with the development of mutual representations over the last 150 years
and as a process of mutual interaction. This volume is also unique in its use
of diverse sources and interdisciplinary methodological approaches. Scholars
working in a variety of fields—including the history of ideas, media studies,
and political science—have contributed to this volume, drawing on previously
unexploited primary sources and thus widening the scope of research on the
history of Japanese-German relations. Most of these authors have drawn on
sources that are difficult to access and have thus not been the subject of sys-
tematic study. The following chapters handle visual resources such as newspa-
pers, weekly and monthly journals, photographs, picture postcards, woodblock
prints and lithographs, cartoons and caricatures.

Japan and Germany: Mutual Images, 1861–2011

Japanese-German Relations and Mutual Representations in the

Early Twenty-first Century
Japan and Germany have played an important part in the other’s modern tra-
jectory. The image of “the other” has probably figured more prominently in
bilateral relations in the modern period than the actual extent of the ties be-
tween the two states might suggest.

29 Most notably Curt-Engelhorn-Stiftung für die Reiss-Engelhorn-Museen/Verband der

Deutsch-Japanischen Gesellschaften 2011 and Kokuritsu Rekishi Minzoku Hakubutsukan
2015.
Introduction 17

A survey of statistics on the current state of Japanese-German relations

might be instructive here. The number of Germans and Japanese going to each
other’s country, for example, is very limited—and always has been. Between
2002 and 2012, an average of only 110,000 Germans visited Japan each year.30 In
the other direction, during the same period Germany annually hosted 616,000
tourists from Japan (DZT 2012: 11). Before World War II, traveling between
Japan and Germany took several weeks, and thus the numbers of yearly visitors
making the journey between the two countries remained a three-digit figure.
Mutual images not only developed as a result of publications by the very few
who had been able to go to the other country and see it with their own eyes,
but also through the writings of authors who had never actually set foot in
Japan or Germany. Although some visitors noted similarities in the landscape
and architecture of the two nations,31 the fact that these mutual perceptions
were shaped by a very small number of commentators naturally led to distor-
tions and gross oversimplifications.
Similarly, economic relations between Japan and Germany are only of
secondary importance to the two countries, notwithstanding the visibility
of German cars in Tokyo and Japanese automobiles and electronic goods in
Germany. In 2012, only 1.6% of German exports went to Japan (ranked 16) and
only 2.4% of Japanese exports to Germany (ranked 15) (GCCIJ 2014: 16). These
figures have remained relatively stable for almost a century. For instance, be-
tween 1900 and 1913 Japanese exports to Germany accounted for only 1.4% to
2.6% of Japan’s total exports. The import rate was slightly higher during the
same period, with Germany having a share of 9 to 11% of Japan’s imports (Pauer
1984: 167), a figure that continued to rise in step with the growing German and
Japanese economies (Takenaka 1996: 118). German imports from Japan before
the war and well into the 1930s never accounted for more than 1% of overall
German imports, and only 1 to 2% of all German exports went to Japan (Pauer
1984: 191).32

30 See the website of Japan Travel Bureau, http://www.tourism.jp/tourism-database/

statistics (last accessed June 1, 2016).
31 For example, when naval cadet Karl von Eisendecher (on Eisendecher, see the next sec-
tion) set foot on Japanese soil in 1860, the landscapes and houses he saw reminded him of
his home region of Oldenburg (see a letter written by Eisendecher in Pantzer and Saaler
2007: 17). Philosopher Fujisawa Chikao, visiting Germany in 1937, described the landscape
between the city of Kiel (on the Baltic Sea) and Berlin as being very similar to Japan’s
Northeast (Tōhoku) region (Fujisawa 1938: 348).
32 For some German companies, however, Japan was an important trading partner. Siemens,
for example, undertook around 50% of its East Asian business in Japan, far more than
China (17%) or India (18%) (Takenaka 1996: 119).
18 Saaler

However, in the minds of many Germans and Japanese, the other nation oc-
cupies a more significant place than these numbers might suggest. As we have
already seen, the governments of Japan and Germany are deeply interested
in how other nations perceive them. Both governments take a strong interest
in each other and, in opinion polls from the 1970s well into the twenty-first
century both peoples displayed relatively favorable attitudes towards each
other. There are, of course, always exceptions. However, the polls also show
that, at times, the image of the other nation lacks clarity and that it is difficult
for Germans and Japanese to articulate what they actually “think” about the
other.33
In 1970, the Japanese embassy in Bonn, the then West German seat of gov-
ernment, commissioned an “image study” (Image-Studie) to be undertaken
by a prestigious German polling organization, the Institut für Demoskopie
Allensbach (IfD).34 The aim of the poll was to analyze the “perceptions of
the West German population regarding Japan and the Japanese” (Allensbach
1970: 1). The poll showed that most Germans, when asked what they associated
with “Japan,” pointed to Japan’s economic power (44%), involvement in war
(nuclear bombs, Hiroshima, World War II; total 12%) and Japanese culture and
history. Although the latter (culture and history) included such stereotypes as
the “land of the rising sun,” geisha, cherry blossoms, and the emperor, alto-
gether they were listed by only 10% of respondents (ibid.: 3). In 1980, former
diplomat Hans Schwalbe noted that “the main images of Japan in Germany
are: 1. Land of cherry blossoms, Madame Butterfly and the land of smiling
“kimono-geishas”; 2. Zen; 3. Westernization; and 4. The claim that the Japanese
slavishly copy everything that seems useful, and that they lack the gift of cre-
ativity” (Schwalbe in Klein 1984: 20). The Allensbach poll, however, indicates
that these cultural stereotypes were not as dominant in the German imagi-
nation of Japan as generally assumed. The poll also emphasized that “nega-
tive statements regarding Japan were only recorded in very small numbers”
(Allensbach 1970: 4). Eighty percent of respondents characterized the Japanese

33 In addition to the polls cited here, the Japanese government’s Cabinet Office conducts
regular opinion polls, including an annual survey of “foreign policy issues.” The questions
include an inquiry into the reputation of various nations among Japanese. For example,
respondents are asked whether they “have sympathetic feelings” towards a particular
country (see http://survey.gov-online.go.jp/index.html). In the United States, the Pew
Research Center conducts polls on “global attitudes,” surveying, amongst other questions,
the popularity (and unpopularity) of the US in other countries (see http://www.pew
global.org). All last accessed June 1, 2016.
34 For information on the institute, see their website at http://www.ifd-allensbach.de/ (last
accessed June 1, 2016).
Introduction 19

as “diligent,” 61% as “polite,” 45% as “disciplined,”35 57% as “intelligent”, and

43% as “reliable” (for similar results from a more recent survey, see Jäschke in
Vondran 2006: 43). Some doubts remained concerning the democratic charac-
ter of Japan and the Japanese: only 15% considered the Japanese to be “demo-
cratic,” and diligence and seriousness also had their downside since only 16%
considered the Japanese “happy and fun-loving” (Allensbach 1970: 7). As early
as 1970—the Japanese economy had yet to experience its post-Oil Shock mod-
ernization drive—57% of the German respondents considered that Japanese
manufactures were “as good as German products” (ibid.: 9).
A second poll regarding the image of Japan and the Japanese in Germany,
this time commissioned by the German weekly news magazine Stern, was con-
ducted in 1981 on the back of perceptions that Japan would soon be the world’s
leading economic power (Vogel 1979). In this poll, which was again carried out
by the Allensbach Institute, the results of the 1970 survey were largely con-
firmed. Although only 1% of respondents stated they had ever met a Japanese
or had personal contact with one, the number of Germans who claimed to
“like” the Japanese was 41%, while only 18% said they “didn’t like the Japanese
very much” (Allensbach 1981: 2–3). Nearly half (45%) said they did not know or
were unable to judge; this is not surprising given the fact that 99% had never
met a Japanese person. The attributes of the Japanese were very similar to
those reported in the 1970 poll: diligent (86%), polite (66%), dutiful (59%),
disciplined (45%), and so on. “Democratic” as an attribute for the Japanese fell
to a mere 10% in the Stern poll (ibid.: 5), but no single negative attribute was
named by more than 8% of respondents (ibid.). Interestingly, in a comparative
question about which country would provide a suitable model for Germany,
Japan (22%) ranked second after Switzerland (42%), ahead of Sweden (21%)
and the United States (19%) (ibid.: 8). Spontaneous associations with Japan
were dominated by Japan as an economic power, while associations with the
war had become less frequent by 1981 (ibid.: 10).
This poll also asked respondents to compare the image Germans had of their
country with the image they held of Japan (and other countries). While 80%
of the (German) respondents associated Germany with “beautiful landscapes,”
only 40% did so for Japan (compared with 51% for the U.S.). While 71% as-
sociated Germany with “good social security,” only 10% did so with Japan (and
even fewer for the U.S.). More Germans, however, considered Japan a “power-
ful economic nation”—62% compared with 60% for Germany. However, only
9% considered Japan to be a country where one could enjoy a comfortable

35 Although this term had undergone a revaluation in a German society affected by the stu-
dent rebellions of the late 1960s, it still denoted a positive characteristic in the survey.
20 Saaler

life, compared with 57% for Germany. The reasons for this last judgment re-
main unclear, as the answers to a number of other questions would suggest
the contrary response: only 26% associated Japan with “a stressful and hec-
tic [lifestyle],” but 48% did so with Germany; only 6% associated Japan with
“a high crime rate,” but 46% for Germany; 47% associated Japan with a “high
level of culture,” as against 41% for Germany; 56% agreed Japan exhibited a
strong degree of national pride, while only 15% of Germans thought the same
about their own country. Only 31% considered Japan a “land with a great fu-
ture” and only 12% in the case of Germany (ibid.: 13).
Although the 1970 and 1981 Allensbach polls testify to an overall positive
image of Japan held by Germans, Japanese officialdom drew different conclu-
sions. According to Rosemary Anne Breger, the “Japanese General Consul [in
Düsseldorf] … declared openly and directly that Japan’s image in Germany was
dominated by economic issues, which was very distorting.” (Breger 1990: 231)
Consequently, in 1983 and in subsequent years the Japanese General Consulate
in Dusseldorf organized what it called “Japan Promotion Week” (ibid.: 231–32)
and introduced the “Japan in Germany Year” in 1999 order to “redress this one-
sidedness” and to promote, in particular, Japanese culture (ibid.).
In 1989, Allensbach participated in an international comparative poll that
aimed to assess the popularity of Germany and the Germans in a number of
Western countries, including Japan (Allensbach 1989). This poll offered clues
about Germany’s image in Japan. In contrast to the attitudes prevalent in the
1960s as noted above, by 1989 “the image of the ‘ugly Germans’ … had been
replaced by an attitude of ‘I don’t like the Germans particularly’ ” (ibid.: 1–2).
Interestingly, of all the nations surveyed, the Japanese had the most negative
image of the Germans. Moreover, the poll also showed that the Japanese did
not seem to be especially interested in or knowledgeable about Germany.
Eighty percent of the respondents were either “undecided” in their attitudes
about Germany or expressed “no opinion” on the questions asked (ibid. 12:
2–3). The Japanese respondents had the lowest rate of awareness of German
war crimes such as the Holocaust, at just 18% of those surveyed (Italy with
43% had the highest rate) (ibid.: 12). This passive attitude towards Germany
can be explained in part by the fact that only 3% of Japanese had ever been
to Germany (ibid.: 17) and only 9% had ever met a German national (ibid.: 18).
The 1989 poll casts the generally held opinion that the Japanese know much
more about Germany than Germans know of Japan in a different light. While
the Japanese had some specific images of Germany, few showed much obvious
interest in questions of a political and historical character. The survey respon-
dents’ image of Germans was a simple and stereotypical—beer-drinking lovers
of classical music who drive expensive and reliable cars and live in beautiful
Introduction 21

landscapes dotted with medieval castles. More recent polls seem to confirm
this assessment. In official Japanese polls on the “popularity of nations,”
Germany is not treated as a separate entity, but as a part of Europe, to which
most Japanese have very favorable attitudes.36
A survey conducted in 2003 by the advertising agency Dentsu in conjunc-
tion with the forthcoming “Germany in Japan Year” (see further below for de-
tails) confirmed that Japanese perceptions of Germany are strongly focused on
a small cluster of associations, although it failed to reveal what proportion of
Japanese in fact have any kind of image of Germany (Dentsu 2003). According
to the poll, Germany ranked fourth in terms of the “total awareness” exhibited
by Japanese towards the European nations (Dentsu 2003). Many of the general
associations listed were positive now. Japanese perceived Germans as diligent
(70%), conservative (51%), calm (50%), striving for high standards (45%), and
practical (44%). While most aspects of the Japanese image of Germany were
related to “food culture” (282 associations), technology (89), and, in particular,
cars (107), historical and political issues (the Berlin Wall, 109; war, 142) had a
less significant place in Japanese perceptions of the country (ibid.; see Hara
2007 for similar results). As mentioned above, it has been said that images of
other nations remain remarkably stable over a long period of time. As late as
1984, German Japanologist Fritz Opitz had noted that the current image of
Germany in Japan was based essentially on “information from the time prior
to Americanization [i.e., before 1945].… Even after the end of the war, the
Japanese have not received information that would have forced them to dras-
tically revise this [outdated] image of Germany.… Rather, all newly acquired
information was made to neatly fit the established image” (Opitz in Klein
1984: 23f).
Nevertheless, changing perceptions, in some areas at least, are evident among
the younger generation. New elements, such as garbage recycling and renew-
able energy, are evident in official painting competitions like that organized by
the German embassy in Tokyo in 2012. In contrast to similar competitions held
in the past, several of the pictures contain references to the growing renewable
energy sector, which is seen as an important characteristic of Germany among
the Japanese in 2014 (fig. 0.2). The Dentsu poll also identified low-energy hous-
ing, environmental conservation, and recycling as topics that routinely arouse
interest in Germany among the Japanese (Dentsu 2003). A follow-up study
conducted after the end of the “Germany in Japan Year” (2005) showed that
the Japanese reflex of associating Germany with “beer” and “sausages”—views

36 See the website of the Cabinet Office, http://survey.gov-online.go.jp/index.html (last

accessed June 1, 2016).
22 Saaler

Figure 0.2 Doitsu no hatsuden/Stromerzeugung in Deutschland. An image considered

representative of Germany, painted by elementary school student Nakamura Taichi
in 2014.
Courtesy of the Embassy of the Federal Republic of Germany in
Tokyo.

highly irritating for German vegetarians and those who hail from the country’s
wine-growing regions—had been reinforced rather than challenged by the pro-
gram of events coordinated by the German government (Hara 2007). Diversity
seems not to be a strength of government-led PR campaigns.37
The image of Japan in Germany also continues to evolve. While character-
istics traditionally associated with the Japanese, such as “diligence” and “reli-
ability,” are still strongly rooted even among young Germans, an analysis of

37 The same also seems to hold true for language-teaching: a survey of people starting to
study the German language in Japan conducted in the early 2000s showed that, when
asked about their impressions of Germany, respondents listed “beer” (108 out of 703),
“soccer” (94), and “sausages” (78) as the most common connotations. Far from broaden-
ing their image of Germany, studying German language and culture merely reinforced
existing stereotypes. A second poll, taken after a certain period of study, revealed an even
larger proportion of students associating Germany with beer (156 out of 857) and sau-
sages (98) (Grünewalt 2005: 200f; 241).
Introduction 23

“spontaneous associations” with Japan among the German population shows

that its youth culture is dominating the image of Japan in the twenty-first cen-
tury. In a survey of middle school children, sushi was the first item mentioned
by the respondents (57%), followed by manga (45%), electronics (32%), mar-
tial arts (27%), and anime (21%). While items like geisha, samurai, Mount Fuji,
and cherry blossoms are conspicuously absent from the minds of contempo-
rary German youngsters, only very few (0.8%) stated that they were “not inter-
ested” in Japan (Jäschke in Vondran 2006: 43–45). These new tastes have been
partly attributed to the success of the “Japan in Germany Year” of 1999/2000,
which attracted one million participants to nine hundred cultural and other
events (Stitzel in Vondran 2006: 63). It was part of a sea change surrounding
Japan’s image in Germany.
These developments evince a considerable change when compared to the
results of a project conducted in 1981 that aimed at investigating mutual images
of Japan and Germany through the examination of children’s paintings, which
in theory would represent “spontaneous” associations with the other nation.
The study concluded that the image of Japan held by German children was a
highly idealized one, often not differentiated from popular images of Korea and
China. Japan was “the land of quiet Zen temples, flower gardens, geishas, and
industry,” while the Japanese children’s contemporary image of Germany was
deeply marked by recent historical events such as Nazi rule in Germany and
the Holocaust (Schwarz 1981: 22). Consequently, the exhibition and catalogue
produced by the project were somewhat glibly titled “Hakenkreuz [Swastika]
and Butterfly” (ibid.).38
Some of the results of the opinion polls discussed here are surprising.
Contrary to the accepted wisdom, when asked about Japan, Germans put
the economy in first place and have much less to say about history. Young
Germans are also heavily influenced by Japan’s contemporary popular culture.

38 While the title of the exhibition was clearly suggested by adults, the children’s images show
a fair degree of variety. The Hakenkreuz indeed appears in a relatively large number of the
Japanese children’s paintings, but we also see castles and cityscapes (Neuschwanstein,
Rhine valley castles, Cologne, Heidelberg, and so forth), composers (Bach, Beethoven),
cars, soccer scenes, the Berlin wall, Dr. Albert Schweitzer. There are additionally a large
number of images depicting German weapons and scenes of wartime destruction caused
by the Nazis. The images painted by German children are even more remote from reality,
reflecting even larger deficits in education, and often confuse Japan with other East Asian
countries. They are characterized by a contradictory image of Japan, combining moder-
nity and tradition indiscriminately and portraying factories, skycrapers, temples, shrines,
Buddha statues, and tea houses (often all in one picture). Mount Fuji is omnipresent,
otherwise images of Japanes sports (sumo, judo, karate) figure prominently.
24 Saaler

In general, German attitudes towards Japan are highly positive; the country is
seldom perceived as a threat. The image of a “cool Japan” is dominant in recent
German perceptions of the East Asian nation, with its cuisine and popular cul-
ture taking the top place in Germans’ image of Japan. By contrast, Japanese re-
spondents in the various polls analyzed here frequently returned answers like
“undecided” or “no opinion,” particularly compared with respondents from
other countries. Thus, images of Germany in Japanese society have evolved
very little over the past few decades and indifference generally seems to be the
strongest characteristic.

The Origins of Mutual Images of Japan and Germany

There are three main reasons why this volume begins its examination of mu-
tual representations of Japan and Germany in the mid-nineteenth century. The
first is that “Japan” and “Germany” as unified polities did not exist before that
time.39 The second reason is that rulers representing the two nations estab-
lished bilateral relations in 1861, the Japanese shogunate and the Prussian king.
Third, before the nineteenth century, Japanese and Germans could conjure up
only the vaguest images of each other. The Japanese knew very little about
Germany, and Germans (and Europeans in general) knew very little about
Japan. It was China that played the key role in the formation of the Western
image of Asia, as the writings of the seventeenth- to eighteenth-century au-
thors Voltaire and Gottfried Leibniz evince, not Japan (see Wilkinson 1990: 97).
But even the European image of China and the Chinese was so ill-defined be-
fore the nineteenth century that Frenchman George Psalmanazar (1679?–1763)
could still get away with posing as a Formosan (Taiwanese) in public; his true
identity was doubted only by the handful of scientists and explorers who had
actually visited the island (see Keevak 2004).
The little the Japanese knew about Germany before 1860 came from the
Dutch, the only Europeans permitted contact with Japan during the Edo pe-
riod (1603–1868). The so-called “Dutch news reports” or Oranda fūsetsugaki are
particularly significant in this context. Some information also reached Japan
through Chinese sources. In the writings of the Confucian scholar Arai Hakuseki
(1657–1724), for example, we find the following description of “Germany”:
“Jerumaniya is a large country in Europe. The capital is called Vienna. It con-
sists of several countries. The leader is, by mutual agreement, elected Emperor.
He rules over seven princes, who rule over separate countries” (Opitz, cited in

39 The German Empire was created in 1871 and Japan was unified through the process
known as haihan chiken (abolition of feudal domains and establishment of prefectures)
in the same year.
Introduction 25

Klein 1984: 24). Here Hakuseki is attempting to describe the structure of what
we know as the Holy Roman Empire (962–1806), where seven “Prince-electors”
chose the emperor.
In Europe, the earliest information on Japan was filtered through the writ-
ings of Marco Polo (1254–1324), who called the country Cipangu, publications
by Portuguese and Spanish missionaries and traders (McOmie 2005), early
Japanese missions to Europe (Cooper 2005), as well as Europeans working for
the Dutch East India Company (Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie; VOC),
including Germans Engelbert Kaempfer (1651–1716; ibid.: ch. 3) and Philipp
Franz von Siebold (1796–1866). Frederick William I of Brandenburg (1620–
1688) had built up a considerable collection of Chinese artifacts, which also
included some Japanese paintings, lacquerware, and porcelain (Hammer and
Screech 2011).
Travelers from Japan to late sixteenth-century Europe (Cooper 2005) and,
again, in 1862/63 (Wippich and Suzuki 1989; Zobel 2002) were usually seen
as “exotic” and received a degree of sensationalist attention in the early mass
media (fig. 0.3). The same was true for European visitors to Japan (Cooper
1965). When the first modern diplomatic mission from Germany arrived in
Japan in 1860, depictions of “Germans” looking rather like Dutch in Japanese
woodblock prints reveal that the image of Germany was still uninformed even
in the mid-nineteenth century (fig. 0.4). This was the result of a lack of detailed
knowledge about “Germany,” as Fukuoka Mariko and Suzuki Naoko elucidate
in their essays (chs. 1 and 2).
The members of the first Japanese mission to Europe in the modern period,
the Takenouchi Mission of 1862 (commonly known in Japanese as Bunkyū
Ken’ō Shisetsudan), brought fresh information about Germany back to Japan.
A member of the mission, the celebrated educator and founder of Keiō Gijuku
University Fukuzawa Yukichi (1835–1901), released the immensely popular
book, Seiyō jijō (Things Western), in 1866, which sold 250,000 copies in the first
year of publication. He was most impressed by Germany’s literacy levels: “In
Europe, Prussia is the country with the most flourishing literature. Illiteracy
is unknown anywhere in the country. In the capital of Berlin, there is even a
school in the prison, where the prisoners receive instruction [in reading] three
or four days [a week]” (Fukuzawa 1866).
Fukuzawa particularly admired the German education system, at the time
still a major interest of Japanese scholars and researchers. Germany experi-
enced rapid changes in the first half of the nineteenth century: the Napoleonic
wars and the dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire in 1806; the creation of
the German Confederation (Deutscher Bund) in 1815; the foundation of the
German Customs Union (Deutscher Zollverein) in 1833; the wars of German
26 Saaler

Figure 0.3 Die japanesische Gesandschaft. Illustrated broadsheet reporting the arrival of the
Takenouchi Mission to Berlin. Bilderbogen Museum Neuruppin. Undated, late July or
early August 1862.

unification since the late 1840s; and the competition for supremacy in Germany
between Prussia and Austria (the Habsburg dynasty) (see Clark 2007 for the
historical development of Germany in this era). Therefore the information
about “Germany” and “Prussia” remained conflicting and patchy until the ar-
rival of the first diplomatic mission from Germany to Japan in 1860 (see chs. 1
and 2).
The Prussian mission, led by Friedrich Albrecht Graf zu Eulenburg (1815–
1881), arrived in Edo in the autumn of 1860.40 Although the mission was
dispatched with the intention of establishing Prussia’s leading role in the

40 After leaving Japan in January 1861, the mission also visited China and Siam and forced
these countries to conclude commercial treaties with Prussia.
Introduction 27

Figure 0.4
Gountei Sadahide (1807–1873).
A Prussian Man and Woman:
Merchant Visiting Yokohama
(Purosha-koku danjo no zu
Yokohama torai shōnin), 1861.
Color woodblock print, left sheet of
a triptych.

German Confederation, representatives of several German states joined, too.

The mission, first of all, represented the states of the Prussian-led German
Customs Union, but it also included the Hanseatic city states and the grand
duchies of Mecklenburg-Schwerin and Mecklenburg-Strelitz. Its objective was
to conclude a treaty between Japan and the thirty or so German states rep-
resented by the mission, the make-up of which led to confusion among the
Japanese negotiators concerning the true state of affairs in “Germany” (see
Stahnke 1987; Dobson and Saaler 2011).
On the other hand, the members of the Eulenburg Mission also lacked a
clear view of the situation in Japan, where civil disturbances and the “move-
ment to overthrow the bakufu” (the Tokugawa shogunate) were reaching a
climax at the time of its arrival. To prepare for their task, the delegates had
consulted writings on Japan by Engelbert Kaempfer from the seventeenth
century and by Philipp Franz von Siebold from the late eighteenth and early
nineteenth centuries. Nothing more up-to-date was available. This paucity of
reliable information helps to explain why Eulenburg presented his demands
28 Saaler

Figure 0.5 Coverage of the Eulenburg Mission in the Leipziger Illustrirte Zeitung
(Nr. 95, 1. Juni 1861) showing the signing ceremony of the Japanese-Prussian Treaty
(“Unterzeichnung des Handelsvertrags zwischen Preußen und Japan, in Yeddo, am
25. Januar, nach einer Zeichnung von W. Heine”).

without giving much consideration to the political situation in Japan (Dobson

and Saaler 2011).
By 1860, the Tokugawa shogunate had already been forced to concede
unilateral privileges to the United States, Great Britain, France, Russia, the
Netherlands, and Portugal (the so-called “unequal treaties”; see Auslin 2004).
It now baulked at the large number of German states involved in the pro-
posed treaty. The Eulenburg Mission was eventually forced to content itself
with a treaty between Japan and Prussia only, signed on January 24, 1861, the
Prusso-Japanese Treaty of Amity and Commerce (Ger. Freundschafts- und
Handelsvertrag zwischen Preußen und Japan; Jp. Nippon-koku Puroshia-koku
Shūkō Tsūshō Jōyaku 日本国普魯士国修好通商条約). Following its return,
the members of the mission published dozens of books and reports on their
experiences (for details, see Dobson and Saaler 2011), which collectively con-
stituted a massive surge of knowledge about Japan and led to a revision, or
modernization, of Japan’s image in Germany and the rest of Europe. In ad-
dition to these publications and reports, the Leipziger Illustrirte Zeitung (LIZ;
Leipziger Illustrated News), a popular newspaper of the time, frequently up-
dated Germans on the progress of the Eulenburg Mission during its two-year
Introduction 29

Figure 0.6 Charles Wirgman (1832–1891). Hunting the Gazelle, ca. 1864. Woodblock print.

sojourn in East Asia (see Dobson and Saaler 2011 for details; see the bibliogra-
phy in ibid. for a list of primary sources published as a result of the Eulenburg
Mission) (fig. 0.5).
Relations between Japan and Prussia, which was succeeded by the North
German Confederation (Norddeutscher Bund) in 1866 and the German Empire
in 1871, were soon to become more amicable. However, in the first years of the
bilateral exchange Prussians (and Germans) were seen as just another imperi-
alist predator looking for special rights and privileges in Japan, if not outright
territorial concessions. A satirical cartoon by the British caricaturist Charles
Wirgman (1832–1891) shows the sailors abroad the German frigate SMS Gazelle,
which arrived in Japan in 1863–1864 engaged in a scuffle with the locals and
causing the same trouble as other nations (fig. 0.6).
During the Boshin War (1868–1869), the activities of Germany’s diplomatic
representative Maximilian von Brandt (1835–1920) made the Japanese and
the British fear that Germany was set on securing a hegemonic position in
Japan. A cartoon published in Japan Punch in 1869 depicted von Brandt on the
top of Mount Fuji, toasting Germany’s “ascendancy” in Japan with a glass of
champagne (fig. 0.7). The German Empire, founded in 1871 under the leader-
ship of Chancellor Otto von Bismarck (1815–1898), generally backed away from
pursuing an active policy of acquiring colonies overseas until the mid-1880s.
However, throughout the 1860s, Brandt had indeed attempted to persuade the
30 Saaler

Figure 0.7 The Last Phase of Prussian Aggression. Japan Punch, 1869.

Foreign Office in Berlin to support the annexation of the northern island of

Ezo (Hokkaido), or at least get a part of that island as a leased territory.41

Increasing Mutual Interest During the Meiji era (1868–1912)

Following the foundation of the nation state in both Germany and Japan in
1871, the relationship between the two states drew closer. Germany, in particu-
lar, made some important contributions to the process of modernization in
Japan. During the tenure of the German Reich’s second envoy to Japan, Karl
von Eisendecher (1841–1934; in Japan 1875–1882; on Eisendecher, see Pantzer
und Saaler 2007), the attachment of a number of German advisors to Japanese
government ministries and military organizations exposed Japan to German
state-building methods (see ch. 8 in this volume). Eisendecher’s first task was
to settle a number of disputes, including the arrest of the son of the German

41 See Wippich 1997a and articles in the Hokkaidō shinbun (September 18, 2016) introduc-
ing recent research that reveals that the feudal domains of Aizu and Shōnai negotiated a
ninety-nine-year lease of parts of Ezo.
Introduction 31

emperor, Prince Heinrich, near Osaka (known as the Suita Incident), and the
Hesperia Incident, in which the German merchant ship Hesperia was impli-
cated in the violation of Japanese quarantine regulations (Pantzer and Saaler
2007: chs. 4 and 5; Fuess 2014).
After establishing closer relations with Japanese Foreign Minister Inoue
Kaoru (1836–1915), Eisendecher supported Japan’s request for a number of
German teachers and advisors. They were subsequently sent to Japan and were
among advisors from other countries hired by the Japanese government and
private companies (oyatoi gaikokujin; “employed foreigners”). These specialists
had a lasting influence in a great many fields: in medicine (Erwin Bälz, Wilhelm
Doenitz, Julius Scriba, Leopold Müller, and others),42 geology (Heinrich
Naumann), law (Albert Mosse, Hermann Roesler; see ch. 6), history (Ludwig
Riess), music (Franz Eckert), architecture (Ende & Boeckmann), ceramics
(Gottfried Wagener), education (E. T. Hoffmann), military affairs (Klemens
Meckel, Erich von Wildenbruch, Alexander Freiherr von Grutschreiber), and
even the ceremonial procedures of the imperial court (Ottmar von Mohl).
Other German advisors were brought in to develop a modern industrial infra-
structure, including Curt Netto (mining technology) and a number of brewers
(Fuess 2005). The activities of these advisors and teachers, many of whom were
honored with memorials in the 1910s and 1920s (fig. 0.8), continue to shape the
image of Germany in Japan to the present-day, explaining why some aspects of
it are so outdated.
The Meiji period additionally saw a large number of Japanese students at-
tending German universities, and Japanese officer cadets from both the army
and navy were trained at German, and in particular Prussian, military schools
(see ch. 8). They included not only future leaders of the Japanese military, but
also noted men of letters such as Mori Ōgai (1862–1922), who studied medi-
cine in Germany from 1884 to 1888 as part of his training to become a military
physician. Figure 0.9 similarly demonstrates that Germany was not exclusively
considered a continental state, but as early as in the 1870s one with a certain
maritime background. Although the Germany navy only reached a significant
size in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, this woodblock print
presents a German ship as a paradigm of the cutting-edge technology that the
Japanese Empire needed to acquire (fig. 0.9).
German constitutional law had a particularly strong impact on the first
Japanese constitution. Katō Yōko’s essay (ch. 4) shows that as early as the 1870s,
Japan’s first accredited diplomatic representative to Germany, Aoki Shūzō

42 On German-Japanese exchange in the field of medicine, see Kim 2014; Kraas and Hiki
1992; on Erwin Bälz see the recently published biography by Susanne Germann (2014).
32 Saaler

Figure 0.8 Statues of Erwin von Baelz (1849–1913) and Julius Scriba (1848–1905). The University
of Tokyo, Hongo Campus.

(1844–1914), and Katsura Tarō (1848–1913), one of the founders of the modern
Japanese army and three times Japanese prime minister, exerted considerable
effect on the constitutional schemes devised by Kido Takayoshi (1848–1913),
one of the most influential statesmen of early Meiji Japan. In the 1880s, the
central figure in the drafting of Japan’s constitution, Itō Hirobumi (1841–1909),
discussed its composition with constitutional law experts Rudolf von Gneist
(1816–1895) and Lorenz von Stein (1815–1890) during a visit to Germany and
Austria-Hungary. The resulting Japanese constitution, which was heavily in-
fluenced by Prussian constitutional thinking, was promulgated in 1889, came
into effect in 1890, and remained in force until 1947 (Ando 2000; Takii 2014). It is
partly because of this adoption of the Prussian-German constitutional model
by Japanese politicians that the historical trajectories of the nation state in
Japan and Germany have received much attention in comparative studies in
the fields of history and law.
Academic and cultural exchange likewise increased during the Meiji pe-
riod, resulting in more information being disseminated in both societies
about the other country. In 1873, the growing community of Germans living
in Japan (around 200 in 1880) established the Deutsche Gesellschaft für Natur
und Völkerkunde Ostasiens (OAG, the German East Asiatic Society), with
Introduction 33

Figure 0.9 Unsen (active 1870–1880). New Invention: Picture of the Interior Machinery of a
German Warship (Shin hatsumei: Doitsu-koku gunkan naikaku kikai no zu), 1874.
Color woodblock triptych.

the objective of “disseminating information on Japan and Asia in Europe.”43

Japanese Germanophiles in 1881 instituted the Doitsugaku Kyōkai (Association
of German Studies), which opened a school in 1883, where science and the
German language were taught. This school is a predecessor of today’s Dokkyō
University. It was also in the Meiji period that the first German-Japanese soci-
eties in Germany (1888) and Japanese-German societies in Japan (1911) were
established, many of which continue even today to perform a key role in ex-
changes between the two countries. German Jesuits in 1913 helped to estab-
lish Sophia University (Jōchi Daigaku) in Tokyo and in 1914, the first chair of
Japanese studies was founded in Germany at Hamburg University. Considered
one of the Great Powers since its victory in the Russo-Japanese War 1904/05,
Japan was finally recognized as a country worth academic attention. Many of
these late-nineteenth century institutions have retained an important place
in Japan’s international exchange activities until today (see Jōchi Daigaku
Sōritsu 100shūnen Kinenshi Kikaku-Hensan Iinkai 2013 for Sophia University’s
history).

43 For information on the society’s history, see www.oag.jp and Spang, Wippich, and Saaler
2017.
34 Saaler

However, heated debates emerged within the framework of this increasing

exchange. The geologist Heinrich Naumann (1854–1927), in Japan as an advisor
from 1875 to 1882, published an article on the “Land und Volk der japanischen
Inselkette” (Land and People of the Japanese Archipelago) in the Allgemeine
Zeitung of Munich in 1886, accusing the Japanese, amongst others of “uncriti-
cal imitation” of Western modernity. He was harshly criticized by Mori Ōgai,
the above-mentioned army doctor who would become one of Japan’s most
celebrated writers. Mori wrote a rebuttal of Naumann’s theses titled “Die
Wahrheit über Nippon” (The Truth about Japan), spawning what is now called
the “Naumann Controversy.” The controversy disclosed that doubts remained
regarding the supposed Japan-friendly attitude of at least some Germans in
Meiji Japan. As Hoi-eun Kim in his study of Japanese-German exchange in the
fields of medicine and anthropology concludes, the mere fact that Mori wrote
a reply to Naumann was proof “that the Japanese people could think and act
independently, often deftly using the jargon and technical terms of European
intellectuals. Indeed, Mori Rintarō [Ōgai] was a post-colonialist, poignantly
revealing the pretense and hypocrisy of orientalist thrusts, long before the of-
ficial ending of colonialism” (Kim 2014: 100).

Racial Images and Imperialist Mindsets

Notwithstanding the expansion of academic and cultural exchange in the
1870s and 1880s, the close of the nineteenth century heralded a phase of rapidly
cooling bilateral relations between Japan and Germany. This was primarily the
result of the anti-Japanese stance adopted by Emperor Wilhelm II (1859–1941),
who, influenced by the racism of the period, referred to Japan as the “Yellow
Peril” (Saaler 2007; Iikura 2004). The image of Japan as a threat to the European
powers emerged as a direct consequence of Japan’s military victories in the
First Sino-Japanese (1894–1895) and Russo-Japanese (1904–1905) wars. This
sentiment was expressed in the infamous Knackfuß painting (fig. 0.10). In 1895,
the Kaiser commissioned court painter Hermann Knackfuß (1848–1915) to ex-
ecute a painting expressing the danger posed by the “Yellow Peril” and had
even prepared a preliminary sketch himself. Copies were sent to the Russian
tsar, among other notables, and were installed on all vessels of the German
steamship company Norddeutscher Lloyd. The message of the painting could
hardly be misunderstood—and it was heard as far away as Japan and discussed
in the Japanese press (Saaler 2007).
The painting shows the archangel Michael, the patron saint of the German
people, as the leader of a group of armored mystical figures representing the
European nations. The archangel points to the distant threat presiding over
a dramatic landscape: a menacing Buddha enthroned on a black dragon that
Introduction 35

Figure 0.10 The “Knackfuß Painting” (1895). Reproduced in the Japanese journal Taiyō 14,
no. 3 (1908), unpaginated.

hovers above scenes of fiery destruction. Lest the message be unclear, the Kaiser
added an inscription: “Völker Europas wahret Eure heiligsten Güter” (Peoples
of Europe. Save Your Holiest Goods). While Japan was seen as an exotic, albeit
rather weak state, that needed Europe’s “guidance” until 1895, this representa-
tion confirms the nascent image of Japan now as a potential, sinister threat.
The Kaiser reiterated his anti-Japanese stance in later years. In an interview
with American journalist William Bayard Hale in 1908, he called the Japanese
“devils” and stated that “we are unworthy of our fathers if we are negligent
of the sacred duty of preserving the civilization which they have achieved for
us.”44 The negative image of the Japanese as a “peril” would remain deeply en-
trenched in the European perceptions of Asia and Asians and, as we will see
below, has in some ways survived until the present day.
However, the idea of Japan as a “Yellow Peril” was not shared by German
society as a whole. As I have demonstrated elsewhere, representatives of the

44 Quoted in “Gist of ‘Lost Interview’,” The New York Times, April 21, 1934, p. 9.
36 Saaler

Prussian army and German industry responded by sending strongly worded

letters to the Kaiser, asking him to refrain from anti-Japanese propaganda on
the grounds that it would damage Germany’s prestige in Japan and reduce
the prospects for the nation’s industrial exports (Saaler 2006). As Rolf-Harald
Wippich discusses in chapter 5 in this volume, the German press in the main
treated Japan with a degree of sympathy, recognizing it as a rising force in
the Far East, sometimes even characterizing the Japanese as the “Prussians of
East Asia” (Mathias-Pauer 1984: 125; Anderson 1991; Matsuda 2000). Japan was
rarely depicted as a threat (Wippich 1997b; 2006 on German enthusiasm for
Japanese military victories). In chapter 7, Peter Pantzer discusses the existence
in German and European popular culture of the image of an exotic, traditional
and unspoiled Japan, unsullied by modernization and Western contact, along-
side the emerging image of a modern and militarily powerful Japan. Often the
former outweighed the latter.
As a result of the “Yellow Peril” propaganda disseminated in the West, Japan
became one of the first countries to develop an active policy designed to its
improve its national image in other countries—what we today would call
“counter-propaganda.” As early as the 1870s, the Tokyo government had offered
support to pro-Japanese writers, including the “crusading journalist” Edward
H. House (Huffman 2003). Japan also attempted to “buy” newspapers in a num-
ber of European countries (Valliant 1974). In order to counter “Yellow Peril”
propaganda during the Russo-Japanese War, Japan sent diplomats to Europe
and the United States (ibid.; Matsumura 2009; 2011; Suematsu 1905).

The Impact of World War I

The Kaiser’s anti-Japanese propaganda and his ambitious approach to
Weltpolitik (world politics), which led to the Triple Intervention of 1895, the
barring of Japan from acquiring a leased territory in Southern Manchuria, and
the acquisition of Kiaochow with the Chinese city of Tsingtao (Qingdao) as a
German leased territory in 1897, caused Germany’s image in Japan to slump.
Japan’s alliance with Great Britain in 1902 further augmented mutual distrust.
Emperor Wilhelm II placed limits on the number of Japanese studying in
German military academies and warned that the Japanese were “spying” for the
British (Saaler 2006). British mass media increasingly influenced the Japanese
press and public opinion following the conclusion of the alliance. Germany
responded by starting the Deutsche Japan-Post, a weekly newspaper published
in Yokohama. Its establishment aimed to counter “anti-German English agita-
tion” and to promote pro-German sentiment in politics and society. However,
Japan and Germany, like Britain and Germany, drifted further and further apart
in the early twentieth century and found themselves on different sides in 1914
Introduction 37

with the outbreak of World War I. Japan declared war on Germany, and after
a brief military campaign captured the German stronghold of Tsingtao. In
Japanese historiography this conflict is known as the “Japanese-German War”
(Nichidoku sensō).
In Japan, books, including pictorial volumes such as the one in figure 0.11,
journals, and postcards reported on and commemorated Japan’s victory over
Germany in this war. Nevertheless, efforts were made to avoid sensationalism.
While expressing pride regarding the victory over its former teacher in military
affairs, many in the ruling circles were not interested in a further estrangement
from Germany, and the pro-German camp in Japanese politics, the military,
and academia remained strong (see Anderson 1991). However, there were also
voices critical of Germany’s conduct during the war, such as the German atroc-
ities in Belgium (Saaler 2014d). During the war, the philosopher and former
professor at Harvard University, Anesaki Masaharu (1873–1949), had expressed
his astonishment at the “Japanese sympathy with Germany” and demanded
that the idea of a “German model” be dispensed with:

Unfortunately, there are in Japan a considerable number of pro-Ger-

mans.… Technically, Japan is at war with Germany, and yet a feeling of
admiration for Germany is fairly widespread among the Japanese peo-
ple.… Nearly all the leading papers in Japan are anti-German, yet a large
proportion of the people are pro-German.… The Japanese military have
to a great extent identified their own interests and principles with those
of the German militarists, and their desire has always been to impress the
public with the strength and necessity of German militarism. They will
not abandon their own plea for the necessity of militarism in Japan.…
I … shall remain, to the last, one who stands against the harmful influ-
ence of German militarism in Japan. (Anesaki 1917: 24–26)

Anesaki and other liberals such as Yoshino Sakuzō (1878–1933) and Fukuda
Tokuzō (1874–1930) on a number of occasions criticized the German “nation-
al character” (kokuminsei) and characterized Germans as opportunistic and
scrupulous (Yoshino 1914), obstinate and mischievous (Fukuda 1917), or vulgar
and crude (Yoshida 1917). However, as I have asserted elsewhere (Saaler 2006;
2014b; 2014d), the Japanese military, particularly the Imperial Army, as well as
right-wing Japanese organizations, were strongly in favor of retaining Germany
as a “model.” In their eyes, the war had reconfirmed German “superiority” in
military matters, as the country had been able to fight off a powerful alliance
of enemies and prevent them from entering German territory until the final
stages of the war. For them, the German army had remained “undefeated in
38 Saaler

Figure 0.11 Reporting the Nichidoku sensō in a pictorial published by the

Japanese General Staff. Sanbō Honbu (ed.) (1916): Nichidoku senshi
shashinchō. Tokyo: Kaikōsha.
Introduction 39

the battlefield” and was betrayed by the government, which chose to surren-
der, though without any military necessity. German conservatives called this
the “stab-in-the-back legend,” and a considerable number of Japanese officers
subscribed to this notion (see Saaler 2014b for details).
Although Japan partook in the fighting to a greater extent than histori-
ans have generally acknowledged,45 it had no experience of the new trends
in mechanized warfare and the phenomenon of “total mobilization.” Thus,
Japanese interest in Germany, which appeared to be highly successful in mo-
bilizing its national resources, increased throughout the war (see Kudō Akira’s
essay in this volume, ch. 9). In a move consistent with this mentality, one
Japanese diplomat inquired in talks with his German counterpart during (!)
the war whether, after the war, Germany would be ready once again to accept
Japanese students in its universities (cited in Hayashima 1982: 163).
In addition, respect for German virtues remained strong in Japan. While
“Prussian-German militarism” had been held responsible for the outbreak of
the war in most countries, the Japanese government “had not engaged in a
venomous propaganda campaign, as had the English.… In fact, the Japanese
government … portrayed the German soldier as brave, daring and totally
professional” (Burdick and Moessner 1984: 7). The oft-cited good treatment
accorded to German prisoners of war in Japan46 may have helped reinforce
the ties between the two nations. The POWs were not only treated well, in
some camps they were allowed to mingle with the Japanese in the neighbor-
hood, and they even produced a lasting legacy. In the POW camp at Bandō
on Shikoku island, the fourth movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony with
its famous choral finale Ode an die Freude was performed for the first time in
Japan; it remains popular to this day. This story was the inspiration for the fea-
ture film, Baruto no rakuen (Ger. Ode an die Freude) starring Bruno Ganz and
Matsudaira Ken. It screened in Japanese cinemas in 2006 and was a moderate
success, with box office revenues of 1.2 billion yen, yet in Germany it failed
to gain general release. Other legacies of these German POWs include still
popular brands of bread, cake (Juchheim), and sausages (Lohmeyer), all food
lines developed by soldiers who stayed in Japan after the war. Finally, although

45 Japan occupied the German stronghold of Tsingtao, sent naval units to the Mediterranean
and South Africa, and dispatched a large number of troops to support anti-Bolshevik forc-
es in the Russian civil war in what is known as the Siberian Intervention. See Saaler 2014d.
46 See Krebs 1999 and the website of the German Institute for Japanese Studies on the POW
camp at Bandō, http://bando.dijtokyo.org (last accessed June 1, 2016); see Burdick and
Moessner 1984: ch. IV for German complaints about poor treatment and conditions in the
camps.
40 Saaler

Japan was technically on the winning side in the Great War, many Japanese felt
that Japan was not really a victor, but rather remained powerless in the face
of Anglo-Saxon ambitions to preserve the international status quo of British
and American global supremacy. Following this logic, after the war Japan and
Germany found themselves closer to each other than ever before.
Formal diplomatic relations between Germany and Japan were re-estab-
lished in 1920. Wilhelm Solf (1862–1936), a former Minister of Colonial Affairs
and Minister of Foreign Affairs, was appointed German ambassador to Japan
where he earned considerable respect. Supported by pro-German circles gath-
ered around former Foreign Minister Gotō Shinpei (1857–1929), Solf succeeded
in securing generous donations for the German academic and scientific com-
munity, bodies that had fallen on hard times due to the combined effects of
a lost war and post-war inflation. The largest benefactor was the pharmaceu-
ticals entrepreneur Hoshi Hajime (1873–1951). The donations were managed
by the Notgemeinschaft der deutschen Wissenschaft (Emergency Association
of German Science), established in 1920 and the predecessor of the present
Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG, German Research Foundation). In
1923, Japanese doctors based in Germany, led by Sata Aihiko (1871–1950), found-
ed the Japanisch-Deutsche Zeitschrift für Wissenschaft und Technik (Japanese-
German Journal for Science and Technology), which developed into a forum
not only of medical and scientific exchange, but also contributed to improved
cultural relations between the two countries (Kraas and Hiki 1992: 79f).
This rapprochement was additionally manifested in the large numbers of
Japanese students who once again flocked to Germany in the 1920s. It was no
doubt the favorable Yen-Reichsmark exchange rate, rather than any attach-
ment to political and cultural affinities, that played the major role in this trend.
Inflation in Germany considerably increased the real value of the scholarships
offered to Japanese students, and their additional funds were often used to ac-
quire books, many of which now reside in Japanese university collections.
However, not all students returned to Japan with positive impressions of
Germany. After arriving home from a one-semester stint in 1922, medical
student and a member of the Imperial Japanese Navy, Isono Shūhei, gave a
number of press interviews in which he described the strong anti-Japanese
mood in Germany. The coverage given to Isono’s views in the Japanese press
was noted by the German embassy, which sent a letter of protest to Foreign
Minister Uchida Yasuya (1865–1936). The embassy refuted his claims but ad-
mitted that the situation at German universities was rather chaotic due to the
large number of former soldiers returning to study. In addition to these earlier
servicemen, the low value of the German Reichsmark, in combination with
the still relatively high level of education available in Germany, had apparently
Introduction 41

caused an inrush of foreign students, a situation that would inevitably have

caused problems for some foreign students, including Isono.47
While medicine, law, and military affairs had been the core interests of
Japanese studying in Germany in the pre-war era, during the inter-war years
many students elected to explore the disciplines of philosophy (Miki Kiyoshi,
Tanabe Hajime, Nishitani Keiji, Amano Teiyu, Kuki Shūzō, Kita Reikichi, and
others), history (Hani Gorō), and economics (Fukuda Tokuzō). The enthusi-
asm with which Nobel Prize laureates Albert Einstein (1922) and Fritz Haber
(1924) were welcomed in Japan showed that Germany’s defeat in World War I
had by no means undermined Germany’s prestige in Japan as far as science
was concerned.
These contacts formed the basis for the growing institutionalization of an
increasingly intensive program of academic exchanges between the two coun-
tries during the second half of the 1920s. The signing of a Cultural Agreement in
1926 resulted in the foundation of a number of cultural institutions including
the Japaninstitut (Japan Institute, founded in Berlin in 1926 at the instigation
of Fritz Haber), the Japanisch-Deutsches Kulturinstitut (Japanese-German
Cultural Institute, established in Tokyo in 1927) and the Japanisch-Deutsches
Forschungsinstitut (the Japanese-German Research Institute, set up in Kyoto
in 1934; on the history of these institutes see Bieber 2008; 2014). All were created
with the objective of “promoting Japanese [and German, respectively] culture
abroad.” (Kanokogi 1931: 3) As was becoming obvious from the development of
the Japanese-German Journal for Science and Technology, the boundaries of
scientific and cultural exchange became blurred in these activities. This was
partly a consequence of the harsh conditions of the Versailles Treaty and other
subsequent international agreements that banned German scientists from
participating in international research activities. By augmenting “cultural ex-
change,” Germany was able to circumvent this international boycott, and also
maintain and deepen international scientific networks (Spang, Wippich, and
Saaler 2017: ch. III).
Notwithstanding this revitalization of Japanese-German exchange, it was
only in the late 1920s that the idea of a “Japanese-German spiritual brother-
hood,” which I have introduced above as an allegedly important concept in
Japanese-German relations, became a major topic of discussion in bilateral re-
lations. A study published in 1939 demonstrated that the idea of a special “spir-
itual kinship” between the two nations or peoples had rarely been canvassed

47 See letter of German ambassador to Japan, Wilhelm Solf, to the Japanese foreign min-
ister, December 23, 1922; Japan Center for Asian Historical Records, reference code
C08050885700.
42 Saaler

in the Meiji period (Freitag 1939). While German observations of Japan had
generally been very positive and sympathetic, as Adolf Freitag shows, the as-
sumption of a particular relationship between the German and Japanese “na-
tional character” only emerged in the late 1920s and 1930s. Early references
to a perceived national spiritual kinship can be found in speeches given by
the diplomatic representatives of the two countries in the late 1920s. German
ambassador Wilhelm Solf and his counterpart Nagaoka Harukazu (1877–1949)
both spoke of a “Japanese-German unity of spirit” and “similarities in national
character” (Mathias-Pauer 1984: 137). This nascent idea of a “spiritual kinship”
was soon to be abused for political purposes by the new political regimes in
the two countries.

1930s Totalitarianism and the Japanese–German War Alliance

As a result of the rise of totalitarian and militarist socio-political systems in
Japan and Germany in the 1930s, the two countries intensified their cultural
exchange and political contacts. Japan’s militarist nationalism claimed to
counter Western influence in Japanese society and in Asia. “The West” in this
context was narrowly interpreted as the Anglo-Saxon powers. However incon-
gruously this might sound, Germany was not included in the new definition of
the “Western powers.” Rather, since the mid-1930s, Japan drew closer to Nazi
Germany and eventually concluded alliances with the European power as well
as a Cultural Agreement (the Kulturabkommen of 1938; see Bieber 2014: ch. IX).
Besides anti-Anglo-Saxonism, anti-Communism was another important di-
mension of Japanese-German relations in the 1930s and 1940s. The first political
agreement to be signed between Japan and Germany was the Anti-Comintern
Pact of 1936, which was directed at the “Communist International” but in es-
sence targeted the Soviet Union. The pact was joined by other European coun-
tries in later years, including Italy, Spain, and Hungary, adding to the doubts
regarding Japan’s intentions to fight “the West.”
Japan and Germany were so strongly united in their opposition to both
Soviet Communism and Anglo-Saxon materialism that even the racism domi-
nant in the ideologies of both regimes—Hitler’s Nazi regime being more
radical in this respect—was set aside. During the Berlin Olympics of 1936 and
shortly before the signing of the Anti-Comintern Pact, the German media
momentarily suppressed Nazi racial ideology, at least as far as the supposedly
“racially inferior” Japanese were concerned, and covered Japanese victories
at the Games with much fanfare. Interestingly, some of these “Japanese” win-
ners were in fact ethnic Koreans, such as the marathon runner Son Kitei (Kor.
Sohn Kee-chung; 1912–2002), who represented the “Great Japanese Empire”
at the Olympics, won the gold medal for his event, and was even received by
Hitler himself (Law 2009). The ideology of racism also proved no obstacle for
Introduction 43

a deepening of cultural and scientific exchange based on the 1938 Cultural

Agreement and further communiqués by counterparts in the two countries.
It was not even a particular obstacle for cooperation in the field of medicine.
In 1939 the German Association of Doctors (Reichsärztekammer) and the
Japanese-German Medical Society of Japan signed an unlikely “Cooperation
Agreement,” calling for an “expansion of cultural (!) relations” between the
two countries.48 While there can be no doubt that Japanese-German cultural
and scientific exchange grew in the late 1930s in quantitative terms (see Bieber
2014), Tano Daisuke’s examination of the exchange of the leisure movements
in the two countries in chapter 11 in this publication reveals that such activi-
ties did not necessarily contribute to a true deepening of relevant discussions
of political and social topics, and that mutual images remained “contradictory
in many respects.” An analysis of Japanese-German movie co-productions of
those years also exhibits difficulties in Japanese-German cultural cooperation.
During the production of the movie Die Tochter des Samurai (The Daughter
of the Samurai; Jp. Atarashiki tsuchi, or The New Earth), the stereotypical im-
ages of Japan held by the German director of the movie, Arnold Fanck (1889–
1974), made it necessary to shoot the movie “in two separate release versions: a
‘German version’ and … an ‘international version’ edited and partially re-shot”
by Japanese director Itami Mansaku (1900–1946) (Baskett 2009: 227). The al-
leged “spiritual kinship” between Germany and Japan and the “cultural simi-
larities” between the two nations was in effect no more than an illusion.
The political relationship between Japan and Germany, however, would soon
develop into an alliance that culminated in the conclusion of the Tripartite
Pact between Japan, Germany and Italy in 1940,49 and a military agreement
signed in January 1942 (Krebs 1984). Yet again, despite this political rapproche-
ment and a lot of accompanying propaganda (figs. 0.12 and 0.13), there was lit-
tle substantial cooperation between Japan and Germany during World War II.
Political leaders in both countries remained skeptical of their partner, and the
alliance was exploited primarily as an instrument of propaganda directed at a
common enemy—the Anglo-Saxon powers. Some commentators have dubbed
the wartime pact between Japan and Germany a “hollow alliance” (Meskill
1966; also Sommer 1962; Krebs 2009). Constant mistrust as a result of racial
prejudice against the Japanese in Germany, a lukewarm interest in the alliance
among the majority of Nazi leaders, if not outright ignorance regarding East

48 “Vereinbarung zwischen der deutschen Reichsärztekammer und der Japanisch-

Deutschen Medizinischen Gesellschaft über die Zusammenarbeit der deutschen und
japanischen Ärzte zum Ausbau der kulturellen Beziehungen zwischen Deutschland und
Japan.” See Kraas and Hiki 1992: 60.
49 For the full text of the pact, see http://avalon.law.yale.edu/wwii/triparti.asp.
 44

Figure 0.12 Newspaper coverage of the signing of the Japanese-German Anticomintern Pact in 1936. Ōsaka
mainichi shinbun, November 25, 1936. This edition marks a rare occurrence at this time of the use of
Saaler

“color printing” in a newspaper; here it is employed to reproduce the flags of the two countries.
 Introduction

Figure 0.13 The pictorial Rekishi shashin reports the signing of the Tripartite Pact in 1940. Rekishi shashin, November 1,
45

1940.
46 Saaler

Asian affairs, as Tajima Nobuo discusses in chapter 10 in this volume, and com-
peting assessments of Germany and its motives in Japan were the most fre-
quently cited reasons for this lack of sincere cooperation. Eventually, Germany
and Japan fought their wars separately, and they both surrendered separately:
the Third Reich in May 1945 and the empire of Japan on September 2nd of
the same year. Almost exactly six years to the day after the German attack on
Poland, World War II ended with Japan’s surrender.
On the Japanese side, the fundamental superficiality of the war alliance
with Germany is clearly reflected in media coverage. An analysis of publica-
tions on Germany in Japanese journals using the database Zasshi kiji sakuin
shūsei deetabeesu shows that interest in Germany decreased following the
signing of the alliances in 1936 and 1940. Table 1 reveals that the number of
Japanese journal articles published on Germany reached its first climax in 1916
during World War I with a total of 662. While this was partly the consequence
of the overall growth of the Japanese publishing industry at this time, it also
reflects Japanese interest in Germany’s successful mobilization for “total war”
(see Saaler 2006; 2014b). Interest in Germany slowed after the war, but wit-
nessed a second peak in 1931 (1,203 articles). Throughout the rest of the 1930s,
publications relating to Germany declined once again, reaching a low point
of 750 articles in 1936. After a temporary rise to 1,046 articles in 1938 and 1,288
in 1940—amongst others the result of events such as a Hitlerjugend (HJ) del-
egation visit (Nakamichi 1999), exchanges between the “leisure movements”
of the two countries (see ch. 11)—interest in the alliance declined as the war
progressed, from 1,288 in 1940 to 1,172 in 1941, 894 in 1942, 611 in 1943, 352 in 1944
and a mere 60 in 1945. Other than a few key developments—Germany’s failure
in “total war,” Hitler’s suicide, Germany’s surrender—little about Germany was
considered news worthy in the last year of Japan’s struggle in the war.
By contrast, in Germany interest in and enthusiasm for Japan reached a
climax during the wartime years, a topic discussed in the contributions by
Hans-Joachim Bieber and Gerhard Krebs in chapters 12 and 13, respectively,
to this publication. Publications in praise of the “Japanese spirit,” such as Das
Geheimnis Japanischer Kraft (The Secret of Japanese Power) by Albrecht Fürst
von Urach (Urach 1942) and Heinz Corazza’s aforementioned Die Samurai
(Corazza 1937), were printed in massive editions running into the hundreds
of thousands. Japanese soldiers and members of the elite SS corps were intro-
duced to German readers as exemplars of a valiant fighting spirit and admi-
rable loyalty. Any victories won by Germany’s East Asian ally against Britain
and the United States were enthusiastically celebrated and linked to the image
of Japanese soldiers as “samurai supermen,” as the propaganda postcard in
figure 0.14 demonstrates.
Table 0.1 Number of articles in Japanese journals with “Germany” (Doitsu) in the title, 1881–2013.a
2000

1800
Introduction

1600

1400

1200

1000

800

600

400

200

1911
2011

1913
1931

1915
1917
1951
1971

1921

1881
1901

1891
1941
1981

1919
1991

1961
2013

1937
1953
1973

1923
1955
1957
1975
1977

1925
1927

1883
2001

1903

1885
1887
1893
1934
1943
1983

1905
1907

1895
1897
1939
1945
1947
1985
1987
1993

1959
1979
1995
1997

1929
1963
1965
1967

1889
1909

1899
1949
1989
1999

1969
2003
2005
2007
2009

a Source: Zasshi kiji aakuin shūsei deetabeesu (The Complete Database for Japanese Magazines and Periodicals from Meiji Era to the Present), Kōseisha,
47

http://zassaku-plus.com/index.php (last accessed June 1, 2016).

48 Saaler

Figure 0.14 Propaganda postcard commemorating the sinking of British warships off the
coast of Malaya in early 1942.
Source: Wikimedia Commons. The postcard was designed by
the Italian illustrator Gino Boccasile (1901–1952); it was also
circulated in Germany.
Introduction 49

Parallels were constructed between the virtues of loyalty and honor (Treue
und Ehre) held to be characteristic of the Japanese and the “national spirit”
of Germany under Nazism. In propaganda and academic writings alike, these
commonalities were presented as the natural outcome of the historical trajec-
tory shared by the two nations.
Even the SS, an organization characterized by Nazi racialist—and racist—
ideology probably more than any other, found inspiration in the Japanese
fighting spirit, notwithstanding the supposed racial inferiority of the “yellow”
Japanese (see Orbach’s essay in this volume, ch. 14; Pekar 2008). Little wonder
that the image of “superior Japanese warriors” in Germany led to satirical com-
ments in the British and American press. In 1939, for example, in a full-page
article titled “The Kaiser, Japan and Hitler” the New York Times commented:
“The Kaiser [Emperor Wilhelm II] today must be shaking his head at Hitler’s
program each time he hears mention of Asia diplomacy. The Kaiser hated the
Japanese and was obsessed by the ‘Yellow Peril’ ” (Borland 1939). The article in-
cluded several illustrations. One showed Hitler and a Japanese diplomat sitting
at the negotiating table, with the Kaiser (with the spiked Pickelhaube helmet)
in the background, looking suspiciously over Hitler’s shoulder (ibid.; a similar
cartoon appeared in another New York Times article, see Peffer 1939). Although
Wilhelm II had lived in exile in the Netherlands since 1919, he continued to
propagate the notion of a “Yellow Peril” until his death in 1941. The New York
Times was among Wilhelm’s favorite platforms. In 1922, the paper published
an eight-installment autobiographical series titled “Memoirs of the Ex-Kaiser,”
in which he repeated his warnings of the “Yellow Peril” (Hohenzollern 1922).
The German “Japan enthusiasts” also had their Japanese counterparts.
Kanokogi Kazunobu’s aforementioned 1931 Yamato-gokoro to Doitsu seishin,
with its stress on the “conspicuous number of parallels” in Japanese and
German history (ibid.: ch. 3, section 8–9), was a prime example of this kind of
thinking. Philospher Fujisawa Chikao (1893–1962), whose 1959 book Zen and
Shinto: The Story of Japanese Philosophy (Fujisawa 1959) brought him post-war
fame,50 had in 1938 viewed Japan and Germany equally in terms of the evo-
lution of humankind: “Britain, France, and others have fallen under the con-
trol of immoral capitalist institutions that aim at preserving the status quo.
However, the imperial country of Japan and the rising Nazi Germany, adhering
to a moral worldview, are advancing along a path of regeneration and devel-
opment” (Fujisawa 1938: 304). Fujisawa, a prolific writer on issues relating to
Japanese national identity and Japan’s role in East Asia in the 1930s (Bieber

50 The book was translated into many languages and went through dozens of new editions,
most recently as a Kindle ebook, in 2015.
50 Saaler

2014: 269; 459), further emphasized that the parallels evident in the trajec-
tory of Japan and Germany could be explained by the fact that Germany was
“consciously taking the national essence (kokutai) of our country [Japan] as
a model” (Fujisawa 1938: 308). In an account of a recent visit to Germany, he
elaborated on this thought: “The Germans have grasped the true value of the
Japanese kokutai, and are presently taking it as a model to complete [the con-
struction of] the Third Reich.… As far as I can see it, the pure Nazi spirit is the
manifestation of the Japanese spirit (Nihon seishin) on German soil” (ibid.: 346;
362–63). Writers such as Fujisawa were clearly self-absorbed—as were con-
temporaneous German writers. As Tano Daisuke shows in chapter 11 of this
volume, the German authorities observing the development of the Japanese
“leisure movement” (kōsei undō) concluded that the Japanese restructuring of
the state was largely “in line with the example of Germany.” It takes little to un-
derstand that this high degree of ethnocentricity—part and parcel of the ram-
pant racism introduced above—prevented true cooperation between Japan
and Germany during the war.

Post-war Developments
A decade was to pass before official contacts between Japan and Germany
were resumed following the end of the war. It was not until 1955 that Japan
and the Federal Republic of Germany (West Germany) established diplomatic
relations and, in the case of the former German Democratic Republic (East
Germany), the process took until 1972.51
As a result of the “economic miracle” unfolding in West Germany and “rapid
economic growth” in Japan, the second half of the 1960s witnessed a resur-
gence of bilateral trade and a resumption of cultural and academic exchange.
The Japanese Cultural Institute (Japanisches Kulturinstitut) was founded in
Cologne in 1969 (Breger 1990: 236f), and in 1974 a framework agreement for ac-
ademic exchanges between the two countries was signed with a view to stim-
ulating scientific exchange (Saaler 2014c). Whereas the numbers of Japanese
studying in Germany or learning the German language remained high dur-
ing the post-war years, it was not until the 1980s that a significant increase in
the number of Germans studying in Japan or enrolling in Japanese studies
programs in Germany was recorded. A number of organizations promoting
Japanese-German exchange and “understanding” were also set up in the 1980s,
including the Japanese-German Center Berlin (Japanisch-Deutsches Zentrum

51 This was a result of the so-called “Hallstein Doctrine,” named after West German diplomat
Walter Hallstein (1901–1982), a general policy to the effect of not establishing or maintain-
ing diplomatic relations with any state that recognized East Germany. See Gray 2003.
Introduction 51

Berlin, JDZB), established in 1985 and the German Institute for Japanese Studies
(Deutsches Institut für Japanstudien, DIJ), formed in Tokyo in 1988, along with
a number of chairs in Japanese studies in German universities. “Japan as No. 1”
(Vogel 1979) became a well-entrenched slogan in these years, and the notion
that there was much to learn from Japan took firm hold in Germany (see Breger
1990: introduction).
While admiration for and interest in Japan’s economic development was
strong, it was often accompanied by a sense of disbelief and envy that contrib-
uted to a resurgence of exotic images of a Japan that defies understanding by
the West, and images of Japan as a threat. As late as 1978, the German magazine
Der Spiegel described the normalization of Sino-Japanese relations as a new
“Yellow Peril.” The cover of issue 45 visualized this notion through an image of
two slant-eyed, grim-faced soldiers, one Chinese and the other Japanese, star-
ing threateningly out at the reader.52 Two years later, growing Japanese exports
to Europe were likewise depicted as a threat on the cover of the same maga-
zine. The illustration was of a Japanese car with its grille and headlights in the
form of a caricatured Asian face in the style of late nineteenth-century satirical
cartoons; the banner heading warned that Europe would go to rack and ruin
(“Europa kommt under die Räder”).53 As a rule, Japan’s growing economy in
the 1980s was depicted in the German media, and in Europe generally, as a
combination of admiration (Japan as a “model”; see Iwasa Takurō’s essay in
this volume, ch. 17) and fear. Clearly the two Der Spiegel covers were weighted
towards the latter.
Despite Der Spiegel’s “in-your-face” attitude in these examples, our knowl-
edge of the coverage of Japan by the German press during this period has
been enhanced by empirical research. Focusing on the economic dimension,
Breger’s analysis of the images of Japan in the German press from 1980 to 1985
evinced that 14.7% were characterized as “aggressive” and 17.2% as “exotic,”
while the majority (56.8%) were categorized as neutral (Breger 1990: 112f). By
and large, Breger’s findings correspond with the results of the opinion polls
conducted by Allensbach Institute discussed above. In summary, Japan was
seen not so much as a threat but was rather admired for its economic suc-
cess, sometimes accompanied by the suggestion that Germany could “learn
from Japan.” Images on both sides often involved “a great deal of self-criticism”
(Breger 1990: 262).

52 See Der Spiegel 45/1978, http://www.spiegel.de/spiegel/print/index-1978-45.html (last

accessed on June 1, 2016).
53 See Der Spiegel 30/1980, http://www.spiegel.de/spiegel/print/d-21113036.html (last
accessed on June 1, 2016).
52 Saaler

The generally positive coverage of Japan in the German press during the
1980s was a consequence of Germany’s own economic problems. The oft-cited
idea that Japan owed its economic success to a strategy of copying innovative
products rather than developing its own was not reflected in any of the opinion
polls discussed above. According to Breger it was largely absent from German
press stories in the 1980s. While the visual materials analyzed by Breger at
times tended to exoticize Japan, “on the whole, they reproduced the statement
sets found in the text. One broad branch of photos showed the positive sides
of Japan,… with captions informing the reader of the value of following Japan’s
example” (ibid.: 116). Breger discovered that the largest number of visual im-
ages reproduced were related to the (modern) Japanese lifestyle, with culture
ranking second and business third (ibid.: 246). Business-related images were
mostly used to illustrate Japan’s economic success, ranging from high-tech
production facilities to pictures of managers and executives. In the culture
category, photographs tended to be used to underline “Japanese uniqueness,”
such as images of traditional or modern arts. Images in the lifestyle category
mostly depicted leisure activities, implying “that the Japanese were not merely
workaholics” (ibid.: 247–51).
One topic that increasingly preoccupied the German press in the 1980s was
Japan’s attempts to “come to terms with its past” (Vergangenheitsbewältigung;
see Kawakita Atsuko’s essay this volume, ch. 15; see also Saaler 2013; 2014a, 2016).
In this context, Japan was usually depicted in a negative light, as backward,
ultraconservative, and incomprehensible in its attitudes.54 The so-called his-
tory textbook controversy and visits of politicians to the Yasukuni Shrine “were
most frequently presented in terms of self-righteous criticism, that Japan really
was not as perfect as it seemed” (Breger 1990: 100). The image of a Japan “un-
able to come to terms with its past,” however, also has deep roots in Japanese
society (Saaler 2005). So strong is the image of Germany as having successfully
dealt with its wartime legacy that on its website the Japanese Foreign Ministry
lists the topic in its FAQ section. Question 10 asks: “Compared to Germany, are
the measures taken by Japan on issues concerning its past insufficient?.” The
official answer states:

Japan and Germany have both dealt with their ‘history issues’ in good
faith. At the same time, the historical backgrounds of Germany and Japan
differ completely, in terms of what happened during the Second World

54 For further details of Der Spiegel’s coverage of Japan, see Nagata 2000; for an analysis of
the German press in relation to Japan from 1980 to 1985, including an analysis of “title
imagery,” see Breger 1990.
Introduction 53

War and under what kind of post-war situation they engaged in post-war
settlement.… Therefore, it is not appropriate to make a simple compari-
son and evaluation of the measures taken by the two countries.55

A steady growth in interest in Germany by the Japanese media and the wider
society was evident throughout the post-war period, with a surge occurring in
the 1990s (see table 1). While in 1968 only 581 articles on Germany were pub-
lished in Japanese journals, the number rose to 906 in 1990, 1,105 in 1996, and to
an all-time peak of 1,729 in 2000. This media interest, however, did not neces-
sarily translate into a positive image of Germany. While Germany’s economic
achievements were seen as largely affirmative, although often inferior to those
of Japan, the Japanese press reacted negatively to particular incidents. For
example, it criticized Germany’s handling of the 1977 hijacking of Lufthansa
flight 181 from Frankfurt to Mogadishu by terrorists belonging to the German
Red Army Faction (RAF). (The German government had ordered the plane to
be stormed by a counter-terrorism unit.) The Japanese media mostly agreed
that Japan would never have risked the lives of passengers in such a danger-
ous operation. Sectors of the Japanese media saw the German use of force in
this incident as a sign of a “drift to the right” in Germany and warned of West
Germany turning into a “police state” (Manfred Pohl in Klein 1984: 44–49; see
also Schwarz 1981: 27).
In the 2000s, media interest in Germany began to subside once again. At
the same time, official countermeasures aimed at “improving” the image of
Germany in Japan have had some positive effect. The “Germany in Japan Year”
was held in 2005, with more than 1,500 events (Stitzel in Vondran 2006: 69)
ranging from concerts by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra and exhibitions
arranged by the Berliner Museumsinsel to academic symposia and corporate
events. There were also a number of “friendly” soccer matches as well as events
such as the official opening of the project by German President Horst Köhler
and the Japanese Crown Prince Naruhito (Vondran 2006). Running in tandem
with these events, Germany participated in the Aichi World Exposition 2005.
A major reason for organizing the “Germany in Japan Year” was the percep-
tion that the image of and interest in Germany in Japan was declining, par-
ticularly among the younger generation (Schmiegelow 2003). The findings of
the 2003 Dentsu study noted above confirmed these trends and demonstrated

55 See http://www.mofa.go.jp/policy/q_a/faq16.html (accessed May 1, 2014). This section

of the website of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was taken down after the announce-
ment of the “Abe Statement” on August 14, 2015, but is still accessible through the
“WayBackMachine” of the site www.archive.org.
54 Saaler

that Germany was lagging behind France and Italy in its awareness of the
Japanese (Dentsu 2003).56 The “Germany in Japan Year” was the first of its kind
organized by the German government in any country (Seemann in Vondran
2006: 14). Because the federal German government had limited funding for the
project, most of the events ended up being financed, quite ironically, by the
Japanese (Eberts in Vondran 2006: 11).
While the “Germany in Japan Year” led to a modest increase in journal pub-
lications on Germany (from 1,385 articles in 2004 to 1,524 in 2005), it can hardly
be seen as a reversal of the long-term trend. According to one poll, only around
16% of Japanese were aware of the “Germany in Japan Year” (Hara 2007). Many
had noticed it only as an offshoot of the FIFA soccer World Cup that was about
to be held in Germany and was widely covered in the Japanese mass media
(ibid.). Notably, the number of Japanese responding that they “liked” Germany
decreased following the 2005 event, compared with a poll taken before it (ibid.).
The festivities arranged to mark the 150th anniversary of official Japanese-
German relations in 2010/11 temporarily stemmed the downward trend of pub-
lications on Germany, despite the occurrence of the devastating earthquake
and tsunami that struck northeast Japan on March 11, 2011. However, with a
dip of the number of journal articles to a low of 1,221 in 2013 (see table 0.1), it
remains to be seen whether this situation will change in the near future.
Conversely, German interest in Japan appears on the rise. Japan images in
Germany are obviously going through a phase of diversification and adjustment
to the realities of twenty-first-century Japan. This contrasts the German images
in Japan, which, as seen above, remain astonishingly stable. Unfortunately, it
has often been bad news that has triggered German interest in Japan, includ-
ing natural disasters, energy policy, controversial statements by Japanese poli-
ticians on Japan’s wartime past, and reactionary tendencies in its domestic
politics (Zöllner 2011; Saaler 2016). Interestingly, this is a development that does
not influence the strongly positive attitudes emerging in polls. It is likely that
Japanese strategies aimed at increasing awareness of Japanese soft power have
been successful and are likely to continue to produce positive results in the fore-
seeable future. In both countries, generational change will probably be the most
important factor in bringing about a significant shift in mutual perceptions and
altering the image that people in each country have of the other.

56 France had organized a “France in Japan Year” in 1998/99 and Italy a similar year in
2001/02. The two countries are said to have spent more than thirty million Euro on pro-
moting these events, much greater than the sum spent by Germany (Vondran 2006: 27).
Introduction 55

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 Part 1
Early Encounters

∵
 CHAPTER 1

Prussia or North Germany? The Image of

“Germany” during the Prusso-Japanese Treaty
Negotiations in 1860–1861
Fukuoka Mariko

German–Japanese diplomatic relations date to the late Edo period (1603–

1868). On January 24, 1861, the Tokugawa shogunate (bakufu) and the Prussian
government, the latter represented by the emissary Friedrich Albrecht Graf
zu Eulenburg (1815–1881),1 signed the Prusso-Japanese Treaty of Amity and
Commerce (Ger. Freundschafts- und Handelsvertrag zwischen Preußen und
Japan; Jp. Nippon-koku Puroshia-koku Shūkō Tsūshō Jōyaku 日本国普魯士国修
好通商条約) in Edo. This Prusso-Japanese commercial treaty was the seventh
of eleven such commercial treaties the shogunate signed with foreign coun-
tries before its overthrow in 1868. The United States, the Netherlands, Russia,
Britain, France, and Portugal had concluded treaties with Japan between 1858
and 1860. Switzerland, Belgium, Italy, and Denmark followed with treaties
from between 1863 and 1867.
The Prusso-Japanese treaty and the negotiations that led to its conclusion
differed in two primary aspects from earlier treaties Japan concluded in the late
Edo era. First, the Prusso-Japanese treaty had no stipulation concerning the
opening of Osaka and Hyōgo (present-day Kobe), both vital commercial ports
in western Japan. The four treaties later signed by the Tokugawa shogunate
with Switzerland, Belgium, Italy, and Denmark followed this Prusso-Japanese
precedent.2 In this regard, the Prussian treaty became the new prototype for
the treaties signed between the Japanese shogunate government and foreign
countries after 1861. Secondly, the conclusion of the Prusso-Japanese treaty

1 On Eulenburg, see also the introduction and ch. 2 in this volume. This chapter is largely based
on a monograph by the author (Fukuoka 2013) that analyzes the Prusso-Japanese treaty ne-
gotiations within the context of late Edo-period Japanese diplomatic history.
2 See Treaties and Conventions, Concluded Between Empire of Japan and Foreign Nations,
Together with Regulantions and Communications: 1854–1874, pp. 186–352. When Osaka and
Hyōgo were opened to foreign trade in 1868 according to the older treaties, the most favored
nation clause also guaranteed the opening of the two ports to nationals of other states.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_003

68 Fukuoka

led to an oral agreement between the shogunate and diplomats from other
Western treaty powers. The oral agreement stipulated that the Japanese gov-
ernment would sign no further commercial treaties with foreign countries
until public opinion (jinshin) was swayed to view this favorably. This stance
on the part of the shogunate remained influential and in place until the end of
1865, when the shogunate obtained the approval of the imperial court in Kyoto
for the commercial treaties. Until then, the Japanese government continued
to decline the demands of Western states hoping to conclude treaties. This re-
sulted in the signing of all later treaties only after imperial approval, with the
exception of the Swiss-Japanese treaty of 1863–1864 (see below). It could be
conjectured that the Prusso-Japanese treaty served to delay temporarily the
process of opening Japan to the latecomer Western powers.
The negotiations ending in the Prusso-Japanese treaty were also unique in
that the Prussian side represented a number of sovereign states and demanded
a single treaty for all of them. All other requests by Western states for a treaty
with Japan during the late Edo period were on behalf of one unified nation. As
noted above regarding Japanese foreign policy during this era, the shogunate
wished to minimize the number of treaty nations, and therefore this Prussian
demand was met with confusion from the Japanese side. At this time, up-to-
date information about the political state of affairs in Europe, especially re-
garding the highly complex interstate politics in the German-speaking region,
was unavailable in Japan. Moreover, the Prussian envoy, Count Eulenburg, did
not explain the actual political background until the later phase of the negotia-
tions. The Japanese image of the political situation in Germany thus played a
significant role in the progress of the treaty negotiations.
This chapter will examine the unique factors surrounding the beginning of
German-Japanese relations. The first section will survey the political and dip-
lomatic setting in Japan at the time of the arrival of the Prussian mission and
look at the early phase of the Prusso-Japanese treaty negotiations. Particular
attention will be paid to the situation of the shogunate and the underlying mo-
tives that eventually led to the signing of a treaty with Prussia. It will become
evident that the Japanese negotiators were adamant about limiting the num-
ber of nations Japan had treaty relations with. They were shocked to realize
that the Prussian mission intended to conclude a treaty that included a great
many sovereign states. This chapter will then analyze the treaty negotiations
from the perspective of the Japanese negotiators’ image of Prussia and the
German-speaking region by examining a series of world geography books that
were available in Japan at this time.
Prussia Or North Germany ? 69

The Prusso-Japanese Treaty Issue in Relation to the Domestic and

Foreign Policies of the Late Edo Period

The Domestic Situation in Japan in the Late 1850s

The first commercial treaties concluded between Japan and Western countries
were signed by the shogunate in 1858 against the will of the imperial court in
Kyoto. Upon the conclusion of the first treaty with the United States, the shogu-
nate tried, but failed, to gain the approval of the imperial court. The American
responsible for the negotiation of this treaty, Townsend Harris (1804–1878),
urged Japan to conclude a commercial treaty with the United States, which he
described as a peaceful and friendly nation. Harris advised that would be pru-
dent to do so before “hostile” British and French fleets arrived from China to
force Japan into less favorable treaties. After this treaty with the United States,
the shogunate concluded the commercial treaties with a number of Western
powers that followed the American-Japanese prototype.
However, the shogunate’s decision to ignore the will of the imperial court
drew the ire of the public. The daimyo of the major domains (and their re-
tainers) openly criticized the shogunate, thereby diminishing its legitimacy.
At the initiative of the shogunate’s Chief Minister, Lord Ii Naosuke (1815–1860),
the shogunate attempted to suppress such criticism by punishing opposition
leaders and activists in 1858–1859 in what is called the Ansei Purge (Ansei no
taigoku). This action had the reverse effect, however, and triggered even stron-
ger resentment, leading to the emergence of a movement that was both anti-
shogunate and anti-foreign (sonnō jōi). Attacks on the shogunate and its
officials, as well as on foreigners who resided in Edo and the open ports of
Yokohama, Hakodate, and Nagasaki, became more frequent (Ishii 1972: chs. 6–8;
Satō 1997: ch. 3; Mitani 2003: ch. 13). Only six months before the Prussian mis-
sion arrived in Edo in September 1860, this movement had reached a boiling
point when Lord Ii was assassinated by a group of ex-retainers of the Mito do-
main, a region that was a hotbed of radical anti-shogunate and anti-foreign
sentiment.

The Preconditions for the Prusso-Japanese Treaty

Against this background, the shogunate and its supporters hoped that the trea-
ty negotiations between Prussia and Japan would offer a solution to domestic
discord. A Prusso-Japanese treaty was concluded after roughly five months of
negotiations (September 1860–January 1861), which involved both the Prussian
delegation and officials of the shogunate together with representatives from
the United States, British, and French diplomatic corps in Edo. However, the
70 Fukuoka

treaty came with some important conditions. One was the lack of reference
to the opening of Osaka and Hyōgo. The other condition stipulated that there
would be an oral agreement with Western diplomats that this would be the
last treaty to be signed by the Japanese government with a foreign state for the
foreseeable future (Fukuoka 2013: ch. 4). The shogunate hoped that these con-
ditions would enable the imperial court’s acceptance of the new treaty.
The opening of the port cities of Osaka and Hyōgo to trade with the West—a
stipulation the shogunate had conceded in previous treaties with Western
powers—had attracted particular criticism from the imperial court and the
public because these cities were close to Kyoto, the seat of the imperial court.
In an effort to appease the opposition, the shogunate hoped to postpone
the opening of Osaka and Hyōgo. However, the British Minister in Japan, Sir
Rutherford Alcock (1809–1897), expressed his clear opposition to a postpone-
ment, and it was difficult for the Japanese side to reach an agreement on this
issue (Ishii 1966: 61–64; Fukuoka 2013: 184–85, 191–92).
The second condition—that the Prusso-Japanese treaty would be the last
commercial treaty to be signed for foreseeable future—was part of the sho-
gunate’s plan to buy more time to gain the approval of the imperial court
and to take measures to alleviate the tense domestic situation. In reality, the
Japanese government had little power in stopping the wave of demands for
treaties. After the conclusion of the first five commercial treaties in 1858, emis-
saries arrived from Switzerland and Portugal from 1859 to 1860 with the aim
of concluding the same treaties, while Belgium sent word through the British
representative in Japan in 1859 asking if they could also be granted the same.
Ultimately, the shogunate only signed a treaty with Portugal because it had
previously declared its readiness to do so in a memorandum attached to the
earlier Dutch-Japanese treaty of 1857. Although the shogunate initially rejected
treaties with Switzerland and Belgium, it nevertheless indicated to these coun-
tries that future treaties might follow if its policy changed, for example, as a
result of entering into a future treaty relation with another country. During
these negotiations, the shogunate received information from the British rep-
resentative that the Prussian mission would soon arrive in Japan, and also that
Sweden-Norway, Denmark, and Austria were planning to dispatch delegations
to conclude treaties (Fukuoka 2013: ch. 3).
The two most significant problems for the shogunate during the treaty ne-
gotiations with Prussia involved finding a way to ebb the flow of foreign coun-
tries coming to Japan to make new treaties, while also managing to postpone
the opening of Osaka and Hyōgo. The multilateral negotiations conducted in
Edo between the shogunate and Western representatives combined these is-
sues with that regarding the Prussian treaty. It would influence the shogunate’s
Prussia Or North Germany ? 71

decision to conclude a treaty with Prussia under the two conditions mentioned
above.

The Prusso-Japanese Treaty Negotiations before the December 1860

Agreement
A closer examination of Prusso-Japanese negotiations might be instructive in
understanding the actual process. In the first phase, the shogunate opposed
any new treaty. Because of the Japanese government’s immutability on this
issue, months elapsed without any progress. Eulenburg then proposed to break
the deadlock by combining the Prussian treaty issue with that noted above
regarding the postponement of the opening of Osaka and Hyōgo. According
to Eulenburg’s scheme, the Japanese side would conclude a new treaty with-
out any reference to Osaka or Hyōgo as a means to advance the diplomatic
negotiations aimed at delaying their opening. At that time, the American
representative Harris was serving as an advisor for the Prussian diplomat dur-
ing the treaty negotiations, and he agreed to propose this compromise plan
to the Japanese “Foreign Minister,” Senior Councilor Andō Tsushima no kami
Nobumasa (Andō Nobumasa; 1819–1871), on Eulenburg’s behalf.3
In a meeting with Andō, Harris argued that if the Japanese government con-
cluded a treaty with Prussia, omitting the clause concerning Osaka and Hyōgo,
that it could become a “pretext” (jihei) to postpone the opening of these two
ports to existing treaty powers. A long discussion regarding the effectiveness of
this “pretext” ensued during which Andō tried to gauge the sincerity of Harris’s
suggestion. Andō also asked Harris if he would agree to prevent any further
Western powers from seeking new treaties with Japan in the short term. Harris
consented, stating that he would do his utmost to announce Japan’s decision to
other world powers. Andō responded that he would present Harris’s proposal
to the shogunate’s councils (BGKM 43, no. 21).
Andō also met with the British representative Alcock to confirm the British
position. Alcock informally responded that a Prusso-Japanese treaty would be
a secure “pretext” for the postponement of the opening of Osaka and Hyōgo.4

3 See Eulenburg’s correspondence with the Prussian Foreign Minister Freiherr von Schleinitz
from 7 Sept to 17 Nov 1860, IM-II; Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz (hereafter
cited as GStAPK) HSC, Nr. 5070–5071.
4 See Bakumatsu Gaikoku Kankei Monjo/Historiographical Institute of the University of Tokyo
(hereafter cited as BGKM) 43, no. 40; Eulenburg to Schleinitz, November 29, 1860, Alcock to
Eulenburg, November 28, 1860, IM–II; GStAPK HSC, Nr. 5071; see also Alcock to the British
Foreign Secretary Lord Russell, August 28, 1860 and January 31, 1861, F.O. 46; Russell to Alcock,
November 18 and November 19, 1860, F.O. 262.
72 Fukuoka

The British response was most likely the reason that the Japanese government
finally decided to conclude a treaty with Prussia. In the United States-Japanese
conference held on December 16, 1860, Andō conveyed the Japanese govern-
ment’s readiness to conclude a treaty with Prussia under the given conditions.
Andō reconfirmed Harris’s support of the shogunate’s wish to postpone the
opening of Osaka and Hyōgo, something that Harris had previously assured
the Japanese during the earlier conference (BGKM 43, no. 71).
Harris did later follow through with his promise to discourage further for-
eign countries from seeking treaties with Japan. He first instructed the shogun
and the senior councilors to write letters to those major foreign countries that
had yet to sign treaties with Japan, such as Austria, Spain, Denmark, Sweden-
Norway, and Brazil. Harris then forwarded the letters to the U.S. Secretary
of State (William H. Seward) with final delivery instructions (Harris to the
Secretary of State, May 4, 1861, Enclosures Nr.1–3, N.A.M.133). It is unclear
whether the U.S. State Department actually sent all the letters, but it is known
that the Spanish government received this correspondence because in 1862
the shogunate had a conciliatory reply from the Spanish government via U.S.
diplomats. In it, the Spanish government acknowledged the Japanese policy of
wishing not to sign any further treaties in the short term.
It was at this point that the Prussian envoy Eulenburg revealed his inten-
tion to conclude a treaty between Japan and thirty-two German states. This
number of German states caused renewed confusion for the shogunal negotia-
tors, including Senior Councilor Andō, who believed that they were negotiat-
ing a treaty with Prussia alone. Added to the confusion was the fact that little
information on Prussia/Germany was available in Japan at this time. Extant
sources from the period were available, for instance, note that Prussia was an
independent state that had no ties “Germany.” Yet another source argued that
Prussia was one of many German states or domains—over thirty in all—that
formed a certain political entity under the leadership of Austria. These con-
flicting snippets of information regarding Prussia/Germany would feature
prominently in the shogunate’s deliberations on the Prusso-Japanese treaty
following Eulenburg’s surprise announcement.

Germany in 1860: Reality and Image

The Political Situation in Germany

What was the political situation in Prussia and the German-speaking region
when the Eulenburg Mission was dispatched to East Asia in 1860? Before ana-
lyzing the Japanese image of “Germany,” it would be helpful to outline some of
the more important historical developments.
 Prussia Or North Germany ? 73

After the Congress of Vienna (1814–1815), which settled the European bal-
ance of power following the Napoleonic Wars (1803–1815), the German states,
including the Kingdom of Prussia (Königreich Preußen) and the Austrian
Empire (Kaiserreich Österreich), formed a loose association called the German
Confederation (Deutscher Bund, see fig. 1.1). It had a parliament (Bundestag)
that met in Frankfurt am Main and where envoys from each state were presided
over by Austria. However, the Confederation had neither a central government

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P WALDECK Leipzig SAXONY S Breslau
Cologne HESSE-CASSEL Dresden i
l
BELGIUM THURINGIAN
e
s
T

Rhine i
(1830)
ine

AD

DUCHY OF a
Province STATES
Rh

ST

Koblenz NASSAU
M

Wiesbaden
AR

Elbe Kraków
LUXEMBURG Mainz E - DFrankfurt/Main Prague
SS Main
HE au
l Bavarian
ld
Mo
Mose

Palatinate N Nuremberg
B
A
E

Carlsruhe
V
A
D

Stuttgart
R

Strasbourg WÜRTEMBERG Isar Dan AUSTRIAN

A

I A

ub
e
B

Munich Vienna
Linz
FR A N C E HUNGARY
Salzburg EMPIRE
Zurich
Innsbruck
Graz
S W I T Z E R L A ND
Bozen

The German
Trieste
Confederation
1815–1866
LOMBARDO -VENETIA
Venice 0 50 100 150 200
Adriatic
Sea Kilometers

Figure 1.1 The German Confederation (Deutscher Bund). The map shows the political situation
in 1860. The red line marks the boundaries of the Confederation. For a complete
list of the member states of the Confederation, see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
German_Confederation.
74 Fukuoka

nor a head of state. Each member state maintained its sovereignty in terms of
domestic and foreign policies as long as the security of the Confederation or
of the individual member states was not threatened (Naruse et al. 1996: 221–28;
Wheaton 1863: 76–104; Jellinek 1960: 762–69).
From the 1830s onward, however, a number of German states formed an-
other association: an economic league under the leadership of Prussia called
the German Customs Union (Deutscher Zollverein, est. 1833; on the develop-
ment of the Zollverein in general see Henderson 1959 and Clark 2007). The
Union’s purpose was to stimulate trade by eliminating tariffs and trade bound-
aries. Most major German states opted to join the union, with the notable ex-
ception of Austria, which was intentionally excluded by Prussia. A few others,
including the Hanseatic city states along the North and Baltic seas, as well as
the Mecklenburg grand duchies, were also excluded (Naruse et al. 1966: 254–61;
Henderson 1959: 213–28).
Beginning in the late 1830s, Prussia successfully concluded a series of com-
mercial treaties in the name of all the states of the Customs Union with vari-
ous European countries (e.g., Great Britain, Portugal, the Netherlands) along
with nations in Latin and South America (e.g., Mexico, Uruguay, Argentina),
and the Near East (e.g., the Ottoman Empire, Persia) (Huber 1960: 292–93).
As part of its East Asian expedition, Prussia also aimed to conclude com-
mercial treaties between all member states of the Customs Union it repre-
sented and China, Japan, and Siam (present-day Thailand). Some states that
were not members of the Union—namely, the Hanseatic city states and both
Mecklenburg grand duchies—also hoped to be part of these treaties. In ef-
fect, the expedition became the first opportunity for Prussia to act on behalf
of a soon-to-be-united Germany (Stahncke 1987: 88–119; Suzuki 2012: 73–80;
Fukuoka 2013: 41–76).

Japanese Knowledge of Germany during the Late Edo Period

How much did the Japanese understand regarding the complex German situa-
tion? What was the nature of Germany-related knowledge and what images of
Germany did the shogunate officials have in mind when they welcomed, reluc-
tantly, the Prussian delegation? The following section will examine a number
of Japanese and Chinese geography books that were available in Japan during
this period that formed the basis of Japanese knowledge of Germany.

Kon’yo zushiki and Kon’yo zushiki-ho

Kon’yo zushiki and Kon’yo zushiki-ho were written by Mitsukuri Shōgo (1821–
1847) and published in 1845 and 1846, respectively. Kon’yo zushiki (Description
Prussia Or North Germany ? 75

of the Globe) was the first Japanese world geography book, and it described
each region’s history. The book was widely circulated among Japanese intellec-
tuals, who were stunned by China’s humiliating defeat at the hands of Western
powers in the First Opium War (1839–1842). Its supplement, Kon’yo zushiki-ho,
included more countries and information. Both employed imported Dutch
books for their information (Kaikoku Hyakunen Kinen Bunka Jigyō Kai 1978:
176–77; Miyaji 1991: 42).
The table of contents of Kon’yo zushiki contains two Germany-related en-
tries: “Prussia” (Purosha 孛漏生) and “Germany” (Doitsu 獨逸). It notes that
Prussia was divided in two parts—East and West—and then provides brief
data on its capital, population, area, and economical products. The only expla-
nation it offers for Prussia’s political state of affairs is “the [Prussian] king now
takes part in the German Confederation” (Doitsu no rengō shū 獨逸ノ連合州),
a federal association founded by the Vienna Congress in 1815 to replace the
former Holy German Empire. “Germany” is described as follows:

Germany (Doitsu 獨逸), or Austria (Ōsutereiki 窩々矢甸禮畿), like its

yellow flag, is divided into upper and lower regions and comprises ten
districts. This country (kuni 邦) is a legitimate empire in Europe; dozens
of kings and dukes are under its authority and obey the empire. It has
such a flourishing culture that there may be no country in the world that
exceeds her. The capital city is Vienna. (Mitsukuri 1845, vol. 2, fols. 8–9).
[…] Forty-nine years ago, the emperor [of Austria] fought against the
usurper French emperor [Napoleon I], but was defeated several times.
Then, some strong dukes and counts, once the [German] emperor’s sub-
jects, became independent and created their own states. (Kon’yo zushiki,
vol. 2, fol. 9)
After 1813, when the false French emperor was defeated by Russia,
the dukes and counts were restored to power (Mitsukuri 1845, vol. 2,
fols. 8–9).

The view taken in Kon’yo zushiki is that the Prussian king is a member of
the “German Confederation.” As such, Kon’yo zushiki presented an image of
Germany as led by the Austrian emperor and with dozens of German “kings
and dukes,” including the Prussian king, under his authority.
By contrast, the supplement Kon’yo zushiki-ho gave the following explana-
tion about the political institution of the German Confederation, under the
heading “General Description of the German Confederation” (Doitsu rengōshū
sōsetsu 獨逸連合州総説):
76 Fukuoka

According to a gazette of Vienna in 1816, dozens of kingdoms and duchies

from the neighboring German regions formed the German Confederation.
However, each country (kakkoku 各国) [in the confederation] is indepen-
dent and does not belong to Germany. In the case of a threat from a for-
eign enemy, the representatives of these countries meet in Frankfurt am
Main in Germany under the leadership of the German emperor. There
they decide whether to dispatch an army, or to use another method to
resolve the conflict (Mitsukuri 1846, vol. 3: fols. 13–24).

This supplemented information on the political status of the member states of

the German Confederation served to modify the image of Germany presented
in the Kon’yo zushiki.

Kaikoku zushi
Kaikoku zushi (Description and Maps of Sea Countries) was a world geography
book written by the Chinese mandarin Wei Yuan (1794–1856) and first pub-
lished in 1844. It was imported to Japan in 1851 and is considered to be the
most widely read book in the late Edo period.5 Important samurai-intellectu-
als, such as Kawaji Toshiakira (1801–1868), Hashimoto Sanai (1834–1859), and
Yoshida Shōin (1830–1859), are also known to have read this work (Kaikoku
Hyakunen Kinen Bunka Jigyō Kai 1978: 135–39; Miyaji 1991: 12–13).
The table of contents in Kaikoku zushi has three Germany-related entries:
“the land of Germany” (耶馬尼国), “the land of Austria” (欧塞特里阿国), and
“the land of Prussia” (普魯社国).6 However, the book’s arrangement of these
three regions is somewhat unusual: while “the land of Germany” and “the land
of Austria” are listed consecutively, “the land of Prussia” is placed elsewhere,
within the grouping of northern European countries. Moreover, the author

5 There are three versions of Kaikoku zushi: a fifty-volume edition published in 1844, a sixty-
volume edition published in 1847, and a one hundred volume edition published in 1852–1853
(Sasaki 1985; Miyaji 1991). It was the 60-volume edition that was circulated in the late Edo
period; my analysis here is based on this edition. The section in this sixty-volume edition,
including ta description of Prussia, was reprinted in Japan in 1855 under the title Kaikoku
zushi, orosu shū bu, Purosha shū bu and with annotations by Shionoya Tōin (1809–1867) and
Mitsukuri Genpo. On the other hand, the section including the description of Austria and
the other German states was not reprinted at that time; therefore, my examination of these
sections relied on the original sixty-volume edition reprinted in 1967 in Taipei.
6 Most of the geographical names appearing in Kaikoku zushi are imported from China and
it is not known how they were pronounced in Japan at the time. Most likely, Germany was
pronounced “Jamani-koku,” and Austria “Ōsutoria-koku.” Hakkō tsūshi (see next section), in
contrast, gives the readings of the countries listed.
Prussia Or North Germany ? 77

states that Prussia bordered Russia, Austria, France, and “Germany” (日耳曼)
(Wei 1855, vol. 38: fol. 1–9) and did not refer to it as a German state at all. Yet, the
author described “the land of Germany” as one that had been invaded once by
Prussia, but was now composed of various regions and controlled by a number
of local rulers who each presided over their own territories and populations.
The author also explained that each territory was independent, but that they
assembled annually in “the land of Austria” for a conference, or in the event
of an emergency (Wei 1847, book 4: pp. 1687–88). It is only in this regard that
Austria was imaged as a superior country, with Prussia and Germany described
as separate countries and Germany as nominally subordinate to Austria.

Hakkō tsūshi
Hakkō tsūshi (General Description of the World), a geography text about
Europe published in Japan in 1851, was written by Mitsukuri Genpo (1799–
1863), Mitsukuri Shōgo’s father-in-law. Genpo was a Dutch-Japanese transla-
tor and later professor who worked for the shogunate’s Institute of Western
Learning or Bansho Shirabesho (Kaikoku Hyakunen Kinen Bunka Jigyō Kai
1978: 178–79; Ōkubo 1986). Imported Dutch books served as the book’s pri-
mary sources.
The table of contents to Hakkō tsūshi arranges major German states, includ-
ing Austria (Ōsutoreiki 窩窩所徳禮畿) and Prussia (Purosha 孛漏生), under the
category of “Duitsland” (Doitsulando 獨逸蘭土), the Dutch word for Germany.
This “Duitsland” was ranked on par with France (Furansu 佛蘭西), Great
Britain (Dai Buritania 大貌利太泥亜), and the Netherlands (Nēderulanden 涅
弟耳蘭田), all sovereign states that had concluded treaties with the shogunate
by 1858. As relates to the political affairs of this “Duitsland,” Hakkō tsūshi re-
cords as follows:

… the domains belonging to the association (Rein Furubond レイン、フ

ルボンド) [Confederation of the Rhine] fought against the French emper-
or and defeated him eventually, and they abolished the above-mentioned
association to restore the name of the German Confederation (Doitsu
Furubond ドイツ、フルボンド). It united the domains in Germany as
in former times,… and Austria, Prussia, the Netherlands, Denmark are
also included therein. Its pledge says as follows: those sovereigns (souver-
eine ソウフェレイネ), princes (horusto 福思督 [from the German Fürst]),
and free cities (freisteden フレイステーデン) who have established their
countries (kuni 国) in Germany, including the Austrian emperor and
the Prussian king, needless to say, as well as the Danish king because of
Holstein-Lauenburg and the Netherlands because of Luxemburg, are to
78 Fukuoka

be united forever and to cooperate with each other. This association is

named as the German Confederation (Doitsu Furubond). The members
of this association are, regardless of their size or strength, all to be true
to justice and not permitted to impose power over one another at all.
In this way, the security in and around Germany are secured, and each
of its countries and domains (kakkoku shohan 各国諸藩) are able to
protect their autocracy [sovereignty], and guard against deception and
contempt. In general, all the matters related to this association are de-
cided in the conference in Frankfurt am Main, which is attended by lead-
ers of thirty-nine states, the first seat always being occupied by Austria
(Mitsukuri 1851, vol. 2: fols. 23–25).

This was the most detailed description of the political system of the German
Confederation to date. It conveys the idea that the “association” was an assem-
blage of sovereign states and that it could not be seen as a “unified” nation
because none of the sovereign member states were described as superior to
the other member states. Yet, it might be more likely that late Edo-period read-
ers understood this “Duitsland,” (i.e., the “association”) as a kind of a unified
federal nation. One reason for this is that the member states were reported as
being “united (forever).” In addition, all the matters relating to the association
were decided in an assembly led by Austria, and most tellingly, this “Duitsland”
was listed alongside the other European unified nations in the book’s table of
contents.7 Each “countries and domain” of Germany may have secured its “au-
tocracy,” or sovereignty, under this system, and this point was likely perceived
to be comparable to the Japanese shogunate system. However, in the latter
many domains essentially maintained their autonomous rule, while the whole
state was represented by the shogunate as if a unified nation.

Summary
In addition to the above four works two other geography books from the late
Edo era—Chiri zenshi (Muirhead 1853–1854) and Chikyū setsuryaku (Way
1856)—are worthy of mention. A summary of the six works appears in Table 1.
Of the six books, at least two offer the explanation (A) that German states
form a unified nation, or empire, under the presidency of Austria (Kon’yo zu-
shiki, Chiri zenshi). Three adopt the perception (B or C) that German states are
independent, but that they hold conferences together and are under Austria’s
leadership (Kaikoku zushi, Kon’yo zushiki-ho, Chikyū setsuryaku). One of the

7 However, the readers of Hakkō tsūshi would have not been able to understand why the kings
of Denmark and the Netherlands were also included as members in “Duitsland.”
Prussia Or North Germany ? 79

Table 1.1 Types of Germany-related Images in 1860s Japan.

(A) German states form a Kon’yo zushiki

unified nation under the (1845)
presidency of Austria. Chiri zenshi
Prussia is one of the (1853–1854)
German states HakkŌ tsūshi
(B) German states are (1851)
independent countries, but
they hold meetings in the
event of an emergency.
Kon’yo zushiki-ho
(1846)
Chikyū setsuryaku
(1856)
(C) Germany comprises
HakkŌ tsūshi
independent parts, all of them
Prussia is NOT one of (1851)
subordinate to Austria. They
the German states
hold meetings annually or in
the event of an emergency. Kaikoku zushi
(1847)

texts (Kaikoku zushi) did not regard Prussia as a German state. Hakkō tsūshi
presented a more ambiguous image in which the German states formed a kind
of unified federal nation under the presidency of Austria, but that each still
exerted autocratic—that is, sovereign—rule over their own territory. If we take
into consideration the fact that Japanese readers might have seen this system
as analogous to that in Japan under the shogunate, it might be possible to in-
clude this as (A), together with Kon’yo zushiki and Chiri zenshi.
Finally, it is important to note that none of these books referred to the
German Customs Union or its formation process under Prussian leadership. It
is very likely, therefore, that shogunate officials did not have any preliminary
knowledge about recent developments in Germany at the time of the Prussian
mission’s arrival in Edo in fall 1860. This included the fact that Prussia had
been making a series of commercial treaties with foreign states on behalf of
the other German states belonging to the Customs Union.

The Prusso-Japanese Negotiations after the December Agreement

Prussia and the German Customs Union

At this juncture, it might be helpful to return a discussion of the negotiations be-
tween Japan and Prussia. Due to American mediation and a promise to adhere
80 Fukuoka

to the aforementioned two conditions, the Prussian delegation’s petition for a

treaty was approved by the shogunate in December 1860. However, Eulenburg
then revealed that he represented not only Prussia, but also a number of other
German states. This revelation came during the first round of negotiations led
by Hori Oribe no kami Toshihiro (Hori Toshihiro; 1818–1860), the Commissioner
of Foreign Affairs (Gaikoku Bugyō), in mid-December. Eulenburg explained
that he intended to sign a treaty for all those German states, principally con-
sisting of the member states of the German Customs Union.
When the two representatives met on December 13, 1860, they initially
exchanged their credentials as ministers plenipotentiary for the negotia-
tions.8 Eulenburg then submitted a draft treaty that included a long list of
German states. When the Japanese questioned Eulenburg on the meaning of
the Customs Union that Eulenburg claimed to represent and asked whether
Austria was part of it, the Prussian diplomat opened a map of Germany and
explained that the states formed “an entity under the Prussian leadership
in customs and trade related affairs.” Upon hearing this, the Japanese com-
mented that the situation “seems to be similar to that of the North American
states,” and according to Eulenburg, “they were less surprised than expected
by the idea to conclude a treaty with so many states” (Eulenburg to Schleinitz,
December 13, 1860, IM–II; GStAPK HSC, Nr. 5071).
The names of thirty-two German states were also listed in the German-
Chinese commercial treaty signed in early 1861 between Eulenburg and Chinese
representatives. Although reluctant at first, the Chinese government ultimate-
ly did not see a problem in including all German states in the treaty (Stoecker
1958: 57–61; Quilitzsch 1963: 181–84; Suzuki 2012: 147–58). Unlike the Chinese
case, however, in the end the shogunate rejected Eulenburg’s request to sign a
treaty with all thirty-two German states. Because the Japanese were reluctant
to sign a treaty with even a single state, it would have been unthinkable to do
this with dozens of states at once. Nonetheless, during Eulenburg and Hori’s
first meeting, the Japanese side apparently did not see this as a hurdle.
The reason for this was probably the lack of up-to-date knowledge regarding
Germany in Japan during this period. For instance, the Japanese plenipoten-
tiaries inquired about the German Customs Union and whether Austria was
included. This revealed their ignorance of the current situation in Germany
since the purpose of the Customs Union was to reduce Austria’s influence
in Germany and to establish Prussian leadership. Moreover, as noted above,
the plenipotentiaries commented that the relations between the states of

8 See Eulenburg to Schleinitz, December 13, 1860, IM–II; GStAPK HSC, Nr. 5071; Bundesarchiv/
Militärarchiv, RM1–2877, fol. 171r–176v; BGKM 44, no. 5.
Prussia Or North Germany ? 81

Figure 1.2 Prusso-Japanese Treaty of Amity and Commerce (Ger. Freundschafts- und
Handelsvertrag zwischen Preußen und Japan; Jp. Nippon-koku Puroshia-koku Shūkō
Tsūshō Jōyaku 日本国普魯士国修好通商条約) signed in 1861 (right) and letter
from shogun Tokugawa Tokugawa Iemochi (1846–1866) to Prussian King Wilhelm I
(1797–1888) announcing the dispatch of a diplomatic mission in 1862.

the Customs Union seemed similar to those between the American states.
Presumably, they considered the German Customs Union to be an exten-
sion of the German Confederation (Deutscher Bund)—of which they were
aware—and viewed it as a federal unified nation like the United States. Here,
the shogunate’s knowledge was primarily based on geography books available
to them, meaning that this group of German states should have also included
Austria as its most influential power.

Hori’s Suicide
On December 17, 1860, four days following the meeting with Eulenburg, the
Japanese minister plenipotentiary, Hori Oribe no kami Toshihiro, committed
seppuku (ritual suicide) (Ishin Shiryō Hensankai 1937–1939, vol. 3: 365). The
reasons for Hori’s suicide are not entirely clear. However, Fukuchi Gen’ichirō
(1841–1906), a lower-ranking shogunate official then working at the foreign of-
fice as an interpreter, later wrote that the day before the incident, he had heard
that Hori had engaged in a “heated argument” with his immediate superior,
82 Fukuoka

Andō Nobumasa, in the Senior Councilor’s room. Fukuchi also recounted that
Hori had informed his colleagues that he was leaving early because he felt ill,
at which point he made a formal bow. Late that night, he took his own life.
Fukuchi believed that Hori and Andō had quarreled over the unexpected de-
velopment of the Prusso-Japanese treaty negotiations and that this had trig-
gered Hori’s decision to end his life (Fukuchi 1900: 62–65).
Another low-ranking official at the foreign affairs department present at this
time, Tanabe Ta’ichi (1831–1915), also attributed Hori’s death to the fallout from
the treaty negotiations (Tanabe 1898: 38–41). Tanabe writes in his memoirs that
the signing of treaties with thirty-two German states suddenly surfaced in the
final stage of the negotiations, and that this likely caused Andō and Hori to feel
that they had been deceived by the Prussian side. Andō blamed Hori for this
as a consequence, and the latter shouldered the responsibility by committing
suicide.

The Final Phase of the Negotiations

Muragaki Awaji no kami Norimasa (Muragaki Norimasa, 1813–1880) assumed
Hori’s post following the latter’s suicide. During his first meeting with the
Prussian envoy and eager to clarify the ambiguities in Eulenburg’s explana-
tion of the thirty-two German states, Muragaki posed numerous questions:9 Is
Austria also a member of the German Customs Union? Is “North Germany”—
the term Eulenburg used for all the German states hoping to partake the trea-
ty—ruled by the Prussian king? Why are both Mecklenburg grand duchies and
the Hanseatic city states excluded from the Union? What is the nature of the
relationships between the Union’s member states? What benefits does the
Union offer each member state? Why is Prussia wishing to conclude a treaty
for all the states?
In his responses, the Prussian diplomat Eulenburg attempted “to be faith-
ful to the truth and never to deviate from it in favor of the purpose to be ful-
filled.” The new Japanese plenipotentiary Muragaki eventually commented
that “Prussia’s relationship with the other German states under the commer-
cial Union seems similar to that between the states of the United States, which
are presided over by a president but retain their own special rights (besondere

9 About this meeting, see Eulenburg to Schleinitz, December 23, 1860; Unterredung des
Gesandten Grafen zu Eulenburg mit dem Gouverneur Muragaki Awazino kami und Takemoto
Dsusio no kami vom 22 Dezember 1860 (IM–II; GStAPK HSC, Nr. 5071); BM/MA, RM1–2877,
Unterredung des Gesandten Grafen zu Eulenburg mit den Gouverneuren Muragaki Awagi no
cami und Takemoto Dsusiono cami am 22 Dezember 1860 (fol. 180r–182r); BGKM 44, no. 62.
See also Eulenburg-Hertefeld 1901: 132.
Prussia Or North Germany ? 83

Hoheitsrechte).” Yet Muragaki also stated: “I had thought that it was just about
a treaty with a [single] state, as the Foreign Minister [Andō] had believed.
However, it would be impossible [for Japan] to conclude a treaty with so many
states, since the public would be greatly offended by such an action.”10
Muragaki’s purpose in talking with Eulenburg had been to inquire into the
political situation in and around Prussia, or in the German-speaking region.
After achieving this task, he concluded that the shogunate could not sign a
treaty with all the said German states. At the same time, Muragaki’s com-
ment on the supposed “similarity” between the German Union and the United
States revealed that, like his predecessor Hori, he tried to conceive of “North
Germany” as an extension of the German Confederation, which he understood
as a federal unified nation. It is likely that the ambiguities that remained as
relates to “North Germany” following his discussion with Eulenburg caused
Muragaki to conclude that it would be impossible to sign a treaty with “North
Germany.”
For his part, Muragaki tried to accommodate the Prussian side by propos-
ing the omission of the names of the individual German states from the pre-
amble of the treaty and replacing them with the single name “North Germany”
(BGKM 44, no. 62). Eulenburg took notice of these conciliatory gestures and
reported to the Prussian government: “Today as well, I had the impression that
there was no absolute aversion to a treaty with all the states represented by me.
Yet, I will only be able to recognize the true opinion of the [Japanese] govern-
ment regarding this matter tomorrow, when I have a meeting with the Foreign
Minister” (Eulenburg to Schleinitz, December 23, 1860, IM–II; GStAPK HSC,
Nr. 5071).
The final meeting was held on December 24, 1860, when Senior Councilor
Andō firmly rejected the German states’ participation in the treaty. Andō even
threatened not sign any treaty if Eulenburg insisted on this request.11 The
Prussian diplomat then withdrew his demand, and it was confirmed that the
treaty would be concluded exclusively between Prussia and Japan.
The eventual ruling demonstrates that Senior Councilor Andō and
Commissioner of Foreign Affairs Muragaki held divergent views regarding
the Prusso-Japan treaty discussions. Whereas Andō was extremely inflexible
and rejected outright the Prussian demand to include further German states,
Muragaki was more conciliatory. This was likely the result of their different

10 Ibid.
11 See “Konferenz zwischen dem Preussischen Gesandten Grafen zu Eulenburg und dem
Japanischen Minister der Auswärtigen Angelegenheiten Andō Tsusimano kami, gehalten
in Jeddo, den 24 Dezember 1860” (IM–II; GStAPK HSC, Nr. 5071); BGKM 44, no. 74.
84 Fukuoka

degree of involvement in domestic politics, rather than their respective im-

ages of Germany. Muragaki was one of the leading administrative officers of
the shogunate’s foreign office and therefore focused on foreign affairs. On the
other hand, Andō’s job as one of the prime policymakers of the shogunate
meant that he was deeply involved with both foreign and domestic issues.
More so than his subordinates in the foreign office, Andō acknowledged the
serious impact that the “German question” might have on domestic politics.12
The Prusso-Japanese treaty was signed on January 24, 1861. However, by this
time there were already foreign residents from German-speaking regions in
the opened Japanese ports, especially traders from the Hanseatic city states
who awaited the conclusion of the German-Japanese treaty. For them, the sho-
gunate’s ruling meant that their legal status remained ambiguous. It was only
after the establishment of the North German Confederation (Norddeutscher
Bund) in 1867 and later political unification of Germany in 1871 that citizens of
all German states gained treaty rights in Japan (see Fukuoka 2013: ch. 6).

Conclusion

The Prussian delegation had begun treaty negotiations with the shogunate be-
fore the national unification of Germany from 1867 to 1871. It was the task of
the Prussian envoy Count Eulenburg to conclude treaties with Japan, China,
and Siam in the name of a number of sovereign German states in order to
demonstrate Prussian leadership in Germany. Eulenburg was, above all, act-
ing in the interest of the German Customs Union, which had been expanding
its commercial relations inside and outside the Union under the leadership
of Prussia since the 1830s. His mission was related to the “Lesser Germany”
(Kleindeutschland) scheme that was led and diplomatically represented by
the north German Hohenzollern kingdom, and not by the Austrian Empire.13

12 The marriage of the emperor’s sister Kazunomiya (1846–1877) to shogun Tokugawa

Iemochi (1846–1866) was scheduled for the following year, and it was to symbolize the
reconciliation of the shogunate with the imperial court. The shogunate received approval
for this marriage from the imperial court in exchange for a promise to abolish existing
commercial treaties and to expel foreigners from Japan. If the shogunate signed a new
treaty with more than thirty German states before the marriage, it would have had serious
repercussions from the imperial court and the public and would have probably threat-
ened the marriage (see Fukuoka 2013, ch. 4).
13 See Clark 2007, chs. 14–15 for details on the “German question” in the mid-nineteenth
century.
Prussia Or North Germany ? 85

The Japanese negotiators was unaware of the complex state of the German
unification process when the Prussian expedition arrived. The latest books
on European geography available in Japan at that time described the politi-
cal situation in Germany after the Congress of Vienna and the formation of
the German Confederation, but no information was available on the German
Customs Union. The degree of each German state’s autonomy in relation to
the German Confederation or the major German states of Austria and Prussia
was unclear. Moreover, there was conflicting information about whether the
German Confederation was a unified federal nation like the United States or a
group of independent states. There was also the question of whether Prussia
was one of the Confederation’s member states. The Japanese image of the
German-speaking region became even more convoluted during the treaty ne-
gotiations with Eulenburg, since he revealed little about these circumstances
and sought to keep to his intention to conclude a treaty for many German
states hidden from the Japanese side until the later stages of the negotiations.
When the Prussians arrived in September 1860, Japan was in the midst of a
severe political crisis. In 1858, the shogunate had defied the wishes of the impe-
rial court and signed commercial treaties with five Western states. The result-
ing opposition led to the rise of an anti-shogunate and anti-foreign movement.
In its attempts to suppress the opposition, the shogunate’s actions in fact trig-
gered an escalation of events and ultimately led to the assassination of the
highest shogunal minister, Lord Ii, by a group of radical activists.
On the one hand, the shogunate was reluctant to welcome the Prussian
delegation or to sign further treaties. On the other, the shogunate desperately
hoped to postpone the opening of Osaka and Hyōgo, which, under the existing
commercial treaties, was scheduled to open in January 1863. The shogunate
realized that it had to respect the treaties, even though it did not like them, but
it also wanted to avoid being coerced into signing further treaties. Eulenburg,
faced with the stubborn refusal of the shogunate to enter into a new treaty,
conceived of the idea to exploit these circumstances. He proposed the idea of
a treaty in which the clause regarding the opening of Osaka and Hyōgo was
omitted. This was done as a means to advance the diplomatic negotiations
and postpone the opening of the two ports vis-à-vis the existing treaty pow-
ers. Having secured the agreement of the American representative, Harris, for
this compromise, Eulenburg had Harris table this proposal to the Japanese.
The shogunate agreed to sign a treaty with Prussia if Harris would make the
new Japanese foreign policy known to other world powers, thereby ending the
seemingly never-ending stream of requests for new treaties.
It was only after the shogunate agreed to this settlement that Eulenburg dis-
closed his actual intention to conclude a treaty on behalf of more than thirty
86 Fukuoka

German states. At first it appeared that the Japanese negotiators, led by the
Commissioner of Foreign Affairs, Hori Oribe no kami Toshihiro, did not regard
this new development as particularly problematic. But Hori’s suicide shortly
following this Prusso-Japanese discussion indicates that the matter of sign-
ing a treaty with a number of German states had caused deeper turmoil than
initially anticipated. Hori’s successor, Muragaki, then questioned Eulenburg
about the political situation in the German-speaking region. He considered
it of the utmost importance to ascertain whether “North Germany”—the col-
lective term Eulenburg employed for the German states—was a unified nation
or not. When Muragaki determined that the German states did not comprise
a unified nation, he made clear the Japanese position that it was impossible to
conclude a treaty with such a large number of separate states. Yet, Muragaki
did propose a compromise by using the single term “North Germany” to refer
to the extended list of German states. However, in the final Prusso-Japanese
conference, Muragaki’s superior, Andō Nobumasa, declared that the Japanese
government would not conclude a treaty with thirty-two German states, and
furthermore, if Eulenburg persisted with his request, Japan would even annul
the agreement to conclude a treaty with Prussia. The Prussian envoy conse-
quently withdrew his proposal, and the treaty exclusively between Prussia and
Japan was signed.

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Mitsukuri Shōgo (1845): Kon’yo zushiki. Edo: Suharaya Ihachi.
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Shoten.
Way, Richard Quarterman (1856): Chikyū setsuryaku. Reprinted in Japan in 1860.
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Wei Yuan (1855): Kaikoku zushi; Orosu shū bu, Purosha shū bu. Annotated by Shioya
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Huber, Ernst Rudolf (1960): Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte seit 1789. Band II, Der
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yōgaku. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan.
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 CHAPTER 2

Japanese-German Mutual Perceptions in the 1860s

and 1870s: The Eulenburg and Bunkyū Missions

Suzuki Naoko

Most accounts of modern Japanese-German relations begin with the 1860–

1861 Eulenburg Mission to Japan, which was part of a broader mission dis-
patched by Prussia to East Asia under the command of Friedrich Albrecht
Graf zu Eulenburg (1815–1881)1 on behalf of the member states of the German
Customs Union (Deutscher Zollverein, est. 1833). Also represented were the
Union’s non-members, the Hanseatic city states and the grand duchies of
Mecklenburg-Schwerin and Mecklenburg-Strelitz.2 The Eulenburg Mission
is understood as an important diplomatic move made by Prussia under the
Lesser German principle (i.e. a unified Germany under Prussian leadership
and excluding Austria), and is regarded as the Prussian government’s initial at-
tempt to represent Germany abroad. Prussia’s underlying aim in organizing the
mission was to counter the influence of Austria (the Habsburg dynasty), which
had been the leading force in Germany until the early nineteenth century.
Although the mission fulfilled only part of its original purpose, securing only a
treaty between Japan and Prussia—the Prusso-Japanese Treaty of Amity and
Commerce (Ger. Freundschafts- und Handelsvertrag zwischen Preußen und
Japan; Jp. Nippon-koku Puroshia-koku Shūkō Tsūshō Jōyaku 日本国普魯士国
修好通商条約)—it did succeed in gaining valuable information regarding the
political situation in Japan at this time. The records of the Eulenburg Mission
are today an invaluable historical resource (Stahncke 2000; Dobson and Saaler
2011).
The Tokugawa shogunate (bakufu) received a number of foreign diplomatic
missions in the 1860s; it also dispatched its own missions to the United States
and Europe. The members of these missions compiled records about Western
countries (Matsuzawa 1993) and continued the “Japanese discovery of Europe”
that had already begun earlier in the Edo period (1603–1868) (Keene 1969).

1 On Eulenburg, see the introduction and ch. 1 in this volume.

2 For a map showing the political situation in Germany in the 1860s, see p. 73.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_004

90 Suzuki

Studies to date have paid little attention to these events in Japanese-German

history, and this chapter attempts to redress this lacuna. First, I will outline
the Tokugawa shogunate’s knowledge of Prussia and “Germany” prior to the
Eulenburg Mission: what characterized German perceptions of Japan at this
time? Secondly, I will examine Japanese and German diplomatic records to
show how mutual perceptions altered as a result of the treaty negotiations.
Thirdly, I will analyze how these mutual perceptions changed after the 1862
Japanese Bunkyū Mission (also known as the Takenouchi Mission) to Germany.
And finally, I will look at travelogues written by members of the Eulenburg
Mission in an effort to shed further light on German perceptions of Japan.

Japanese-German Mutual Perceptions Before the Eulenburg

Mission

Japanese Perceptions of Germany

To date, few studies have thoroughly analyzed Japanese perceptions of
Germany on the eve of the Eulenburg Mission to Japan (Kerst 1962: 9–12). This
might explain in part the general perception that information on Germany in
pre-Meiji Japan was scarce. Although this period in Japanese history is often
described as one of “isolation” (sakoku or kaikin), knowledge about the outside
world in fact reached Japan regularly through the “Four Gates to the World.”3
In particular, information about Western countries, including Germany, was
brought to Japan by the Dutch, who conducted trade with the Japanese from
the man-made island of Dejima in Nagasaki (see Matsukata 2007; 2010). The
Dutch monopoly on providing information about the West to Japan may have
ended with the First Opium War (1839–1842); however, Dutch scholars contin-
ued to play a vital role in editing the Japanese translations of foreign geograph-
ical works that entered Japan after the conflict. These works were influential
in shaping Japanese perceptions of foreign countries. In the following section,
I will examine four of the most noted works in order to gauge Japanese per-
ceptions of Germany following Japan’s “opening”: Oranda fūsetsugaki, Kon’yo

3 It should be noted that the Tokugawa shogunate’s foreign policy was not called sakoku (liter-
ally “a country in chains”) until the 1801 publication of Sakoku ron (On the Closed Country),
a Japanese translation of Engelbert Kaempfer’s book History of Japan (first published in
English in 1727). The “Four Gates to the World” were the connection denoted the contacts of
the Matsumae feudal domain with the Ainu in Ezo (present-day Hokkaido), of the Tsushima
feudal domain to Korea, the Nagasaki connection with Dutch and Chinese traders, and of the
Satsuma feudal domain to the Ryukyu kingdom.
Japanese-german Mutual Perceptions In The 1860s And 1870s 91

zushiki (1845), its supplement Kon’yo zushiki-ho (1846), and Bankoku kishō zufu
(1852).

Oranda fūsetsugaki
Oranda fūsetsugaki (Dutch News Reports) is a collective reference for news
reports about world politics compiled by members of the Dutch ships arriving
in Japan. Presented to the Magistrate of Nagasaki, these reports also include
information on Germany, such as the following items from the eighteenth cen-
tury (author’s emphasis in italics):

[1] It appears that there had been a conflict between Germany (Doichi-
kokuドイチ國), which is near the Netherlands, and Turkey for several
years. However, since last year they began to fight more intensely
and the former became far superior to the latter.… Fūsetsugaki 103
(1717), part 1 (Nichiran Gakkai Hōsei Rangaku Kenkyūkai 1977: 259).
[2] It appears that the ruler of Prussia (Puroishi-koku プロイシ國),
which is near Germany (Doichi-koku), seized one of her neighbor-
ing “countries” named Prague. As a result, the ruler of Hungary
surrounded the Prussian ruler with many soldiers. Fūsetsugaki 144
(1745) (ibid.: 314).

As a country neighboring the Netherlands, Germany is frequently mentioned

in Oranda fūsetsugaki. However, it is unclear whether the “Germany” cited
above refers to the Holy Roman Empire or to Austria. If “Germany” in fact
connotes the Holy Roman Empire—nominally the successor to the Roman
Empire, but in reality mostly comprised of the territories of today’s Germany,
along with the Netherlands, Switzerland, and Austria—then the reference to
Prussia (Puroishi-koku) being “near Germany” makes sense. This is because a
part of the territory of the Kingdom of Prussia was located outside the Holy
Roman Empire. This was one reason why the Elector of Brandenburg had laid
claim to the title of “King of Prussia” since 1701. Nevertheless, it is more likely
that the “Germany” in this text alludes to Austria under Habsburg rule.
The information chronicled in Oranda fūsetsugaki was restricted to matters
considered important to the Dutch. Detailed descriptions of the make-up and
topography of Germany were not included, thereby making it more difficult
for the Japanese to understand German affairs at that time.

Kon’yo zushiki and Kon’yo zushiki-ho

Written by geographer Mitsukuri Shōgo (1821–1847), Kon’yo zushiki (A
Contemporary World Gazetteer, 1845) is a work that drew its source material
92 Suzuki

from seven Dutch geographical works. It elucidates each country’s state of

affairs; the supplement, Kon’yo zushiki-ho (1846), includes descriptions of ge-
ography and nature, short biographies of celebrated figures, statistics on the
armies and navies of Western countries, and reference material on the flags of
foreign ships (Mitani 2003: 54–56) (italics are author’s emphasis):

[3] Germany (Doitsu 獨逸), or Austria (Ōsutereiki 窩々甸禮畿), like

its yellow flag, is divided into upper and lower regions and com-
prises ten districts. This country (kuni 邦) is a legitimate empire in
Europe; dozens of kings and dukes are under its authority and obey
the empire. It has such a flourishing culture that there may be no
country in the world that exceeds her. The capital city is Vienna.
(Mitsukuri 1845, vol. 2, fols. 8–9)
[4] Forty-nine years ago, the emperor [of Austria] fought against the
usurper French emperor [Napoleon I], but was defeated. Now
strong dukes and counts, once the [German] emperor’s subjects,
became independent and created their own states. However, six-
teen of them secretly asked for France’s support, and these states
were called the Confederation of the Rhine (Rein Kyōwashū 列應共
和州). Only those with weak powers came under French jurisdic-
tion and turned against Germany (Doitsu). In 1813, when the false
French emperor was defeated by Russia, the dukes and counts were
restored to power. (Mitsukuri 1845, vol. 2, fol. 9)
[5] Prussia (Puroisen 孛漏生) is divided into an eastern and a western
part, and her territories are not connected to one another. The capi-
tal city is Koenigsberg, the coronation city for the Prussian kings,
with 5,000 merchant houses and a population of 55,000. The capital
city in the west is Danzig, which has 5,354 households and a popula-
tion of 45,000. (Mitsukuri 1845, vol. 2, fol. 8)
[6] [Prussia] is now a member of the German Confederation (Doitsu
Rengōshū 獨逸連合州). (Mitsukuri 1845, vol. 2, fol. 8)
[7] … dozens of kingdoms and duchies from the neighboring German
states formed the German Confederation (Doitsu Rengōshū) in
1816. Each state [in the confederation] is independent and does not
belong to Germany (Doitsu), however, in the case of a threat from
a foreign enemy, the representatives of these states meet in Frank-
furt am Main in Germany under the leadership of the German
emperor. There they decide whether to dispatch an army, or to
use another method to resolve the conflict. (Mitsukuri 1846, vol. 3,
fols. 14–15)
Japanese-german Mutual Perceptions In The 1860s And 1870s 93

These descriptions of Germany include the reorganization of the country in

the wake of the Napoleonic Wars (1803–1815). And while they are far more de-
tailed than those in Oranda fūsetsugaki, they are not entirely accurate. First,
Koenigsberg was indeed the coronation city of the Prussian kings, but it was
not Prussia’s capital city as the sources suggest. Moreover, the relation be-
tween “Germany” (Doitsu) and Austria (Ōsutereiki, the Habsburg dynasty) re-
mains unclear. Section [3] seems to indicate that “Germany” is another name
for Austria, but section [4] suggests that “Germany” denotes the Holy Roman
Empire. In addition, sections [6] and [7] show that Prussia, like other German
states, belongs to the German Confederation (“Deutscher Bund,” est. 1815 after
the disbandment of the Holy Roman Empire in 1804).
While the sources cite other states in the German Confederation, Austria
and Prussia are the primary focus. Although the Hanseatic city states would
have been most frequently seen in East Asia, mention of them is not included.

Bankoku kishō zufu

As greater numbers of foreign ships arrived in the waters surrounding Japan, it
became increasingly important to distinguish foreign flags. Bankoku kishō zufu
(Illustrated Guide to the Flags of the Countries of the World, 1852), a detailed
reference work containing information on 291 flags, was released in 1852 by
geographer Suzuki Hōkyō (1815–1856) (figs. 2.1 & 2.2). The sections relevant to
this study include the following:

[8] Prussian flags

The following is the Prussian flag and fifteen other flags.
Prussia (Puroisen 孛漏生) is divided into an eastern and western
part, and Koenigsberg and Danzig are the capital cities.
She is an influential power in the German Confederation (Doitsu
Rengōshū). (fig. 2.2)
German flags
The following is the German flag and twenty-six other flags [of Ger-
man states].
Germany (Doitsu), which is divided into upper and lower regions,
is a legitimate empire in Europe. Dozens of kings and dukes han-
dle internal and external affairs, and preside over a flourishing
culture…
It is said that the German people are of good character, love science,
are hardworking, obedient and strong, and [thus] are suitable as
soldiers.
94 Suzuki

Figure 2.1 Prussian Flags, from Suzuki Hōkyō (ed.): Bankoku kishō zufu.
Edo: Yamashiroya Sahei, 1852. On the left, flags of Danzig (sec-
ond and third from top) and Koenigsberg (bottom).

Descriptions of the German states in Bankoku kishō zufu correspond in the

main to Mitsukuri Shōgo’s Kon’yo zushiki. Flags of German states, including the
Hanseatic city states, are also included in Bankoku kishō zufu. However, the flag
of Bremen, one of the Hanseatic city states, is classified under “Prussian flag
and fifteen other flags,” and the flags of Hamburg and Lübeck under “German
flags and twenty-six other flags.”
An examination of the geographical works Kon’yo zushiki, Kon’yo zushiki-ho,
and Bankoku kishō zufu suggests that in the final days of the Tokugawa shogu-
nate the Japanese had accessed considerable information regarding German
Japanese-german Mutual Perceptions In The 1860s And 1870s 95

Figure 2.2 German Flags, from Suzuki Hōkyō (ed.): Bankoku kishō zufu.
Edo: Yamashiroya Sahei, 1852.

topography, and the German political situation. At the same time, information
about German states other than Austria and Prussia was still very restricted
and sketchy. The German Customs Union, which was growing in strength dur-
ing this period, received no mention, and it is unclear whether “Germany” in
these three works refers to the German Confederation or to Austria.

German Perceptions of Japan Before 1861

What were German perceptions of Japan in this era? Information on Japan
first reached Europe in the thirteenth century via the explorer Marco Polo
(1254–1324), and this information was later supplemented by Jesuit priests in
96 Suzuki

the sixteenth century. From the 1640s to the 1850s, the only European power
permitted entry into Japan was the Dutch, and they came to monopolize the
Western discourse on Japan.
One important conveyor of Japan-related knowledge to Europe was
Engelbert Kaempfer (1651–1716; in Japan 1690–1692), a German from Lemgo
who served with the Dutch East India Company (Vereenigde Oost-Indische
Compagnie; VOC). Kaempfer, who visited Japan during the rule of the shogun
Tokugawa Tsunayoshi (1646–1709), described the country as peaceful and rich,
governed by a “secular emperor” (shōgun), whose relation to a “religious em-
peror” (tennō), was similar to the relation of the Holy Roman Emperor to the
Pope. Kaempfer’s writings profoundly impacted Western perceptions of Japan,
and his work would enter the canon of literature on the study of Japan. His
work remained influential until it was revised by another German scholar,
Phillipp Franz von Siebold (1796–1866), who also went to Japan from 1823 to
1829 as an employee of the VOC.
In terms of overseas expansion, German states were less active than other
Western countries (e.g., France and Britain), but books about distant lands
were nonetheless popular in Germany. Following the Opium Wars, German
magazines and newspapers began to report with increased frequency on the
situation in East Asia (Suzuki Naoko 2004). Japan-related studies began to
flourish as Germany began to pursue diplomatic relations with Japan. At this
time, German diplomats drew on information from Dutch and Russian sourc-
es, as well as from countries that had already concluded treaties with Japan,
such as the United States, Britain, and France.4

The Influence of the 1860–1861 Treaty Negotiations on Japanese-

German Mutual Perceptions

Complications over the Political Situation in Germany

In August 1859, the Prussian government announced that it would send a dip-
lomatic mission to sign treaties of amity and commerce with Japan, China, and
Siam (present-day Thailand). The British and French victories in the Second
Opium War (1856–1860) had already led to some Western powers signing trea-
ties with China and Japan. The mass media followed these developments

4 The Grand Duke of Brandenburg, who became the King of Prussia in 1701, had already accu-
mulated a certain degree of knowledge on East Asia in the seventeenth century. See Hammer
and Screech 2011: 67–76.
Japanese-german Mutual Perceptions In The 1860s And 1870s 97

closely, and many Westerners were well informed about the “opening” of East
Asian countries. In Prussia, expectations for the diplomatic mission were high:
it was sent on behalf of the German Customs Union as well as the Hanseatic
city states and the two Mecklenburg grand duchies. It was the kingdom’s first
opportunity to represent “Germany” as a whole in foreign affairs. There was
also the hope that the mission would strengthen the Prussian claim to leader-
ship in Germany vis-à-vis Austria and promote German unification following
the “Lesser Germany” principle.5
The expectations of the Tokugawa shogunate, by contrast, were quite differ-
ent, and the mission represented an extremely unwelcome gesture. The feudal
government of Japan had already drawn public ire and sparked the anti-foreign
jōi, or “movement to expel the barbarians,” after signing the “unequal treaties”
with five Western countries in 1858 without the consent of the imperial court
(Fukuoka 2010a; 2010b). Although the United States had already forewarned
the shogunal government of Prussia’s intent, it was already determined to re-
fuse any requests for new treaties. When Eulenburg arrived and introduced
himself “as a minister plenipotentiary of Prussia,” with the objective of “sign-
ing a treaty of amity and commerce between the Japanese Empire and North
Germany” (Eulenburg 1969a: 12), the shogunate took little notice of his cre-
dentials. Nor did it inquire about the difference between “Prussia” and “North
Germany.” In effect, Eulenburg’s exact title was not worth considering until the
shogunate changed its diplomatic policy and agreed to enter into negotiations.
The shogunate did eventually soften its position and enter into treaty nego-
tiations with the mission, and when the two parties exchanged credentials, the
shogunate requested an explanation of the German Customs Union (see ch. 1
in this volume for details on the background of the shogunate’s decision). This
request for clarification is understandable because, as we have already seen,
there was little information on the German political situation available in Japan.
Nothing was known of “North Germany” or “South Germany,” for instance, and,
with the exception of Austria and Prussia, the different German states were
only superficially covered in Japanese sources. Moreover, no Japanese source
commented on the German Customs Union, and it is highly probable that the
shogunate only first heard about these matters from Eulenburg.

5 For detailed lists of studies on the Eulenburg Mission see Suzuki Naoko 2003 and Dobson and
Saaler 2011 (with links to online available titles).
98 Suzuki

Eulenburg elucidated that the member states of the German Customs

Union were united under Prussian leadership in the fields of trade and com-
merce.6 After being shown a map of the states of the German Customs Union,7
the shogunate’s ministers plenipotentiary, including the Commissioner of
Foreign Affairs (Gaikoku Bugyō) Hori Oribe no kami Toshiki (Hori Toshihiro;
1818–1860), drew the conclusion that the relations among the German states
was similar to that of the “United States of North America.” In actual fact,
such an interpretation is erroneous because, different from the situation with
the United States, the foreign policies of the member states of the German
Customs Union were not centralized. However, Eulenburg raised no objection
to the Japanese interpretation. Soon after Eulenburg’s and Hori’s discussion,
however, Hori resigned his post, allegedly due to a serious illness (in fact, he
committed seppuku, or ritual suicide; see ch. 1 in this volume). His post was as-
sumed by Muragaki Awaji no kami Norimasa (Muragaki Norimasa; 1813–1880),
who had spent time in the United States. Muragaki was more direct in his ques-
tioning. He asked Eulenburg to provide further, in-depth clarification of the
German political situation, particularly with regards to the German Customs
Union (“Trades and Taxes Union” below) and “Hamburg,” which was not a
member of the Union and “North Germany.”
Japanese sources record Eulenburg’s response (author’s emphasis in italics):

Apart from Austria and Prussia, there are twenty-two other states.
Collectively we call them “the German Federation.” The two great pow-
ers in the Federation are Austria and Prussia. No other states are equal
to these two powers, therefore we call Austria “South Germany” and the
other states under Prussian leadership “North Germany”…
The other twenty-two states—excluding Austria—follow the Prussian
king’s laws on trade and taxes. There are, however, kings, princes, or dukes
in each state. Therefore, they do not obey Prussian rule in political and mili-
tary matters. They follow Prussia only in matters of trade and taxes. That is
why I called these states members of the Trade and Taxes Union…

6 Conference protocol, in Eulenburg’s letter to Schleinitz, December 13, 1860. GstA, III. HA
MdA, II, 5070. The document is also included in the collection “Diplomatic Documents
About Japanese-German Relations Collected by Imamiya Shin in Germany,” in the collec-
tion of the Tōkyō Daigaku Shiryō Hensanjo (Historiographical Institute of the University of
Tokyo).
7 Ibid.
Japanese-german Mutual Perceptions In The 1860s And 1870s 99

Mecklenburg, Hamburg, and Lübeck are not members of the Trade

and Taxes Union, therefore these three states are not included in the
twenty-two states described above. Nevertheless, these three states also
entrusted Prussia with foreign matters and follow Prussia. That is why these
three states were mentioned here.8

Eulenburg’s response noted that “South Germany” meant Austria and “North
Germany” referred to Prussia and the rest of the German states, with the ex-
ception of Austria. In reality, the Eulenburg Mission marked the first time that
states outside of the German Customs Union, such as Hamburg, entrusted
Prussia with foreign matters. However, in order to bolster the credibility of his
mission, Eulenburg had to emphasize Prussian leadership in “Lesser Germany.”
Nevertheless, the shogunate was capable of discerning that the independence
of the North German states was stronger than Eulenburg admitted and firmly
refused to sign treaties with such a great number of German states at one time.
The shogunate was especially worried that the conclusion of new treaties with
so many states would provoke anti-foreign movement. And this is why the sho-
gun eventually signed a treaty with Prussia, but not with the other German
states.

The Treaty Negotiation Process and Renewed Mutual Interest

For Eulenburg, the result of the treaty negotiations with Japan was disappoint-
ing. Yet, the mission and negotiations may have helped increase both parties’
mutual interest. Prussian sources state, for example, that Hori inquired about
Prussian scientific and practical knowledge (Berg 1866: 104; Eulenburg 1969b:
294). When he heard that one of the mission members was named Max von
Brandt (1835–1920; later the first German diplomatic representative in Japan),
Hori immediately inquired whether this Brandt was related to Heinrich von
Brandt (1789–1868), the author of a celebrated book on military tactics. Prussian
sources record Hori’s pleasure when he learned that the two Brandts were son
and father. The mission was also asked whether Karl von Decker (1784–1844),

8 Conference protocol at the State Guesthouse between Muragaki Awaji no kami, Takemoto
Zushō no kami, and Kurokawa Sachū for Japan and the members of the Prussian mission,
December 22, 1860 (Eulenburg 1969b: 324). The previous note demonstrates that the confer-
ence protocols were similarly recorded by the Prussian side. However, this chapter follows
the Japanese sources because they give a more detailed description of Eulenburg’s explana-
tions concerning the situation in Germany.
100 Suzuki

the author of Praktische Generalstabswissenschaft (Handbibliothek für Offiziere,

vol. 8)9 was Prussian (Eulenburg 1969b: 218–19).
In the eyes of the shogunate these episodes lent credibility to Eulenburg’s
explanation of “North Germany,” and seemed to confirm that the region set
great store by the arts and military affairs. As such, the Prussian king was con-
sidered the sovereign of a nation equal to the other countries that had con-
cluded treaties with Japan (Tōkyō Daigaku Shiryō Hensanjo 2010: 404, 406).
The Prussian mission was impressed by the curiosity of the Japanese regard-
ing Western science and was surprised to find that, despite the enactment of
a policy of national “isolation,” Western knowledge had been widely dissemi-
nated among Japanese intellectuals. The above examples were recorded not
only by members of the mission, but also by the German media (Allgemeine
Zeitung, Nr. 64, Supplement of March 5, 1861; Werner 1863: 86; Eulenburg-
Hertefeld 1900: 121; Dobson 2011: 105–14).

The Japanese Mission to Europe (1862)

The Prusso-Japanese treaty was one of the many unwelcome treaties the
Tokugawa shogunate concluded in the late 1850s and early 1860s. But
Japanese relations with Prussia took a backseat to those with the five ear-
lier treaty powers: Great Britain, France, the United States, Russia, and the
Netherlands. Although the Japanese government had an interest in Western
military technology, this did not automatically result in a heightened inter-
est in the military advances of Prussia or “North Germany.” However, in ac-
cordance with the terms of the treaty, the study of German language study
did begin officially in Japan soon after the Eulenburg Mission, and “German
studies” was added to the existing canon of “Western studies.” Compared
to other languages, the motivation to learn German was low; yet, Japanese
knowledge about German affairs witnessed a gradual increase (Morikawa
1997: 7–13).
In the summer of 1862, shortly following the return of Eulenburg Mission
to Prussia, the shogunate sent the Bunkyū (Takenouchi) Mission to Europe.
The first shogunal mission to Europe in the modern period, its main objec-
tive was to delay the opening of further Japanese port cities to European trade
(Imamiya 1951; Kerst 1964; Haga 1968; Miyanaga 1989). However, because there

9 
Accessible online at https://books.google.de/books?id=b4JDAAAAcAAJ) (last accessed
September 1, 2016).
Japanese-german Mutual Perceptions In The 1860s And 1870s 101

were no stipulations relating to this delay in the Japanese-Prussian treaty—

unlike earlier treaties—the Bunkyū Mission had no political agenda in Prussia
(see ch. 1 in this volume for a more in-depth discussion). The delegation was
received by the King of Prussia, Wilhelm I (1797–1888), and exchanged formal
greetings with the high officials of the Prussian government. The focus of the
Japanese mission became an inspection tour in Prussia, but it rejected advanc-
es made by those Hanseatic city states wishing to enter treaty negotiation with
Japan (Stahncke 1987: 163–65).
As the first modern Japanese visit to Europe, the Bunkyū Mission received
broad coverage in German mass media (see fig. 0.3 in the introduction of this
volume). The fact that the media had only recently reported on the Eulenburg
Mission provided further grist to the media mill. The two stories were linked,
for instance, when the media reported on a reception for the Japanese visi-
tors by members of the Prussian expedition, including Eulenburg. Wherever
it went the Japanese delegation was viewed with curiosity; it was given an en-
thusiastic welcome in Cologne, Berlin, and other cities (Suzuki, Snowden and
Zobel 2005; Wippich and Suzuki 1989).
But what observations did the members of the Bunkyū Mission make re-
garding Prussia and Germany? In general, they took note of the climate, man-
ners, and customs in Prussia, comparing these with the other countries they
visited, such as France, Britain, the Netherlands, Prussia, and Russia. Many
of their observations were informed by the Western geography books noted
above by Mitsukiri Shōgo. However, the members appeared to have made little
effort to stimulate closer Japanese-Prussian or Japanese-German relations.
Only Fukuzawa Yukichi (1835–1901) mentioned their reception by members of
the Prussia expedition to East Asia (Fukuzawa 1958a: 38). Counted among the
descriptions by the mission members relating to Prussia are:

[1] The great performance of their machinery makes this nation wor-
thy of being called one of the civilized nations of the world. Yet,
since the country is far from the sea, it is said to have only a small
navy. Instead, it places a great deal of weight on the army. While
the prosperity of this land trails behind the Netherlands, there is no
country, apart from England and France in my opinion, like Prus-
sia in terms of its settlements, clothes, and people, who have a fair
complexion with high-bridged noses and are tall; they are gentle,
obedient, and very strong (Mashizu 1987: 268–69).
[2] A rifle [the Zündnadelgewehr] was recently invented here that is
said to be able to fire seven rounds, whereas older models only fire
102 Suzuki

five. It is no exaggeration to say, therefore, that the Prussian army

ranks above others in Europe in terms of military training (Ichikawa
1987: 432–33).
[3] The German people wish to be united, but this is not desirable for
France, England, and Russia. The Prussian king will most likely
become the German emperor (Fukuzawa 1958b: 102).
[4] However, Austria is the sticking point for this issue [German Unifi-
cation]. Furthermore, the kings of neighboring states are relatives
of the French emperor, and in the event of the outbreak of hostili-
ties, they will surely rally against Prussia. La question des frontiers
du Rhin [the question of the Rhine border]—when the French
emperor takes the western side of the Rhine, he will allow the Prus-
sian king to unite all of Germany (ibid., 102).
[5] During our 1862 voyage to Europe, I discussed the situation in
Japan with Matsuki Kōan (Terashima Munenori, later Minister of
Foreign Affairs in the 1870s) and Mitsukuri Shūhei.10 I said: “As far
as I know, it is now very difficult for the shogunate to monopolize
power. What do you think of gathering the daimyo first and adopt-
ing the German Confederation model?” Both Matsuki and Mitsukuri
then replied, “that would be a proper solution.” (Fukuzawa 2003:
224–225; author’s emphasis)

As we have seen earlier, the Japanese already expressed a profound interest in

Prussian military technology during the Eulenburg Mission. This seems to be
confirmed in sections [1] and [2], in which Prussia is described as a first-class
nation in terms of its military. Section [2] describes the Prussian army as “stand-
ing out above others in Europe,” a conclusion that mission members arrived at
after observing Prussian military drills in Spandau near Berlin. Therefore, it is
safe to say that the Bunkyū Mission served to strengthen the Japanese percep-
tion of Prussia as a top military nation. In addition, the Bunkyū Mission mem-
bers also visited Prussia’s most advanced steel factories, leading them to praise
the country’s level of industrialization as section [1] indicates: “The great per-
formance of their machinery makes this nation worthy of being called one of
the civilized nations of the world.”
The 1862 mission gave the Japanese deeper insights into the German
political situation. The mention of the “German Unification Problem” in

10 Mitsukuri Shōgo and Mitsukuri Shūhei were the adopted sons of Mitsukuri Genpo (1799–
1863), a Tsuwano domain physician trained in Dutch medicine.
Japanese-german Mutual Perceptions In The 1860s And 1870s 103

Fukuzawa’s diary, for example, is most likely the first time the issue appeared
in a Japanese source. Section [3] intimates that Fukuzawa approved of the idea
that the Prussian king would become the emperor of a future united Germany.
However, as evident in section [4], he realized that this would be problematic
given the current status of international relations. Although Eulenburg made
no mention of the German Unification Problem during the 1860/61 treaty
negotiations with the shogunate, the members of the Bunkyū Mission were
able to grasp the importance of this issue during their visit. What is more,
Fukuzawa suggested in section [5] that the German Confederation could
be a model for a league of daimyo in Japan. He also wrote that his traveling
companions, Matsuki Kōan (1832–1893) and Mitsukuri Shūhei (1826–1886),
agreed with him on this matter. This shows how rapidly Japanese perceptions
of Germany developed since the conclusion of the Japanese-Prussian Treaty
in 1861. Nevertheless, the Bunkyū Mission’s observations in Europe were never
put into practice. The anti-shogunate movement intensified after the return
of the mission, and eventually the shogunate was overthrown in the Meiji
Restoration of 1868.

Japan in Travel Writings by the Members of the Eulenburg

Mission

The Eulenburg Mission returned home in early 1862 after concluding treaties
with Japan, China, and Siam. Between 1863 and 1873, a number of travelogues
and reports by the members of the mission were published as books. Along
with official reports on Japan issued by the Prussian government in 1864 (vol. 1)
and 1866 (vol. 2), these travel writings, in some cases already partially pub-
lished in the form of newspaper serials and magazine contributions, made up
a more systematic body of information on Japan.
Do these travel writings share any similar characteristics regarding their
perceptions of Japan? Prior to the Eulenburg Mission, Kaempfer’s work formed
the basis of the Western view of Japan. Hermann Maron (1820–1882), a mem-
ber of the Eulenburg Mission, confirmed this when he wrote:

It has been ten years since any substantial works on Japan have been
published. Most of these, however, simply copied Kaempfer or Thunberg
[Carl Peter Thunberg, 1743–1828, in Japan 1775–1776]. Consequently,
the best we can do, even today, would simply be to make a reprint of
Kaempfer. (Maron 1863: 19)
104 Suzuki

Although later authors continued to reference Kaempfer’s work, it was no lon-

ger current due to the shifting conditions following Japan’s “opening.” For in-
stance, it was now inaccurate to say that the common people were free from
greed and lived happily under the rule of the shogun, “a secular emperor,” as
Kaempfer had asserted. The situation in Japan had become far more complex
and dramatic after the return of the Eulenburg Mission, which made it ex-
tremely difficult for the mission members to follow up on subsequent changes
(Suzuki Naoko 2005: 39–41). Nevertheless, Albert Berg (1825–1884), the author
of the mission’s official reports, attempted to summarize the mission’s views of
Japan and to consider what form of government might eventually take hold in
Japan as a result of the turbulent social conditions.11 As Berg observed:

We cannot predict what kind of government will eventually be estab-

lished in Japan, but it is certain that a reversion to the old despotic style of
centralized power will be impossible. It is probable that the daimyo will
remain independent in their hereditary lands until one of them achieves
overwhelming power over the others. It is also possible that the empire
will be divided into federal states according to geographical divides, and
that each federal state will be under the sovereignty of the strongest
prince there. (Berg 1866: 359; Eulenburg 1969b: 307)

Perhaps it is no coincidence that this vision of Japan’s future was very close to
the situation with the German Confederation at that time. But also noteworthy
is that the author of the official records reached almost the same conclusion
as Fukuzawa in section [5] quoted above. Yet, it is well established that Meiji
Japan (1868–1912) became a centralized state, quite different from the “model”
of the German Confederation or even the federally structured German Empire.
The Tokugawa shogunate was overthrown only a few years after the
Eulenburg Mission’s return to Germany. Japan then embarked on Western-
style modern state building. Many travel writings about Japan that covered the
final days of the Tokugawa shogunate were reprinted, but they were rarely up-
dated based on the latest developments in Japan. Consequently, an outdated
image of Japan continued to be circulated in the West (Suzuki Naoko 2005: 44).

11 Although his name is not listed as the official author, previous studies have shown that
Albert Berg, who originally participated in the mission as a painter, wrote the official re-
cords in the service of the Prussian government (see Dobson and Saaler 2011). The sec-
tions of the official reports relating to Japan were translated into Japanese by Nakai Akio
and published in 1969 with detailed commentary (Eulenburg 1969a; 1969b).
Japanese-german Mutual Perceptions In The 1860s And 1870s 105

The ongoing popularity of travelogues from the late Edo period was one factor
that led to (and perpetuated) a distorted image of Japan in Europe.

Conclusion

This chapter has outlined the process by which Japanese-German mutual per-
ceptions were formed in the latter half of the nineteenth century, with particu-
lar attention paid to the experiences of the Eulenburg Mission to Japan and the
Bunkyū Mission to Germany.
It is clear that the establishment of diplomatic relations between Prussia
and Japan in 1861 led to a deepening of Japanese-German mutual perceptions.
However, there were differences on both sides. For Prussia, the Eulenburg
Mission did not yield the expected result, and for the other states that had par-
ticipated in the mission, the outcome was even more dispiriting. Nevertheless,
the Japanese-Prussian treaty signaled the starting point of bilateral Japanese-
German relations, and it resulted in an increase in trade and the exchange of
knowledge between Japan and German states. Nevertheless, it was extremely
difficult for the mission to assess the dramatic changes occurring from the end
of the Tokugawa shogunate to the first days of the Meiji Restoration. Both old
and new images of Japan co-existed, the result being the creation of a misrep-
resented image of Japan in Germany.
For Japan, the treaty with Prussia was just one of many unwelcome “un-
equal treaties,” not only for the Tokugawa shogunate but also the following
Meiji government. The German language and German affairs were not im-
mediately popular topics of study in Japan following the treaty, and Japanese-
German relations were not of particular importance in Japanese diplomacy
at that time. This is evident if we compare how Eulenburg was remembered
in Japan and in Germany. In Germany, for example, the name “Eulenburg” is
readily associated with the figure of Count Eulenburg and his diplomatic mis-
sion to Japan, China, and Siam on behalf of Prussia. By contrast, in Japan, the
records of the Japanese missions to the West—including the Bunkyū Mission
and the Iwakura Mission from 1871 to 1873—suggest that comparatively fewer
people connected the name of Eulenburg with the Prussian mission to Japan.
Although the two Japanese Bunkyū and Iwakura Missions to Prussia in 1862
and 1872 were received by Eulenburg, only Fukuzawa records their meeting
(Wattenberg 2002: 165).
After 1861, German studies gained ground within the framework of Western
studies in Japan. What is most interesting in this process is that the Japanese
106 Suzuki

came to a fairly accurate understanding of the federal character of Germany.

Fukuzawa Yukichi, who visited Europe in 1862 with the Bunkyū Mission, ar-
rived at almost the same conclusion about the future reorganization of the
Tokugawa shogunate as the author of the official records of the Eulenburg
Mission.
Historians tend to identify early Japanese interest in “Germany” with inter-
est in Prussia, the leading state in the German Confederation. However, the
above demonstrates that the Japanese image of Germany was more compli-
cated than that. They had an accurate understanding of the multi-faceted na-
ture of Germany’s political situation. Even the Iwakura Mission, which visited
the new Germany after it was united under Prussian leadership in 1871, still
described German history by paying great attention to its federal character
(Suekawa 1995). When and how the Japanese image of Germany shifted to one
that identified Prussia with Germany must await further research.

References

Unpublished Documents
In the collection of the Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz [=GStA]: III.
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Eulenburg, Friedrich Albrecht Graf zu (Nakai Akio ed.) (1969): Eulenburg Nihon enseiki,
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Fukuoka Mariko (2010b): “Bakumatsu no tai puroisen jōyaku kōshō to kaikō enki mon-
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Fukuzawa Yukichi (1958a): “Seikō ki,” in Keiō Gijuku (ed.), Fukuzawa Yukichi zenshū 19,
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Fukuzawa Yukichi (1958b): “Seikō techō,” in Keiō Gijuku (ed.), Fukuzawa Yukichi zenshū
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Fukuzawa Yukichi (2003) (originally published 1899): “Fukuō jiden,” in Matsuzaki
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Haga Tōru (1968): Taikun no shisetsu: bakumatsu Nihonjin no seiō taiken. Tokyo: Chūō
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Hammer, Veit and Timon Screech (2011): “Die preußische Kenntis von Ostasien im 17.
und 18. Jahrhundert,” in Sebastian Dobson and Sven Saaler (eds.), Unter den Augen
des Preußen-Adlers. Lithographien, Zeichnungen und Photographien der Teilnehmer
der Eulenburg-Expedition in Japan, 1860–61 / Under Eagle Eyes: Lithographs, Drawings
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Ichikawa Wataru (1987) (originally published 1929): “Biyō ōkō manroku,” in Nihon
Shiseki Kyōkai (ed.), Kengai shisetsu nikki sanshū 2, pp. 249–562. Tokyo: Tōkyō
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Imamiya Shin (1951): “Berlin ni okeru wagakuni saisho no ken-ō shisetsu,” Shigaku
24/2/3, pp. 199–220.
Keene, Donald (1969): The Japanese Discovery of Europe 1720–1830. Stanford: Stanford
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Kerst, Georg (1962): Die Deutsche Expedition nach Japan und ihre Auswirkungen.
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Kerst, Georg (1964): “Die japanische Sondergesandtschaft nach Europa im Jahre 1862,”
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Maron, Hermann (1863): Japan und China: Reiseskizzen, entworfen während der preus-
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Mashizu Shunjirō (1987) (originally published 1930): “Ōkō-ki,” in Nihon Shiseki
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Matsukata Fuyuko (2007): Oranda fūsetsugaki to kinsei Nihon. Tokyo: Tōkyō Daigaku
Shuppankai.
Matsukata Fuyuko (2010): Oranda fūsetsugaki: “Sakoku” Nihon ni katarareta sekai.
Tokyo: Chūō Kōronsha.
Matsuzawa Hiroaki (1993): Kindai Nihon no keisei to seiyō keiken. Tokyo: Iwanami
Shoten.
Mitani Hiroshi (2003): Perii raikō. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan.
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Mitsukuri Shōgo (1845): Kon’yo zushiki. Edo: Suharaya Ihachi.
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the Mid-nineteenth Century,” SITES: Journal of Studies for the Integrated Text Science
3/1, pp. 34–44.
Suzuki Takeo, Paul Snowden, and Günter Zobel (2005): Yōroppajin no mita bunkyū shi-
setsudan: Igirisu, Doitsu, Roshia. Tokyo: Waseda Daigaku Shuppankai.
Tōkyō Daigaku Shiryō Hensanjo (ed.) (2010): Dainippon komonjo bakumatsu gaikō
kankei bunsho furoku no 8 taiwasho. Tokyo: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai.
Wattenberg, Ulrich (2002): “Doitsu: futatsu no shinkō-koku no deai: 1873 nen sangatsu
7–28 nichi, shigatsu 15–17 nichi, gogatsu 1–8 nichi” (Germany March 7–28, April
15–17, May 1–8 1873),” in Ian Nish (ed.), Ōbei kara mita Iwakura shisetsudan. Kyoto:
Minerva Shobō.
Japanese-german Mutual Perceptions In The 1860s And 1870s 109

Werner, Reinhold (1863): Die Preussische Expedition nach China Japan und Siam in den
Jahren 1860, 1861 und 1862: Reisebriefe von Reinhold Werner, Leutnant zur See I. Klasse,
2. Theil. Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus.
Wippich, Rolf-Harald and Shoko Suzuki-Wippich (1989): Der Aufenthalt der ersten
japanischen Gesandschaft im Rheinland: Hintergründe, Verlauf und Eindrücke
einer west-östlichen Kulturbegegnung im Jahre 1862. Cologne: Deutsch-Japanische
Gesellschaft e.V.
 CHAPTER 3

The Image of Prussia in Japan during the Boshin

War (1868–1869)

Hakoishi Hiroshi

The Boshin civil war commenced with the Battle of Toba-Fushimi in the first
month of Keiō 4 (February 1868) and concluded with the Battle of Hakodate in
the fifth month of Meiji 2 (June 1869).1 A study of the image of Japan’s Boshin
War is not only instructive because this era of conflict marked the most sig-
nificant turning point in Japan’s move toward modernity (Haraguchi 1963),
but also because it witnessed a boom in new forms of media. Newspapers and
magazines, in particular, grew at an explosive rate. This chapter examines the
image of Prussia that emerged in popular newspapers and magazines at this
time.2

The Image of Prussia in Journals of the Foreign Settlement

Satirical Caricatures in The Japan Punch

The caricatures in the satirical English-language magazine The Japan Punch
are valuable sources not only because they include illustrations of Prussians
resident in Japan during the late Edo period (1603–1868) and during the Meiji
Restoration (1850s–1860s), but also because they provide a visual behind-the-
scenes look at the diplomatic relationship of Western countries toward Japan
that cannot be found in other historical documents (fig. 3.1).3 And this is largely
due to the role of the magazine’s publisher, the Englishman Charles Wirgman
(1832–1891) who lived in the foreign settlement of Yokohama. Initially dis-
patched to Japan as artist and correspondent for The Illustrated London News,
Wirgman enjoyed the close friendship of many prominent foreign inhabitants

1 In the same year, on the 8th day of the 9th month (October 23, 1868), the Japanese era name
was changed and Keiō 4 became the year Meiji 1.
2 See Hakoishi 2007 for current views on the newspapers and magazines of the Boshin War
period.
3 The Japan Punch is easily accessible in a reprint version (Wirgman 1975). For a general analy-
sis of Wirgman’s illustrations, see Haga et al. (2002).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_005

The Image Of Prussia In Japan During The Boshin War 111

Figure 3.1 Cover of The Japan Punch. 1868.

of Japan, such as members of the British Legation to Japan and its Secretary
Ernest Mason Satow (1843–1929). Although it must be remembered that
Wirgman’s information has a particular bias, much of what he published ap-
pears to have been fairly accurate. He was apparently acquainted with the
resident diplomats of the Western treaty powers, and therefore the portraits
he drew of many of these figures capture their individual characteristics quite
realistically. As such, the magazine’s caricatures are useful historical materials
that offer a glimpse into the inner workings of the foreign diplomatic corps in
Japan.4 Its portrayals of the British Legation are particularly noteworthy, since
that organization had a substantial influence on the political process during

4 The illustrations referenced in this chapter give the year and month of the original publica-
tion, as well as volume and page number in the reprint version (Wirgman 1975). However,
the month of publication is unspecified until 1872; in this case the month of the magazine’s
publication is an estimate that appears in the reprint (Wirgman 1975).
112 Hakoishi

the Boshin War. An examination of these caricatures in combination with dip-

lomatic documents leads to a better understanding of the events in Japan dur-
ing this period, and this chapter will take a closer look at the images of Prussia
in The Japan Punch.

Caricatures of the Prussian Chargé d’Affaires to Japan von Brandt

and of the Schnell Brothers

It is important to stress that the caricatures in The Japan Punch operate as

icons of various diplomatic representatives and of their respective countries.
For example, the United Kingdom is symbolized by Consul General Harry
Smith Parkes (1828–1885), France by Consul General Léon Roches (1809–1901),5
and Prussia (after 1867 the North German Confederation) by chargé d’affaires
Maximilian August Scipio von Brandt (1835–1920).
The international situation facing Japan in the final days of the Edo period
has previously been understood as a competition between Great Britain, which
had close relations with the Satsuma domain in southern Kyushu, and France,
which had close ties with the Tokugawa shogunate (bakufu). The focus has
principally been on the antagonistic relationship between Great Britain’s con-
sul general, Parkes, and France’s consul general, Roches, in their policy toward
Japan. This is precisely the situation that was depicted in The Japan Punch, and
Roches’s competition with Parkes was a frequent target of Wirgman’s satire.
For instance, a caricature titled Occupations of Ministers from the January 1867
issue portrayed this Anglo-French rivalry (Wirgman 1975, vol. 2: 6) (fig. 3.2).
Roches appears on the left as a tailor fitting a coat and other Western clothes
for a samurai, while on the right Parkes is a plasterer constructing a brick wall.
The underlying political symbolism indicates that at this time Roches was ac-
tively providing military support to the shogunate. France’s military aid to the
shogunate is also envisioned by such elements as the rifles with bayonets, can-
nons, and horses in the background. The illustration of Parkes erecting a brick
wall signifies that he was steadily laying the foundation of Britain’s position
in Japan. In other words, the caricature reinforces the rivalry that existed be-
tween Parkes and Roches.
When Roches, a supporter of the shogunate, was suddenly dismissed in the
middle of the Boshin War and France’s pro-shogunate stance met an impasse,
Parkes held the strongest diplomatic initiative toward Japan. He was among
the first to advocate the Restoration Government. It was also at this time—that

5 Maximilien-Ange G. Outrey succeeded Roches to the post.

The Image Of Prussia In Japan During The Boshin War 113

Figure 3.2 Occupations of Ministers. The Japan Punch. January 1867.

is, following Roches’s departure—that images of the Prussian political players

began to appear in The Japan Punch, in particular, Prussia’s representative von
Brandt. Ishii Takashi (1966) argues that one reason for this is that von Brandt
was at the forefront of the opposition of Parkes’s policies in Japan. He sup-
ported the forces of the former shogunate and the Alliance of the Northern
Domains of Mutsu, Dewa, and Echigo (Hakoishi 2004–2006). Von Brandt’s ac-
tions did not result in anything approximating the British-French rivalry, but
the antagonistic relations between Britain and Prussia, on occasion supported
by Italy and the United States, was a new development in the international
arena. And it was following Roches’s departure that von Brandt became the
new target of caricature in The Japan Punch.
At the time of the Boshin War, von Brandt was a resident diplomat in Japan
for the Prussia-centered North German Confederation (Norddeutscher Bund,
est. 1867). He first came to Japan as a member of the Eulenburg Expedition
of 1860–1861 (see chs. 1 and 2 in this volume). After the conclusion of the
Prusso-Japanese Treaty of Amity and Commerce (Ger. Freundschafts- und
Handelsvertrag zwischen Preußen und Japan; Jp. Nippon-koku Puroshia-koku
Shūkō Tsūshō Jōyaku 日本国普魯士国修好通商条約) in 1861, he took a new post
114 Hakoishi

in Yokohama in 1862 as Prussia’s first consul in Japan. When the Boshin War
broke out in 1868, he was the North German Confederation’s chargé d’affaires
and consul general in Japan (Tanaka 1980, Nakai 1992).
Two other Germans who often feature in Japanese newspapers and The
Japan Punch during this period were the brothers Heinrich and Eduard Schnell.6
After resigning from his post as secretary of the Prussian Consulate in Osaka in
January 1868, the elder sibling Heinrich—also known by his Anglicized name
Henry—went to Yokohama where he waited for an opportunity to contact
the leaders of the feudal domains of Mutsu, Dewa, and Echigo. Eventually, he
boarded a U.S. steamship together with samurai from the Aizu and Nagoya
domains, landing in Niigata on April 18, 1868. Accompanied by samurai from
the Aizu domain, he traveled to the castle town of Aizu-Wakamatsu and subse-
quently became active as a military adviser to the armies of the feudal domains
of Aizu, Yonezawa, and other members of the Alliance of Northern Domains.
It is reported that at the time he referred to himself as a “Prussian General” and
adopted the Japanese name Hiramatsu Buhei. Upon his resignation, Heinrich
went through the formalities for home leave from diplomatic service. However,
this was likely an attempt to distract the Japanese authorities and to ensure
that they would not find any hint of his cooperation with von Brandt and his
efforts to support the northern feudal domains (Tanaka 1973: 23). Meanwhile,
the younger sibling Eduard—his Anglicized name was Edward—was actively
engaged as a “Dutch” merchant. Together with the Swiss merchant François
Perregaux (1834–1877), Eduard established the trading firm Schnell-Perregaux.7
There have been several theories about the birthplace of the Schnell broth-
ers. Some have speculated that it could be either the Netherlands, Prussia,
Bavaria, or Bremerhaven (the seaport of the Free Hanseatic City of Bremen).
But it was recently discovered that their parents’ birthplace was the Electorate
of Hesse (Kurhessen) (Fukuoka 2013).8 The brothers’ father enlisted in the
colonial army of the Dutch East Indies and was sent to Batavia (present-day
Jakarta), where Heinrich was born. After his education in the Netherlands, he
was given a job in Batavia like his father. It is also now understood that Eduard

6 Earlier studies of the Schnell brothers include Tanaka 1973, 1976, 1980, 2006, 2007.
7 The two men were co-workers when they served as clerks for the Consulate General of
Switzerland (Nakai 1971: 258).
8 Historical sources relating to the Schnell brothers were supplied by Yuriko Wild-Kawara, who
for many years conducted research on them as a part of the joint project “Research from
a View of the Political History of the Intelligence and Propaganda Activities by the Meiji
Restoration Government” (Ishin seifu ni yoru jōho/senden katsudō no seijishiteki kenkyū)
organized by this author and funded by a JSPS Grand in Aid for Scientific Research/Basic
Research (C).
The Image Of Prussia In Japan During The Boshin War 115

was living in the Netherlands before coming to Japan. The brothers’ may have
been citizens of the Electorate of Hesse, their parents’ birthplace; at this time
this electorate was merged with Prussia after the German War of 1866 (Austro-
Prussian War) and therefore the brothers can also be regarded as Prussian. Yet,
their father was employed by the Dutch. Assuming that the brothers were born
and at least raised in part in that country, it can also be surmised that they
had Dutch nationality. This chapter, however, will view their and von Brandt’s
nationality (and identity) as Prussian, and the following sections analyze three
caricatures of these men—The Rival Organ Grinders, The Trump Card, and
Aidzu’s General—in The Japan Punch.9

The Rival Organ Grinders

The Rival Organ Grinders (fig. 3.3), appeared in the September 1868 issue of The
Japan Punch (Wirgman 1975, vol. 2: 156). This satirical image illuminates the
political stance of the British support of the Meiji Restoration Government
as well as of the Prussian and Italian support for the former feudal govern-
ment, the shogunate, and the forces of the Alliance of Northern Domains.
Considering the month of publication, the contents most likely reflects the
situation between early July and mid-September 1868.
From left to right the caricature depicts Parkes, the Italian consul general
Vittorio Sallier De La Tour, and von Brandt. The intent of the work was to illus-
trate the political stances of each man, and this is reflected in the composition
of them playing barrel organs. The barrel organs are themselves symbols for the
number of English-language newspapers in circulation at the time and accord-
ingly each bears that newspaper’s name: Parkes with The Japan Herald, De La
Tour with The Japan Gazette, and von Brandt with The Japan Times. Wirgman
views the organs that they are playing as metaphors for their political schem-
ing. Furthermore, insignias on the individual barrel organs makes these views
clear. Parkes’s organ, for instance, bears a chrysanthemum crest that alludes
to his advocacy of the new government under the Japanese emperor—that is,
the Restoration Government. Attached to his barrel organ is a small flag that
looks like the gold-brocade imperial standard, and the new government army’s
epaulette with gold-brocade ends is visible on his left shoulder. He plays one
stanza of the loyalist war song Tokoton’yare bushi (Do it thoroughly, warrior!),
transcribed here in Romanized Japanese. The barrel organs played by De La
Tour and von Brandt are decorated with the crest of three-leafed hollyhock

9 See Ishii 1966 for a general analysis of the international situation surrounding Japan during
the Boshin War.
116 Hakoishi

Figure 3.3 The Rival Organ Grinders. The Japan Punch. September 1868. From left to right the
verse reads ( Japanese/Italian/German): Are wa, Choteki seibatzu/seyo to Nish[i]ki
no omi hata wa/shiranai ga, tokotongyaré tongyaré to; Wir wollen ihn nicht haben,/
den jungen Mikado./Sie sollen ihn lieber begraben/in sein’ kleinen Kioto; Sul campo
della gloria/noi pregnerem insieme/Si si la morte a la/Niigata.

enclosed in a circle belonging to the Tokugawa family, an indication of their

support of the shogunate. Von Brandt’s song is inscribed in German and De La
Tour’s in Italian. In translation, the German text reads:

We don’t want him,

the young Mikado.
They shall bury him,
in his little Kioto [sic].

The lyrics of each of the three songs convey the men’s awareness of upcoming
battle over Niigata, which surrendered to the new government’s army in mid-
September 1868.
The Image Of Prussia In Japan During The Boshin War 117

The Trump Card

The Japan Punch illustrated The Trump Card in its December 1868 issue
(Wirgman 1975, vol. 2: 189) (fig. 3.4). It expresses the confusion by von Brandt
and the other supporters of the forces of the former shogunate following the
surrender of the Aizu domain in November 1868. At the outbreak of the Boshin
War, the diplomats of the six treaty powers in Japan declared their neutrality,
but the caricature demonstrates that they later abandoned this stance after the
defeat of the Aizu domain.
The composition depicts the representatives of the six countries enjoying
a game of cards, and its satire targets von Brandt and others who are flustered
at losing sight of the three-leaved hollyhock trump. The figure to the left, who
proudly and victoriously holds up the trump card with a chrysanthemum
crest in his right hand, is Parkes. Sitting immediately to his right (the figure
on the very left of the image) is the Dutch Consul General Dirk de Graeff van
Polsbroek (1833–1916), and directly opposite Parkes (the seated figure, second
from the right) is Roches’s successor, the French Consul General Outrey. The
chrysanthemum card represents the Japanese emperor, thereby signifying the
support of these diplomats for the Meiji Restoration Government. The three
remaining figures in the foreground (from left to right) are De La Tour (short

Figure 3.4 The Trump Card. The Japan Punch. December 1868.
118 Hakoishi

bespectacled figure), von Brandt (the tall standing figure in the center), and
the U.S. Minister Resident to Japan, Robert B. Van Valkenburgh (1821–1888; on
the right wearing a straw hat). They are scrambling after their fallen trump
card. Their card bears the three-leaved hollyhock crest associated with the
Tokugawa family, underscoring the point that these consuls promoted the for-
mer shogunate and the forces of the Alliance of Northern Domains.
The caricature accurately depicts the unfolding political situation of the
era. For instance, the American Van Valkenburgh maintained a neutral stance
until the war in the region of northern Echigo, Mutsu, and Dewa had ended,
and the ironclad U.S. warship CSS Stonewall, originally ordered by the shogu-
nate for the growing Japanese navy, was ultimately never delivered as a result.
Nevertheless, Van Valkenburgh was reportedly a sympathizer of the Alliance of
the Northern Domains. Similarly, the positioning of Outrey on the side of those
holding the chrysanthemum card reflects the fact that he had moved away from
his predecessor Roches’s support of the former shogunate and joined Britain
in its espousal of the Restoration Government. Yet, Parkes and von Brandt are
the main figures in the image. On the one hand and true to the magazine’s pro-
British bias, von Brandt looms large in the center of the scene and bears the
brunt of Wirgman’s satire. On the other, Parkes victoriously holds up the card
with the imperial symbol of the chrysanthemum as his own trump card and is
shown as the clear winner of the game.

Aidzu’s General

Aidzu’s General was included in the June 1868 issue of The Japan Punch
(Wirgman 1975, vol. 2: 118) (fig. 3.5). The sub-caption “From a Photogram” indi-
cates that the picture was drawn based on a photograph, and the caricature de-
picts a foreigner sporting samurai clothing and holding a candle decorated with
a painted image in his left hand. These candles were well known nationwide
as a local product from the Aizu domain and therefore were frequently used
in satirical imagery as symbols of this region. Moreover, his hip-length coat
(haori)—supposedly a gift from the former lord of Aizu domain, Matsudaira
Katamori (1836–1893)—has a hollyhock crest that is similarly a symbol for
Aizu. Taken together these elements suggest that the figure is Heinrich Schnell,
who was active during the Boshin War as a military advisor to the armies of the
Alliance of Northern Domains, including Aizu.
Further evidence that the figure is Heinrich comes from a description of
him in the Shanghai-based English newspaper The North China Herald from
around the same time. The article, which quoted from The Japan Gazette, in-
cluded the following passage (KNJ 1989: 494):
The Image Of Prussia In Japan During The Boshin War 119

Figure 3.5 Aidzu’s General. The Japan Punch. June 1868.

Some of the party [of passengers aboard the Albion that landed at Niigata
on September 10] saw Mr. H. Schnell, of whom we have already told that
he is a general in Aidzu’s army. From what they heard, they understood
that his office is very high, and that he is treated with the utmost con-
fidence and respect. He dresses in a kind of hybrid native costume, his
shoulders being clad in a fine silk tunic with a gauze surtout; his hair
is combed back from the forehead; a red silk waistband also supports
two swords, á la Japonais, although he sometimes substitutes for these
a handsome cavalry sabre. His lower extremities are encased in long
boots and breeches. As he passes through the streets the natives Kowtow
to him, and he is always accompanied by other high officials and a
retinue.
120 Hakoishi

This is strong evidence that the figure in Aidzu’s General is indeed Heinrich
Schnell. During this period rumors of the Schnell brothers’ operations in the
Mutsu, Dewa, and Echigo regions—possibly under secret orders from the
Prussian government (e.g., Chūgai shinbun gaihen, vol. 20)—were widespread.
It also suggests that Wirgman was well aware of the activities of the brothers
and their relationship to von Brandt.

Summary
The depictions of the Schnell brothers and von Brandt in The Japan Punch dur-
ing the Boshin War indicate the following changes in the political situation:
first, France (Roches) is being portrayed as Britain’s (Parkes’s) rival in Japan,
but by the summer of 1868, Prussia (von Brandt) takes the role of Britain’s main
rival. Although the images are drawn from a British perspective, it was in fact
common knowledge that France had withdrawn its support from the shogu-
nate and that von Brandt was involved in promoting the Northern Domains in
the ongoing civil war. Hoping for a successful counter-offensive of the forces
of the Alliance of Northern Domains, Wirgman depicted the political and dip-
lomatic maneuvering between Parkes and the Restoration Government. He
harshly satirized the determined activities of von Brandt, who made every ef-
fort to extend Prussia’s interests in Japan. Ultimately, however, the image of
Prussia opposing Britain was probably one created and disseminated only by
the British side. From the British perspective, it seems that this was an attempt
to curtail the activities of von Brandt.

The Image of Prussia in Japanese Newspapers

This chapter has thus far examined images of Prussia in The Japan Punch, one
prominent British-run, English-language magazine in Japan at the time of the
Boshin War. But how did the Japanese-language press portray Prussia? This
section will introduce a few examples, with a particular focus on images of
Prussia and the North German Federation in shogunate-affiliated newspapers.
It will highlight the activities of the Schnell brothers, which greatly interested
the Meiji Restoration Government. The investigation of such examples is of
particular importance because the image of Prussia that appeared in news-
papers and magazines seems to reflect the behind-the-scenes subtleties of
politics and diplomacy. The increased dealing with Prussia is also assumed to
have become a premise for the Restoration Government’s intervention toward
a more proactive information policy.
The Image Of Prussia In Japan During The Boshin War 121

The Activities of Prussians in Aizu Domain as Depicted in Edo

Newspapers
There were a few newspapers loyal to the shogunate that reported on the ac-
tivities of the Schnell brothers. The examples discussed below are from news-
papers published by retainers of the former shogunate in Edo, before the city
came under the control of the military forces of the Restoration Government.
The Ochikochi shinbun was edited and published by Tsuji Shinjirō, Suzuki
Tadakazu, and Sazawa Tarō; the Chūgai shinbun by Yanagawa Shunsan;10 and
the Chūgai shinbun gaihen by Watanabe Ichirō. All of them were linked to the
former shogunate’s Institute of Western Studies (Kaiseijo).
The first report is from the Ochikochi shinbun and recounts a story about
two Turks, for which the Schnell brothers were mistaken, who escaped and en-
tered into Aizu unofficially where they trained the infantry, cavalry, and artil-
lery units, provided instruction on the use of equipment, and opened up gold
and silver mines. Intriguingly, the article considers this escape to have been
orchestrated by their native country:11

Two persons from the Ottoman Empire escaped and went to the bay of
Aizu where, it is said, they serve at Wakamatsu castle by instructing the
three types of military units, as well as providing guidance on the use of
equipment. They have also opened up gold and silver mines; it is said
that they will serve at Wakamatsu castle. While [their activities might
be called] desertion, there are rumors that in fact these were on order of
their native country because Turks and the people of Aizu are essentially
of similar disposition. (Ochikochi shinbun, no. 18, July 5, 1868)

However, the Chūgai shinbun offered a different view regarding the country of
origin of the foreigners arriving in Aizu, stating that they were Russians:

The Ochikochi shinbun (no. 18) reports that two Ottomans went to Aizu;
however, this is false hearsay. The true explanation is said to be that both
were Russians who came from Echigo in order to sell a large number of
breechloader rifles to Aizu and, in addition, to provide [military] train-
ing. Even though this might be the case, it does not mean that the signing
of a treaty between Russia and Aizu would be imminent, as some rumors
suggest. (Chūgai shinbun, no. 38, July 9, 1868)

10 On Yanagawa Shunsan, see Yamada 2000.

11 An almost similar article appeared in the newspaper, Kairiku shinbun (no. 6), but the date
of issue is unknown.
122 Hakoishi

In the same month Chūgai shinbun gaihen carried a nearly identical article to
the Ochikochi shinbun, but stating that two Prussians had entered Aizu and
trained the domain’s military:

Transcription of the Investigation of Northern Territories

Two Prussians came to Aizu, where they provided training for the three
types of military units and the manufacturing of devices. Furthermore,
because they opened up gold and silver mines, it is said that they serve
at Wakamatsu Castle and utilize much of Aizu’s transactions of the gold
and silver circulating in the vicinity of Kosagoe. Although these Prussian
persons are reported to be deserters of their country, other reports say
that it was actually due to orders by their state. (Chūgai shinbun gaihen,
vol. 20, ca. July 1868)

Earlier studies have indeed shown that the Schnell brothers sold weapons
and ammunition to the various domains of the Northern Alliance through the
port at Niigata, and provided military as well as diplomatic support during the
Boshin War. Therefore, the two Prussians mentioned in the various newspa-
pers almost certainly refer to the Schnell brothers. This includes the Ochikochi
shinbun, which confuses their country of origin.
Particular attention should be paid to the statement that their support
of Aizu was actually based on a secret order from the Prussian government.
Yanagawa and the others of the Kaiseijo group, who published these newspa-
pers, obviously were of the opinion that the Schnell brothers were acting as
operatives of the Prussian government. It is conceivable that such a percep-
tion was shared by the readership of these articles. This information must also
have been conveyed to the Meiji Restoration Government and therefore it is
no surprise that the Prussian representative von Brandt was met with suspi-
cion by the leadership of the Restoration Government. The Chūgai shinbun,
which reported on the actions of the two Prussians, also ran the following
report:

A British Newspaper Reports that the Prussian King Desires to Obtain

Protectorates in East Asia and Expects Success by All Means
Three hundred years ago, Spain and Portugal sent vessels to occupy the
lands of both the East and West Indies, and thereby gained wealth and
prosperity. Afterward, Holland traded extensively with the five conti-
nents, and came to possess the majority of the Indies. Eventually, its might
surpassed that of Spain and Portugal, but subsequently Great Britain be-
came substantially more powerful than Holland. Now, Prussia’s recent
rise to power seems to indicate that the country will engage in similarly
The Image Of Prussia In Japan During The Boshin War 123

inspired quests of imperialism. They already gained partial domination

[in Europe]; however, they have no territorial possession outside of the
continent. Therefore it seems quite natural that they would next desire
to gain power in the Orient. In a similar fashion, Japan, too, should in the
future open a path of commerce and demand some land within Europe
and America where Japanese products can be sold. Furthermore, only
those who build schools and increase the teachers from each country,
dispatch their own students and let them study the various arts and sci-
ences, and accumulate the achievements of successive years will be able
to compete with the rest of the world for leadership. Yet, at the moment,
our country has yet to return to peace internally, and it does not have the
time for foreign affairs. (Chūgai shinbun, no. 45, July 27, 1868)

In fact, the above information about the Prussian king was taken from a British
newspaper. Nonetheless, the idea that Prussia might be seeking colonies did
not dissuade the Chūgai shinbun writer from stating that Japan should do es-
sentially the same once its own house was in order. In addition, and likely be-
cause these newspaper reports were published from the viewpoint of former
shogunate’s retainers, there appeared to be an ambivalence regarding the ac-
tivities of the two Prussians that infiltrated the Aizu domain and the actions of
Prussia herself. There is overall a lack of wariness toward Prussia.

Prussia’s Approach to the Alliance of the Northern Domains Mutsu,

Dewa, and Echigo
In order to better understand the above news articles and their reporting on
the activities of the Schnell brothers around Aizu, it is necessary to examine the
political context in more depth. Relations between Prussia and the northern
domains of Mutsu, Dewa, and Echigo, especially regarding the opening of the
port of Niigata, became highly relevant during the Boshin War (on the Niigata
question, see Ishii 1966: 851–94; Haraguchi 1963: 191–97, 236–40). By signing
the so-called Ansei Treaties in 1858 with Great Britain, France, Russia, the
United States, and the Netherlands, the shogunate promised to open the ports
of Hakodate, Yokohama (Kanagawa), Nagasaki, Niigata, and Hyōgo (Kobe), as
well as the cities of Edo and Osaka. Initially, the ports of Yokohama, Nagasaki,
and Hakodate were opened according to the dates designated in the treaties.
However, due to domestic turmoil, the shogunate requested a postponement
of the opening of the ports of Niigata and Hyōgo as well as the cities of Edo
and Osaka (see ch. 2 in this volume). In 1862, the Western powers agreed to a
postponement of five years, but when this deadline approached in 1867, the
shogunate negotiated a second postponement with the Western powers until
April 1, 1868.
124 Hakoishi

Due to the outbreak of the Boshin War, the Meiji Restoration Government
then asked the foreign countries to allow another delay in the opening of
Niigata’s port due to the ongoing civil war. The main reason for this request
was that, although neutrality had been declared by the other nations, foreign
merchants sold weapons to the feudal domains of Mutsu, Dewa, and Echigo
through the Niigata port. These three domains were still loyal to the former
shogunate and were fighting against the Restoration Government. Of the
countries pressing for the opening of the city, it was the Italian Consul General
De La Tour whose demands were the strongest. This was because during this
period Italy’s sericulture industry was hit hard by silkworm diseases epidemic
in Europe at this time and relied heavily on the import of high-quality silk-
worm eggs from Japan. In addition, von Brandt joined De La Tour in his calls
to open the port.
On June 6, 1868, the diplomatic representatives of the Western powers dis-
cussed the opening of Niigata with the Meiji Restoration Government. They
obtained the government’s promise to honor the commitment to open the
ports and set a date of July 15. France, Italy, and Prussia, who generally had sup-
ported the shogunate, had insisted on the opening, while the United States re-
mained neutral. Only Great Britain objected, and this was on account of their
support for the Restoration Government. The decision was unfavorable for the
Restoration Government, however, because its armies still had not gained con-
trol of the Echigo region. Consequently, the power that controlled that region
and managed the port of Niigata would receive de facto international recogni-
tion as a belligerent in the civil war. A further meeting with the foreign repre-
sentatives was held on June 26th. Italy and Prussia continued their insistence
on the opening of Niigata’s port. Immediately after the conference, the Italian
and Prussian representatives announced to their countrymen that trade in
Niigata would be permitted from July 15 onward.
This news was transmitted to the Alliance of Northern Domains on July 11
by Eduard Schnell, who had left Yokohama by boat on June 25th and arrived at
Niigata on July 1 (Hoshino 1995). Thereafter the Alliance of Northern Domains
took over the port of Niigata and began to purchase weapons and ammunition.
The news was also conveyed in the Chūgai shinbun:

Report from the Foreigners Residing in Yokohama

On June 16th, the foreign representatives held a parley with Lord
Higashikuze [Higashikuze Michitomi, Governor General of the Kanagawa
court] regarding the question of the opening of Niigata Port … and de-
manded a definite reply on the decision within fifteen days. However,
since they still had received no answer by June 26th, and with the
The Image Of Prussia In Japan During The Boshin War 125

deadline approaching, the envoys of Great Britain, America, and others

became engrossed in urgent negotiations.
The Prussian and Italian envoys had already been instructed by the
consul that the upcoming 15th of July [26th day of the 5th month in the
Japanese calendar] was decided as the date for the opening of Niigata
harbor and proclaimed it to that effect. Hence, citizens of the above two
countries will gradually migrate toward that area, and Niigata will also
become neutral ground. However, in the midst of such hearsay, it is said
that the lords of the northern part of Japan have already started to rally
their armies to the area, thus setting off further dispute. Moreover, it is
also said that while the armies of Satsuma and Chōshū are proceeding
toward Niigata and Sado Island by sea, the area has in fact already been
occupied by the northern armies. If indeed that is the case, then the area
may have already become a battlefield at this very moment. If foreign
merchants and immigrants hasten to the region, great trouble shall cer-
tainly arise. (Chūgai shinbun, no. 36, July 4, 1868)

The Restoration Government was unable to inform the representatives of

the various countries on the 7th and 9th of July about its hope to postpone
the opening of the port, since the area around Niigata had already become a
battle site. Moreover, it requested the prohibition of travel to Niigata by the
citizens of these foreign powers until the end of the war. However, wishing to
seize upon a trade advantage and having already gained the approval for the
opening of the ports, Italy and Prussia ignored the Restoration Government’s
warning. Their behavior raised expectations by the Northern Alliance that they
could receive further support from foreign countries, and the Alliance quickly
sought contact with Prussia’s von Brandt.
The idea to contact Prussia’s representative came from the Sendai domain,
and the letters eventually sent to von Brandt indicated the purpose of the newly
formed union. The other Northern Alliance domains supported this effort and
developed plans to send further letters to other foreign representatives. The
letter to von Brandt was signed by five representatives of the domains of the
Northern Alliance: Ashina Yukie (Sendai domain), Irobe Nagato (Yonezawa
domain), Kajiwara Heima (Aizu domain), Ishihara Kuraemon (Shōnai
domain), and Kawai Tsuginosuke (Nagaoka domain).12 Eventually eleven

12 They co-signed as “Governor Generals for military affairs of the feudal domains of Mutsu,
Dewa, and Echigo” (Ō-U-Etsu reppan gunmu sōtoku). Each had standing armies in the
Hokuetsu region of northwestern Japan; all except Kawai were heavily involved in the
management of Niigata port on behalf of their domain.
126 Hakoishi

letters were drafted. Three samurai of the Sendai, Aizu, and Yonezawa domains
were entrusted with the letters and departed Niigata on August 28 aboard a
British merchant vessel hired by Italian silkworm-egg merchants. The letters
were then distributed in Yokohama to the representatives of the treaty nations
(Shimoiizaka 1902, vol. 2: 37; Fujiwara 1911: 562–65; Ishii 1966: 864, 868–69).
Earlier research asserts that the wave of foreigners coming to Japan during the
civil war, as well as the actions of the Schnell brothers, likely influenced the
moves of the Northern Alliance and were behind such initiatives as evinced in
the letters above.13

The Meiji Restoration Government’s Information and Propaganda

Policies

The Meiji Government’s Countermeasures against the Activities of

the Schnell Brothers
Like the shogunate and the Northern Alliance, the Meiji government also
utilized the press to curry favor with foreign powers. They did this primarily
through government publications, such as the official gazettes Dajōkan nisshi
(Dajōkan Gazette) or Kōjō nisshi (Edo Castle Gazette), in which they aimed to
dissuade foreign countries from supporting the forces of the former shogunate
and the Northern Alliance. They included coverage of the government army’s
victories, starting with the Battle of Ueno on July 4, 1868. This continued with
the fighting in Mutsu, Dewa, and northern Echigo until their final victory and
the surrender of the domains of the Northern Alliance.
The former feudal government and the forces of the Alliance of Northern
Domains used the shogunate affiliated newspapers, as well as the Alliance’s
diplomatic offensive, to disseminate their views. As such, the Boshin War
possessed the characteristics of a fierce information and propaganda war.
The forces of the Restoration Government made a major gain in this infor-
mation war against the former shogunate forces on September 11, 1868 when,
after making their way to the shores of Matsugasaki and capturing the port

13 According to Ishii (1966: 872) it was due to Schnell’s advice that the letter at first was only
addressed to the Prussian representative and later to the representatives of the other na-
tions, while Hoshino (1995: 87–88) points to the existence of demands by Schnell (prob-
ably Eduard) as the background to drafting the letter. Moreover, Mizoguchi (1998: 107–8,
112), using descriptions in the newly discovered historical source Yonezawa Boshin jikki,
speculates that the older brother Heinrich gave advice and that he, who knew Japanese,
played a leading role in drafting these letters.
The Image Of Prussia In Japan During The Boshin War 127

of Niigata, they encountered and killed Councilor (chūrō) Ishihara Kuraemon

of the Shōnai domain. They seized a number of letters from Ishihara that in-
cluded secret documents revealing facts about the actions of the Alliance of
Northern Domains and proof of the Schnell brothers’ support for these do-
mains. Moreover, Ishihara had also been carrying a copy of a letter addressed
to Prussia’s representative von Brandt.
The Meiji government immediately published the letters in a special issue
of the gazette Kanagawa-fu nisshi (Journal of Kanagawa Prefecture), which
had become the Meiji government’s diplomatic mouthpiece, publishing offi-
cial announcements and correspondence with the resident representatives of
foreign countries. The special issue, titled Echigoji shinpō Kanagawa-fu nisshi
besshū (Journal of Kanagawa Prefecture, Special Volume, News from Echigo),
also included a copy of the letter to Prussia’s representative, von Brandt. Using
the Ishihara documents as proof, the journal stated that Eduard Schnell had
been acting as a mediator of diplomatic matters for the Alliance of Northern
Domains. And, according to the “copy of a letter received by a Niigata govern-
ment warship” printed in the September 3rd issue, a person, believed to be
Eduard, claimed to have receive orders from the Consul Generals of Prussia,
the Netherlands, and Switzerland to serve as consul at Niigata. The exact publi-
cation date of this Echigoji shinpō Kanagawa nisshi besshū is unknown, but the
article’s content points to a date from around mid-August 1868:

Copy of a Letter that Shōnai’s Senior Vassal Ishihara Kuraemon Had in

His Possession at the Time of His Killing
Sendai domain
The Governor Generals for military affairs of the feudal domains of
Mutsu, Dewa, and Echigo respectfully announce [the following]
Written by Ōtsuki Bankei of Sendai domain
The following is known from documents that Shōnai’s senior vassal
Ishihara Kuraemon, who was killed at Matsugasaki, had in his possession
[that]:
A person recognized as the younger “Schell” brother came to Aizu
in the first month of this year, and although a Prussian, calls himself
Hiramatsu Buhei. [He] is said to often act as mediator of foreign matters
for the traitors.

Almost identical articles were issued in other newspapers with ties to the new
Meiji government, such as in the inaugural (October 7) and second (November
12) issues of the Noriai banashi or in the Yokohama shinpō moshiogusa (see
Yamaguchi 2005). The latter carried an abridged translation of a letter from the
128 Hakoishi

Alliance of Northern Domains to the representatives of the treaty powers. This

printed letter was taken from an English-language newspaper circulating in
the foreign settlement of Yokohama and included the following preface:

Copy of a Letter from the Feudal Domains of Mutsu, Dewa, and Echigo to
the Various Foreign Ministers
This is an abridged translation from the Yokohama newspaper Times…
The Governor Generals for military affairs of the feudal domains of
Mutsu, Dewa, and Echigo humbly announce to the foreign consuls …
(Yokohama shinpō moshiogusa, no. 19, October 10, 1868)

The relationship between these two news sources and the Echigoji shinpō
Kanagawa nisshi besshū is not entirely clear, but it is quite possible that the
editor for all of them was Kishida Ginkō (1833–1905). Considering that these
Kanagawa (Yokohama)-based newspapers were most likely published by the
same person and that they disclosed the documents from Ishihara Kuraemon
at around the same time, it is highly probable that they reflect the intentions
of both Kanagawa Prefecture and the Meiji government.
Copies of the documents in Ishihara’s possession do not appear to have
been published in the Meiji government’s official gazette, Dajōkan nisshi; how-
ever, a separate government journal was issued that recorded the activities of
the Schnell brothers:

On September 19, 1868, Lord Mibu [Mibu Motoosa, staff officer for the
Government General of Echigo during the Aizu expedition] followed
Major General Iwamura Sei’ichirō and departed Iwakuni; he traveled to
Rihakuri in Kaga province [present-day Ishikawa and Toyama prefec-
tures] and at dusk arrived in the port aboard the Yanagawa ship, Chiwaki.
Sergeant Arai Rikunosuke and Shin Mineto of the Chōshū domain re-
ported home that after leaving at daybreak on October 14th soldiers
from domains such as Satsuma, Chōshū, Aki, and Takanabe advanced
on three routes along the inlet of Dekijima. There was a short artillery
battle on the opposite shore of Heijima. From amidst a hailstorm-like
shower of bullets, the soldiers eventually … reached the frontal coast in
their small boats. After this advance, the traitors fell in dismay and aban-
doned their stronghold, and our army pursued them for almost a mile
before surrounding Yonezawa’s rebel troops on all sides. Not wishing to
stop at this, Satsuma and Chōshū troops, together with the conscripts
and the Takanabe troops, fought hard, shooting and killing the traitorous
senior vassal Irobe Nagato and eventually obtaining the letter of military
The Image Of Prussia In Japan During The Boshin War 129

command by Uesugi Narinori from Yonezawa. Moreover, there were

many dead among the rebels; the three ships Settsu, Teibō, and Chiwaki
launched attacks from the sea, giving the rebels no opportunity to get
supplies. They were made to scramble into defeat, and riding the wave of
victory the navy landed ashore. There, the two attacking teams merged,
bringing peace to Niigata for the first time. Before this, the Italian Schnell
went back and forth to Okuetsu [the northeastern part of present-day
Niigata Prefecture], and was instrumental in securing equipment and
ammunition for the traitors. He also commanded various troops and
acted as if he knew all the military secrets of the world. However, with
our troops’ victory, his course of action came to an end and at the risk
of being arrested, he bowed his head and begged for mercy. Being a for-
eigner, he was released and returned by ship. (Sōtoku no miya Hokusei
nisshi, no. 4, ca. October 1868)

The “Schnell” who appears in this report is probably Eduard, but it is plau-
sible that the story is also interwoven with the actions of his brother Heinrich
because the editor of Sōtoku no miya Hokusei nisshi (Journal of the Northern
Campaign under Imperial Prince [Ninnaji Yoshiakira]) appears to have con-
fused the two Schnell brothers and interpreted them as one and the same
person. Furthermore, although the various newspapers examined thus far
correctly identify the Schnell brothers as Prussians, the official gazette mis-
takenly refers to them as Italian. The reason for this mistake is most likely that
some Italians also went to Niigata and engaged with the Alliance of Northern
Domains.

Eduard Schnell’s Consular Court Case and Its Consequences

The Meiji government viewed Eduard’s conduct in the Boshin War as problem-
atic and brought his case before the Dutch envoy, van Polsbroek.14 The Meiji
government—bitter about the issue of foreign merchants sailing to Niigata
to sell weapons and ammunition to the Northern Alliance domains—made a
request to the representatives of the foreign treaty powers via the Kanagawa
prefectural [government] on September 3rd demanding that their citizens re-
frain from smuggling weapons to the northern “rebels.” On September 15, 1868,
Meiji government’s troops finally seized Niigata and ordered Eduard to leave
the city. Then on October 8, the Kanagawa prefectural government requested

14 The following is based on the “Dai-Nihon ishin-shiryō kōhon” (archives: Tōkyō Daigaku
Shiryō Hensanjo/Tokyo University Historiographical Institute) as well as the Fukkoki
(Meiji Restoration).
130 Hakoishi

that van Polsbroek confiscate and hand over the money that Eduard had re-
ceived from the sale of weapons and ammunition to the rebels (of the Shōnai
domain) without permission from the Meiji government. The Dutch did not
respond and so on November 16, the government repeated its request to the
Dutch consul to deal with Eduard Schnell.
The Meiji government believed that the Schnell brothers were Prussians
who covertly supported the Alliance of the Northern Domains on the order
of their government. However, it made no direct protest to von Brandt and did
not publically criticize Prussia. Eduard’s actions were ultimately dealt with as
the illegal conduct of a Dutch merchant. The Japanese government followed
the rule of “consular jurisdiction” as outlined in the “unequal treaties”—that
is, the exclusive right of foreign consuls to judge over their nationals who could
not be put on a Japanese court. It was for this reason that the Meiji government
chose to bring the case before the Dutch consul.
On December 6, a consular court trial with van Polsbroek as judge was
conducted, in which the Japanese government’s representative, Kanagawa
governor Terashima Munenori, confronted Eduard in the courtroom. Eduard
maintained that trade at the treaty port of Niigata was not illegal and that a
sales contract with Shōnai, the domain in question, had been established.
The trial was postponed because documentary evidence submitted by the
Kanagawa Prefecture was considered insufficient and it required the summon-
ing of a witness from the Shōnai domain. The witness Honma Tomosaburō
finally arrived in April 1869 and when questioned by the Meiji government’s
criminal law officer, it was shown that the events were as Eduard had de-
scribed. The trial was then canceled. In 1872, Eduard successfully launched and
won a case against the Japanese government, forcing the Japanese government
to pay Eduard compensation the following year.15
In the meantime, in May 1869, after the surrender of the northern domains,
the elder Schnell brother Heinrich emigrated to the United States with his
Japanese wife, who was from Aizu, his child, a nursemaid called Okei, and
an unknown number of Japanese. The group started a farm that called the
“Wakamatsu Colony” in the Gold Hill region of Coloma in California and this
is satirized in The Japan Punch cartoon Cincinnatus H. Snail (fig. 3.6). The title
H. Snail is parody on the German name Schnell, meaning “fast,” countered here

15 See Dai-Nihon gaikō monjo, vols. 5 and 6. A similar case involving Prussian subjects
emerged regarding the land purchased by the Gärtner brothers in Nanae village in Ezo
(Hokkaido). In this case, the Japanese government was also permitted to rescind and
settle by paying compensation.
The Image Of Prussia In Japan During The Boshin War 131

Figure 3.6 Cincinnatus H. Snail. The Japan Punch. December 1869.

by the opposite meaning implied by the word “snail.”16 It was rumored that the
emigrants accompanying Heinrich were mostly former Aizu domain samurai
who concealed their place of origin. However, it is more likely that they were
people from the Kantō region of eastern Japan (Takahashi 1990: 199–200). In
any case, this farming venture failed after just two years, and Heinrich’s subse-
quent fate is unknown.

The Meiji Government’s Information Policy

The Meiji government utilized newspapers at the time to circulate propa-
ganda as a countermeasure against foreign support of the northern domains
still loyal to the Tokugawa shogunate. This is evident from the conspicuous
overlap of the publishing of the documents seized from the Shōnai domain
vassal, Ishihara Kuraemon, in newspapers owned and run by Kishida Ginkō
(e.g., Kanagawa nisshi besshū and the Noriai banashi). Since these letters were
also the documentary evidence presented by Kanagawa Prefecture at the
Dutch consular tribunal involving Eduard Schnell, and because their release
was perfectly timed to match with the time of the trail, it can be assumed that

16 On Heinrich’s management of the settlement in California, see Tanaka (1973) and
Takahashi (1990).
132 Hakoishi

Kishida was complicit in the information and propaganda policy of Kanagawa

Prefecture and the Meiji government. This is an early example of the political
utilization of newspapers by the Meiji government as a tool of propaganda and
information dissemination. The fact that the documents were not printed in
the official bulletins (e.g., Dajōkan nisshi), but rather in more widely circulated
journals and newspapers based in Yokohama, suggests that the target audience
of this policy was the residents of the foreign settlement in that city.

Conclusion

This chapter examined the images of Prussia in The Japan Punch, an English-
language magazine that was published in the foreign settlement of Yokohama.
The caricatures in the magazine were drawn by the Englishman Charles
Wirgman and have a pro-British bias. In the illustrations Prussia is represented
by its chargé d’affaires von Brandt. Because Wirgman knew von Brandt person-
ally, he individualized his portrayal of the Prussian diplomat and pictured him
as a rival of Britain’s Harry Smith Parkes.
Rather than focus on von Brandt exclusively, the image of “Prussia” in
Japanese newspapers was to a greater degree influenced by the Schnell broth-
ers and their attempts to raise support for the northern domains. The Meiji
government viewed their activities were anti-government and thus unaccept-
able. Through the utilization of government journals and newspapers, the new
Meiji leaders tried to propagate an image of the Schnell brothers as detestable
“traitors” who should be severely punished for collaborating with the forces
of the former shogunate and the Alliance of Northern Domains. The Schnell
brothers are most probably the only foreigners in Japan during the Boshin War
period who were portrayed as conducting anti-government activities.
Despite this stance, however, the Meiji government did not go so far as to
conclude that the Schnell brothers’ activities were backed by Prussia.17 Instead,
it tried to condemn the two for activities that led to personal gain. Interestingly,

17 To date, there are no historical sources that prove definitely that the Schnell brothers and
von Brandt were in contact during the Boshin War period. Documents RM1–42 and RM1–
867 housed at the Federal Military Archives (Bundesarchiv-Militärarchiv) in Freiburg,
Germany make it clear that the Alliance of Northern Domains and von Brandt had been
negotiating in secret (Hakoishi 2013). The Meiji government had no knowledge about
these activities.
The Image Of Prussia In Japan During The Boshin War 133

when the case erupted regarding the younger Schnell brother, Eduard, the
Meiji government protested to the Dutch consul to court. Ultimately, it did not
wish to try him as a Prussian, but as a Dutch national.
It appears that the Meiji government had not accurately gauged the behind-
the-scenes activities of von Brandt and the Schnell brothers, even though
it was highly probable that the latter had served as a mediator between the
Alliance of the Northern Domains (Mutsu, Dewa, and Echigo) and von Brandt.
There is reason to believe that the ill will toward the Schnell brothers had only
minimal impact on the formation of the overall image of Prussia. Rather, it
seems that the connection between the Alliance of the Northern Domains and
Prussia in the Boshin War was forgotten once the domains of the former were
defeated and punished by the Meiji government as “enemies of the court.” In
the following Meiji period, a new image of Prussia (and later Germany) as a
country contributing to Japan’s modern nation building soon emerged.

(translated by Michael Wachutka)

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 Part 2

Perceptions of a “Golden Age”

of Japanese-German Relations

∵
 chapter 4

Katsura Tarō’s Experiences in Germany and Kido

Takayoshi’s Ideas on a Constitution

Katō Yōko

This chapter investigates the relationship between the experiences of the poli-
tician and army general Katsura Tarō (1848–1913) in Germany at the beginning
of the Meiji era (1868–1912) and the development of constitutional government
in Japan. Katsura’s ideas were especially influential due to his close ties with
Kido Takayoshi (1833–1877), an important advocate of constitutional govern-
ment. During his time in Germany Katsura was particularly impressed by the
significant role the military played in government. This study first examines
Katsura’s early military and political career and his strong links to Kido, one of
the leaders of the Chōshū faction in Japanese politics.1 It will then look at how
Katsura’s sojourn in Germany came to shape his views and discuss how these
views also impacted Kido’s ideas on constitutional government in Japan.
Katsura Tarō (fig. 4.1) was born in the city of Hagi in the feudal domain of
Nagato (often called Chōshū; present-day Yamaguchi Prefecture), the son of
a relatively high-ranking samurai. Chōshū samurai, together with supporters
from Satsuma (present-day Kagoshima Prefecture), Tosa (present-day Kōchi
Prefecture), and Hizen (present-day Saga Prefecture), were crucial in bring-
ing about the Meiji Restoration (1868) and the establishment of a new govern-
ment legitimized by the Japanese emperor. Under the tutelage of his mentor
Yamagata Aritomo (1838–1922), Katsura became one of the founders of the
Imperial Japanese Army and eventually one of the most authoritative military
officers in Japan. He was also a crucial figure in the new government, serving as
prime minister three times (1901–1906, 1908–1911, 1912–1913)—still the record
for the longest-serving prime minister.
Katsura could have seamlessly ended his political career following his
prominent role in government during the early 1900s (Suetake 1998; Sakurai
1997). However, toward the end of the Meiji period and at the beginning of
the Taishō period (1912–1926), Katsura broke with Yamagata and the old-style
politics of the “elder statesmen” (genrō) and attempted to reform Japan’s

1 On the importance of the feudal domain of Chōshū and the later Chōshū clique in modern
Japan, see Craig 1961 and Hackett 1971.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_006

138 Katō

Figure 4.1
Katsura Tarō (1848–1913). Japanese
postcard, ca. 1910.

foreign policy and state finances. After being appointed prime minister a third
time in December 1912, Katsura created a political party, the Rikken Dōshikai
(Constitutional Society of Comrades), to increase his support base.
At this time, Yamagata and the other members of the Chōshū clique had
moved to oppose Katsura by attempting to install the Governor General of
Korea, General Terauchi Masatake (1852–1919), as prime minister. When it
was decided that Katsura would form his third cabinet, Tanaka Giichi (1864–
1929), another Yamagata protégé, labeled Katsura “a little schemer with a
weak will who eventually will lead the country into ruin,”2 and Yamagata
stated that Katsura had gone “crazy” (Hara and Hayashi 2000, entry August
14, 1914). Katsura’s third term as prime minister witnessed strong opposition

2 Letter from Tanaka Giichi to Terauchi Masatake, December 12, 1912, National Diet Library,
Modern Japanese Political History Materials Room, Papers relating to Terauchi Masatake
(Kokuritsu Kokkai Toshokan, Kensei Shiryōshitsu, Terauchi Masataka Monjo).
Katsura Tarō ’ s Experiences in Germany 139

from the Kokumintō (National Party) under Inukai Tsuyoshi (1855–1932) and
Ozaki Yukio (1858–1954) as well as from the political party Rikken Seiyūkai
(Constitutional Association of Political Friends). Faced with the “Movement
to Protect Constitutional Government” (goken undō), he was forced to resign
after less than two months in power.
Katsura’s political moves nevertheless furthered the establishment of the
bureaucracy, the political parties, and the military as new independent po-
litical actors, separate from the elder statesmen (genrō) and the old feudal
cliques (hanbatsu) that had controlled politics during the Meiji period. For in-
stance, Katsura’s appointment of Kigoshi Yasutsuna (1854–1932) from Ishikawa
Prefecture as the Army Minister of his cabinet, infuriated the genrō around
Yamagata. Katsura also even considered abolishing the regulation that military
ministers had to be officers on active duty (gunbu daijin gen’eki bukansei)—
a regulation that was considered responsible for the strong influence of the
Imperial Army in Japanese politics.3
Katsura sought to make a clean break from the “elder statesmen politics” of
the leaders of the first generation after the Meiji Restoration, such as Yamagata
Aritomo and Matsukata Masayoshi (1835–1924). Together with Prince Saionji
Kinmochi (1849–1940), president of the political party Seiyukai, and Admiral
Yamamoto Gonbei (1852–1933) from Satsuma, he became the leader of a group
of the second generation of political leaders of modern Japan.
What was behind Katsura’s innovative policies? In the following sections I
will identify and elaborate on two main episodes in Katsura’s life that formed
the basis and origin of his new style of politics. First, in the early Meiji period,
Katsura was a protégé of Kido Takayoshi, also from the Chōshū feudal domain,
and became a member of the Kido faction, where he matured as a politician.
Secondly, during his stay in Germany (1870–1873), Katsura observed the system
of government there. He became strongly convinced of the inseparability of
federalism and the military, notwithstanding the trend to construct a central-
ized state in Meiji Japan at the time.

Katsura, the Chōshū Clique, and Germany

Katsura’s First Stay in Germany (1870–1873)

In May 1869, the Chōshū-born Minister of Military Affairs, Ōmura Masujirō
(1825–1869) (fig. 4.2), later known as the father of modern Japan’s conscription

3 This regulation was abolished under the cabinet following the Katsura government, the first
cabinet of Yamamoto Gonbei (Feb. 1913–April 1914).
140 Katō

Figure 4.2 Ōmura Masujirō (1825–1869). From Kinsei meishi

shashin, vol. 2, Osaka: Kinsei Meishi Shashin
Hanpukai, 1935.

system, opened the Yokohama Language Institute (Yokohama Gogakusho).

The facility was intended to be a place where officer cadets, with the support
of the government, would prepare for studying military affairs in Europe for a
period of six years (Horiuchi 1905: 56). At that time, Ōmura recommended that
the young Katsura, who was eager to study abroad, enter the language school.4
However, Katsura’s chances for travel abroad were diminished in September
1869 when Ōmura was assassinated, and he was delivered a further blow in

4 Katsura was involved in the fighting at the time of the Second Punitive Expedition of the
Tokugawa shogunate against the Chōshū feudal domain in 1864, during which time he served
under Ōmura.
Katsura Tarō ’ s Experiences in Germany 141

May 1870 when the Yokohama Language Institute was merged with the Osaka
Imperial Army Academy (Ōsaka Heigakuryō).
Fortunately for Katsura, Kido Takayoshi and other members of the Chōshū
clique took him under their wings after Ōmura’s death. Katsura then entered
the Yokohama Language Institute in October 1869 and began to learn French.
However, in July 1870, shortly after the Yokohama Language Institute’s merger
with the Osaka Imperial Army Academy, Katsura left the academy and began
planning to go to Europe at his own expense. On August 25, 1870, Katsura vis-
ited Kido to announce his decision. This is recorded in Kido’s diary, where he
wrote: “Katsura Tarō, Shizuma Kōnosuke, and others who will go to Europe
came to say farewell today” (Nihon Shiseki Kyōkai 1967, vol. 1, entry August
25, 1870). Katsura departed Yokohama on a cross-Pacific journey that eventu-
ally took him to London. However, in the meantime Katsura had learned of
France’s defeat in the Franco-Prussian War (1870–1871), and he therefore de-
cided to change his destination to Berlin.

Katsura in Berlin
Once in Berlin, Katsura reported to Kido about the French defeat, his liv-
ing situation during his stay, and about him being able to rely on his se-
niors, Shinagawa Yajirō (1843–1900) and Aoki Shūzō (1844–1914), both from
Yamaguchi (Chōshū), in a letter dated October 6, 1870:

Shinagawa and others have likely already reported on the outcome of

the Franco-Prussian War, and thus you must know by now that France
lost this conflict decisively. In fact, it lost every single battle, even after
Napoleon III had surrendered, and it is now in a quite pitiful state. Aoki
is here [in Berlin], and therefore I am consulting him in various matters.
I am sorry to have given you [Kido] so much trouble regarding a place
for me to stay [during my visit], but I am happy to report that I have fi-
nally solved this issue. (Kido Takayoshi Kankei Monjo Kenkyūkai 2008,
vol. 3: 59)

Although Katsura’s possibilities for study were limited as a private student

without financial support from the government, he still managed to have some
transformative experiences. For example, he was able to study the German lan-
guage, and while living at the residence of a Prussian reserve officer, was also
instructed in Prussian military science. Katsura also witnessed the celebrations
at the coronation of the Prussian King Wilhelm I as Emperor of the Germans
in the Palace of Versailles on January 18, 1871, following the German victory
in the Franco-Prussian War. In addition, after touring the autopsy chamber at
142 Katō

Figure 4.3 Kido Takayoshi (1833–1877). Japanese

postcard, ca. 1910.

Berlin University with Satō Susumu (1845–1921), who was studying medicine
in Berlin at the same time, Katsura is said to have remarked that “[everything
about] Germany is truly scientific. [Everything] has to be analytical and prac-
tical. My own field is a different one, but I will also practice military science
analytically, systematically, and practically” (Tokutomi 1917, vol. 1: 316).

Kido Takayoshi and Aoki Shūzō5

Kido Takayoshi (fig. 4.3) was a central figure in the founding of the new Meiji
government, abolishing the old feudal system, and creating a centralized and
unified state. These objectives were achieved when fiefs were returned to
the emperor in 1869, and feudal domains were abolished and replaced with

5 On Aoki’s role in early Meiji Japan, see Inuzuka 2005.

Katsura Tarō ’ s Experiences in Germany 143

prefectures in 1871. He also cooperated with Ōkubo Toshimichi (1830–1878)

from Kagoshima (former feudal domain of Satsuma), another prominent fig-
ure in the early Meiji government. Yet, the two statesmen disagreed on how
military forces for the central government should be established. On this point,
Kido was in favor of continuing the process of introducing a military system as
initiated by Ōmura Masujirō, who advocated “making no distinction between
the feudal domains (han) in the formation of military forces.” In other words,
in Ōmura and Kido believed that the central government should maintain a
unified standing army, rather than having an army composed of separate units
from the feudal domains (Ōshima 2008: 5). Kido feared that the latter might
develop into a highly politicized organization, and he was particularly op-
posed to members of the former samurai class (the shizoku) from Kagoshima
being allowed to wield a strong influence in politics.
The centralizing power that took place with the return of the feudal fiefs
to the emperor in 1869 (hanseki hōkan) also set in motion the creation of an
army for the central government. Although Kido insisted on the creation of a
national conscript army, he was outmaneuvered by Ōkubo, who proposed a
standing army in Tokyo based on “conscription” from the three former feudal
domains of Satsuma, Chōshū, and Tosa (Hōya 2006: 303). Since the beginning
of his tenure as a councilor (sangi), Kido had led a group of reformers with-
in the Ministry of Finance, the Foreign Ministry, and the Ministry of Public
Works. Kido and his faction, which at the time included Ōkuma Shigenobu
(1838–1922), Inoue Kaoru (1836–1915), and Itō Hirobumi (1841–1909), proposed
some of the most radical ideas for state reform since the centralization of
power in 1871 (Takahashi 1992; Nishikawa 2005; Banno 1996).
In the meantime, Aoki Shūzō (fig. 4.4) had been studying German medi-
cine in Prussia since 1868 on behalf of the Chōshū feudal domain (Sakane 1970:
21). Aoki also trained in politics and economics at Berlin University. When
Aoki graduated in 1873, Kido recommended him for the position as the First
Secretary at the Japanese Legation in Berlin. A year later, he was named the
first regular Japanese Envoy to Germany. During his time in Berlin, Aoki wrote
a great many letters to Kido, which today are regarded as important historical
sources regarding the Chōshū clique’s image of Germany. It might be useful
here to highlight the contents of certain letters that are particularly relevant
to this study:

• Letters dated June/July 1871: Aoki comments that Japan’s military buildup
based on the French military system is ill advised. “We will not be able
to reach our national objectives if we retain the present Imperial Guards
(Go-Shinpei) and the system of feudal domains and prefectures (fu-han-ken).
144 Katō

Figure 4.4 Aoki Shūzō (1844–1914). Carte de visite,

ca. 1880.

In Prussia, obstacles to conscription in terms of social class and property

have been completely removed.” (Kido Takayoshi Kankei Monjo Kenkyūkai
2005, vol. 1: 15)
• October 20, 1872: Aoki recommends that Katsura Tarō, Shizuma Kōnosuke,
and others from the Chōshū clique receive support from the government to
train in Germany rather than studying as privately funded students. He also
writes in another letter dated November 1, 1872 that “among the students
[studying abroad], those from Chōshū are the poorest.” (Kido Takayoshi
Kankei Monjo Kenkyūkai 2005, vol. 1: 21)
• June 24, 1872: “Shinagawa Yajirō and Katsura Tarō continue to study hard.”
(Kido Takayoshi Kankei Monjo Kenkyūkai 2005, vol. 1: 27)
• 1872 (probably August 3): “The nation … providing the most reliable model
for Japan to follow is Germany. Great Britain and France are in conflict,
Katsura Tarō ’ s Experiences in Germany 145

Russia continues to be a violent threat [to Japan], and what the United
States and others do can hardly be imitated by us.” (Kido Takayoshi Kankei
Monjo Kenkyūkai 2005, vol. 1: 28)
• May 5, 1872: “The Japanese should familiarize themselves with Prussia and
Germany, not with Great Britain, France or the United States. It is the ‘poor
Prussia’ that we must learn from.” (Kido Takayoshi Kankei Monjo Kenkyūkai
2005, vol. 1: 32)

As the first source reveals, Aoki emphasized the introduction of universal con-
scription (kokumin kaiheishugi) as a means to achieve the unification of na-
tional politics (kokusei). It is also noteworthy that Aoki, although being strongly
Germanophile, advocates the introduction of universal conscription without
differences in terms of social class and that he saw this as equally important
in achieving the centralization of power. As with another letter from the same
period, in which the Kido faction proposed the reform of the Dajōkan system
of government (Nishikawa 2005), this is a valuable historical document. The
second and third sources also reveal Aoki’s concern for Katsura’s financial situ-
ation and is evidence that Aoki petitioned the government to offer better sup-
port of Japanese pupils studying abroad. The last two letters indicate Aoki’s
high esteem for German diplomacy and his praise for Germany having devel-
oped from a weak state into a major power.

Kido’s Image of Germany and His Advocacy of a Constitution

On March 9, 1873, the Iwakura Mission arrived in Berlin, and two days later
the delegation was received by Emperor Wilhelm I. On the following day, they
met Chancellor Otto von Bismarck (1815–1898) and German Field Marshal
Helmuth Karl Bernhard Graf von Moltke (1800–1891) (Tanaka 2002). Katsura
accompanied the delegation as an interpreter, and this provided the opportu-
nity for a happy reunion between Kido, Katsura, and Aoki (Tokutomi 1917, vol.
1: 322). Kido wrote about his impressions of Berlin during the trip in a letter to
the Chōshū army general, Miura Gorō (1846–1926), dated March 20, 1873:

The Prussian military system is highly superior to that of other European

countries.… Surely it took time for Prussia to gain such an upper hand
in military matters. Furthermore, it is also clear that the success of state
affairs depends on more than simply excelling in a single field alone.
(Tanaka 2002: 152)

Kido believed that Germany was not only superior to other countries in military
matters, but also in state affairs. The Iwakura mission only stayed in Germany
146 Katō

for thirty-three days, a short period when compared with their time in other
European countries and the United States. For example, the delegation spent
205 days in the U.S., 122 days in Great Britain, and 70 days in France (Tanaka
2002: 160). Nonetheless, in that short time, Germany made a strong impression
on some of the members, including Kido, as can be seen in his above letter
to Miura. After his return to Japan, Kido presented a “Proposal to Establish a
Constitution” in November 1873, in which he outlined his ideas on the further
development of the central government. In fact, Aoki had written the draft for
this proposal, and it was the Prussian Constitution that was foremost in his
mind when he was writing it (Tanaka 2002: 222).
It is highly significant (and rather unexpected) that the progressive re-
former Kido, who advocated the swift introduction of a constitutional system
of politics, was so profoundly influenced by Germany in his political think-
ing. In his “Proposal to Establish a Constitution,” Kido wrote that the “most
pressing current issue is the introduction of a constitution.” However, he also
maintained that the enactment of any constitution should still place ultimate
authority under the “rule” (dokusai) of the emperor. Kido’s submission of his
“Proposal” to the government coincided with the beginning of a political strug-
gle among high-ranking politicians regarding what form the central govern-
ment should take. On the one side stood politicians who, with the military
backing of the Konoe-hei (Imperial Guards), controlled national politics while
members of the Iwakura Mission, including Kido, had been away. Central fig-
ures in the group of politicians remaining behind in Tokyo were the former
Satsuma domain leader, Saigō Takamori (1828–1877), and the Tosa domain
(Kōchi) leader, Itagaki Taisuke (1837–1919). In the summer of 1873, this group of
politicians began to advocate for the dispatch of military forces to Korea, and
this triggered the Seikanron (Debate on the Invasion of Korea) (Ōshima 2001;
2008). Kido and Ōkubo opposed military engagement in Korea. The two were
also brought together by Kido’s idea of “Constitution Plus Conscription,” and
their ideas would eventually prevail in the Seikanron. This victory led to Kido
and Ōkubo establishing unrivaled control of the central government and the
downfall of Saigō and Itagaki.

Military Science and Governance

Katsura’s Second Stay in Germany (1875–1878)

The tensions in the central government resulted in Katsura being ordered
back to Japan in October 1873; Aoki arrived back in March 1874 (Tokutomi 1917,
vol. 1: 326). Katsura’s return to Japan may also have been hastened by his lack of
funds. Both Katsura and Aoki went again to Germany shortly thereafter: Aoki
Katsura Tarō ’ s Experiences in Germany 147

in October 1874 as Japan’s Minister Plenipotentiary to Germany, and Katsura as

the military attaché at the legation in Berlin in June 1875. During this period,
the Kido faction was able to solidify its base by suppressing a samurai uprising
in Saga and resolving the Taiwan issue with China through negotiations. En
route to Germany, Aoki wrote to Kido that “even with a budget of eight million
yen, without the establishment of a standing army of at least 25,000 men, the
enactment of a constitution and the abolishment of stipends for the warrior
class (chitsuroku shobun) will not be possible” (Kido Takayoshi Kankei Monjo
Kenkyūkai 2005, vol. 1: 78).
The Japanese legation in Berlin requested permission for Katsura to study
for a further two and a half years. He was assigned to learn about German mil-
itary administration by observing the Staff Unit of the German Third Army
(Tokutomi 1917, vol. 1: 353; Kido Takayoshi Kankei Monjo Kenkyūkai 2008, vol.
3: 65). The Staff Unit was tasked with executing the military orders of the cen-
tral government and controlling military affairs in the regions. This experience
equipped Katsura with an understanding of how the central and regional ad-
ministrations functioned. One of the books Katsura read during his training
was Lorenz von Stein’s Die Lehre vom Heerwesen als Theil der Staatswissenschaft
(The Teaching of Military Affairs as a Part of State Science, 1872), which he and
Aoki studied together. This was among the earliest examples of the reception
of Stein in Japanese politics.

Katsura’s Ideas on the Army and Military

After taking up his position on August 25, 1875, Katsura wrote a lengthy letter
to Kido in which he expressed his pleasure over the political changes that had
taken place in April of that year, such as the introduction of a conference of
regional representatives (Kido Takayoshi Kankei Monjo Kenkyūkai 2008, vol. 3:
63). Katsura then explained that the main objective of his studies was to find
a way to ensure better a mutual understanding between the government and
the army in Japan regarding the role of the two institutions. In another letter
dated September 24, 1876, he reiterated that it would not be enough for him to
study military affairs only:

Army and politics form two parts of the government. Thus, studying
only the army is like looking at a body without arms and legs. Ignoring
civilian politics and how civilian bodies and the military can effec-
tively and harmoniously conduct political affairs will result in disor-
der … Therefore, if civil (politics) and the military are separated, there
will be disarray in politics, and administrative tasks and finances will be
conducted inefficiently. (Kido Takayoshi Kankei Monjo Kenkyūkai 2008,
vol. 3: 70)
148 Katō

The above indicates that Katsura stressed the mutual reliance of military and
civilian politics, and the importance of an active role of the military in govern-
ment. Katsura’s close relationship with the Kido faction can be seen to have in-
fluenced Kido’s visions of the future of the state and the idea of “Constitution
Plus Conscription.” This would have also lent support to the Kido faction’s
opposition to the views of Saigo, Itagaki, and Ōkubo.

Conclusion

It was not my intent to make a direct link to Katsura’s activities in the early
Meiji period to those of Taishō. Earlier research has positioned Katsura as the
primary force behind the introduction of the independence of the Supreme
Command of the Military (tōsui ken no dokuritsu) and the establishment of the
General Staff (sanbō honbu) following the German model. However, the sourc-
es introduced in this chapter suggest that Katsura’s studies in Germany can
also be seen from a different perspective. In particular, it is clear from the above
that the ideas of Katsura and Aoki evolved during their sojourns in Germany,
leading to their combining the idea of a constitution with conscription and an
emphasis on the mutual reliance of military and politics. Furthermore, it was
due to the information provided by them that the constitutionalist-reformist
Kido faction developped its design of the future of the state.

(translated by Sven Saaler)

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Hara Keiichirō and Hayashi Shigeru (eds.) (2000): Hara Kei nikki. Tokyo: Fukumura
Shuppan.
Horiuchi Bunjirō et al. (eds.) (1905): Rikugunshō enkaku shi. Tokyo: Rikugunshō.
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Inuzuka Takaaki (ed.) (2005): Meiji kokka no seisaku to shisō. Tokyo: Yoshikawa
Kōbunkan.
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Kido Takayoshi Kankei Monjo Kenkyūkai (ed.) (2005): Kido Takayoshi kankei monjo,
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dai-nikan. Tokyo: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai.
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Fumitaka et al. (eds.), Kokusai kankyō no naka no kindai Nihon. Tokyo: Fuyō Shobō.
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Kinen Jigyōkai.
 CHAPTER 5

The Image of Japan and the Japanese in the

German Satirical Journals Kladderadatsch and
Simplicissimus, 1853–1914
Rolf-Harald Wippich

From the mid-nineteenth century until World War I the German satirical
journals Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus were unrivaled in popularity for
their sharp, witty criticism of national and global developments. Both were
influential shapers and transmitters of images during this time. With Japan’s
entry into the international political arena in the second half of the nineteenth
century and German-Japanese relations gradually gaining significance, these
satirical journals also turned their attention to this East Asian nation. An ex-
amination of the caricatures of Japan in Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus
will therefore shed light on how Japan was variously pictured in the German
imagination and will provide insight into the popular perceptions of Japan in
imperial Germany.1
The time frame chosen for this study—1853 to 1914—roughly corresponds to
the period between the opening of Japan in 1853/54 and the German-Japanese
war over Kiaochow in China in 1914. Simplicissimus was first published in 1896,
and as such earlier events were covered only by Kladderadatsch, which began
circulation in 1848. It is noteworthy that both journals skipped over several
crucial events in Japanese history, such as the opening of Japan in 1853/54. The
interest in German unification and European politics at this time most likely
took precedence over such “exotic” matters from the Far East, thereby explain-
ing the lack of coverage. The key years and events in German-Japanese rela-
tions covered in this chapter are listed in Table 5.1.

1 The popularity of these two journals was one important factor in the decision to focus on
these. Moreover, their study is facilitated by the fact that they are today readily accessible
on online databases: for Kladderadatsch, http://digi.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/diglit/kla and for
Simplicissimus, http://www.simplicissimus.com.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_007

The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 151

Table 5.1 Japan-related Events in the Satirical Journals Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus
(discussed in this chapter).

Date Event Kladderadatsch Simplicissimus

1853–1854 Opening of Japan X

1860–1861 Prussian Expedition to Japan X
1868 Meiji Restoration X
1873 Iwakura Mission received by X
Chancellor Bismarck
1894–1895 Sino-Japanese War X
1897–1898 Seizure of Kiaochow Bay X X
1900–1901 Boxer War X X
1902 Anglo-Japanese Alliance X X
1904–1905 Russo-Japanese War X X
1914 German-Japanese War X X

Although the main focus of this chapter is on images of Japan, my interest

extends to the coverage of East Asia in satirical journals generally. What, for
example, did the editorial staff consider worthy from the “exotic” Far East to be
included in the pages of their satirical magazines, be it textual or visual (carica-
ture)? Through an analysis of the images in Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus,
especially as related to their political messages, I will attempt to contribute to a
better understanding of popular attitudes in German society at the time.2 Such
an approach also allows for a better grasp of how the German image of Japan
and East Asia has been shaped and manipulated over time.

The Definition of “Cartoon” and “Caricature”

Before investigating images of Japan in Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus,

it might be instructive to look at the medium of the political cartoon and
caricature. The nineteenth century, when Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus
released pictorial representations of Japan, was considered the heyday of cari-
cature and the political cartoon. It was the era of great caricaturists including

2 I have chosen to focus on the cartoons’ political messages; a full exploration of their aesthetic
aspects would require a separate study. See Allen 1984.
152 Wippich

Honoré Daumier (1808–1879) and George Cruikshank (1792–1878) (Heinisch

1988). Since then, scholars and linguists have attempted to define the genres of
cartoon and caricature. The Merriam-Webster dictionary, for instance, defines
“caricature” as an “exaggeration by means of often ludicrous distortion of parts
or characteristics.” Lawrence H. Streicher in his article “On a Theory of Political
Caricatures” defined “caricature” as:

… the exaggerated representation of the most characteristic features of

persons or things … in a satirical manner.… Pictorial caricature pertains
to grotesque or ludicrous representation of scorn or ridicule of human
vices or follies and exaggeration of their most characteristic features by
means of graphic images. (Streicher 1966/1967: 431)

Similarly, D. N. Perkins and Margaret A. Hagen, experts in the field of visual

perception, see the secret of the caricature as “highlighting the most salient
features of their objects, usually the face, to make them even more salient”
(Perkins and Hagen 1980: 259). Moreover, Tamara L. Hunt, a historian and
author of works dealing with political caricature explains that artists quickly
picked up on the various practical applications of the art form. “Caricatures
figure as the primary—and in many cases, the only—contemporary visual re-
cord of events, and were produced in quick response to the public’s reaction
to various political and social issues” (Hunt 2003: 2). Thus, while not necessar-
ily accurate, caricatures reflect and comment on public attitudes and values,
since artists have to be particularly sensitive to the nuances of public opinion
(Streicher 1966/67: 431). Caricature and caricaturing are both parts of a broader
cultural milieu—namely, the art of ridicule or jest, something that requires a
certain amount of leniency and tolerance by the authorities (Hunt 2003: 5). As
Hunt emphasizes, “caricatures not only reflected public interests, they could
also influence their audience” (ibid. 17).
Merriam-Webster also gives a broad definition of “cartoon,” which demon-
strates the potential to overlap with or encompass that of “caricature.” It de-
fines it as “a drawing intended as satire, caricature, or humor.” Thomas Milton
Kemnitz elaborates on this in his article “The Cartoon as a Historical Source”
by noting that cartoons, whether they are outrageous or flattering, must con-
vey a message quickly and pungently (Kemnitz 1973: 19–23). The rapid sim-
plicity of cartoons is crucial and makes them ideal vehicles for propaganda.
Likewise, with such immediate and symbolic impact, cartoon images can also
generate stereotypes. Applied to the national level, this equates to national
personifications, which offer short keys for the identification of entire nations,
seen for example in the images of the English John Bull, the German Michael,
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 153

the French holy Marianne, and the U.S. Uncle Sam. Consequently, complex
international constellations can be applied to interpersonal relations and dra-
matize or downplay political developments (Coupe 1969: 79–95; Koch 2002).
These brief definitions demonstrate that there are obvious similarities be-
tween “caricature” and “cartoon.” In the field of art history, a clear distinction
is made between these two categories with more artistic value attributed to
the latter, but for matters of convenience I will treat both as comparable. By
and large I follow a definition given by K. T. Rivers in her book Transmutations:
Understanding Literacy and Pictorial Caricature: “caricature is the artistic use
of deformation for satirical purposes” (Rivers, 1991: 5). But the “simplicity” of
cartoons and caricatures can be deceptive, since both, in fact, depict complex
topics and issues. Therefore, cartoons and caricatures must be unpacked and
decoded before they can be used in academic discourse (Heinisch 1988: 20).
In general, the study of visual sources has been dismissed in the Western ac-
ademic tradition, which has privileged written, textual sources. Visual sources
such as caricatures have seldom found acceptance in the classical set of his-
torical sources. However, images can reflect popular attitudes. By demonstrat-
ing that this was precisely the case for nineteenth-century German pictorial
representations of Japan, this study aims in part to bridge the divide between
visual and textual sources (Hoffmann 1982: 16–17).

Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus

Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus are ideal objects of study because of their
extensive use of caricature. Indeed, their publication during the era of nine-
teenth-century liberalism coincided with what has been called “the real epoch
of caricature” (Heinisch 1988: 170). These two Witzblätter (the German term for
such satirical journals) also combined their liberalist views with old and new
German satirical journalism. This marriage of old and new, together with their
artistic and literary value, the diversity of their contents, and their influence in
society, makes Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus ripe material for academic
investigation.
Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus are also significant historical sources,
since they offer a glimpse of changing popular tastes during the German Empire.
Both were weekly journals and boasted of impressive circulation figures. Ann
Taylor Allen confirmed the public effects of the journals when she wrote that
they “created and popularized the symbolic images which shaped the political
awareness of their readers” (Allen 1984: 225, 228). With their diverse reader-
ship, these two Witzblätter had a multiplying effect upon public opinion, and
attracted widespread attention through their flamboyant and sometimes scur-
rilous attacks on what they considered arbitrary and anachronistic authority
154 Wippich

(Allen 1984: 224). As organs of an oppositional liberalism that had little orga-
nized political expression during the period in question, the journals provide
unique and valuable evidence of the evolution of critical and self-critical at-
titudes among the bourgeoisie of Wilhelmine Germany. Their inherent humor
was an outlet for protest as well as a force for social change. Consequently, the
journals were considered propagators and amplifiers of urgent reform.
But there were also differences between the two. Kladderadatsch—founded
in the revolutionary year 1848 in Berlin—was the older journal. It proclaimed
itself as both “liberal” and “democratic” in the classical sense, and was a
staunch advocate of German unification. It reached its journalistic peak in the
two decades preceding the foundation of the empire (1850–1870), and thereaf-
ter took a friendly position toward Chancelor Otto von Bismarck’s (1815–1898)
Germany. However, it lost much of its satirical sting when it settled simply on
commentary regarding daily politics in a “funny” way, instead of attacking the
status quo. It thus became more of an ordinary humor magazine, tame and
toothless, and no longer a threat to the authorities (Heinrich-Jost 1982; Schultz
1975; Gehring 1927: 69–80). The iconic head of Karlchen Mussgnug, the jour-
nal’s mascot, was featured on the title page and continued to do so until the
journal ceased publication in 1944.3
The Munich-based Simplicissimus was founded later, in 1896, and was also
published until 1944. In many respects, Simplicissimus was much more flam-
boyant in pictorial style and text than Kladderadatsch. The style of its cartoons
was often more grotesque and shocking than funny. Some of the pre-war draw-
ings in Simplicissimus made use of East Asian stylistic elements, occasionally
without connection to the accompanying text, while others were drafted using
formats and structures of Japanese origin. The movement of Japonism, for in-
stance, had a great artistic impact on cartoonists Bruno Paul (1874–1968) and
Olaf Gulbransson (1873–1958) (Horn 2000: 106, 122–29).
The use of such bold stylistic techniques was characteristic of Simplicissimus,
which from the outset had declared itself an artistic magazine and had also
established itself as a propagandistic vehicle for the struggle (Kunst- und
Kampfblatt) against the authoritarian state (Obrigkeitsstaat). In this arena, its
favorite targets were right-wing conservatism and the clerical Center Party. As
a satirical journal, it revealed a strong left-liberal attitude through the scath-
ing criticism of such stereotypical pre-war Wilhelmine German characters
as the land-owning class of the Junker (landed nobility), the arrogant mili-
tary officer, the Corporate Student, and the Petit Bourgeois. On the one hand,

3 See http://digi.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/diglit/kla1848/0001 for the title page of the first issue of

Kladderadatsch.
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 155

Simplicissimus was admired for its constant challenge of the conventional

morals of the complacent, self-satisfied bourgeois culture. On the other hand,
it was condemned for its rebellious and subversive attitude toward established
culture in general. Therefore, when War Minister Josias von Heeringen alluded
to Simplicissimus as “the bacillus which kills all our ideals” (quoted in Allen
1984: 223), he highlighted what the editors of the journal themselves called a
deliberate course of “destructive enlightenment” (Konrad 1975). With the red
bulldog as its mascot, Simplicissimus became the epitome of satirical offense
and aggressiveness.
In terms of readership, Kladderadatsch enjoyed particular popularity in the
early years of the German Empire when its circulation exceeded 50,000 copies
(Heinrich-Jost 1982: 31). Temporarily at least, it also had the highest circulation
of any German print media, even exceeding Germany’s largest daily newspa-
per, the Berliner Tageblatt, with its circulation of approximately 37,000 copies
(Schultz 1975: 169). The numbers for Simplicissimus were even larger: at the
outset of the new century (1904), its circulation reached 85,000 copies, with
special editions occasionally reaching as much as 100,000 copies.4

The Emergence of a Cartoon Image of Japan

The broad readership of Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus granted them a

great deal of influence and assured an audience for their commentaries and
political cartoons. Eventually, both journals also set their sights on Japan as a
target of their caricature. This section aims to uncover how these Witzblätter
portrayed the East Asian island nation, and how the development of such im-
ages reflected the socio-political atmosphere of the times.
The Western image of Japan had its roots in the sixteenth century when the
first Europeans set foot on Japanese soil. German-language journals first drew
on information from these early European encounters when they began their
frequent reporting on Japan in the 1860s. In the absence of substantial factual
information, such accounts relied mostly on folklore and exoticized notions of
Japanese traditions and customs. Similarly, they also tended to observe Japan
through the lens of an all-encompassing China image, which in many ways
acted as the template for all things East Asian (Mehl 1994: 34).

4 For circulation numbers, see Schultz 1975: 169 and Konrad 1975: 40. For the Social Democrat
Satirical journal Wahrer Jacob, Konrad gives the following circulation figures: 1903 (93,000);
1904 (250,000); 1914 (380,000); 1918 (160,000). See also Gehring 1927: 67.
156 Wippich

Figure 5.1 Die Japanesen in Berlin. Kladderadatsch, June 29, 1862.

caption: Gegenseitige Bewunderung auf dem Gendarmen-Markt
nach der Melodie: „Lauter schöne Leut’ sind wir!“

Prior to 1862, Kladderadatsch had little reason to focus on East Asia, and instead
it concentrated on domestic and European issues. Kladderadatsch regarded
neither the 1853–1854 opening of Japan by U.S. Commodore Matthew C. Perry
(1794–1858), nor the 1859–1862 Prussian East Asian mission under Friedrich
Albrecht Graf zu Eulenburg (1815–1881),5 as significant enough to be depicted
in caricature. This contrasts, for example, with the Leipziger Illustrirte Zeitung,
which ran several articles and included representations on the Eulenburg
Mission (see, for example, fig. 0.5 in the introduction of this volume). This
changed in 1862 with the first official visit of Japanese envoys to Prussia known
as the Takenouchi Mission. This visit led to Europeans gaining some of their
first real evidence on which to base their image of the Japanese (Zobel 2002).
The event also caught the attention of Kladderadatsch, which covered the visit
that same year (fig. 5.1).
Kladderadatsch reported on the lives of Japanese travelers in Berlin and pre-
sented drawings of a supposedly “authentic” image of the Japanese. Following
the Takenouchi Mission, a somewhat superficial coverage of the period of the

5 On Eulenburg, see the introduction and chs. 1 and 2 in this volume.
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 157

Figure 5.2 The Ōtsu Incident. Kladderadatsch, June 28, 1891.

caption: Der russische Thronfolger findet auf
seiner Weltreise, dass die Zustände in Japan mit
denen in Russland viel Ähnlichkeit haben.

Meiji Restoration ensued. In an 1867 cartoon, for instance, a Japanese man in

traditional dress was shown at the 1867 Exposition Universelle in Paris, where
Japan had its own pavilion (Kladderadatsch, August 25, 1867). The 1889 prom-
ulgation of the Meiji Constitution also featured in caricature. An 1891 cartoon
depicted the attempted assassination of the young Tsarevitch—the later
Russian tsar Nicholas II (1868–1918)—in Ōtsu near Lake Biwa (Kladderadatsch,
February 24, 1889) (fig. 5.2). The Tsarevitch was the cousin of German emperor
Wilhelm II (1859–1941), and so an attempt on his life would have been consid-
ered worthy of coverage in a German journal (Kladderadatsch, June 28, 1891).
However, the caption voiced criticism toward Russia, rather than Japan, stating
that during his trip to Japan the Tsarevitch, “finds that the situation in Japan is
very similar to that in his country.”
In reporting on these events many German publications struggled with
Japanese names, and they often resorted to using exotic sounding inventions
158 Wippich

and fake names as fill-ins. Only after the 1862 Japanese mission to Prussia, cari-
catures began to reflect the more recent information available and more or
less came to be based on authentic pictorial representations of the Japanese
(Schuster 1977). One result was that caricatures began to delineate distinct
“Japanese” features, something that was a departure from the previous tradi-
tion of depicting anything considered “East Asian” in a Chinese style.
However, this bothered some Western observers, who felt these portrayals
were too close to reality, threatening their own sense of racial and civilizational
“superiority.” Images of a Japanese person placed in a modern, Western-style
environment, for example, occasionally drew ire or were thought to be simply
comical (Mehl 1994: 40). Although many Japanese were fascinated with the
West and strove to win the respect of Europeans during the early years of the
Meiji period (1868–1912), their efforts were nevertheless often ridiculed in cari-
cature. In any case, to make the “foreign” seem more palatable, perceptions of
Japan were shaped and channeled through German ideas and values. “What
was seen,” wrote Heinrich Mehl, “was judged by German criteria of thinking
and experience. One is comparing and attempting to find familiar patterns of
explanation for what was regarded as strange” (Mehl 1994: 46).
One way in which this was achieved was to include cartoons that featured
definitively German contents or actors, but were placed in a fictitious Japanese
setting. An example of this is the 1892 Kladderadatsch cartoon Harakiri,
in which the image of a stereotypical “Japanese subject” is used to satire an
issue in German politics (fig. 5.3). In the illustrations, a Center Party member
of the Imperial Diet, Baron Karl von Huene (1837–1900), is shown commit-
ting ritual suicide (harakiri or seppuku) with the assistance of a friend, after
having moved away from his once energetically supported law (Lex Huene) in
the Imperial Diet. In a similar way, a Simplicissimus cartoon from spring 1908
shows Chancellor Bernhard von Bülow (1849–1929) as the Japanese sun god-
dess Amaterasu (fig. 5.4). In the top left of the composition the seated Prince
Bülow dons formal Japanese dress, holds two swords and is surrounded by a
halo (the other images also make reference to Japan, but are not analyzed in
detail here).
Aside from such more indirect references to Japan, certain issues demanded
the magazines’ full attention to the East Asian nation. One such example was
Japan’s growing military power. For example, there were plentiful cartoon im-
ages of Japan during the Sino-Japanese War (1894–1895). The large amount of
international attention that this war received, and Japan’s subsequent rise as
an increasingly formidable military power, resulted in the emergence of a new
caricature image of Japan—that is, of the plucky, gallant soldier (fig. 5.5, top
left).
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 159

Figure 5.3 Harakiri: Der Selbstmord aus dem japanischen ins Politische übertragen.
Kladderadatsch, November 27, 1892.
caption: Freiherr von Huene gibt unter Beistand seines besten
Freundes sein eigenes Selbst, nämlich die lex Huene, auf.

Although this image and other references to Japan dropped off in the immedi-
ate aftermath of the war, similar coverage once again resurfaced during the
Boxer War of 1900. By that time, Simplicissimus had joined the caricaturist
attacks from Munich depicting the growing antagonism between Russia and
Japan in the Far East. Japan’s recently won political importance and military
prowess was contrasted with a “lackadaisical” Europe in a 1903 Simplicissimus
cartoon labeled Großmama Europa (Grandma Europe). The cartoon portrays
an old woman (representing Europe) busy knitting while a samurai stands
imperiously at her feet, ready to fight the Russians and being encouraged by
Europe to do so (fig. 5.6).
The Russo-Japanese War of 1904–1905 brought about an unprecedented in-
crease in pictorial and textual representations of Japan. This massive interest in
Japan and East Asia exceeded all earlier examples in the realm of German cari-
cature, in particular, and perhaps German mass media, in general. However,
Japan’s augmented military strength, especially after the Russo-Japanese War,
160 Wippich

Figure 5.4 Japanische Dithyramben auf Bülow. Kladderadatsch, March 15, 1908.
caption: Der glückliche Bernhard von Bülow wird heute schon
als Sonnengott verehrt, dessen strahlendes glänzendes Haupt
die unzähligen Sterne auf seiner Brust verdunkelt.
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 161

Figure 5.5 A Japanese Soldier. Kladderadatsch, March 31, 1895.

caption: Trotz des Winters fährt Japan fort sich mit China zu
beschäftigen und jagt seinen Gegner durch Korea und alle
Zeitungsspalten.
162 Wippich

Figure 5.6 Großmama Europa. Simplicissimus, 8/1903.

caption: „So ist es recht mein Junge! Zeige nur den Russen, dass
du keine Angst hast. Ich darf es nicht; ich bin eine alte Frau
und muss mir alles gefallen lassen.“

disturbed many caricaturists who expressed their alarm over the perceived
“threatening” aspects of Japan’s rise. This Western anxiety of a “Yellow Peril”—a
looming danger emanating from this East Asian empire—was conveyed for
example, in Bruno Paul’s expressionistic contribution to Simplicissimus in late
1905 (fig. 5.7). In this cartoon, titled “Culture” (Kultur) the message is not only a
warning of Japan’s new military strength but also a rather ironic self-critique of
European attitudes. The caption reads: “Until only their arts were known to the
Europeans, the Japanese were to us (Europeans) half chimera, half barbarians.
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 163

Figure 5.7 Kultur. Simplicissimus, 52/1905.

caption: Solange man in Europa nur die Kunst
der Japaner kannte, waren sie für uns halb
Phänomene, halb Barbaren. Jetzt aber, da sie
einen grossen Krieg führen, sind sie mit einem
Male eine zivilisierte Nation geworden.
Simplicissimus, no. 52/1905.

But now, since they have started a great war, they have suddenly become a
civilized nation.”
Both depictions of Japan as a hero (the gallant fighter) or villain (the “Yellow
Peril”) continued until around 1912, at which time the focus was taken off Russo-
Japanese tensions and moved onto the more dramatic American-Japanese
164 Wippich

antagonism in the Pacific and the Far East. World War I was one exception
to the growing captivation with Japan’s military strength. At the beginning of
that war, the country was almost entirely ousted from the pages of the journals
as European affairs took precedent. Once the conflict entered its second year,
though, full-fledged text and visual coverage of Japan resumed.
Another point to note is that the cartoon representations of Japan in
Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus did not take place in isolation, but need
to be seen alongside those of other nations. In the international and political
context of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Britain (depicted
in the German satirical journals as a Whale or Lion) and Russia (imaged as
a Bear) were Germany’s rivals, and thus were pictured extremely negatively
in caricature. In contrast to these countries, portrayals of Japan were rather
moderate. Both journals regarded Britain as the main villain on the interna-
tional stage, and their satire reflected this. Britain was primarily shown as the
greedy character John Bull, who was considered the epitome of an inconsider-
ate and malicious fellow, especially when he violated German interests. Anti-
British campaigns peaked during the Boer War in 1899–1902, and both journals
seized the opportunity to unleash their hostility (Allen 1984: 129–31). In this
case, Japan also received its share of negative propaganda, because it had al-
lied with Britain under the 1902 Anglo-Japanese Alliance. Japan was seen as
disloyal and ungrateful for allying with “perfidious Albion” and betraying its
old mentor Germany. But the overall image of Japan remained one of ambiva-
lence: it was seen as ungrateful, perilous, and inscrutable, but after 1905 it was
also respected as an international actor on equal terms.
Tsarist Russia was another country that the journals caricatured in a very
negative light. It was portrayed as being synonymous with autocracy, supersti-
tion, and political reactionism. Moreover, Russians were regarded as a simple-
minded, uneducated horde of barbarians. Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus
expressed no sympathy for Slavic people in general, and depicted them as sub-
human, primitive, dirty, and uncivilized (Allen 1984: 131–32). In her assessment
of the two journals’ treatment of other cultures, Allen summarizes that “these
images … bear out Freud’s generalization that society permits a far more direct
expression of aggression against foreign peoples than against one’s own” (ibid.
132). The negative German perception of Russia occasionally had positive re-
percussions in the perception of Japan, its neighbor and opponent (Zimdars
1972: 33–34). There were also differences in how each journal imaged China
and Japan. The image of the dragon was often used to symbolize China and the
Chinese, but in the case of Japan there was neither a national personification
nor a distinctive animal-image to be used in caricature.
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 165

Modes and Models in the Pictorial Representation of Japan

Although Japan entered popular Western consciousness without a single, clear

national image or convenient metaphorical short-key in political discourse
that typified other nations, the East Asian island empire was still able to de-
velop an identity of its own in political caricature. This section introduces a
number of visual short-keys that were used to represent Japan in the German
satirical journals of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Animal Metaphors
Satirical journals made frequent use of animal metaphors in order to illustrate
a nation and, supposedly, its national characteristics. As mentioned above,
Britain was often pictured as a whale, giving expression to its status as a major
sea power, while the leading land power, Russia, was often depicted as a bear.
Instead of one dominant national allegory, several representations emerged
for Japan in German (and European) political cartoons. These included a
diverse range of animal metaphors, as well as the image of the soldier, and
the embodiment of Japan in the form of women and children, among others.
Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus catered to the growing public attention on
German-Japanese relations by showing the island nation through a variety of
modes (Littlewood 1996: 80). Though general interest in Japan was on the rise,
the variety of graphic renditions for the country indicates that its image in the
German awareness was not yet firmly formed.
While the shorthand depicting Japan were employed principally in the
same context as those of their Western counterparts, it is interesting to note
that animal metaphors were less frequently used to ridicule Japan than they
were for most European countries. In fact, the attempt to designate an animal
metaphor for Japan in the first instance indicates that by around 1900 Japan
was regarded on relatively equal political footing with Western powers, for
which established metaphors already existed.
One of the first animal metaphors for Japan can be found in 1898, shortly
before the Boxer War in China. In Kladderadatsch at that time, Japan and other
imperialist powers were illustrated as swordfish dividing up the Chinese spoils.
At least three further different animal species—the dog (the dachshund and
another unspecified breed), the snake, and the donkey—were used in the jour-
nal to depict Japan during the 1900 military cooperation with the Western pow-
ers during the Boxer War.
When Japan tangled with Russia on the international stage, new animal
metaphors emerged. In 1903 the stinging bee was utilized as a metaphor for
166 Wippich

Figure 5.8 Korea und Macedonien. Kladderadatsch, November 3, 1903.

Japan (Kladderadatsch, November 1, 1903), expressing the new military capa-

bilities of the Japanese. At the same time, the cartoon also likens the Russo-
Japanese conflict over Korea to those in the Balkans (fig. 5.8). In June of the
same year, the hornet, the ant, and the lynx were all employed to represent
Japanese military prowess in Kladderadatsch cartoons. Another animal meta-
phor adopted for the characterization of Japan was also seen around the same
time—the monkey, which signified European contempt for the “inferior race”
of the Japanese. As author Ian Littlewood explains, the simian image would be-
come the “most popular point of reference” whenever Japan was the object of
criticism or ridicule. Some have traced this image to 1891 and the attack on the
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 167

Figure 5.9 Der japanische Panther. Simplicissimus, August 20, 1918.

caption: „Mister Bull, losgelassen ist er gleich. Aber
glauben Sie, dass wiR ihn zurückpfeifen können?“

life of the young Tsarevitch Nicholas in Japan, an event that damaged Japan’s
reputation in Europe (Linhart 2005: 9). The monkey image was so popular that
it appeared, for example, on the front page of Simplicissimus on May 27, 1907
and on the cover of Kladderadatsch on the 6th of October of that same year.
Different animal metaphors would continue to emerge. Compared to
the simian image, the whale (Kladderadatsch, August 1910) and rooster
(Kladderadatsch, September 1910) were not as overtly racist. But the image of a
flea (Kladderadatsch, March 26, 1911) again was an expression of the Japanese
being viewed as “inferior.” After the outbreak of World War I, Japan was de-
picted as a mangy cur (Kladderadatsch, August 1914). And at the end of the war,
a Simplicissimus caricature by Thomas Theodor Heine (1867–1948) seemed to
capture both the awe and apprehension with which Western observers per-
ceived Japan at the time: it assumed the form of a panther, barely tameable by
the combined forces of Britain and America (fig. 5.9).
168 Wippich

The Soldier
Due to the lack of any single fixed animal metaphor for Japan, different modes of
depicting the island empire in political caricature emerged over time. Perhaps
the allegorical figure that came to most represent Japan was the image of the
modern soldier. This eye-catching, identifiable, and highly versatile image
symbolized Japan’s modernity, and it temporarily took the place of a national
allegory during the periods when Japan was at war—that is, at the end of the
nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth centuries. Moreover, the image
was largely favorable to Japan, since in the imperialist era military strength was
the yardstick by which nations were measured. In Germany, Japan’s success in
the Sino-Japanese War had found favor with the public (see Wippich 2006).
As a result the Japanese were dubbed the “Prussians of the East,” and were en-
dowed with highly esteemed Prussian military virtues (Mehring 1903/04: 67).
But the metaphor of the gallant soldier was not applicable in every historical
situation, and thus different allegories for Japan would take center stage at dif-
ferent times.

Women
Together with animal metaphors and the image of the soldier, caricaturists fre-
quently employed the female image to depict Japan. As historian Jean-Pierre
Lehmann explains: “Western attitudes towards Japanese women … deeply in-
fluenced Western attitudes towards Japan in general” (Lehmann 1978: 169). The
popularity in the West of the female stereotype for Japan predates World War I,
and satirical journals began using the image of kimono-clad women and girls
in the early 1900s (see Littlewood 1996: 24 and ch. 7 in this volume).
In fact, the first use of a Japanese woman in caricature was in the November
3, 1901 edition of Kladderadatsch. The magazine also employed the same
image years later on the cover. Prior to 1907–1908, the image of a geisha or
other women in traditional Japanese robes was used almost exclusively in
advertising, particularly for sparkling wine and cigarettes (figs. 5.10 & 5.11).
Kladderadatsch initially adopted this representation in 1907 to delineate the
national “characteristics” of Japan (Kladderadatsch, April 1907; June 30, 1907).
The appearance of the kimono-clad woman as a shorthand for Japan became
especially clear during both journals’ coverage of the 1908 Hague Convention
(Kladdaradatsch: June 1907; February 1908). At that time, Simplicissimus also
used the female image of Japan to represent other issues; their rendition was
in a December 1908 cartoon entitled Amerika und Japan empfehlen sich als
Verlobte (American and Japan Present Themselves as Engaged) shows a tradi-
tionally dressed Japanese woman on the arm of the U.S. President Theodore
Roosevelt (fig. 5.12). Yet, these examples aside, the image of modern Meiji
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 169

Figure 5.10 Kupferberg Gold: Tokio Eilgut. Simplicissimus, 1905.

Figure 5.11 A. Batschari Cigarettes. Kladderadatsch, 1906.

170 Wippich

Figure 5.12 
Amerika und Japan empfehlen sich als Verlobte.
Simplicissimus, December 14, 1908.

Japan as a belligerent, war-ready nation was more popular in satirical journals

than the stereotypic views of kimono-clad women or children.

The Japanese Emperor and Other Figures of Public Life

The final category of images used as metaphor for Japan that this paper fo-
cuses on is that of the Japanese emperor and other figures of Japanese pub-
lic life. The first cartoon depiction of the Japanese emperor (tennō) appeared
in the April 14, 1907 issue of Kladderadatsch; it was a jab at Britain and the
United States for their support of Japan in international affairs (fig. 5.13). In
the cartoon, the heads of state of Japan’s allies are shown as subservient to the
emperor: King Edward VII (1841–1910) of Britain becomes a humble umbrella
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 171

Figure 5.13 
Vorschlag zur Güte. Kladderadatsch, April 14, 1907.
caption: Mit dieser sehr passenden
Rollenbesetzung würde vielleicht auch
das stolze Japan zufrieden sein.

bearer and President Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919) kowtows before the

Japanese monarch. The tennō is illustrated in a grotesque manner, wear-
ing wooden clogs (geta), female robes and accessories and with clearly non-
Japanese facial features. This is an expression of the racism prevalent in
Wilhelminian society. However, illustrations of the emperor were compara-
tively infrequent.6 One explanation might be that the emperor’s image had

6 See, for example, Kladderadatsch, March 8, 1908, September 4, 1911 (front page), and October
11, 1914.
172 Wippich

yet to enter the German public mindset, and most Germans were simply too
unfamiliar with the Japanese monarch to identify a picture of him easily.
Other figures and stereotypical symbols such as “the samurai” were consid-
ered more recognizable to the broad public and thus were also used to repre-
sent Japan. After 1900, the samurai was no longer seen as the dangerous ruffian
and sword-fighter of the early Meiji period, but was pictured as the equal to
the modern soldier (e.g., cover of Simplicissimus, March 11, 1907; no. 40, 1903).
Nitobe Inazō’s 1900 piece Bushido: The Soul of Japan, was written in English and
was widely read in Europe and America, including by President Roosevelt, and
may have assisted in popularizing this image of a modern samurai. In any case,
the samurai re-emerged as the embodiment of a supposedly traditional gen-
tleman warrior (Littlewood 1996: 184–85). Stereotypical symbols of Japanese
tradition such as the yukata (light summer kimono) or chonmage (the type of
top-knot hairstyle worn by samurai) were also employed in caricature. These
were often employed to contrast Japanese and Chinese features, most notably
during events such as the Sino-Japanese War. Select caricatures even depicted
Japan as a near-mythical force. This was especially so when U.S.-Japanese ten-
sions escalated after 1907. A March 1907 Kladderadatsch cartoon, for instance,
introduced Japan as the God of Wind, thus causing headaches for President
Roosevelt (fig. 5.14). This metaphor clearly suggested what were seen as the
menacing aspects of the rising power of Japan (Kladderadatsch, March 17, 1907;
October 11, 1914).

The “Yellow Peril” and “the Japs”

The use of insulting and discriminatory cartoons, which began during the
Russo-Japanese War, were in full swing against the background of U.S.-
Japanese tensions. From around 1907, Kladderadatsch began to adopt the de-
rogatory term “Jap,” or “Japs.” The first appearance of the term seems to have
been in a poem called “Yankee and Japs” (Kladderadatsch, February 24, 1907).
Kladderadatsch writers also utilized different discriminatory labels, such as
“Yellows,” to refer to the Japanese and to highlight so-called “Japanese racial
peculiarities.”
Another race-related topic emerging on occasion is the idea of the
“Yellow Peril” (Gelbe Gefahr, see Saaler 2007). A December 1908 cartoon in
Kladderadatsch, for example, carried the caption: “Uncle Sam announces
his engagement with the ‘Yellow Peril’ ” (Kladderadatsch, December 13, 1908)
(fig. 5.15). Two years later, in September 1910, the journal again depicted Japan
as the “Yellow Peril” in a cartoon that likens Japan to a giant monkey face
looming in the sky. The West, with the united support of church and state,
was portrayed as the only force that could ward off the threatening “disaster”
(Kladderadatsch, September 4, 1910) (fig. 5.16).
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 173

Figure 5.14 Der japanische Windgott. Kladderadatsch, March 17, 1907.

caption: Er bläst so lang—da wird so bang—
dem guten Teddy Roosevelt:—das Herz ihm in
die Hose fällt.

Simplicissimus and Kladderadatsch also created variations of the notorious work

commonly referred to as the “Knackfuß Painting” (see fig. 0.10 in the introduc-
tion of this volume) for their own satirical purposes.7 This notorious painting

7 The historical painter and Professor of Art Hermann Knackfuß (1848–1915) made the
“Knackfuß Painting” based on an allegorical sketch drafted by the Kaiser himself, showing
the European nations as armed goddesses, led by the Archangel Michael (Germany) to fight
the “Yellow Peril” rising in the east in the shape of Buddha. See Saaler 2007.
174 Wippich

Figure 5.15 
Weihnachts-Familiennachrichten: An Herren Knackfuß
& Co., in Berlin. Kladderadatsch, December 13, 1908.
caption: Meine Velobung mit der „gelben
Gefahr“ beehre ich mich, ergebenst
anzuzeigen.

was originally commissioned by Wilhelm II in the 1890s to warn of an ominous

“Yellow Peril” from the East. Fig. 15 makes a satirical reference to this painting in
the title “Weihnacht-Familiennachrichten, An Herren Knackfuß & Co., Berlin”
(Christmas family news for Mr. Knackfuß & Co., Berlin). Simplicissimus further
ridiculed the Knackfuß painting and its creator, the Kaiser, stating that the ir-
responsibility of producing this image was much greater a danger than Japan’s
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 175

Figure 5.16 
Invasionsgefahr im fernen Osten. Kladderadatsch,
September 4, 1910.
caption: Die Andeutungen Karl Bachems in
Augsburg, dass Japan durch seine Vermittlung
eventuell in absehbarer Zeit eine bessere
Zukunftsreligion erhalten könnte, haben bei
der „aufgehenden Sonne“ eine „partielle
Finsternis“ hervorgebracht!
176 Wippich

foreign expansion (Allen 1984: 59). Overall, however, the idea of a “Yellow Peril”
was only intermittently taken up in the German satirical journals, and when it
was, it was usually not Japan, but the originator of the idea, the Kaiser himself,
who was the object of criticism and ridicule.

Conclusion

Throughout the period examined in this chapter, Japan was generally viewed
by the German public and many Western observers as a warrior nation. This is
not to say that the island nation’s efforts toward modernization and imperial
expansion were looked upon scornfully, but rather that they were likened to
Prussian military virtues. In the absence of a well-developed national allegory
of its own, the modern soldier emerged as the representative visual metaphor
for Japan in the satirical journals dealt with here. The cartoon of the smart,
uniformed Japanese who was accepted with friendly comradery was a charac-
teristic feature. Renditions of this kind also compensated for Japan’s remote-
ness by adding a dash of Prussian familiarity. Indeed, the modern soldier was
regarded as the epitome of the Meiji state and was seen favorably as a template
for successful reform.
Apart from the image of the soldier, Japan’s image in Kladderadatsch
and Simplicissimus remained unfixed until around the Russo-Japanese War.
Following its stunning victory over a Western power in that conflict, Japan was
now sometimes portrayed as a menace, and some cartoonists employed the
idea of the “Yellow Peril.” But overall, the Japanese were seldom ridiculed to the
degree of some European heads of state. The Balkan potentates, for example,
regularly faced scathing criticism from the journals. In contrast, the Japanese
in caricatures were placed in a rather neutral surrounding with manly and
stern, though impersonal, facial expressions. From around 1907, female figures
began to compete with the previously used militant male image. In addition,
Japanese royalty, military personnel, diplomats, and statesmen were occa-
sionally mentioned by name, and in some rare cases portraits of prominent
Japanese were included in the journals. In Simplicissimus, for instance, artist
Olaf Gulbransson drew Marshal Ōyama Iwao (1842–1916), one of the gener-
als from the time of the Russo-Japanese War (fig. 5.17, Simplicissimus, January
3, 1905).
After the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–1905 and the war scare of 1907–1908,
interest in East Asia among the publishers of satirical journals declined, and
cartoon images of Japan appeared less frequently. This is especially true with
the southern German journal Simplicissimus, which in the years preceding the
The Image Of Japan And The Japanese 177

Figure 5.17 
Galerie berühmter Zeitgenossen. Marschall Oyama.
Simplicissimus, 9/1905.

outbreak of the World War I was dominated by regional Bavarian and domestic
German references as well as anti-Catholic sentiment. Both Kladderadatsch
and Simplicissimus devoted extensive coverage to Japan’s 1910 annexation of
Korea, but this proved to be a rare exception. In the same vein, coverage of the
United States also dwindled during this period.
Images of Japan in Kladderadatch and Simplicissimus reflected the popular
views and perspectives of German society. As the two most popular organs
of political satire in nineteenth-century Germany, these satirical journals pro-
vide evidence for the vital role of humor as an outlet for political and social
178 Wippich

discontent, as well as a form of historical reconstruction. If Freud was correct

in saying that humor is disguised aggression and acts as a safety valve for hos-
tile impulses, then the sharp wit of Kladderadatsch and Simplicissimus is re-
vealing of German hopes and fears with regard to Japan as a new actor in world
affairs in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

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Simplicissimus 1890–1914. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky.
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Gehring, Christian (1927): Die Entwicklung des politischen Witzblattes in Deutschland.
PhD diss., Leipzig.
Heinisch, Sven (1988): Die Karikatur: Über das Irrationale im Zeitalter der Vernunft.
Vienna and Cologne: Böhlau.
Heinrich-Jost, Ingrid (1982): Kladderadatsch, Die Geschichte eines Berliner Witzblattes
von 1848 bis ins Dritte Reich. Cologne: Leske.
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aler Vermittlung in der politischen Sozialisation und Kommunikation. Frankfurt am
Main: Haag & Herchen.
Horn, Beate (2000): Prosa im “Simplicissimus.” Zur Entwicklung literarischer Gattungen
im Kontext von Zeitschrift, Bild und Satire. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang.
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trierten Zeitschriften der letzten 150 Jahre,” in Heinrich Mehl and Hansjoerg Meyer
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Zimdars, Hasso (1972): Die Zeitschrift Simplicissimus: Ihre Karikaturen. PhD diss.,
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Natur- und Völkerkunde Ostasiens.
 CHAPTER 6

Images of Japan Held by German Legal Experts in

the Meiji Period

Heinrich Menkhaus1

This chapter examines the views of Japan and the Japanese held by German
law experts during the Meiji period (1868–1912). Such views are significant for
two main reasons. First, the era in question was one of tremendous change
in Japan. During this time the country moved from a feudal legal system to a
system based on a “modern” Western-style framework. A key reason for the
Japanese interest in altering its legal system was the desire to revise the “un-
equal treaties” that it had been forced to sign with Western countries following
the opening of Japan in 1853/54. Secondly, Japanese politicians and educators
were turning to the German legal system as a model for their own country.
In the process, Japanese government officials consulted German law experts,
who in some cases came to live in Japan for extended lengths of time. And as
a consequence, German law experts held a privileged position in Meiji Japan,
and their observations of the country can offer valuable insights into the legal
culture of Japan at this point in its history.
The analysis of the impressions of Japan by Germans temporarily living in
or visiting Japan during the more than 150 years of German-Japanese relations
is not a new field of research. Particularly noteworthy are the number of publi-
cations handling the Meiji period; however, interest in the subject is primarily
the domain of German literature scholars (Schubert 1977; Mathias-Pauer 1984:
115–40; Günther 1988; Hardach-Pinke 1990: 11–36; Pekar 2003; Schmidhofer
2010; Von Felbert 2014). Select sources also cover the views of German law ex-
perts. For example, Adolf Freitag (Freitag 1939) mentions the lawyers Wilhelm
Hermann Lönholm (1854–?), Georg Michaelis (1857–1936), and Otfried Nippold
(1864–1938), but he relies only on official sources. These do not necessarily offer
an accurate image of the how Germans in Japan perceived the country because
Lönholm, Michaelis, and Nippold were in the employ of Japanese institutions
and could not be openly critical. Takii Kazuhiro’s article “Das Japan-Bild der
deutschen Juristen während der Meiji-Zeit” (Takii 1999) only discusses German

1 I would like to thank my colleague Lawrence Repeta, Professor at the Faculty of Law, Meiji
University, for the correction of the original draft of the English version of this text.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_008

Images Of Japan Held By German Legal Experts 181

lawyers who never visited Japan and based their opinions on foreign language
material given. Bert Becker and Uta Schaffers comment on the thoughts of
Georg Michaelis (Becker 2001) and Albert Issac Mosse (Schaffers 2004: 10–27)
conveyed in their letters and diaries. Becker’s and Schaffers’s approach the
topic within the context of the two men being German, and thus do not focus
on their views as legal experts per se.
It could be conjectured therefore that the views of German law experts on
the Japanese legal system of the Meiji period has yet to be fully examined. This
chapter attempts to address this gap in our knowledge, focusing on the per-
sonal writings of German legal experts, including letters to family or friends
at home, and diaries. This type of material is more likely to reveal the true
thoughts of these experts. On a related note, the meaning of the term “legal
system” used in this paper is not restricted to laws promulgated by the respec-
tive institutions of Japan, rather covers all the rules that constitute the legal
culture of Japan, including written laws, customs, and morals.
There were two groups of German lawyers working in Japan at this time:
contract foreigners (oyatoi gaikokujin) employed by Japanese institutions and
foreigners employed by German institutions, such as the Foreign Office or busi-
ness enterprises. This chapter concentrates on members of the first group be-
cause they were engaged to teach and to consult on German law over a longer
period, which would had given them ample opportunity to study Japan. Before
examining the impressions of these German lawyers, however, it is necessary
first to consider the historical background that prompted the employment of
German lawyers by Japanese institutions.

The Unequal Treaties and the Studies of Foreign Legal Systems

In 1854, the United States became the first country to establish a treaty with
Japan after more than two hundred years of limited and controlled foreign
relations. This treaty—the Japan-U.S. Treaty of Peace and Amity—marked
the first time that Japan was forced to sign a treaty. Other foreign countries
would subsequently follow this precedent. In 1858, Japan concluded the com-
mercial Ansei Treaties with the United States, Britain, France, Russia, and the
Netherlands. Similar treaties were later signed with Portugal and Prussia in
1860 and 1861, respectively. All were considered to be “unequal treaties” be-
cause they infringed upon Japanese sovereignty in various ways.
In the first instance, extraterritorial rights were granted to all citizens of
the treaty countries while they were in Japan, and this meant that Japanese
law was by and large not applicable to them. The best-known consequence
182 Menkhaus

of these extraterritorial rights was “consular jurisdiction,” in which foreign-

ers were not accountable to Japanese laws and legal procedures. Instead, they
could rely on the consular authority of their own governments to settle legal
disputes, not only between other treaties nations but also with Japanese sub-
jects and organizations.
Secondly, these treaties imposed restrictions on the Japanese government’s
ability to set and regulate customs tariffs. This was particularly important be-
cause import tariffs were needed to help protect local producers on the one
hand, while on the other tariffs assisted in keeping certain goods popular with
foreigners within the country. A third aspect was the unilateral application
of the “most-favored nation” clause, which meant that if one treaty country
is granted a right, then all the remaining treaty countries—current and fu-
ture—automatically have the same privilege. One example highlighting the
significant nature of this relates to the opening of Japanese harbors to foreign
countries. If the opening of a harbor was offered to one treaty power, the oth-
ers could use the harbor as well. However, the most-favored nation clause was
unilateral—in other words, even if one of the treaty powers provided a right to
another treaty power, Japan itself did not automatically win this right. Under
these circumstances, the revision of the “unequal treaties” became one of the
key tasks for the Japanese government. Foreign powers elucidated the fore-
most condition for revision: the introduction of a “modern” legal system.
Initially it was unclear whether Japan would adopt the legal system of one
country outright, or whether a mixture of legal elements of different jurisdic-
tions was preferable. In either case, it was obvious to Japanese leaders that the
legal systems of the treaty powers had to be studied in order to achieve the
ultimate goal of treaty revision. Moreover, it was apparent that the adoption of
a common-law legal system as existed in the United States and Britain would
be difficult given the structure of that system, which, at least at that time, was
heavily dependent on the study of court decisions. Japanese officials turned
instead to statute-based continental legal systems, which they assumed would
be easier and quicker to translate. Japanese officials initially considered the
continental legal system of France, created after the French Revolution, to be
the most modern and worthy of examination.
The Japanese government studied foreign legal systems in a number of ways.
First, law schools were established in Japan that offered instruction in foreign
legal systems. French law was taught in the law schools that are today Hōsei
and Meiji universities, English law at present-day Chūō University, and U.S. law
at Senshū University. A special approach was taken by the University of Tokyo
because it assumed control of the French law school (meihōryō) set up by the
Japanese Ministry of Justice (shihōshō); from the outset, it also ran courses on
U.S. law. Secondly, the Japanese government understood that it would be best
Images Of Japan Held By German Legal Experts 183

for expert instructors to teach foreign law of the countries where these laws
were in active use, and accordingly, they enlisted foreign lawyers from treaty
powers in this capacity. Japanese law students were also sent abroad to learn
about the law of the signatory countries. And finally, legal codes and law books
from these countries were imported and translated into Japanese.

German Law in Japan

The above demonstrates that the Japanese government did not initially con-
sider adopting German law as its legal model, even though the Prussian state
had also signed an unequal treaty with Japan in 1861. This was because, during
the early Meiji period, Germany was not yet a unified state and instead com-
prised many small states. This changed when the German Empire was estab-
lished following the German victory over France in the Franco-Prussian War of
1870–1871. Thereafter, the Japanese government began to adopt a German legal
model of law over those of other European systems. There were three underly-
ing reasons for this. First, due to the process of unifying the legal systems of the
disparate states, Germany emerged as the most modern legal system of all the
signatory countries of the “unequal treaties.” Moreover, Germany made use of
the continental legal system. Secondly, the German states had adjusted well to
the economic changes caused by the Industrial Revolution. And thirdly, lead-
ing politicians in Japan saw certain structural parallels with Germany, such as
having an emperor.
The Japanese government embarked on a study of German law in earnest
from 1881. At this time, the Japanese cabinet had just ousted the popular poli-
tician Ōkuma Shigenobu (1838–1922), an advocate of the British parliamen-
tary system and of the adoption of a more progressive legal structure for the
state (on Okuma, see Idditti 1956). The year 1881 also saw the establishment of
the Doitsugaku Kyōkai (Association of German Studies) by a number of pro-
German politicians who had trained in Germany. In 1883, this group founded
the Doitsugaku Kyōkai Gakkō (School of the Association of German Studies)
that is today Dokkyō University (see Menkhaus 2011). (The name “Dokkyō” is
still written with the Chinese characters for “German” (独; Doku) and “associa-
tion” (協; kyō). The Dokkyō set up a special course for the study of German law,
and German lawyers were hired to work at as instructors. Japanese students
were also sent to the law departments at German universities. For instance,
the later head of the Japanese government, Itō Hirobumi (1841–1909; see Takii
2014), went to Germany where Rudolf von Gneist (1816–1895), a law professor
at Berlin’s Friedrich Wilhelms University (Hahn 1995) and Lorenz von Stein
(1815–1890; Brauneder 1992; Takii 1998), a law professor at the University of
184 Menkhaus

Vienna, taught him about the Prussian constitution of 1850. Eventually, the law
school at the University of Tokyo added a third sub-department for German
law, in addition to the two sub-departments in U.S. and French law. Table 1
lists the German lawyers who were in Japan at this time either as lecturers at
universities or as legal advisors to the government.
To date, research on these individuals has been limited, and many questions
remain unanswered (Menkhaus 2013: 71–85). Nevertheless, there is sufficient
documentation on some of these scholars to enable an analysis of their im-
pressions of Meiji Japan. I will discuss two of these lawyers, Georg Michaelis
and Albert Isaac Mosse, paying special attention to the letters they wrote to
family and friends, as well as to their diaries (Ishii 1995; Becker 2001).2

German Lawyers in Japan: Albert Isaac Mosse and Georg Michaelis

Albert Isaac Mosse served as a judicial advisor (naikaku komon) to the Japanese
government from 1886 until 1890. During this time, he was primarily engaged
in drafting the constitution and the necessary laws for its execution, such as
the election and budget laws, laws on administration on the local and prefec-
tural level, laws on administrative and civil procedure, documents relating to
treaty revision, police matters, and other legal areas. Initially, the Japanese gov-
ernment asked Mosse’s advisor, the aforementioned Rudolf von Gneist, to act
as a consultant and lecturer in Japan. Von Gneist refused the position, however,
recommending his student Mosse instead.
Georg Michaelis taught a special course in German law from 1885–1889 at
the Association of German Studies, which the Meiji government subsidized.
On occasion the government also asked Michaelis to render other services,
including the translation from German to English of a copy of the code of
civil procedure that had been prepared by another German, Eduard Hermann
Robert Techow (1838–1909; see Schenck 1997: 291–93). Michaelis likewise as-
sisted with the preparation of a law on hunting because he happened to be
familiar with the sport. Michaelis established connections with Japan while
he was in Germany, where he became acquainted with the Japanese diplo-
matic representative in Berlin, Aoki Shūzō (1844–1914). Michaelis received his
doctorate degree at the University of Göttingen, where he studied with Rudolf
von Jhering (1818–1892). He arranged one of Jehring’s widely lauded books,

2 References in the following section refer to Ishii 1995 (the original letters are accessible
on the homepage of the Leo Baeck-Institute New York/Berlin, see http://digital.cjh.org; on
Michaelis, see Becker 2001.
 Images Of Japan Held By German Legal Experts 185

Table 6.1 German Law Experts in Japan

Names Birth and Death Dates Time in Japan

(month/day included when (month/day included when
known) known)

Johannes Ernst Bergmann May 17, 1845–? January 1, 1887–August 1889

Ernst Delbrück June 4, 1858–March 30, 1933 1887–1889
Felix Delbrück January 1, 1859–January 1, 1887–1889
1924
Ludwig Her(r)mann Lönholm August 12, 1854–? 1889–1913
Georg Michaelis September 8, 1857–July October 13, 1885–August 18,
24,1936 1889;
May 8, 1922–June 10, 1922
Albert Isaac Mosse October 1, 1864–May 31, 1925 May 8, 1886–April 2, 1890
Heinrich Mosthaf 1854–1933 April 13, 1891–June 1894
Otfried Nippold May 21, 1864–July 6,1938 1889–1892
Karl Friedrich Her(r)mann December 18, 1834–December December 23, 1878–May 1893
Roesler 2,1894
Karl Rudolph March 26, 1841–May 5, 1915 1883–1887
Otto Rudorff December 9, 1845–December 1884–1890
22, 1922
Theodor Hermann Sternberg January 5, 1878–April 17, 1950 September 1913–April 17, 1950
Eduard Her(r)mann Robert August 25, 1838–January 25, 1883–1887
Techow 1909
Heinrich Weipert June 12, 1856–April 4, 1905 1886–1889
Johannes Wernicke 1863–? 1892–?

Der Kampf ums Recht, to be translated into Japanese and also found a widely-
known scholar of European philosophy to do the actual translation—Nishi
Amane (1829–1897).

Impressions of Japanese Legal Culture

During their sojourns in Japan Michaelis and Mosse would have been able to
deliberate on the legal culture of the late Edo or Tokugawa period (1603–1868)
and to observe the process through which Western legal ideas were being in-
troduced into Japan. Yet, they would have been unable to experience first-hand
186 Menkhaus

the actual implementation and enforcement of any such laws, since they left
the country before the majority were enacted. Moreover, it would have gener-
ally been quite difficult for both men to understand much about the Japanese
legal system due to their lack of knowledge of spoken and written Japanese.
Even after years in Japan, they admitted that they had not studied the language
sufficiently (Becker 2001: 128, 531; Ishii 1995: 106). Michaelis even ridiculed for-
eigners who learned Japanese, including the official translators of the German
diplomatic corps in Japan, saying that they had become crazy to their training
in the language. He was making particular reference to Peter Kempermann,
R. Gebauer, Ferdinand Krien, and H. Stannius (Becker 2001: 161). Their living
arrangements also isolated them somewhat from Japanese society. Michaelis
resided in an upscale residential area close to the outer moat of Tokyo Castle,
a district known for its many geisha houses; his impressive residence had been
especially built for foreign tenants and was surrounded by a grand European-
style garden. Mosse lived in the house of Ōkubo Toshimichi—a member of
the Japanese oligarchy assassinated in 1878 (on Ōkubo, see Iwata 1964)—that
was located in the center of the Tokyo’s government district. Both would have
had a number of servants living in separate housing on the grounds, who man-
aged their daily affairs. The men’s social interactions were mainly restricted
to members of the Japanese elite, who Michaelis referred to as “Europeanized
Japanese,” or their fellow countrymen and other foreign employees of the
Japanese government who belonged to the upper classes in their respective
home countries. This distancing from Japanese society at large was further
magnified by their salaries, which were vast compared to those of Japanese
government ministers.
Although Michaelis and Mosse were tasked with studying the Japanese legal
system, their attempts to do so often proved fruitless. Mosse, for example, was
charged with writing the laws for the local administration, for which he made
a couple of study trips around the country. However, in most cases his schedule
and who he met were decided upon in advance, and typically he only met local
government officials who at times went to extremes to showcase their regions.
On one occasion, Mosse recounted that some local officials built “Potemkin
villages” for his visit (Ishii 1995: 158). The two men’s efforts were equally hin-
dered by the difficulties in communicating. They remark that many translators
were not adequately familiar with government on the local level, and therefore
could not understand what was being said or were able to translate accurately.
Both Michaelis and Mosse repeatedly expressed their frustration at the lack of
foreign language abilities among the Japanese (Becker 2001: 103; Ishii 1995: 158),
the slowness, stubbornness, and unwillingness of their conversation partners
(Becker 2001: 164, Ishii 1995: 148, 158), in addition to the translators’ complete
lack of knowledge (Becker 2001: 161, 490; Ishii 1995: 172, 310).
Images Of Japan Held By German Legal Experts 187

With such obstacles it is not surprising that Mosse never published his find-
ings on the legal system of the regional Japanese government that he was sup-
posed to have studied so thoroughly. Michaelis wrote only one paper on the
topic, but only after he became a member of the board of the German East
Asiatic Society (Deutsche Gesellschaft für Natur- und Völkerkunde Ostasiens,
OAG) and was asked to contribute to its lecture series. The lecture manuscript
was then published in the OAG’s proceedings (Michaelis 1888). In the paper he
openly admitted that he had his students prepare the draft, since they had an
understanding of the German language.

Legal Culture of the Late Tokugawa Regime

In order to gain insight into Michaelis’s and Mosse’s views of Japan we must
turn to their letters and diaries. Both commented on Japanese social customs
and mores, but it is clear that their observations were often colored by their
Eurocentric attitudes. They praised what they perceived as the “politeness” of
the Japanese. Michaelis noted that serious crime was reportedly rare in Japan
and that murder was almost non-existent; however, he does remark that the
shoplifting of cheap items was a frequent occurrence (Becker 2001: 101). The
two men also observed that jinrikisha drivers would bow to each other and
ask for forgiveness following a collision, rather than arguing over who was to
blame (ibid.: 101 Ishii 1995: 176). Michaelis similarly recounted a case involv-
ing a drunken soldier who struck the wheel of a jinrikisha carrying a German
with his sword. The soldier was taken into custody and his relatives visited the
German victim to apologize for the transgression (Becker 2001: 101). In another
instance, Michaelis praised the Japanese custom of gift giving (ibid.: 174–75).
Following the birth of a daughter to a German friend, the family was presented
with a lobster and an oyster. Michaelis understood that the oyster symbolized
the unknown future and the lobster for a life so long that one’s back is bent
with age. Finally, Michaelis makes the observation that Japanese youth wore
their hair short in order to prevent head lice, that the architecture was built so
as to withstand frequent earthquakes, and that the people consumed rice, not
meat, because it was thought that a meat diet was unsuitable to the demands
of daily work (ibid.: 145).
Both Michaelis and Mosse were nevertheless constrained by their inability
to think outside of their own Western/European moral framework. This often
resulted in them viewing Japan negatively; generally speaking they felt the
Japanese lacked any form of morals. Michaelis was particularly shocked that
husbands maintained second “wives” in their households and that marriages
could be easily nullified (ibid.: 101). He wrote disapprovingly of seeing streets
188 Menkhaus

with tranquil temples (and cemeteries) on one side, while brothels operated
on the other. Moreover, it bothered him that a man could marry a woman
from the pleasure quarters with impunity (ibid.). Michaelis was likewise unim-
pressed by the long history and lineage of the imperial family, because he knew
that the practice of adoption was widely used in Japan (ibid.: 444). They fre-
quently derided the nakedness of people in the fields and streets of rural areas
(ibid.: 379, 484) and claimed that merchants constantly betrayed other people,
especially foreigners (ibid.: 114; Ishii 1995: 130). In their criticisms of Japan, it is
curious that neither Michaelis nor Mosse considered the possibility that many
of the differences noted above, which in their minds were the result of a “lack
of morals,” were actually part of a moral framework that diverged from Europe
and had evolved in an entirely divergent social and cultural context.

Process of Legal Reception

Another issue that Michaelis and Mosse discussed in their letters and diaries
was the process of legal education and the reception of law. Both men were
deeply convinced of the importance of their work in Japan. Central to this view
was a conservative approach to the adoption of Western culture, including the
legal system. For example, they urged the Japanese more than once to study
their own history carefully, to preserve their existing culture, and to be selec-
tive in their adoption of new legal models from foreign countries.
Such attitudes are reflected in their praise for the traditional Japanese ki-
mono and their criticism of Japanese women who adopted Western-style dress
or participated in Western-style social dances (Becker 2001: 157–58, 404–5).
They similarly criticized officials and politicians who advocated the wholesale
adoption of Western legal models, without first considering whether it would
be suitable for their situation (Ishii 1995: 209–10). Michaelis went so far as to
describe the members of government as “reform maniacs” (Becker 2001: 391).
This may have been why he chose the history of criminal law as the subject for
his lecture at the German East Asiatic Society in 1888. They also criticized the
fact that ordinary Japanese were granted rights without first actually having
an understanding of the concept of “rights” (ibid.: 182; Ishii 1995: 305). As such,
they described the Japanese as being unprepared for the parliament that the
Meiji constitution was supposed to establish (Becker 2001: 182, 391; Ishii 1995:
210, 305).
Michaelis and Mosse were skeptical about whether the Japanese elite would
be able to accept fully the new system of laws that they were attempting to
implement. Mosse wrote, for example, that although properly functioning
Images Of Japan Held By German Legal Experts 189

societies required constant work, the Japanese elite seemed to work very
little, and he remarked that they appreciated work only when done by oth-
ers (ibid.: 196). The overall political situation unsettled Mosse. He described
the leading political figures as blatant liars (ibid.: 240, 345) and expressed
worry that deliberations on the new laws were being delayed by the constant
changes of government leaders. He was particularly upset by the repeated elec-
tions of the prime ministers Itō Hirobumi and Kuroda Kiyotaka (1840–1900)
(ibid.: 344, 357, 371). Mosse questioned who was responsible for the constant
shifts in government (ibid.: 343, 357) and inferred that it could not be the em-
peror because he was a puppet of the Meiji government. He surmised that
the leaders of the four former feudal domains—Chōshū, Hizen, Tosa, and
Satsuma—responsible for the Meiji Restoration must be pulling the strings
(ibid.: 357). He also wondered if the introduction of a mixture of legal ideas
from different countries would be effectual (ibid.: 322). Finally, Michaelis and
Mosse were very concerned about the vanity exhibited by the members of
the educated Japanese elite and the exaggerated opinion they held of them-
selves (Becker 2001: 164, 540; Ishii 1995: 227 f, 427, 484). In general, both did
not expect that Japan’s future would be bright (Becker 2001: 164, 175; Ishii 1995:
422, 484).

Conclusion

The views of German legal experts in Japan are in one sense revealing about the
introduction of Western legal systems into the country at a time of great social
and political upheaval. As seen in the cases of Michaelis and Mosse, however,
their views were quite narrow, due no doubt to diverse factors, including their
youth and their lack of Japanese language skills. Furthermore, their attitudes
were influenced by their ideas of German cultural and legal superiority. This
resulted in them becoming impatient with the reluctance often encountered
from the Japanese side. This reluctance was, in part, a consequence of the fact
that the Meiji Restoration was still ongoing, and its success was still far from
clear. In addition, Michaelis and Mosse also feared that their future careers in
Germany might be judged on the basis of their achievements in Japan, and this
most likely accounts for their particularly harsh criticisms of Japanese society.
Yet, it is unfortunate that the two men chose to spent so much time with their
countrymen instead of engaging further in Japanese studies. Had they done so,
we would most likely have a better understanding today of the mechanisms of
the Meiji Restoration and the introduction of Western legal systems into Japan
during that period.
190 Menkhaus

References

Becker, Bert (2001) (ed.): Georg Michaelis: ein preußischer Jurist im Japan der Meiji-Zeit:
Briefe, Tagebuchnotizen, Dokumente 1885–1889. Munich: Iudicium.
Brauneder, Wilhelm and Nishiyama Kaname (1992) (eds.): Lorenz von Steins
‘Bemerkungen über Verfassung und Verwaltung’ von 1889 zu den Verfassungsarbeiten
in Japan. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang.
Felbert, Yoshimi Leonore von (2014): Die Wahrnehmung Japans in britischer und
deutschsprachiger Reiseliteratur 1878–1946. Munich: Iudicium
Freitag, Adolf (1939): “Die Japaner im Urteil der Meiji-Deutschen,” Mitteilungen
der Deutschen Gesellschaft for Natur- und Völkerkunde Ostasiens, Band 31, Teil C,
pp. 1–144.
Günther, Christine C. (1988): Aufbruch nach Asien. Kulturelle Fremde in der deutschen
Literatur um 1900. Munich: Iudicium.
Hahn, Erich J. (1995): Rudolf von Gneist 1816–1895. Ein politischer Jurist in der Bismarckzeit.
Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann.
Hardach-Pinke, Irene (1990): “Die Entstehung des modernen Japan und seine
Wahrnehmung durch den Westen,” in Irene Hardach-Pinke (ed.), Japan—eine andere
Moderne. Tübingen: Konkursbuch, pp. 11–36.
Idditti, Junesay (1956): Marquis Shigenobu Okuma—A Biographical Study in the Rise of
Democratic Japan. Tokyo: Hokuseidō Press.
Ishii Shiro, Ernst Lokowandt, and Sakai Yukichi (1995) (eds.): Albert und Lina Mosse:
Fast wie mein eigen Vaterland. Briefe aus Japan 1886–1889. Munich: Iudicium.
Iwata Masakazu (1964): Ōkubo Toshimichi: The Bismarck of Japan. Berkeley: University
of California Press.
Mathias-Pauer, Regine (1984): “Deutsche Meinungen zu Japan—Von der
Reichsgründung bis zum Dritten Reich,” in Josef Kreiner (ed.), Deutschland—Japan.
Historische Kontakte. Bonn: Bouvier, pp. 115–40.
Menkhaus, Heinrich (2011): Dokkyō Universität und Vermittlung deutschen Rechts in
Japan. http://www.dokkyo.ac.jp/kokuse/pdf/2011/menkhaus_all.pdf
Menkhaus, Heinrich (2013): “Deutsche Juristen in Japan während der Meiji-Zeit.
Probleme bei der wissenschaftlichen Aufarbeitung ihrer Arbeit in Japan,” in Shin
Yu-Cheol (ed.), Rezeption europäischer Rechte in Ostasien. Seoul: Bobmunsa, pp.
71–85.
Michaelis, Georg (1888): “Beitrag zur Kenntnis der Geschichte des Japanischen
Strafrechts,” Mittheilungen der Deutschen Gesellschaft für Natur- und Völkerkunde
Ostasiens 38, pp. 351–77.
Pekar, Thomas (2003): Der Japan-Diskurs im westlichen Kulturkontext (1860–1920):
Reiseberichte-Literatur-Kunst. Munich: Iudicium.
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Schaffers, Uta (2004): “Das Gespräch mit den Daheim-Gebliebenen: Briefe aus Japan,”
OAG Notizen 1, pp. 10–27.
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Rechts- und Verfassungswesens: Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag.
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Reiseberichten 1854–1900. Vienna: Praesens.
Schubert, Ingrid (1977): China und Japan in der deutschen Literatur 1890–1925. Tübingen:
A. Francke.
Takii Kazuhiro (1998) (ed.): Lorenz von Steins Arbeiten für Japan, Österreichisch-
japanische Rechtsbeziehungen. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang.
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Zinbun 34, pp. 107–26.
Takii Kazuhiro (2014): Itō Hirobumi—Japan’s First Prime Minister and Father of the Meiji
Constitution. London and New York: Routledge.
 CHAPTER 7

Japan in Early Twentieth-century European Picture

Postcards

Peter Pantzer

More than twenty years ago, I was browsing through a book on the history of
the Meiji period (1868–1912) when a particular portrait caught my eye in the
chapter on the Russo-Japanese War (1904–1905). It was an image of General
Nogi Maresuke (1849–1912), the famous commander-in-chief of the Japanese
armed forces at the Seige of Port Arthur from August 1904 to January 1905.
What caught my attention, however, was a postcard next to the portrait. The
caption stated that the card had been sent to General Nogi by the German em-
peror Wilhelm II (1859–1941), who offered his congratulations on the Japanese
victory. The card had been sent from Germany and was simply addressed “To
Field Marshal Nogi, War Theater, Asia” (Kriegsschauplatz, Asien). I marveled
at how effective the postal service in those days must have been. Even with
this vague address the message praising the General’s military actions seems to
have been successfully delivered. The postcard had subsequently found its way
into the Nogi archives, and was later added to the collection of the Chōfu City
Museum in Yamaguchi Prefecture. Nogi’s hometown was Chōfu.
However, when I considered the origins of the postcard further, a number
of questions came to mind. Why would the German emperor send a postcard
to General Nogi? Would he not instead have had a formal letter delivered to
Nogi through the Foreign Ministry or the Ministry of War? Would he have dis-
patched a message in this manner in the first place? After all, Wilhelm II was
the cousin of the Russian tsar, who opposed the Japanese in this war, and the
Kaiser’s hostile attitude toward Japan was no secret. But these questions were
soon answered when I examined the postcard more closely. The sender was, in
fact, not the Kaiser himself, but the “Kaiser-Wilhelm-Freundeskreis,” a circle of
“fans” of the Kaiser. Perhaps this fan club had been enjoying themselves over a
few glasses of beer or wine and decided to dispatch a message to the celebrated
Japanese commander?
After I informed the museum of the true identity of the sender, it lost some
of its presumed “importance.” Nevertheless, the card is still a meaningful his-
torical source because it demonstrates European perceptions of Japan at a time
when popular interest in the country peaked. This popular interest was in part
due to the great media coverage the Russo-Japanese War received. In addition,

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Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 193

Figure 7.1 “Here is a dear little Jappy girl who wants to join your collection of pretty cards,” from
the series Japland. Published by Raphael Tuck & Sons, London. Printed in Germany
and posted in Newcastle, England, August 14, 1901.

the anecdote highlights the prominent role of postcards and picture postcards
in early twentieth-century society, and the role they played in spreading im-
ages of Japan in Europe.

Postcards as a Vehicle of Communication and as Carriers of Images

Postcards are mass-produced consumer goods, and as a result they have not
been accorded a high academic value (fig. 7.1). Libraries and museums rarely
collected them. Their value as historical sources has similarly been slighted,
with their coverage primarily the domain of non-academic publications, most-
ly written from a rather nostalgic perspective (Hosoma 2006; Tomita 2005).
The Museum of Fine Arts in Boston is one of the few institutions to hold a sig-
nificant collection of picture postcards; it has organized exhibitions and pub-
lished catalogues on the subject (Nishimura Morse et al. 2004). Apart from this
institution, postcards from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries are mostly
in private hands.1

1 Unless otherwise stated, this study draws from the postcards in the author’s collection.
194 Pantzer

Although today the postcard has been replaced by more expedient meth-
ods of communication, it is still primarily used to send messages from scenic
holiday destinations such as seaside and ski resorts. A report by the Austrian
union of publishers, for example, indicated that more than thirty million pic-
ture postcards had been printed and sold to tourists in Austria in 2012 alone
(Anonymous 2013).
A century earlier, when other media and forms of communication were
not yet available, the significance of the postcard was even greater (Pantzer
1985; 2000). At that time, people used this popular invention in large numbers
and with growing enthusiasm. Ōmura [Omura] Jintarō, a Japanese observer
in Berlin at the turn of the century, testified to what he called the “cult of pic-
ture postcards” in his book Tokyo–Berlin: Von der japanischen zur deutschen
Kaiserstadt (Tokyo–Berlin: From the Japanese to the German Imperial
Capital). Ōmura described dozens of shops selling postcards in the streets of
the German capital:

The consumption of picture postcards amounts to millions. There is a

special industry dedicated entirely to producing these cards. Instead of
writing a letter, one buys such cards, adds the address, and sends them
out to remind others of one’s existence. A splendid institution! (Omura
1903: 225)

Picture postcards were a common form of media from the late nineteenth to
the early twentieth centuries, and as such they shed light on modes of com-
munication in modernizing societies. Postcards also reveal the cultural images
held by people of a country, including the images of different countries and
peoples.
As the popularity of postcards increased, people questioned their pros and
cons, as well as the morality of their use—that is, short informal texts versus
the longer, at that time more socially acceptable, texts of letters. Some worried
that issues of privacy would be compromised because the messages written
on postcards could be easily seen and read. Others believed that the emer-
gence of the postcard would sound the death knell for traditional letters be-
cause if a small rectangular piece of paper was sufficient to transmit messages,
why would anyone continue to use letter-writing paper and compose letters?
Eventually, the market regulated itself, and the fear that paper mills would lose
money as a result of the popularity of postcards lasted only a few years.
Initially, in the 1860s, postcards were completely plain. One side was re-
served for the address and the other for the message. But eventually the idea
of printing pictures on one side of the card—the “picture postcard”—be-
came fashionable. Perhaps one reason for the popularity of the new format
Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 195

was that it made it easier for individual expression: senders could compose
a short, concise message without feeling that they had perhaps not written
enough.
Postcards are today typically employed for only a few occasions, such as
holidays, business trips, birthdays, or season’s greetings. Yet, at the time of
their invention in the late nineteenth century they were also utilized for other
purposes, and on a daily basis (fig. 7.2). Postcards allowed fast, efficient com-
munication almost around the clock. In larger cities, letters and postcards were
delivered four to six times a day, and the addressee could be reached within
hours, proof of which can be seen on the postmarks on postcards from the pe-
riod. This was especially useful in an era without telephones or mobile phones.
Sending a message in the morning meant that it would arrive before or around
noon, and a reply to the sender would often arrive by the early afternoon. It
was not unusual that an invitation for dinner sent in the morning resulted in
a reply saying “Yes, I will attend” or “No, unfortunately today I have a previous
engagement,” and that this reply would still be early enough to allow necessary
preparations to be made for the same evening.

Figure 7.2 Untitled. A small sheet of paper attached to the picture in the upper right is inscribed
with characters intended to look “Japanese.” The female sender opened it and wrote
inside “Marie Supantschitsch in 3 Posen (in three poses)”; sent from an Austrian
town to Munich, July 22, 1900. The image is a creped print (chirimen-e) with a design
signed Utamaro hitsu (Brush of Utamaro); it was most probably produced in Japan
by order of a German company because on the address side and next to the Japanese
print is the German description “Correspondenz-Karte.”
196 Pantzer

Japanese Motifs on European Postcards: The “Japanese Girl”

It is possible to determine the frequency and speed with which postcards were
sent and received from their stamps and postmarks—cards were postmarked
both at their place of origin as well as at the post office responsible for their de-
livery. The many possible uses of postcards resulted in an enormous demand.
Publishers had to meet the challenges of providing interesting, diverse motifs
and designs to guarantee continued consumption. In the search for an ever-
increasing repertory of motifs for the picture postcard, “exotic” locations such
as Japan became increasingly popular. Japan-related motifs became a favorite
in postcard imagery and were employed for a variety of different occasions.
One card sent from regional Bavarian town of Ansbach to Munich, for instance
(fig. 7.3), depicted the cast of the comic opera “The Mikado,” which was com-
posed by Arthur Sullivan (1842–1900), written by W. S. Gilbert (1836–1911), and
performed for the first time in London in 1885. Set in Japan, “The Mikado”
met with great critical acclaim; the first German performance was in Munich
in 1886.
Cards featuring Japan-related images were marketed throughout Europe,
and the most commonly encountered Japanese subjects were Japanese

Figure 7.3 Gruss aus Ansbach (Greetings from Ansbach), illustrating three “little maids,”
thereby making a connection to the town where the card was posted. October 30,
1899.
Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 197

women, followed by children. Such stereotyped images cast the Japanese iden-
tity as feminine, child-like, cute, and lovely. The variations on this theme were
endless: girls with fans, with umbrellas, with paper lanterns, with flower bas-
kets, with a pet or playing music, or depicted writing some kind of greeting
for nearly every occasion. Whether or not this Japanese imagery was “realistic”
seemed of little concern to the designers producing them. For them and their
audiences, the imagined was far more attractive and essential than any notion
of accurate portrayal (figs. 7.4–7.7).
Japanese themed representations were employed for almost any purpose
and occasion, including season’s greetings. For example, it was not rare to
find a German postcard illustrating a Japanese woman extending a New Year’s
greeting (fig. 7.8). The fact that the New Year holiday was also a significant
holiday in Japan only made the image more concrete in the minds of many
Germans at the period. Another postcard depicted a young woman dressed
in kimono holding mistletoe in her hand, pointing at horseshoes and clover
leaves. Some postcards even featured Japanese women wishing “Fröhliche
Ostern” (Happy Easter), “Frohe Weihnachten” (Merry Christmas), and even
“Fröhliche Pfingsten” (Happy Pentecost) (fig. 7.9). Compositions such as these
might be seen as pure kitsch to us as twenty-first century observers, but at the
time they had a wide appeal, and were printed and sold in their thousands.

Where Are the Men?

While portrayals of Japanese women on early twentieth-century picture post-

cards abounded, those limning Japanese men were scarce. The almost total
absence of Japanese men as a postcard subject is enough to make a contem-
porary observer wonder whether it was not Japanese men who suffered the
greater discrimination by being ignored on European postcards. The images
of Japanese men that did appear show them in the company of wives or girl-
friends; they are seen as harmless, obedient, and domesticated (fig. 7.10).
European postcards illustrating Japanese men alone are rare. The only sin-
gle images of men that I have unearthed were part of a series issued by the
reputable English publishing company Raphael Tuck & Sons, and circulated
throughout Europe. This series illustrated of male heads, their faces assuming
various facial expressions. Next to each head on the card was a speech bubble
with a line that corresponded with the facial expression, such as “Es ist zu spät”
(It is too late) or “Ich weiß sehr wohl” (I know very well). The sender would
then add the remainder of the message.
 198

Figure 7.4–5 Two untitled postcards: Berlin to Reinickendorf, April 11, 1901 (left) and within Munich, December 31, 1900 (?)
(right). Both postcards were sent and delivered the same day.
Pantzer
 Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards
199

Figure 7.6–7 Two untitled postcards from Cilli (present-day Celje, Slovenia) to Baden near Vienna. February 27, 1900.
200 Pantzer

Figure 7.8 Glückliches Neujahr! 1903, from Theresienstadt (present-

day Terezin, Czech Republic) to Krems an der Donau.
December 31, 1902. Design by Alfred Mailick (1869–1946).

One exception to this dearth of the Japanese male image on European pic-
ture postcards was the depiction of the Japanese soldier. The emergence of
this image was most likely due to the increased attention Japan received after
its military successes in the Sino-Japanese War (1894–1895), the Boxer War in
China (1899–1900), and the Russo-Japanese War (1904–1905). Postcards also
showed portraits of Japanese troop commanders and famous statesmen (see
Inaba and Saaler 2005).
Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 201

Figure 7.9 Fröhliche Pfingsten (Happy Pentecost). Unused, ca. 1900.

Picture postcards rendering military battles were vital in shaping the public’s
image of Japan and East Asia. The production of postcards with depictions of
battle scenes would appear only a few days after newspapers and magazines
reported on the battles in the Far East. These served as up-to-date pictorial
reports, filling a gap created by the technical limitations of newspapers that,
during this era, could not yet offer printed and photographic visual depictions
of the war. Illustrated weekly journals such as the Leipziger Illustrirte Zeitung
were available, but unlike postcards they did not issue images in color. The
202 Pantzer

Figure 7.10 Untitled postcard from Stockerau in Lower Austria to Vienna. February 10, 1905.
Mailed and delivered on the same day.

postcard offered information in both text and image, and at the same time it
played a communicative role, enabling the sender to demonstrate that they
were au fait with current political events.
The postcard industry reacted swiftly to meet the demands of consumers
and to take advantage of growing public interest. Postcards were also produced
for export, and were circulated in countries like France and Britain. Success in
exporting picture postcards was furthered by the fact that only minor differenc-
es existed in the European attitudes toward Japan, apart from Japan’s enemy
in the 1904–1905 war, Russia, and, to a certain degree, Russia’s ally France
(fig. 7.11). In order to make export easier, many postcards were produced in
“multilingual” versions (fig. 7.12). Even the inclusion of satirical word play did
not hamper postcards’ cross-border appeal, since the cartoonist’s illustrations
were in most cases creative enough to traverse boundaries.
Many European countries sympathized with Japan in the Russo-Japanese
War. Britain was Japan’s ally under the Anglo-Japanese Alliance of 1902, and thus
had mostly pro-Japanese views. Hungarian and Polish nationalists, as well as
socialists all over Europe, who all held deep-seated anti-tsarist sentiment, were
united in their support for Japan. Only a minority held the view that Russia was
standing up to defend Western Christian culture against the “Yellow Peril”—
the perceived threat of a modernized Japan leading the populous countries
of East Asia to war against the European powers (see the introduction and
Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 203

Figure 7.11 Der Russisch-Japanische Krieg (The Russo-Japanese War), mailed from Leipzig
to Brussels, March 7, 1904 (the war began on February 8, 1904). German picture
postcard, printed in Leipzig (Druck u. Verlag Bruno Bürger & Ottillie, Lith. Anst.).

Figure 7.12 Les Japonais detruisent la voie ferrée en Mandchouri/Beschädigung der

Mandschurischen Eisenbahn durch die Japaner (Damage to the Manchurian
Railway by the Japanese). German picture postcard, printed in Breslau
(Schlesische Lichtdruck-Anstalt). Unused, 1904. Design by Henri Edmond Rudaux
(1870–1927).
204 Pantzer

Figure 7.13
David und Goliath, unused,
1904. Published by Raphael
Tuck & Sons (London),
printed for circulation in
Germany. Design by G. E.
Shepheard (dates unknown).

ch. 5 in this volume). As the Russo-Japanese War continued, the enthusiasm

for Japan grew.
The perception in Austria and Germany was generally neutral. Aside from
the familial relationship between the German emperor and the Russian tsar
as cousins, neither Germany nor Austria was involved in the armed conflict
in the Far East or allied to either side. The depictions of the war in these two
countries were neither overly heroic nor derogative. However, with the grow-
ing number of reports about Japanese victories and Japanese advances during
the war, sympathy gradually turned toward Japan and her brave, courageous
soldiers. Russia was the Goliath to Japan’s David, the plucky underdog who
became the crowd favorite (figs. 7.13 & 7.14).
Also noteworthy is the manner of rendition. Rather than simply illustrate
battle scenes or fighting soldiers, many postcards chose to portray the war
Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 205

Figure 7.14 “Japanese Army” Infantry, date illegible (ca. 1904). Addressed to Ruthin in north
Wales. Published by C. W. Faulkner & Co, London.

humorously. Although this might initially have been a way of avoiding bias,
eventually, and more usually, the Japanese side was depicted in a more favor-
able light. Hugo Hantsch (1895–1972), a history professor at the University of
Vienna, recounted a personal anecdote in one of his lectures to students that
confirms this trend to see Japan more positively. As a boy, he said that instead
of playing “cops and robbers,” boys played war “Russians and Japanese.” And,
he recalls, everyone wanted to be on the Japanese side (figs. 7.15 & 7.16).
The general public likewise seems to have been attracted to more comic
depictions of the situation vis-à-vis politics and international relations in the
Far East. One example is seen in the set of five French cards, three of which
were mailed from Paris to Lisbon on July 25, 1904, entitled “Œufs brouillés”
(Scrambled Eggs), in which the Russians and the Japanese begin by tossing raw
eggs at each other (“Face á face”; no. 1) and end with their complete exhaus-
tion, with both factions submerged in a yellow (!) sea of broken eggs (“Après la
bataille”; no. 5) (figs. 7.17 & 7.18).
Depictions of belligerents could also border on the shocking and grotesque.
One postcard showed a Japanese soldier swallowing a Russian enemy, with half
of the body already in his mouth. Artists used such caricatures in an attempt
to make complex political situations easier for average viewers to comprehend
and to avoid showing clear bias. Another postcard that illustrated this was from
Austria, designed in 1904 by the versatile painter Ludwig Koch (1866–1934). It
206 Pantzer

Figure 7.15 Korea, China, Japan, and Russland. Untitled postcard (no. 5) from a series of six,
1904 (Austria?). Mailed in Vienna December 1, 1904.

Figure 7.16
What the “SEA SAW”, unused, 1904. S.
Hildesheimer & Co., London &
Manchester; printed in Saxony. Design
by William Henry Ellam (1858–1935).
Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 207

Figure 7.17–18 Two postcards from a set of five entitled Œufs brouillés, 1904. Design by
Robert Salles (1871–1929); publisher “O. E. P.” (Paris).
208 Pantzer

Figure 7.19 Postcard designed by Ludwig Koch; published by B. K. W. I (Brüder Kohn, Wien
[Vienna] I), no. 832–9.

pictures a Japanese soldier dancing with joy over his defeated Russian enemy
who is prostrate on the ground (fig. 7.19). The caption reads:

Japaner jauchzt, berauscht von Siegen

Der Russe muss am Boden liegen!
Doch wem dies Bildchen nicht gefällt,
Sieht hier uns Eck verkehrte Welt!”

The Japanese cheers, drunk from victory,

the Russian has to lie on the floor.
But whoever doesn’t like this image,
might turn it around for a different view of the world.

Indeed, when the card is turned ninety degrees to the right, the viewer sees a
reversed scene: now the Japanese soldier is lying on the ground, defeated, and
the Russian soldier appears to be the victor.

Back to Paradise

The image of the belligerent Japanese was short-lived. As soon as the war was
over, picture postcards returned to themes of Japanese women, including
Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 209

geisha. Subjects drawn from the natural world, such as chrysanthemums, cher-
ry blossoms, and other kinds of flowers were also popular in the depiction of
Japan on picture postcards. Often these themes appeared in combination with
beautiful women, which were portrayed within natural settings to create the
image of a paradisal Japan (figs. 7.20 & 7.21).
It was above all a constructed image of a “traditional” Japan that was con-
veyed on picture postcards. Consumers of picture postcards illustrating
Japanese themes wished to see representations that reinforced the image of a
traditional Japan rather than accepting the reality of a modernizing country.
Japan’s rise as a major power was seen as a disturbing development, and its
technological advancements were seen to be a regretful shake-up of the status
quo. The extensive use of picture postcards with themes and topics in quaint,
pastoral settings clearly expressed this desire to see Japan in a nostalgic light.
Consumers often purchased picture postcards of Japan at events host-
ed to promote this very image of a traditional and quaint Japan. One such
Japan-related event in Berlin was a social get-together called “Tokyo” orga-
nized by the Berlin Association of Book Printers and Type Founders (Verein
Berliner Buchdrucker und Schriftgießer), on February 4, 1905. A “Japanischer
Maskenball” (Japanese Masquerade Ball) was held in Vienna on January 22,
1907, and a “Riviera-Fest im Stadtpark” in a music hall and the surrounding
Stadtpark in Vienna on May 19, 1913 under the patronage of imperial princess
Zita of Bourbon-Parma (1892–1989). In February 1914, the Berlin Association
of Book Dealers (Verein Berliner Buchhändler) organized a special steamboat
trip, taking the guests to view cherry blossoms at a mock “Yokohama” located
on the outskirts of Berlin.2 Probably the most impressive festival of this kind
was orchestrated by the socialite Princess Pauline Metternich (1836–1921) on
three days in May 1901 in the former World Exposition building in the Vienna
Prater. Five thousand visitors enjoyed a “Japanisches Kirschblüthenfest”
(Japanese Cherry Blossom Festival). An astonishing 50,000 picture postcards
were sold during this festival, with some signed by the wife of the Japanese
ambassador to the Habsburg monarchy, Makino Nobuaki (1861–1949). Women
(and men!) at these social gatherings always appeared in what they assumed
was a close approximation to a Japanese kimono. Although the clothes were
usually either self-tailored or purchased in a Far East novelty store, newspa-
pers of the day reported that the women’s male companions were impressed.
Messages on postcards from the event also confirm this (figs. 7.22–7.24).

2 Postcard sent February 12, 1901 from Charlottenburg to Friedenau, “Winterfest des Vereins
Berliner Buchhändler. Eine Sonderfahrt zum Kirschblütenfest in Yokohama mit d.
Reichspostdampfer ‘Prinz Eitel Friedrich’ des Norddeutschen Lloyd Bremen.”
 210

Figure 7.20–21 Untitled postcards: mailed from Landshut (Bavaria) to Geilenkirchen (near Aachen), February 7, 1906
(left); mailed from Netzthal (province of Posen) to Deutsch Krone (Western Pomerania), June 30, 1910
(right).
Pantzer
Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 211

Figure 7.22
Chrysanthemen-Fest in Tokio,
August 15–16, 1903. Warnsdorf,
Austro-Hungarian monarchy;
mailed from Warnsdorf/Bohemia
(district of Teschen; present-day
Děčín, Czech Republic) to
Bautzen in Saxonia. It reads
(in translation): “From the
delightful festival … many
cordial greetings…”

Clouds Over Sunny Heavens

The cherry blossom viewing excursion to “Yokohama” near Berlin in February

1914 was not repeated the following year. War between Germany and Japan
erupted in the summer of 1914. Japan, an ally of Great Britain, entered World
War I and attacked Germany’s concession in China, Tsingtao (Qingdao) in
Shantung (Shandong) province. Austria did not possess any colonies in Asia,
and earlier, when Austrian ships visited Japan, they were welcomed as the
ship’s band performed European tunes to the public while the vehicle was
docked in harbor. However, with the outbreak of World War I the Austrian
cruiser “Kaiserin Elisabeth”—at that time in East Asian waters—was ordered
to join the German forces in Tsingtao. As a result of the conflict, the picture
postcard image of a Japanese paradise, which had dominated German and
Austrian postcards until 1914, disappeared almost overnight.
212 Pantzer

Figure 7.23–24 Riviera-Fest im Stadtpark. Vienna, May 19, 1913. Members of the Organizing
Committee; edited by Postkarten-Verlag “Bediene dich selbst” (Brüder
Kohn), Vienna (top); untitled postcard, mailed from Stolberg to Düren
(both Rhineland), October 24, 1906 (bottom). This card was released on the
occasion of a charity event; the money earned was donated to the sanatorium
on the Austrian Riviera in the Mediterranean for children suffering from lung
disease. The women participating in the “festival” had to dress in kimono.
Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 213

Figure 7.25 
Au schau! Ich klau/mir schlau/Kiau-tschau (Oh, look! Cleverly, I steal myself,
Kiaochow). Mailed from Berlin to Hamburg, October 21, 1914, with a private
message from one woman to another. The content of the message is unrelated to
the war in the Far East.

After two and a half months of fighting, the German and Austrian forces in
Tsingtao surrendered on November 7, 1914. “Kaiserin Elisabeth” fired a last
salute to its fallen comrades before its crew of three hundred men joined a
garrison of about 4,500 German soldiers and surrendered to the Japanese as
prisoners of war (see Krebs 1999). Compared to the brutal war that would un-
fold over the next four years in Europe, Tsingtao was a rather minor episode.
But the event did influence the mainstream German perception of Japan.
A number of “patriotic postcards” praising the conduct of the German
defenders of Tsingtao were published during the conflict. By contrast, the
Japanese side was portrayed in a very negative light. The alluring images of
geisha and other women in kimono were quickly replaced with portrayals of
the Japanese “enemy,” now represented by sly diplomats or brutal soldiers. One
such example depicts a Japanese army officer in a way that expressed the per-
ception of Japan as “untrustworthy” (fig. 7.25) and exemplifies German feelings
of “betrayal” by Japan. This sentiment was particularly pronounced because
Germany had made valuable contributions to Japan’s modernization, particu-
larly in the military field.3 In other postcards, Japan was vilified as a “Schuft”

3 See the introduction and ch. 8 in this volume.

214 Pantzer

Figure 7.26
Hi-Hi-Hi grinste das Scheusal
(Hee-Hee-Hee, Grinned This Monster
of a Man), unused, Berlin, 1914.
From the series Unsere Feinde
(Our Enemies).

(Scoundrel) or “Der gelbe Strauchdieb” (The Yellow Thief), depictions that also
reflect some of the racist sentiments of the time (figs. 7.26 & 7.27).
With the cessation of fighting in the Far East in November 1914, the aggressive
anti-Japanese propaganda in Germany came to a halt, but in the interim pub-
lishers and consumers had participated in a short, yet intensive, propaganda
war. However, once the High Command of the German military in Berlin real-
ized that the colonial stronghold of Tsingtao—at the core of Japanese-German
discord—would not be returned to Germany, the reason for reviling Japan dis-
appeared. By the end of 1915, anti-Japanese and “Yellow Peril” propaganda on
German picture postcards had gone, and in fact Germany had begun to har-
bor hopes for a separate peace treaty with Japan (Hayashima 1982). Although
this never materialized, the anti-Japanese propaganda postcard remained just
a short interlude in the history of German picture postcards imaging Japan.
Shortly after the war, the cozy images of a paradisal Japan resurfaced.
In Britain, developments took a different direction. During World War I,
Japan was depicted as a trusted ally on British postcards. The image of a
Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 215

Figure 7.27
Der gelbe Strauchdieb (The Yellow
Thief ), unused, Verlag J. Velten,
Karlsruhe, 1914.

beautiful woman in a kimono with the design of the Japanese flag and a blos-
soming cherry-tree in the background was meant to send a strong message
of Anglo-Japanese friendship (fig. 7.28). Yet, Japanese images in Britain would
also change dramatically within a few decades. During World War II, following
Japan’s attack on British colonies in Malaya and Singapore, British images of
Japan became extremely damaging.

Conclusion

Picture postcards were crucial as vehicles of communication during the early

twentieth century. While it is difficult to estimate the number of picture
postcards then in circulation, it was clearly sizable. This is because postcards
played a similar role in communication that the telephone would in later years.
Moreover, picture postcards allowed the sender to combine short messages
with personal taste, while also serving as the most efficient way of transmitting
216 Pantzer

Figure 7.28
Greetings From One of Your Fair
Allies, unused, Inter-Art Co., London,
ca. 1914.

pertinent or interesting news, and they were also popular due to their visual
nature and creative power. Printing companies quickly became aware of their
economic value and their ability to reach a vast audience, while consumers
benefitted from their low price and their convenience. At that time, the mail
was delivered up to four or six times a day in larger communities. Many fami-
lies also collected the cards they received and kept them in albums.
Picture postcards helped spread and solidify images of Japan in the popu-
lar European imagination. Japan occupied a key place within the diverse vi-
sual repertory created for the picture postcard. The encounter of Europeans
with Japan in their daily life is an exceptional tale in the history of European-
Japanese cultural exchange. Images of Japan featured prominently in the
European consciousness and spread with astonishing speed. German (and
European) picture postcards catered to the popular imagination by fulfilling
dreams of visiting an exotic, paradisal land, inspiring remembrances of child-
hood days, and depicting captivating beauties or the stereotypical image of
Japan In Early Twentieth-century European Picture Postcards 217

the geisha. They also glorified war heroes, and on occasion contributed to an-
ti-Japanese war propaganda. The emerging image of Japan—be it positive or
negative—was all too often superficial at best and usually clung on tightly to
established stereotypes. But it is exactly these types of images that can help us
better understand the intercultural encounters between Japan and the West
during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

References

Anonymous (2013): “Das Wetter ist schön, liebe Grüße,” Der Standard, July 19, Beilage
Rondo, p. 10.
Hayashima, Akira (1982): Die Illusion des Sonderfriedens: Deutsche Verständigungspolitik
mit Japan im Ersten Weltkrieg. Munich: Oldenbourg.
Hosoma Hiromichi (2006): E-hagaki no jidai. Tokyo: Seidosha.
Inaba Chiharu and Sven Saaler (eds.) (2005): Der Russisch-Japanische Krieg 1904/05 im
Spiegel deutscher Bilderbogen. Tokyo: Deutsches Institut für Japanstudien.
Krebs, Gerhard (1999): “Die etwas andere Kriegsgefangenschaft,” in Rüdiger Overmanns
(ed.), In der Hand des Feindes: Kriegsgefangenschaft von der Antike bis zum Zweiten
Weltkrieg. Cologne: Böhlau, pp. 323–37.
Nishimura Morse, Anne et al. (2004): Art of the Japanese Postcard. Boston: Museum of
Fine Arts Publications.
Omura [Ōmura] Jintaro (1903): Tokio-Berlin: von der japanischen zur deutschen
Kaiserstadt. Berlin: Ferd. Dümmlers Verlagsbuchhandlung.
Pantzer, Peter (1985): “Japan im Spiegel europäischer Ansichtskarten,” in: Japan—
Sprache, Kultur, Gesellschaft. Festschrift zum 85. Geburtstag von Alexander Slawik.
Vienna: Literas Universitätsverlag, pp. 157–88.
Pantzer, Peter (2000): “Geisha, yoru no otogibanashi. Yōroppa ni ryūfu shita no imēji
no e-hagaki,” Izu (Is. Panoramic magazine intellect & sensitivity), no. 84, pp. 25–39.
Tomita Shōji (2005): E-hagaki de miru Nihon kindai. Tokyo: Seidosha.
 Part 3
Drifting Apart: Tensions and War

∵
 CHAPTER 8

The Image of Germany in Japanese Politics and

Society, 1890–1914

Sven Saaler

On August 23, 1914, Funakoshi Mitsunojō (1867–1942), Japan’s chargé d’affaires

in Berlin, delivered the Japanese government’s ultimatum to the German
Reich: unless Germany demobilize its military forces in the Far East and hand
over to Japan the leased territory of Kiautschou (Kiaochow) on the Shantung
(Shandong) peninsula, including the city of Tsingtao (Qingdao), Japan would
consider itself at war with the Reich. Fourteen years later, in a speech to mark
the departure of Wilhelm Solf (1862–1936), Germany’s first post-World War I
ambassador to Japan, Funakoshi recalled the events surrounding the outbreak
of war between Japan and Germany in the summer of 1914:

The duty of handing our ultimatum to the Berlin government declar-

ing war on Germany fell upon my shoulders, and I performed that of-
ficial duty.… But I left Germany without any enmity toward the people
of Germany among whom I spent more years than I did with any other
people. The war was declared … because of our obligations under the
Anglo-Japanese Alliance. Our public had no enmity against Germany.
(Funakoshi 1928)

In the same issue of the daily Japan Times and Mail, Honda Kumatarō
(1874–1948), another former Japanese ambassador to Germany, wrote in a simi-
lar vein:

(W)e owe our modern culture much to Germany’s influence and there
are those who are dissatisfied with the Anglo-Saxon conception of in-
ternational relations. Those who are displeased with the tyranny of the
Anglo-Saxon countries … favor a German-Japanese cooperation.
The major part of Dr. Solf’s efforts in this country has been directed
toward the strengthening of the bond of the spiritual tie between the
two peoples and he has been amply rewarded with a glorious success.
Our love for German culture has doubled since the time of the World
War, while the number of organs for the study of German culture and

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_010

222 Saaler

sciences has greatly increased. We may say that no other nation entertains a
deeper respect and sympathy for Germany than our nation at present.
(Honda 1928)

Although Japan had gone to war with Germany in 1914, a great deal of sympa-
thy toward Germany, at least amongst Japanese politicians and diplomats, had
clearly remained. Many of Japan’s elite continued to regard Germany not only
as a model as they negotiated the road to modernization and Westernization,
but also as a kindred spirit with “spiritual ties.”
What lay behind this remarkable level of Japanese empathy with Germany—
a phenomenon that would grow to almost grotesque proportions in the propa-
ganda-laden atmosphere of the 1930s?1 Did the views expressed by Funakoshi
and Honda represent the attitudes of the Japanese political elite and of the
broader society, or were they simply expressions of the sentiments espoused
by a Germanophile group with limited influence? Were there other factions
that viewed Germany with skepticism, or did positive images of Germany
dominate Japanese public opinion in the years leading up to World War I?
This chapter attempts to answer these questions. After a brief overview of
the (not always friendly) relations between Japan and Germany in the period
from 1890 to the outbreak of the World War I in 1914, I will introduce the in-
dividuals, groups, and institutions that are considered representative of pro-
German views in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Japan. Finally,
using quantitative analysis of Japanese books and magazines and a qualitative
study of representative writings, I will examine whether the pro-German sym-
pathies expressed by diplomats like Funakoshi and Honda reflected wider at-
titudes toward Germany or whether they should be seen as illustrative of class
or professional interests.2

Japan and Germany, 1890–1914

Diplomatic ties between Japan and Germany date back to 1860/61, when the
Prussian expedition to East Asia led by Friedrich Albrecht Graf zu Eulenburg
(1815–1881) reached Japan. Its aim was to negotiate a treaty of friendship and
commerce with Japan (as well as with China and Siam) on behalf of the states

1 See, for example, the quotations by Walter Donat in the introduction, Donat 1943, and
chs. 12–14 in this volume.
2 The image of Japan in Germany in the period under consideration is outside of the scope of
this chapter. On this topic, see Mathias-Pauer 1984.
The Image Of Germany In Japanese Politics And Society, 1890–1914 223

belonging to the German Customs Union (Deutscher Zollverein, est. 1833), but
also the Hanseatic cities city states and the grand duchies of Mecklenburg.
Following protracted negotiations, Eulenburg succeeded in bringing about
the signing of the Prusso-Japanese Treaty of Amity and Commerce (Ger.
Freundschafts- und Handelsvertrag zwischen Preußen und Japan; Jp. Nippon-
koku Puroshia-koku Shūkō Tsūshō Jōyaku 日本国普魯士国修好通商条約) on
January 21, 1861, which would become the model for later treaties between
Japan and the German Reich (founded 1871).3
Unlike Britain and the United States, the German Reich initially had only
minor ambitions in the Far East (Wippich 1987). Accordingly, the establish-
ment of friendly relations with Japan was relatively unproblematic. Particularly
following the appointment of Germany’s second envoy to Japan, Karl von
Eisendecher (1875–1882), relations became much more intimate. Eisendecher’s
openness on the question of revising the “unequal treaties,” which Japan had
been forced to sign by the major Western powers and other states in the 1850s
and 1860s, earned him a great deal of respect in Japan (see Pantzer and Saaler
2007; Saaler 2016). Initially, Eisendecher strongly supported extraterritorial sta-
tus for German citizens as enshrined in the Prussian-Japanese Treaty of 1861.
In 1882, however, his voice was the most insistent of any member of the diplo-
matic corps in favoring preliminary negotiations on a revision of the treaties.4
His close relationship with Foreign Minister Inoue Kaoru (1836–1915) and other
prominent Japanese statesmen of the Meiji period (1868–1912) heralded the
“Golden Age” of Japanese-German relations (Nakai 2002; Mathias-Pauer 1984;
Saaler 2011; 2016). By the 1880s, the Japanese government was taking steps to
recruit Germans as teachers and advisors: a small army of academics, military
officers, engineers, and others arrived in Japan from Germany.5 They often
stayed for many years, helping to train the Japanese armed forces (Presseisen
1965), to develop Western medicine and the judicial system, and, significantly,
to influence the shape of the Japanese constitution promulgated in 1889 (Ando
2000; Takii 2007; see ch. 6 in this volume).

3 On the Eulenburg Mission, see Stahncke 2000; Stahncke 1987; Dobson and Saaler 2011; and
chs. 1 and 2 in this volume.
4 Extraterritoriality of foreigners in Japan was abolished 1899 and tariff autonomy was restored
in 1910.
5 See the report of Felix von Gutschmid to the Foreign Office, date January 23, 1879, in which he
mentions Japan’s plans to hire more Germans as advisors. Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen
Amtes (Political Archive of the German Foreign Office; hereafter cited as PAAA), R18602
(AA Abt. 1, Japan, Bd. 1/2, 1.1.1979 bis 31.12.1879).
224 Saaler

However, tensions began to emerge in 1895. In that year, German partici-

pation in the Triple Intervention against the Sino-Japanese Peace Treaty of
Shimonoseki produced anti-German sentiment in Japan. The German Reich
had joined Russia and France in opposing Japanese annexation of the Liaodong
peninsula in southern Manchuria following the Sino-Japanese War. As a re-
sult, Japan felt betrayed by Germany, the country it had hitherto regarded as
a benevolent teacher and friend (Wippich 1986; 1987). The racist notion of
the “Yellow Peril,” a perceived threat to Europe from a Sino-Japanese bloc
(see Gollwitzer 1962) and propagated in a personal campaign by Emperor
Wilhelm II (1859–1941), did nothing to mollify feelings in Japan (on the
Japanese reaction to Yellow Peril propaganda see Saaler 2007). This was de-
spite the fact that many newspapers and magazines pointed out that this was a
personal obsession on the part of the emperor and not shared by the German
media and the German people (e.g., Fujii 1908). While it was true that conse-
quential sectors of German society did not embrace the notion of a Yellow
Peril (Inaba and Saaler 2005; Saaler 2006; 2007; 2008), the Kaiser’s rhetoric did
considerable damage to Japanese-German relations. With the conclusion of
the Anglo-Japanese Alliance in 1902, the German government adopted a gener-
ally less favorable attitude toward Japan, in turn resulting in strong criticism of
Germany in that country. It is thus not surprising that the two countries even-
tually found themselves on opposing sides during World War I.

Germany as the Model for the Japanese Military

Despite fluctuating Japanese-German relations in the period under discussion,

a pro-German mood took root among a number of Japanese social groups; in
some cases, attitudes toward Germany were distinctly enthusiastic. The activi-
ties of German advisors and academics in Japan were one source of such at-
titudes, and the appeal of Germany to Japanese students extended to various
fields of national interest. Germanophile sentiments were particularly strong
in the military.
It is well known that the Imperial Japanese Navy was modeled on Britain’s
Royal Navy and that British influence outweighed that of Germany from
the outset. However, Japanese naval officers were also sent to German naval
colleges. The Imperial Princes Yamashina Kikumaro and Kachō (Kwachō)
Hiroyasu (Navy chief of staff under the adopted name Fushimi in the 1930s),
both studied at the German Imperial Naval Academy in Kiel in the early 1890s.
For the German Foreign Office, their admission to the academy represented
The Image Of Germany In Japanese Politics And Society, 1890–1914 225

a “favorable opportunity … to promote our interests in Japan.”6 The foreign

ministry was here referring to marketing opportunities for manufacturers of
naval artillery and equipment in Japan: companies like Siemens and Krupp
were heavily involved in arms trading with Japan.7 The Japanese side, too,
was genuinely grateful for Germany allowing the two princes to study at the
Kiel Academy, as illustrated in a personal letter to Wilhelm II from Emperor
Mutsuhito (Meiji), in which he expressed his gratitude.8
The pro-German faction in the Imperial Japanese Army, however, was more
significant and more influential than that within the Navy in national politics.
Until around 1880, the Army had subscribed to the French model. After that
date, high-ranking Japanese officers made repeated visits to Germany, while
German advisors taught at the Imperial Japanese Army Academy and served
in an advisory capacity with the Japanese Army General Staff, which had been
established along German lines in 1880 (see Krebs 2002; Saaler 2006; Presseisen
1965). The switch to the German model was initiated by Katsura Tarō (1848–
1913), who would eventually become a general and serve as the country’s prime
minister three times in the 1900s and 1910s.9 Katsura had acquainted himself
with the German customs while studying there (1871–1873) and twice serving
as a military attaché to the Japanese legation in Berlin (1875–1878; 1884–1885).
His mentor Yamagata Aritomo (1838–1922) was one of the founders of the
modern Japanese army and also a powerful politician. Yamagata was a cen-
tral figure in the pro-German faction in the Imperial Army, together with Nogi
Maresuke (1849–1912), the “hero” of the Siege of Port Arthur in the Russo-
Japanese War of 1904/05. Like Katsura, Nogi had visited Germany several
times, the last time in 1911, a year before he committed ritual suicide (fig. 8.1).
Yamagata also went to Germany and, according to the reports of the German
military attaché at the German legation in Tokyo, was a frequent guest at the
legation (Saaler 2008).

6 Bundesarchiv/Federal Archive (hereafter cited as BA) Lichterfelde R901/29200, “Die

Aufnahme japanischer Prinzen in die deutsche Marineschule,” Apr. 1889 to Jan. 1896.
7 On Siemens’ activities in Japan, see Takenaka 1991.
8 B A Lichterfelde R901/29200, “Die Aufnahme japanischer Prinzen in die deutsche
Marineschule,” Apr. 1889 to Jan. 1896.
9 On Katsura, see ch. 4 in this volume.
226 Saaler

Figure 8.1 Kaiser Wilhelm I. u. General Graf Maresuke Nogi auf dem Großen Sande bei
Mainz (Emperor Wilhelm II and General Count Maresuke Nogi at the Großer Sand
Exercise Area in Mainz). Nisshin geppō, October 1911, unpaginated.

In addition, large numbers of Japanese officer cadets were sent to study at mili-
tary academies in Germany from the 1880s until World War I (see Table 8.1).
Shortly before the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War in 1904, however,
Emperor Wilhelm II moved to limit the number of Japanese military students
in Germany.10 Ever since the Sino-Japanese conflict, the emperor had seen
Japan as an embodiment of the “Yellow Peril.” Russia’s defeat at the hands of
Japan in the war of 1904/05 reinforced the Kaiser’s anti-Japanese prejudice.
Probably more importantly, with the signing of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance
in 1902 Wilhelm II came to regard Japanese students no longer as guests to

10 The precise date of this order could not be verified; it seems to have been an oral directive
from the emperor. In 1903, in a letter to the Foreign Office, the German envoy to Japan
mentioned a “regulation, which I have not received officially [i.e., on paper], but which
seems to exist.” German Legation in Tokyo to Chancellor Bülow, August 13, 1903, PAAA
[Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts, Berlin], R18633 (AA Abt. 1, Japan, Bd. 10/11,
August 1 1903 to December 31, 1903).
 The Image Of Germany In Japanese Politics And Society, 1890–1914 227

Table 8.1 Numbers of Japanese Officers and Officer Cadets sent to the German Reich to
study or serve at the Japanese Legation (Embassy from 1906) in Berlin and to other
countries.

Year Total GER GER FRA RUS AH GB CHN EUR PL USA ITA CH
graduates (in %)

1885 10 6 60.0 1
1886 9 1 11.1
1887 7 2 28.6 1
1888 13 5 38.5
1889 10 2 20.0 1
1890 12 1 8.3 1
1891 9 1 2
1892 17 7 41.2 1
1893 14 2 14.3 1 1
1896 17 3 17.6 1
1897 14 6 42.9 1 2
1897 17 2 11.8
1899 41 5 12.2 2 1 2
1900 39 2 5.1 2 1 1
1901 40 8 20.0 1
1902 44 2 4.5 1 3
1903 45 5 11.1 2 1 2
1906 34 3 8.8 2 1 1
1907 33 3 9.1 1 2 1 1
1908 38 3 7.9 1 3 1
1909 55 6 10.9 2 2 3 1
1910 51 5 9.8 2 4 4
1911 52 5 9.6 2 2 3 1
1912 54 1 1.9 5 3 1 2 2 1 1 1
1913 55 5 2 2 5 2 1 2
1914 62 1 1.6 7 3 2 3 2

Source: Nihon Kindai Shiryō Kenkyūkai 1971, 271–328. FRA=France; RUS=Russia; AH=Austria-
Hungary; GB=Great Britain; CHN=China; EUR=other European countries; PL=Poland; ITA=Italy;
CH=Switzerland.
228 Saaler

be welcomed, but as visitors to be viewed with suspicion as “English spies,”

a term he added as a handwritten gloss to a Foreign Ministry memorandum
dated May 2, 1906 (PAAA, R18636, AA, Abt. A, Japan, Acten betreffend Militär-
und Marineangelegenheiten, Bd. 13, 1905/06). Japan’s enthusiasm for Germany
gradually became a rather one-sided affair. Certainly, the Prusso-German army
took pride in having successfully modernized the Japanese army, particularly
after their efforts became palpable in Japan’s wars against China and Russia.
Parts of the German press began referring to the Japanese as the “Prussians of
East Asia” or the “Germans of East Asia” (Mathias-Pauer 1984: 125; Anderson
1991). The Prussian War Ministry, as well as business leaders, urged the em-
peror to refrain from excluding Japanese students from military academies.11
However, the Anglo-Japanese Alliance had made closer cooperation between
Japan and Germany in the military field difficult. Pleas from the German busi-
ness community, the Prussian War Ministry, the German embassy in Tokyo,12
and the Japanese themselves fell on deaf ears in Berlin: the Kaiser was not to
be convinced of Japan’s friendly intentions toward Germany. The numbers of
Japanese military students in Germany fell in the lead-up to the World War I
(see Table 8.1), a development that inevitably weakened the pro-German fac-
tion within the army.
The activities of German advisors in the Japanese military took a similar
trajectory. In 1885, Klemens Jakob Meckel (1842–1905) was posted to Tokyo, the
first advisor to the Japanese Army General Staff Office and the first teacher
at the Imperial Japanese Army Academy to be dispatched to Japan by the
German Reich in an official capacity. His activities resulted in the emergence
of a generation of officers with a strongly pro-German orientation. Meckel’s

11 A letter from the German Minister to Japan, Graf Arco, to Chancellor Bülow, July 20,
1905, PAAA, R18636 (AA Abt. 1, Japan, Bd. 13/14, 1.7.1905 bis 31.7.1906) and a letter from the
German legation to Chancellor Bülow, August 13, 1903, PAAA, R18633 (AA Abt. 1, Japan, Bd.
10/11, 1.8.1903 bis 31.12.1903) both refer to a petition from the German steelmaker Krupp,
emphasizing that good relations with the Japanese officer corps are of great importance
for trade relations.
12 During the Russo-Japanese War, German military attaché Günther von Etzel (1862–1948)
reported a meeting with Field Marshal Yamagata Aritomo during which Yamagata stressed
how grateful Japan was for German advice and guidance. According to Etzel, Yamagata
criticized Germany for reducing the numbers of Japanese officers allowed to study at
German military institutions and “expressed the hope, that after the Russo-Japanese War
more Japanese officers could again study in Germany.” Military attaché Günther Etzel to
the Prussian Ministry of War, 25 October 1905, PAAA, R18636 (AA Abt. 1, Japan, Bd. 13/14,
1.7.1905 bis 31.7.1906).
The Image Of Germany In Japanese Politics And Society, 1890–1914 229

Figure 8.2 Mekkeru shōgun no dōzō jomakushiki (Unveiling Ceremony of a Bronze Statue of
General Meckel). General Nogi Maresuke (1849–1912) is pictured standing before the
work; the location is the Imperial Japanese Army Academy.

lectures, translated into Japanese, were to remain standard texts at Japan’s

military training facilities until well into the twentieth century. After Meckel’s
death, a bronze statue of the revered tutor and advisor was unveiled in a formal
ceremony at the Imperial Japanese Army Academy in Tokyo in 1906, a tangible
symbol of Japanese admiration for German military strategy and organization
(see Saaler 2008; Kerst 1970) (fig. 8.2; no longer extant).
In 1886, Hermann von Blankenburg was dispatched to Japan to support
Meckel, who was replaced in 1888 by Erich von Wildenbruch, followed in turn
by Alexander Freiherr von Grutschreiber in 1891. Grutschreiber (1849–1933),
who returned to Germany in 1894, would be the last German military advisor
to Japan. In 1908, Japanese-German cooperation was transformed into a recip-
rocal exchange of officers.13 By that time, Germany was also interested in learn-
ing from Japan; after all, their model students had defeated tsarist Russia, the
world’s leading military power, in 1904/05. While Japanese students were sent
to Germany as part of this exchange, German officers were dispatched to Japan

13 The new system adopted by Germany was widely known in Japan; see Fujii 1908, p. 30.
230 Saaler

as observers and inspectors of Japanese units. Karl Haushofer (1869–1946), for

example, later to make his name as a Japan expert, came to the country in
1908 as an observer from the Royal Bavarian Army (Spang 2006; 2013). These
exchanges would continue until 1914.

Germany as a Model for Legislation, Constitutional Law,

Philosophy, and Other Academic Fields

Other areas in which the Japanese elite held up Germany as a model includ-
ed jurisprudence and, above all, constitutional law. Japanese politicians and
scholars traveled to Germany and Austria-Hungary to study the constitutions
of these countries. They concluded that a constitution based on Prussian-
German models, in which the political and social systems corresponded more
closely to that of Japan than those of other Western nations, would be best
suited to Japan. Some pro-German enthusiasts, such as Inoue Kowashi (1843–
1895; no relation to Inoue Kaoru)14 and the diplomat and later foreign minister
Aoki Shūzō (1844–1914; envoy to the German Reich 1874–1885; 1892–1897; see
ch. 4 in this volume), even campaigned for a wide-ranging “Germanization”
of Japan. Revealingly, a three-volume biography of Aoki was subtitled “The
Man Who Tried to Turn Japan into Prussia.”15 Aoki’s long tenure in Germany
and the fact that he was married to a German aristocrat clearly reinforced his
Germanophile attitudes.
Back in 1875, after a period of study in France and Germany, Inoue Kowashi
had produced the first Japanese translation of the Prussian constitution.
Within a few years, law students and lawyers, including Katō Hiroyuki (1836–
1916), Mutsu Munemitsu (1844–1897) and Hirata Tōsuke (1849–1925), who all
went on to prominence as statesmen, were being sent to Germany and Austria.
In 1882/83, a group of politicians and bureaucrats headed by future prime
minister Itō Hirobumi (1841–1909)—often referred to as the “Bismarck of
Japan”—made the same journey. Itō and his entourage were received in Berlin
by Chancellor Otto von Bismarck (1815–1898); they also met constitutional
lawyers such as Rudolf von Gneist and Lorenz von Stein (1815–1890) (Ando
2000; Takii 2007). The German legal scholars Hermann Roesler (1834–1894) and

14 On Inoue Kowashi, see Morikawa 2003 and Nagai 2012.

15 Mizusawa 1997. While Aoki’s autobiography provides no evidence for his Germanophile
tendencies, they are evident in some of his letters sent from Germany to colleagues in
Japan; see Katō Yōko’s contribution to this volume (ch. 4).
The Image Of Germany In Japanese Politics And Society, 1890–1914 231

Albert Mosse (1846–1925) were subsequently invited to Japan in 1878 and 1886,
respectively, to assist in the drafting of a constitution. As has been frequently
noted, the constitution ultimately promulgated in 1889 differed substantially
from its Prussian model. It took into account the peculiarities of the Japanese
political system such as the sacred status of the Japanese emperor—a position
one early German commentator pointed out bore no comparison to the “di-
vine right” to rule of the Prussian king (Ueberschaar 1912). In the end, however,
the advocates of a Japanese constitution based on the Prusso-German model
prevailed over the supporters of a parliamentary British-style system.
Interest in German law manifested itself in the high number of publications
on this subject appearing in Japan between 1890 and 1914. A steady stream of
books dealing with German legal matters was released in Japan during this
period, including translations of German textbooks, standard works, and legal
texts. A quantitative analysis (see Table 8.2) of articles on Germany appear-
ing in Japanese journals reveals a high proportion dealing with legal issues.
Particularly significant in this regard were new legal and specialist constitu-
tional periodicals such as Hōgaku kyōkai zasshi (Journal of the Association for
Legal Studies, est. 1884; 195 articles relating to Germany between 1890 and 1914),
Kyōto hōgakukai zasshi (Journal of the Kyoto Association for Legal Studies, est.
1906; 69 articles between 1890 and 1914), Kokka gakkai zasshi (Journal of State
Science, est. 1887 by the Faculty of Law of Tokyo Imperial University; 43 ar-
ticles) and the Meiji hōgaku (est. by the Meiji Society in 1899; 42 articles).
An even greater number of articles and reports on Germany, including nu-
merous very short items, appeared in Gaikō jihō, a semi-official publication of
the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs officially subtitled Revue Diplomatique.
It issued 407 articles on Germany between the time it was launched in 1898
and the outbreak of World War I in 1914. This number is indicative of the glob-
al importance accorded to the German Reich by Japan, and, consequently,
of its strong interest in German foreign policy and Germany’s role in global
politics. The sharp increase in articles on foreign policy matters making refer-
ence to Germany from 1898 also can be explained by Germany’s occupation of
Kiaochow as a leased territory, a move that made the Reich a powerful player
in East Asia and was thus perceived as a direct challenge to Japan. Publications
that focused on international relations were generally characterized by a high
concentration of German-related pieces after 1898. These included the Tōa
dōbunkai hōkoku, the periodical of the Pan-Asian East Asia Common Culture
Association (77 reports relating to Germany from 1901–1910), its short-lived
predecessor Tōa jiron (East Asian Review; 34 items referencing Germany in
1899 alone), and the widely read Chūō kōron (Central Tribune; 42 articles from
1899–1914).
 232 Saaler

Table 8.2 Number of Japanese Journal Articles Relating to Germany by Subject Matter,
1890–1914.16

Year Foreign Jp.-Ger. Politics Military Business Society Culture Education Religion Law Law
policy Relations in %

1890 1 2 6 3 6 1 1 5%
1891 1 1 1 3 0%
1892 2 2 2 3 1 10 50%
1893 1 1 2 1 16 11 34.3%
1894 1 2 1 2 12 4 18.1%
1895 1 2 4 1 1 2 18 62%
1896 1 2 8 1 8 40%
1897 4 2 3 2 16 4 1 2 7 17%
1898 23 1 5 1 8 5 3 1 10 17.5%
1899 35 3 8 4 13 9 12.5%
1900 35 7 4 5 3 1 1 2 8 12.1%
1901 24 1 2 4 4 1 1 2 13 25%
1902 23 1 7 3 1 21 37.5%
1903 23 1 12 12 2 1 1 25 32.4%
1904 21 3 1 6 4 1 20 35.7%
1905 37 1 2 4 5 5 9.2%
1906 31 1 7 2 11 3 4 5 1 10 13.3%
1907 26 5 4 15 4 3 2 2 10 14%
1908 20 5 2 9 5 9 3 2 20 26.6%
1909 19 1 11 1 10 1 1 3 24 33.8%
1910 25 7 6 18 13 10 1 20 20%
1911 15 6 5 13 9 9 1 9 13.4%
1912 29 1 21 7 20 9 5 3 16 14.4%
1913 44 21 12 26 20 9 3 1 15 9.9%
1914 71 9 28 7 42 8 6 1 17 8.9%

16 The quantitative analysis presented here is based on Zasshi kiji sakuin shūsei deetabeesu
(The Complete Database for Japanese Magazines and Periodicals from the Meiji Era to the
Present), Kōseisha, http://zassaku-plus.com/index.php. Categorization by the author. A
detailed table with the complete categorization can be downloaded from the author’s web-
site at http://japanesehistory.de/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Doitsu-Zasshi-
1890-bis-1914-nach-Kategorie.pdf.
The Image Of Germany In Japanese Politics And Society, 1890–1914 233

As my statistical analysis shows, interest in Germany was generally on the rise

in Meiji Japan (see Table 0.1 on page 47 in the introduction of this volume),
and German law and foreign policy received a particular degree of atten-
tion (see Table 8.2 above). However, the analysis of the contents of Japanese
journals also reveals that certain areas, such as education and philosophy, in
which Japan is conventionally considered to have been strongly influenced by
Germany, did not emerge as important fields of focus for Japanese scholars and
politicians before World War I. The quantitative analysis regarding the impact,
for example, of German philosophy is supported by the philosopher Kuwaki
Gen’yoku (1874–1946), who wrote, in 1939, that “many observers take the view
that the popularity of German philosophy in Japan was a natural phenome-
non” resulting from similarities in national character. However, Kuwaki contin-
ues, in the Meiji period German philosophy was only adopted by a small group
of philosophers such as Nishi Amane (1829–1897), Katō Hiroyuki (1836–1916),
and Inoue Tetsujirō (1856–1944). Others devoted themselves to the interpreta-
tion, translation, and advocacy of thinkers from other countries, such as Jean-
Jacques Rousseau (Nakae Chōmin), John Stuart Mill (Nakamura Masanao) and
Herbert Spencer (Tokutomi Sohō). Even major German philosophers such as
Immanuel Kant, according to Kuwaki, were not introduced in the Meiji period.
The emergence of a sizeable community of Kantians in Japan, Kuwaki argues,
only took place in the years following World War I, and was closely linked to
the growing awareness of Marxist theories (Kuwaki 1939). The strong Japanese
interest in German philosophy and other academic disciplines thus was only a
product of later years.

Pro-German Organizations

Pro-German circles in Japanese society also consolidated and expanded their

influence by establishing organizational structures. Since the 1880s, Japanese
had been active in the German East Asiatic Society in Tokyo (Deutsche
Gesellschaft für Natur- und Völkerkunde Ostasiens, or OAG; on the history of
the OAG, see Spang, Wippich, and Saaler 2017). In 1881, Japanese Germanophiles
founded their own association, the Doitsugaku Kyōkai (Association of German
Studies), which became a focal point for Japanese pupils of Germany as well
as lawyers and academics with an interest in the country. The majority of
members had spent extended periods studying in Germany and spoke reason-
ably good German. The practice of learning German as a (mostly second) for-
eign language in higher education has its roots in this era; it has remained a
widely taught subject at Japanese universities to the present day. In 1883, the
234 Saaler

Association of German Studies formed its own school, the Doitsugaku Kyōkai
Gakkō. One of the founders and the headmaster from 1887 to 1890 was the
aforementioned Katsura Tarō. The school subsequently developed into what is
known today as Dokkyō University Corporation.
The first Japanese-German Society (Nichidoku Kyōkai) was founded in
Tokyo in 1911. The aim of the society was to foster friendly relations between
Germany and Japan by organizing social events and encouraging research
on the two countries (“Japan und Deutschland,” Deutsche Japan-Post 10/32,
November 4, 1911: 7–9). The patrons of this society were Katsura Tarō and the
Imperial Prince Kuni Kuniyoshi (1873–1929), father of Nagako, the wife of the
future Emperor Shōwa. Aoki Shūzō was installed as president and Graf Arthur
von Rex (1856–1926), the German ambassador to Japan, was the honorary presi-
dent (Hoppner 2005). Katsura’s prediction that “the society will soon have 2,000
members and the influence emanating from this center will undoubtedly lead
to greater understanding of Germany throughout broad sections of Japanese
society, thus enriching relations between our two countries” (Botschafter Graf
Rex to Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg, November 1, 1911; PAAA R 2108) turned
out to be overly optimistic. By 1914, the society had attracted only 295 Japanese
and 117 German members (Bähr 2009: 93). Although disbanded on the out-
break of war, it was resurrected in 1926.

Germany in the Japanese Press

The German Reich thus figured prominently in the consciousness of the

Japanese elite, especially in military circles and among legal scholars. But would
it be accurate to speak of widespread pro-German sentiment in Japanese soci-
ety? How did the mass media portray Germany? Meiji-period Japan was known
for a dynamic press that took an independent stance despite some degree of
state control. Several newspapers were critical of the government while others
functioned as mouthpieces for the administration (Huffman 1997). Overall, the
press expanded throughout the Meiji period, with print runs rocketing from
a few thousand at the beginning of the period to several hundred thousand in
the 1910s. King, a mass-market weekly magazine that appeared in the late 1920s,
achieved a print run of one million copies (Satō 2002), and even larger circu-
lation figures were met by Japan’s daily newspapers in the same decade. No
Japanese newspaper was particularly pro- or anti-German;17 however, whenever

17 A possible exception was the Kokumin shinbun, whose editor Tokutomi Sohō was close to
the ruling elite (Katsura Tarō, in particular); this would account for the paper’s pro-Ger-
man leanings. The German weekly Deutsche Japan-Post at times endorsed the coverage
The Image Of Germany In Japanese Politics And Society, 1890–1914 235

German-Japanese relations were strained the press as a whole tended to adopt

a critical attitude toward Germany. German legal advisor Albert Mosse (1846–
1925) described the situation as he saw it in a letter to his family in 1887:

Despite the commitments made by many Germans, the failure of the

negotiations on revising the [Unequal] Treaties and the resignation of
Count Inoue [Kaoru] have dealt a serious blow to our influence.… For us,
the worst thing is that the people are unfriendly, and even downright hos-
tile toward us. Only the government—and even that only up to a point—­
endorses the ‘German proclivities’ much discussed in the English press.…
The general population has nothing but contempt for the government,
and projects that attitude onto us. In the light of the democratic thinking
emerging in America and England … we [Germans], with our advice on
respecting the historic development and cultural situation of the coun-
try and strengthening the monarchy and governmental power, are seen
as the malevolent spirit of the present rulers.… With one exception,
the whole of the press … is anti-German and opposes us. Furthermore,
the large and influential English-language press in East Asia is working
against us.18 In Yokohama alone there are three big English newspapers,
with one in particular, venomously anti-German in its activities that is
superbly edited. By contrast, the Ostasiatische Lloyd, the sole German
publication in our favor, is issued with semi-official help in Shanghai; it
came into being with admirable ineptitude. It is hoped that its life will be
extinguished in the shortest possible time. (Mosse 1995: 336–37)

According to Mosse, it was precisely the close ties between Germany and the
Japanese elite—the ruling oligarchy—that had a negative impact on the image
of Germany in the Japanese press. The increasingly anti-German stance of the
English-language press in East Asia, a result of the escalating British-German
global rivalry, furthered the growth of anti-German sentiment in Japan. In par-
ticular, the Anglo-Japanese Alliance of 1902, which positioned Japan on the
side of Germany’s opponents, had consequences for the way in which Germany
was covered in the Japanese press. From time to time, however, German writ-
ers pointed out that this reflected a longstanding bias with deeper roots:

of Germany-related stories in Kokumin shinbun; for example, “Die freundschaftlichen

Beziehungen zwischen Japan und Deutschland,” in Deutsche Japan-Post 4/41, January 13,
1906, p. 6; also Deutsche Japan-Post 3/51, March 25, 1905, pp. 7–8.
18 On the English-language press in East Asia in general, see O’Connor 2010.
236 Saaler

The intellectual dependence of the Japanese press on the British press

is … one of the salient characteristics of modern Japanese history. This
dependence did not develop after the [Anglo-Japanese] Alliance [was
signed], but existed long before. Everything that Japanese newspapers
write about foreign affairs is taken from British or American papers.
(Deutsche Japan-Post 3/27, October 8, 1904: 5)

In the early twentieth century, Germans resident in Japan increasingly com-

plained about anti-German coverage in the Japanese press and identified
British “agitation” (Hetze) against Germany as the origin of this trend (see,
for example, Deutsche Japan-Post 3/12, July 9, 1904: 8; 12; 7/26, September 26,
1908:10; 8/12, June 19, 1909: 7–8; 8/17, July 24, 1909: 9; 10/27, September 30, 1911:
7–8). During the Second Morocco Crisis in 1911, a German journalist based in
Japan characterized the “hostile Japanese attitude toward Germany” as highly
“irresponsible” (Deutsche Japan-Post 10/27, September 30, 1911: 7–8). In a 1912 ar-
ticle in the German-language weekly Deutsche Japan-Post titled “Germany and
the Japanese Press” (Deutschland und die japanische Presse), the writer char-
acterized the coverage of German affairs in the Japanese press as “awkward”
(eigenartig) and lamented that Japan had obviously forgotten that Japan “owes
Germany a great deal for its contributions to culture” and its “guidance” dur-
ing the modernization process (Deutsche Japan-Post 10/43, January 20, 1912: 9)
The Japanese newspapers, Nichinichi shinbun, Hōchi shinbun and Niroku shin-
bun, were singled out by German commentators as dailies with a especially
strong “hatred of Germany” (“Deutschenhass,” Deutsche Japan-Post 5/6, May 12,
1906: 10).19 Japanese responses to such criticism reflected the nation’s anger
over Germany’s participation in the Triple Intervention of 1895:

Does the German press expect that we will forget the humiliation that
the government of the Kaiser inflicted upon us [through the Triple
Intervention]? … We are grateful for what the Germans have given us in
science and other fields. However, at the same time we well remember
[the Triple Intervention]. If the Germans really wish us to desist from
critical reporting, we recommend that they give up Kiaochow and return
it to China. (cited in Deutsche Japan-Post 5/6, May 12, 1906: 10)

To stem this perceived trend of anti-German press coverage in Japan, a group

of thirteen German firms and trading enterprises bought out the daily Japan

19 See also Deutsche Japan-Post 3/12, July 9, 1904: 6–7 and 3/45, February 11, 1905: 12–13 for
harsh criticisms of the Nichinichi, and 2/39, January 23, 1904: 6 for an attack on the Niroku
shinbun.
The Image Of Germany In Japanese Politics And Society, 1890–1914 237

Herald in 1905, which had been in financial difficulty for several years, with the
goal of re-establishing it as a pro-German newspaper. The German community
in Japan had already started a German-language weekly newspaper in 1902 in
Yokohama, the Deutsche Japan-Post cited above. (The Deutsche Japan-Post was
also responsible for editing and publishing the Japan Herald from 1905.) In ad-
dition to improving communication within the German community, it aimed
at promoting pro-German sentiment in Japan and countering what it called
“British anti-German agitation in Japan” (see, for example, Deutsche Japan-Post
11/39, Dec. 28, 1912: 990–91; 11/41, Jan. 11, 1913: 1086; 11/50, March 15, 1913: 1–2). In
particular, the Deutsche Japan-Post claimed that it would strive to “immediate-
ly correct the anti-German news stories disseminated by ‘Reuters’ ” (Deutsche
Japan-Post 1/51, April 11, 1903: 5), which it identified as the main source of anti-
German prejudice.
The editors of the Deutsche Japan-Post saw themselves as agents of German
“public diplomacy,” as is evident from a number of articles they released on
“German foreign cultural policy” (Auswärtige Kulturpolitik; e.g., Anonymus,
Bethmann-Hollweg and Lamprecht 1914). Although the Japan-Post only
reached a small sector of the Japanese elite, it achieved a certain degree of
effectiveness after it was turned into a bilingual (German/Japanese) publica-
tion with issue no. 23 in 1907 (the Japanese section was called Nichidoku yūhō).
Articles in the Deutsche Japan-Post were sometimes reproduced in Japanese
dailies. But the editors also appealed directly to the Japanese elite, remind-
ing them, for example, that with the emergence of liberal and democratic ten-
dencies in Japanese politics in the early 1910s, Germany’s contribution to the
shaping of modern Japan had been put at risk. In 1911, for instance, a strongly
worded editorial warned of the dangers of socialism in Japan (Deutsche Japan-
Post 10/5, April 29, 1911: 7–9). Shortly before the Deutsche Japan-Post was forced
to fold in 1914, it reminded its readers once again of the German contribution
to the making of the modern Japanese state: “The current demands for parlia-
mentary government are shaking the very foundations of the Japanese state,
which were constructed in the early Meiji period based on German models by
German cultural pioneers” (Anonymous, Bethmann-Hollweg and Lamprecht
1914: 165). Despite its efforts, the Japan-Post could not prevent Japan from join-
ing its ally Great Britain in the fight against Germany in World War I.

The Kaiser and Germany’s “New Course”

At the beginning of this chapter, we saw that German diplomacy had been
undermining Germany’s reputation in Japan since 1895. Germany’s global am-
bitions, as expressed in the politics of the “new course” advocated by the young
238 Saaler

Wilhelm II, had a strongly negative impact on Germany’s image in Japan.

Above all, Germany’s intervention against the Treaty of Shimonoseki in 1895
was perceived in Japan as a national humiliation. In addition, the “Yellow Peril”
propaganda propounded by Emperor Wilhelm II received extensive coverage
in the Japanese media (Saaler 2007). The occupation of Kiaochow/Tsingtao
as a leased territory in 1898 was the final slap in the face for Japan. In 1895,
Germany had protested against Japan’s taking possession of the Liaodong pen-
insula as a leased territory, claiming that such a step would threaten “peace and
stability in the Far East,” only to occupy the comparable Chinese stronghold of
Kiaochow three years later. This act was openly condemned in the Japanese
press as German “aggression” (shinryaku), as seen, for example, in the journal
of the East Asia Common Culture Association (Anonymous 1899: 27).
Although somewhat contradictory, the negative perception of German for-
eign policy did not always translate into unequivocal disapproval of Emperor
Wilhelm II himself. Japanese opinion on the Kaiser was divided. One example
of strong criticism of Kaiser Wilhelm is demonstrated by the outrage in the
Japanese press on the occasion of the so-called Daily Telegraph affair in 1908,
which was covered intensively in the Japanese press. By then it was obvious
that the Wilhelm II was the driving force behind Germany’s “new course.” Yet,
some magazines continued to venerate him. An examination of Japan’s fast-
growing pictorial media around the turn of the century reveals that these pub-
lications frequently carried full-page portraits of the Kaiser, the crown prince
and the German imperial family, as well as of prominent figures associated
with Wilhelm II, such as Chancellor Bernhard von Bülow (1849–1929) and
Field Marshal Alfred Graf von Waldersee (1832–1904).20 The accomplishments
of previous German emperors and politicians, such as former Chancellor Fürst
von Chlodwig zu Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst (1819–1901), were lauded in reams
of newsprint (Kemuyama 1901). Visits to Japan by members of the German im-
perial family—and by Japanese royals to Germany—were invariably portrayed
as great and glorious events. The imperial princes Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa
(1847–1895; studied in Germany 1871–1877), Arisugawa Takehito (1861–1913;

20 Examples from the journal Taiyō (The Sun) include: “Der Deutsche Kaiser in Jagduniform”
(November 5, 1901), “Der deutsche Generalfeldmarschall Waldersee” (May 25, 1902),
“Premierminister des Deutschen Reiches Graf von Bülow” (October 20, 1902), “Der
deutsche Kronprinz und die Kronprinzessin” (May 1, 1905; Aug. 1, 1905), “Der deutsche
Kaiser und der König von England in Friedrichshof,” “Die Kaiserliche Familie von
Deutschland” (both Oct. 1, 1906), “Der deutsche Kronprinz und die Enkel des Kaisers”
(Nov. 1, 1910), “Der deutsche Kaiser während seines Besuchs in Frankfurt an der Oder”
(July 1, 1911).
The Image Of Germany In Japanese Politics And Society, 1890–1914 239

visit to Germany 1905), Nashimoto Morimasa (1871–1951; visit in 1909) and

Kuni Kuniyoshi (1873–1929; visits in 1907 and 1913) all visited Germany during
the Meiji period. Conversely, Prince Heinrich (1884–1916), younger brother of
Emperor Wilhelm II, made three visits to Japan (1879/1880, 1898/1899; 1912),
and in 1904/1905 Prince Karl Anton von Hohenzollern (1811–1885) made a trip
to the front line to inspect Japanese troops during the Russo-Japanese War.21 A
military parade inspected by Emperor Wilhelm II was held to commemorate
the visit of Prince Arisugawa in 1905; the event made the front cover of the
pictorial magazine The Illustrated Nippon (Nihon gahō no. 5848, November 3,
1905: 1) (fig. 8.3). And even as late as World War I, Imperial Prince Higashikuni
Naruhiko reportedly purchased a photograph of the German emperor and his
top general, Paul von Hindenburg (1847–1934), from a prisoner in the POW
camp in Bandō in Tokushima Prefecture (Burdick and Moessner 1984: 94).
While segments of Japan’s elite began to distance themselves from what
was perceived as an increasingly militarizing Germany at the beginning of
the 1910s, the year 1913 witnessed yet another example of intense veneration
of the Kaiser in the Japanese media. To mark the occasion of the twenty-fifth
anniversary of the Kaiser’s ascent to the throne, Japanese newspapers and
journals issued special numbers praising the German emperor for guiding his
country to greatness and for “preserving world peace.” In a special supplement
to its Sunday edition on June 12, 1903, the Osaka edition of the Asahi shinbun
published one of the official photographs of the Kaiser with the caption “Zum
25jaehrigen Regierungsjubilaeum des deutschen Kaisers Wilhelm II/Nichiyō
furoku. Dokutei sokui nijūgonen” (On the Twenty-fifth Anniversary of the
Reign of the German emperor Wilhelm II). An editorial in the Tokyo edition of
the Asahi shinbun also celebrated the Kaiser’s twenty-five years on the throne
and the “expansion of German power across the globe” (Asahi shinbun, Tokyo
edition, June 15, 1913: 3). The journal Shin Nihon, edited by elder statesman
Ōkuma Shigenobu (1838–1922)—originally an advocate of a liberal constitu-
tion rather than one modeled on the German-Prussian example—devoted an
entire special issue to the Kaiser’s anniversary (fig. 8.4). It included several for-
mal portraits of the Kaiser as well as photographs of the monarch attending
military maneuvers. In the lead article Ōkuma congratulated the Kaiser on his
anniversary and praised his reign as a period of “fast progress.” (Ōkuma 1913: 3)
At the same time Ōkuma stressed the important role of Chancellor Otto von
Bismarck (1815–1898), who had “laid the foundations for the Emperor’s reign”
(ibid., 3–5). The journalist Nagai Ryūtarō (1881–1944) contributed an article

21 See Hohenzollern 1908; on Prince Heinrich’s first trip to Japan see Pantzer and Saaler
2007, ch. 4.
240 Saaler

Figure 8.3 Military review in Germany, held in honour of Prince Arisugawa. The
Illustrated Nippon/Nihon gahō (November 3, 1905), p. 1.
The Image Of Germany In Japanese Politics And Society, 1890–1914 241

Figure 8.4 Doitsu kōtei sokui nijūgonen kinen. Shin nihon, daisankan dairokugō,
rokugatsu tsuitachi hakkō (Commemorating the German Emperor’s Twenty-
fifth Anniversary on the Throne). Shin Nihon 3, no. 6, June 1, 1913.

to the special issue recalling the achievements of the popular Chancellor

Bismarck (Nagai 1913; on Nagai, see Duus 1970; 1971). More directly criti-
cal of the Kaiser’s “new course” in world politics was a contribution by Keiō
University Professor Hayashi Kiroku (1872–1950). In his analysis of German for-
eign policy under Wilhelm II, he pointed to the political blunders that had oc-
curred under the emperor’s leadership, such as Germany’s diplomatic defeat in
242 Saaler

the First Morocco Crisis of 1905 (Hayashi 1913: 83), the Kaiser’s hostile attitude
toward Japan (ibid.: 84), and the growing isolation of Germany in Europe since
the beginning of his reign (ibid.).
The enduring adulation of the German emperor in the Japanese press was
connected with his constitutional and military roles. Given that the Prusso-
German constitution and the armed forces had provided the model for the
Japanese constitution and the structure of the Japanese army,22 any criticism
of the German emperor would have been tantamount to an implicit criticism
of the Japanese emperor system. Under Article 3 of the 1889 constitution,
however, the Japanese emperor was sacred and sacrosanct. In pre-1947 Japan,
therefore, criticism of the emperor was interpreted as lèse majesté and subject
to harsh punishment.
From time to time, nonetheless, the German emperor was openly identified
as the originator of the “new course,” and his “erratic nature” was cited as the
reason for the estrangement of Japan and Germany and the problems caused by
German global ambitions (e.g., Abe 1914: 785). As we have seen above, in some
publications the Kaiser was contrasted with Otto von Bismarck, whose pru-
dent foreign policy was highly regarded by the Japanese (ibid.; see also Makino
1905). Following the line taken by the British media, one writer in the Japanese
weekly Taiyō described the emperor as a “conspirator,” whose “ambitions are
as far-reaching as Napoleon’s” (Anonymous 1905a); according to another, “his
ideas of a global empire [can only be called] delusional” (Anonymous 1905b).
Tellingly, the authors of these early pieces critical of the Kaiser were eager to
remain anonymous.
As a rule, open condemnation of Germanophilia in Japanese society was
rarely found in Japanese publications before the World War I. One instance of
a moderate criticism, released in 1910, originated within the most pro-German
group in Japan, the Imperial Army. In an article entitled “The German Army
and Popular Education,” Major Yokomichi Fukuo expressed his admiration
for the extent to which everything in German society was run by “military”
(guntaiteki) principles, but went on to say that this high level of militarization
was ill suited to Japanese conditions:

22 According to the Japanese Constitution, the Emperor was the Supreme Commander of
the nation’s military forces. The Imperial Household Law also stipulated that all male
members of the imperial house had undergo a military education and serve in the mili-
tary. As a result, a number of imperial princes were promoted to the rank of Chief of the
General Staff of the Imperial Japanese Army and Navy prior to 1945.
The Image Of Germany In Japanese Politics And Society, 1890–1914 243

The [German] military is entrenched throughout society and in every so-

cial class.… Even if you ask a small child a question, he will immediately
stand to attention and answer you. This comes from [the entrenchment
of] the military and from the education [system], but it also shows that
the whole population possesses solid discipline and order.… From pri-
mary school onward, before boys are conscripted into the military, they
receive some kind of military education. (Yokomichi 1910)

In a time of “total war,” and especially at the outbreak of World War I, this
method of preparing an entire population for national service would be held
up as the ideal that the Japanese army should follow. In 1910, the future gen-
eral and Prime Minister Tanaka Giichi (1864–1929) travelled to Germany, with
a view to setting up associations of youth and reservists. He studied the or-
ganization of extra-curricular education in Germany and its possible appli-
cation to the military. Despite his admiration for German society, however,
Major Yokomichi expressed doubt as to whether it would be feasible to bring
German notions of discipline and order to Japan: “Adopting military conduct
as an overarching principle [of society] would be alien to the Japanese people”
(Yokomichi 1910: 191).
More forthright in his criticism of Japanese Germanophilia in the late nine-
teenth and early twentieth centuries was the cultural critic and scholar of reli-
gion Anesaki Masaharu (1873–1949). Anesaki studied in Germany between 1900
and 1903 before teaching at Harvard University and translating Schopenhauer,
among other texts, into Japanese. In 1902, he published the article “My Worries
Over the Japanese Fever for Imitating Germany” in the popular magazine Chūō
kōron (Anesaki 1902). While conceding that Germany’s trade and industrial
sectors were evolving rapidly, he singled out the emperor’s eccentric behav-
ior as a reason to reject Germany as a model for national development, urg-
ing his compatriots not to adopt Germany’s “dubious morals” without due
consideration.23
On the eve of World War I, skepticism in Japan regarding the militarization
of German politics and society grew stronger, as borne out by the Japanese crit-
icism of publications by the Prussian general and military historian Friedrich
von Bernhardi (1849–1930). Bernhardi’s 1911 book Germany and the Next War
was translated into numerous languages. In Japan, it was serialized in the
magazine Gaikō jihō in 1912 (Anonymous 1912).24 Bernhardi’s aggressive stance,

23 Anesaki repeated his criticism during World War I, see Anesaki 1917.
24 It was also translated by the Imperial Japanese Army in 1913, privately translated again in
1914 and eventually published by Toyama Shobō.
244 Saaler

which was condemned in many countries as provocative and warmongering,

seems to have been beyond the pale for most Japanese as well.25 However, in
some quarters of the Japanese elite, Bernhardi’s approach was also perceived
as a brilliant plan for a future “total war” and as a new “model” that Japan could
look to for inspiration (see Saaler 2006; 2008).

Summary

This chapter has demonstrated that throughout the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries Japanese Germanophiles competed for influence with crit-
ics of Germany, with different outcomes at different times. While pro-German
views were particularly strong in the military, in sections of the political elite,
and in some branches of academia, on occasion voices emerged that were
critical of the “mania” for imitating Germany. In the wider population and the
mass media, anti-German views were widespread, as indicated by the remarks
of Albert Mosse and as evident on the pages of the Deutsche Japan-Post.
Personal factors also had a part to play. Whether an individual was pro-
German or anti-German was often a matter of one’s personal situation. Aoki
Shūzō, as noted above married to a German and a resident in Germany for
many years, surely had his reasons for being pro-German. The same is true
for Honda Kumatarō, quoted at the beginning of this chapter: like Aoki, he
had lived in Germany and, probably more importantly, in 1925 he clashed with
Japan’s strongly pro-Anglo-Saxon Foreign Minister Shidehara Kijūrō (1872–
1951) over matters of foreign policy and was forced to resign. The fact that his
career as a diplomat was ended by the pro-British Shidehara no doubt spurred
him to speak out in favor of rapprochement with Germany (see Takahashi
2012: 114).26
Whatever the nature of individual responses, it cannot be denied that not-
withstanding growing political frictions in the 1890s and early 1900s, Germany

25 See the critique of “barbarian” German warfare and the extremism said to be character-
istic of German militarism (shortly after the outbreak of World War I) in Tōzai Hikaku
Kenkyū Gakkai 1915, in particular, pp. 30–31.
26 After quitting the Foreign Service, Honda started a second career and became an influ-
ential and prolific writer on foreign policy matters. His books include Gunshuku kaigi to
Nihon (The [London] Naval Limitation Conference and Japan) (1930) and Shina jihen kara
Daitōa sensō e (From the China Incident to the Greater East Asian War) (1942); he also
contributed a great many articles to journals such as Gaikō jihō (Takahashi 2012: 116–18).
Honda was strongly critical of the foreign policy of Shidehara (ibid.: 115) and was a mem-
ber of ultranationalist groups such as the Kokuhonsha of Hiranuma Kiichirō.
The Image Of Germany In Japanese Politics And Society, 1890–1914 245

continued to be a point of reference for Japan’s elites as a rising modernizing

state, even though it was viewed critically by the media and large segments
of society. Germany was perceived as a country whose development mirrored
that of Japan: late establishment of a (more-or-less) centralized nation state
(1871 in both cases), rapid advancement into a key economy, and progression
to become a major power in world politics. In other words, Japan saw itself
in Germany. In an 1,100-page work entitled Present Affairs of Germany, the
politician and writer Mochizuki Kotarō (1866–1927) wrote in 1913: “Of all the
present global powers, Germany is the one which has expanded into a top-
ranking power in just half a century in a manner similar to our empire (Japan)”
(Mochizuki 1913: 3).27 For many Japanese, therefore, the continued respect felt
for Germany in the lead-up to World War I went beyond mere senti­mentality—
it served to endorse Japan’s own achievements in rising, as a latecomer, to the
status of a major power within a short period.

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 CHAPTER 9

Rathenau and Ludendorff: Two Japanese Images of

Germany in World War I

Kudō Akira

In August 1914, a month after the outbreak of World War I in Europe, Japan
declared war on Germany, attacked the German colonial concession at
Kiaochow (Jiaozhou) Bay, and in November captured its administrative center
at Tsingtao (Qingdao). A year later, both the Imperial Japanese Army (hereafter
cited as IJA) and the Imperial Japanese Navy (hereafter cited as IJN) estab-
lished research organizations to study the Great War in Europe. As the fighting
in Europe protracted and turned into “total war,” the Japanese military’s inter-
est in this phenomenon increased greatly and any new developments were in-
tensively studied. After the war, the results of the IJA’s research were compiled
in a report released in May 1920 titled Kokka sōdōin ni kansuru iken (Opinion
Concerning National Mobilization; Rinji Gunji Chōsa Iin 1920).1
The IJA focused its research on Germany, and following the end of the
war, this interest intensified because the Japanese army had long taken the
Prussian-German army as its model. It was now more important than ever to
understand the causes for Germany’s defeat. The Japanese concept of total war
emerged from the studies of wartime Germany, and the image of total war in
Japan was largely based on the German model. It is therefore crucial to exam-
ine closely the IJA’s perceptions of Germany, as well as of total war. These im-
ages had a profound influence on Japan’s historical trajectory from World War I
to the Sino-Japanese War beginning in 1937 and the Pacific War of 1941–1945.
The IJA’s view of total war derived from the concept of “total national mo-
bilization” (kokka sōdōin), which was seen as comprising “industrial mobiliza-
tion” (kōgyō dōin) and “manpower mobilization” (kokumin dōin). Through a
study of Germany’s wartime system of total war, this chapter will show that the
IJA connected industrial mobilization to the industrialist Walther Rathenau
(1867–1922) and manpower mobilization to General Erich Ludendorff (1865–
1937) (figs. 9.1 and 9.2). Later, these two images—the Rathenau and the
Ludendorff image—were amalgamated into a single concept of total national

1 On the IJA, see Yamaguchi 1979, Kōketsu 1981, and Kurosawa 2000; on the IJN, see Saitō 1984
and Kaigun Rekishi Hozonkai 1995: 418–34.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_011

250 Kudō

mobilization. How were these two images unified? And could these two dispa-
rate images even have been easily unified in the first instance?
In order to answer these questions this chapter will investigate the forma-
tion of the Japanese IJA’s perception and image of total war, in particular, as it
emerged during its study of Germany during World War I. First, I will exam-
ine the aforementioned report, Opinion Concerning National Mobilization, and
the various earlier reports of the Commission for the Investigation of Military
Affairs (Rinji Gunji Chōsa Iin). Next, I will look at articles from the journal for
army officers, Kaikōsha kiji. Finally, I will discuss writings by Nagata Tetsuzan
(1884–1935), who spearheaded the army’s total war preparations after the end
of World War I.

Images of Wartime Germany in the Reports of the Commission for

the Investigation of Military Affairs

Rathenau’s Industrial Mobilization and Ludendorff’s Manpower

Mobilization
In November 1915, one year after the occupation of Qingdao, the IJA estab-
lished the Commission for the Investigation of Military Affairs. This organiza-
tion studied the belligerent European nations during the Great War, including
Germany. Furthermore, it investigated military preparations in the United
States and published its results in various format. The earliest report, dated
January 1917, was titled “Ōshū kōsen shokoku no rikugun ni tsuite” (On the
Armies of the Belligerent Nations of Europe; Rinji Gunji Chōsa Iin 1917a). The
historian Kōketsu Atsushi states that this report

… concentrated on the research of purely militaristic issues regard-

ing the various nations participating in the Great War. Nevertheless, it
included the section “Overview of the Current Condition of Industrial
Mobilization in the Belligerent Nations” and outlined the status of war-
time preparation for industrial mobilization in the United Kingdom,
France, Russia, and Italy.… However, by introducing these preparations,
the military-industrial mobilization of each nation was presented as
an operation that merely complemented the mobilization of troops.
The idea of coherent “national mobilization” had yet to emerge (Kōketsu
1981: 34).

In May 1917, four months after the report, the Commission published a
translation of a lecture by Walter Rathenau on Germany’s enforcement of
Rathenau And Ludendorff 251

mobilization during the early stage of the war. At that time Rathenau head-
ed the board of company auditors of the corporate giant AEG (Allgemeine
Elektricitäts-Gesellschaft) that, together with Siemens, dominated the
German electrical industry, and he advocated the necessity of establishing an
organization for the control of raw materials. The Army Commission’s report
explains that at the onset of war Rathenau “proposed a plan for Germany’s
industrial mobilization and entrusted himself with its execution as the man-
ager for industrial mobilization at the country’s Ministry of War” (Rinji Gunji
Chōsa Iin 1917b). The Prussian army eventually set up the Wartime Office for
Raw Materials (Kriegsrohstoffabteilung) based on Rathenau’s proposal and ap-
pointed Rathenau to manage it.
It appears that Rathenau’s lecture was considered so important that it was
translated and published in the army’s journal. In printing this translation, the
Commission for the Investigation of Military Affairs identified the “enforce-
ment of industrial mobilization and the early consolidation and rallying of
the entire nation’s industrial power and resources for the supply of weapons
and ammunition” in the early stage of war as the key factor that “over a long
period of almost three years ensured the powerful field army’s uninterrupted
supply, which still at this point is delivering good results.” Moreover, the IJA
held Germany’s pioneering spirit in terms of industrial mobilization in high
esteem and mentioned that “in fact, the United Kingdom, France, Russia, and
Italy all belatedly hasten to imitate that model utterly and to enforce industrial
mobilization” (Rinji Gunji Chōsa Iin 1917b). The original lecture is thought to
have been held at the Deutsche Gesellschaft 1914 (German Association 1914) on
December 20, 1915 when Rathenau had already been relieved of his post at the
Wartime Office for Raw Materials.2 This means that it had been about one and
a half years since the lecture and almost three years since the outbreak of war.
In the meantime, and as will be discussed below, a new mobilization plan had
been implemented in 1916. This time lag between the events in Germany and
the recognition in Japan is noteworthy.
In June 1917, a month after the publication of Rathenau’s lecture, the IJA
issued a report titled Doku-, Ei-, Futsu-koku no kokumin dōin (Manpower
Mobilization in Germany, the United Kingdom, and France; Rinji Gunji Chōsa
Iin 1917c). This document pointed out that all the belligerent nations enforced
a “manpower mobilization that restricts the daily activities of all nationals of
the country to combat war-related activities.” Regarding manpower mobiliza-
tion, the report stated that:

2 The political association Deutsche Gesellschaft 1914 was established in November 1914 with
Rathenau as one of its founding members.
252 Kudō

… its main point is to have the government make use of every citizen,
and, moreover, to divide the activities of the state and of the people
into those necessary and those unnecessary in the conducting of war.
Furthermore, to suspend or greatly reduce those pertaining to the latter
and to inject the workforce hitherto engaged in these undertakings into
the former [i.e., war conduct] was an attempt to secure a surplus of work-
force and have the government make use of every citizen. (ibid.).

The report additionally noted that “by proclaiming and implementing the
‘Auxiliary National Service Law’ (Gesetz über den Vaterländischen Hilfsdienst)
as early as December 5, 1916 … Germany had been the first to implement man-
power mobilization.” But the report also acknowledged that:

… the United Kingdom, striving to reach the objective [of manpower

mobilization], initially introduced a volunteer system on February 12,
1917 and began to enlist volunteers under a system of “National Service.”
France, following the example of Germany, submitted a bill on manpow-
er mobilization (mobilisation civile) to the parliament on February 10, 1917
that has yet to see its passing. (ibid.)

As with industrial mobilization, the IJA highly evaluated Germany’s innovation

and achievement in manpower mobilization when compared to the Britain
and France. However, since this report was issued in 1917, that is, six months
after the enactment of legislation in Germany, the time lag was significantly
shorter. A gap remained nonetheless.
The IJA was unaware of the series of events that facilitated the passing of
the December 1916 legislation for manpower mobilization in Germany. In
August that year, Chief of General Staff Paul von Hindenburg (1847–1934) and
his deputy Erich Ludendorff (see fig. 9.1) had strengthened their authority over
the war-related economy. In October, a new form of industrial mobilization
had been implemented that was intended to substitute the Rathenau-type
industrial mobilization, and this was known as the “Hindenburg Program”
(Hindenburg-Programm). The Commission for the Investigation of Military
Affairs did not heed these transitions. Instead, they only understood the 1916
war system reforms by focusing on the December legislation linked with
Ludendorff’s name. In other words, the IJA understood industrial mobilization
in the Rathenau type that occurred at the outbreak of war, without paying at-
tention to subsequent changes and to the Ludendorff-type war system in terms
of manpower mobilization (on the wartime economic system in 1914 and 1916,
see Kudō 1999: 39–43).
Rathenau And Ludendorff 253

Figure 9.1 The German General Headquarters during World War I. From left to right:
Chief of the General Staff, General Paul von Hindenburg; Kaiser Wilhelm II; and
Hindenburg’s deputy, General Erich Ludendorff.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hindenburg,_Kaiser,_Ludendorff_
HD-SN-99–02150.JPG.

The observations in the report “Manpower Mobilization in Germany, the

United Kingdom, and France” were reiterated in the expanded second edition
of “On the Armies of the Belligerent Nations of Europe” published in June 1917
(Rinji Gunji Chōsa Iin 1917d). Moreover, a year later, extensive reports were re-
leased that dealt with Germany’s industrial and manpower mobilization (Rinji
Gunji Chōsa Iin 1918a, 1918b, 1918c, 1919a). Similar to previous publications,
these reports lauded Germany’s innovation and achievements in both indus-
trial and manpower mobilization, especially when compared to the other bel-
ligerent nations.

National Mobilization as the Unification of Two Images

In June 1918, at roughly the same time as the aforementioned reports on
Germany’s industrial and manpower mobilization, the IJA issued another re-
port, “Kōsen shokoku no rikugun ni tsuite, daiyonhan” (On the Armies of the
Belligerent Nations, 4th edition; Rinji Gunji Chōsa Iin 1918d). This was the first
time that the phrase “total national mobilization” (kokka sōdōin) appeared in
254 Kudō

Figure 9.2 Walther Rathenau.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Walther_
Rathenau.jpg.

Japanese writings, and in this context it connoted industrial and manpower

mobilization, as well as agricultural mobilization (nōgyō dōin), transporta-
tion mobilization (kōtsū dōin), and financial mobilization (zaisei dōin). “Total
national mobilization” was an umbrella term and as a policy “controlling and
re-assigning every domestic resource and facility with the aim of making the
utmost of every resource in warfare.” The report defined the ongoing war as
a total war and suggested that Japan prepared for such wars in the future
(Yamaguchi 1979: 110–11, Kōketsu 1981: 36–39).
It should be noted that in this report industrial mobilization was exclusively
understood in its connection with Rathenau, and it was grouped together with
the Ludendorff-type manpower mobilization under a section dealing with the
concept of national mobilization. The difference between the Rathenau and
Ludendorff forms of industrial mobilization, and the transition from the for-
mer to the latter, were at the core of the German experience. Although it was
Rathenau And Ludendorff 255

on this point that the German “preparatory facilities for national mobilization”
hinged, it appears to have not fully been grasped by the IJA’s report.
Shortly thereafter, the army’s investigation commission issued the updated
fifth edition of their “Sansen shokoku no rikugun ni tsuite, daigohan” (On the
Armies of the Belligerent Nations, fifth edition) which, this time, narrowed
its focus on the issue of demobilization (Rinji Gunji Chōsa Iin 1919b; see also
Yamaguchi 1979: 111). In the final years of the war and in the early post-war
period, analyses of the results of the studies conducted by the Commission for
the Investigation of Military Affairs were published. The most significant of
these the aforementioned “Opinion Concerning National Mobilization” (Rinji
Gunji Chōsa Iin 1920).3 However, like previous studies this analysis repeated
the problematic interpretation of the idea of industrial mobilization.
In the various reports Germany exercised the greatest influence in shaping
the Commission for the Investigation of Military Affairs’ image of total war.
The resulting image was fashioned by Germany’s rapid mobilization at the out-
break of war and a new mobilization more than two years later, in 1916, in the
form of Rathenau-type industrial mobilization and as Ludendorff-type man-
power mobilization. Moreover, the Commission attempted to understand the
concept of national mobilization as an amalgam of both these types. Yet, it did
not fully grasp that a little more than two years following the outbreak of war,
industrial mobilization in Germany had seen a turn from a Rathenau type to a
Ludendorff type. Furthermore, manpower mobilization was required in order
to achieve a new level of industrial mobilization. There is still discussion why
this lack of awareness existed. One factor at play might have been that there
was a considerable time lag between the implementation of Rathenau-style
industrial mobilization and its reception, and therefore the introduction of in-
dustrial and manpower mobilization occurred almost simultaneously.

The Image of Total War in Kaikōsha kiji

Alongside the reports from the Commission for the Investigation of Military
Affairs, the IJA’s officer corps journal Kaikōsha kiji offers valuable insights
into the Japanese army’s image of national mobilization and total war. As
noted above, the IJA looked to Germany and especially to the contributions
by Rathenau and Ludendorff, who were instrumental in advancing these con-
cepts in Germany. Studies on mobilization in Germany early in the war that are
linked with Rathenau’s name are absent in Kaikōsha kiji; however, several stud-
ies on Ludendorff were indeed published. One of them was Okada Tetsuzō’s

3 This work is included in Kōketsu 1981: 213–44 as an “attached document”; however, it only
comprises the “introduction.”
256 Kudō

Rūdendorufu no kaisōroku tō ni tsuite (On Ludendorff’s Memoirs and Other

[Literature]; Okada 1920a, 1920b; see also Anonymous, undated),4 which in-
troduced works on the Great War by British and German military officers. In
addition to Ludendorff’s memoirs (Ludendorff 1919), the author also mentions
works by General Erich von Falkenhayn (1861–1922) and Admiral Alfred von
Tirpitz (1849–1930). As is evident from the title of his work, Okada devoted
particular space to Ludendorff’s memoirs: he included a detailed introduction
to it and summarized the contents of each of the book’s chapters. Okada was
highly critical of Japanese politicians in his analysis of civil-military relations
(Okada 1920b: 100–1).
Other studies collocated Ludendorff with Falkenhayn and Hindenburg (e.g.,
SY 1920). However, those that linked Ludendorff to manpower mobilization
and to industrial mobilization are not found in Kaikōsha kiji.5 Moreover, while
there was generally little information on Ludendorff in the journal, that on
Rathenau was even more scant. A comprehensive introduction explaining the
mobilization of manpower as decreed by the December 1916 legislation, as well
as an introduction to industrial mobilization, is similarly not covered in the
journal. This suggests that the image of wartime Germany emerging in Kaikōsha
kiji was quite remote from reality. This was probably because Kaikōsha kiji ad-
dressed a broad audience, while the more detailed journal Rinji gunji chōsa iin
geppō (Monthly Reports of the Commission for the Investigation of Military
Affairs) was only read by a small segment of the officers.
Kaikōsha kiji was deeply concerned with the analysis of why Germany suf-
fered defeat in the war. More than lamenting the collapse of the empire, how-
ever, the interests of the IJA, which modeled itself on Prussia and Imperial
Germany, lay in the causes of Germany’s loss, and a number of articles in
the journal took up this issue.6 It can be asserted that the most substantial,
in-depth and most comprehensive analysis was “Doitsu kuppuku no gen’in”

4 Okada’s title is given here as “Professor at the Military Staff College” (Rikugun Kyōju).
5 The first translation of Ludendorff’s memoirs, Rūdendorufu kaisōroku, was available at the
time, but was never published. The name of the translator and the year it was completed are
unknown (Anonymous, undated). Translations of Ludendorff’s later work Der totale Krieg
(Ludendorff 1935), was published in the 1930s (Mano 1938; Hasegawa 1938; Hōki 1941).
6 These included, for instance, “Doitsu haisen no issetsu ni tsuite no shokan” (Thoughts on
the Causes for Germany’s Defeat) by Takada Toyoki; “Doitsu no hōkai to haisen to no gen’in”
(The Causes of Germany’s Collapse and Defeat) by Ichō Mitsuhiro; “Shakai-minshu shisō ga
Doitsu-gun no seido-jō ni oyoboshitaru eikyō” (The Influence of Social-Democratic Thought
on the German Army System) by Kōzuki Yoshio; “Doku-gun no genkyō ni kangamite waga
guntai-kyōiku ni oyobu” (Considering Our Military Education in View of the German Army’s
Present State) by Ōmura Arichika; and “Nichidoku kokujō no hikaku” (A Comparison of the
Rathenau And Ludendorff 257

(The Causes of Germany’s Surrender), published by the Commission for the

Investigation of Military Affairs in May 1919, shortly after the end of the war
(Rinji Gunji Chōsa Iin 1919c). The influence of this work was considerable, and
many later studies would rely on its findings.
The main points of the article “The Causes of Germany’s Surrender” are en-
capsulated well in the following excerpt from it:

The first cause of Germany’s collapse was the inability to add a thorough,
crushing blow toward a part of the Allied forces at the very commence-
ment of hostilities.… The second cause was that, thenceforth, the mili-
tary power of the Allied forces gained superiority and, moreover, that
Germany’s wartime diplomacy yielded to the Allied powers, which re-
sulted in a great disparity in resources between both sides. Consequently,
the military sector, as well as the daily life of the people in the “Central
Powers,” witnessed straitened circumstances, and a pessimistic outlook
regarding the war’s progress spread [among the population]. National
unity declined, eventually leading to Germany’s abrupt collapse. (ibid.)

Here, the IJA has turned its attention from discovering the underlying cause
of Germany’s defeat to elucidating the features of the war in Germany, such as
strategy and the war system. Yet, the army paid little attention to the Rathenau-
type version form of mobilization and, instead, focused on the Ludendorff-
type version form of mobilization, including most of all its limitations. This
was also likely undertaken in an attempt to clarify the cause of Germany’s de-
feat. In any case, the army made no distinction between the two and did not
signal any recognition of the shift from the former to the latter.

Nagata Tetsuzan’s Image of Total War

The Separation of Rathenau-type and Ludendorff-type Images

An eminent army officer interested in the causes of Germany’s defeat in the
war was the later army minister General Ugaki Kazushige (1868–1956). In his
wartime and post-war diaries, he repeatedly mentioned the Great War and
on several occasions scrutinized the causes of Germany’s defeat (Ugaki 1968).
Among Ugaki’s references to the German wartime mobilization system in the

State of Affairs in Japan and Germany) by Kashii Kōhei (Takada 1922; Ichō 1924; Kōzuki 1925;
Ōmura 1923; Kashii 1925).
258 Kudō

early stage of the war, the following account of the outbreak of war is espe-
cially noteworthy:

It was only the fact that oppressive Russia, which had thrown over-
board its prospering culture and become a barbaric despotism, invaded
Germany at the beginning of the war that allowed Germany to achieve
national unity. German success [in achieving national unity] proves the
effectiveness of thorough propaganda efforts. (Ugaki 1968: 246)

While Ugaki places much emphasis on propaganda, in his diary he makes no

mention of industrial mobilization under Rathenau’s leadership; even straight-
forward references to Ludendorff-type mobilization are all but absent.
By contrast, Nagata Tetsuzan (fig. 9.3) stood at the forefront of the
Commission for the Investigation of Military Affairs as one of its members
and is thought to have authored the aforementioned “Opinion Concerning
National Mobilization” (Nagata Tetsuzan Kankōkai 1972: 327). He frequently
presented his image of total war in the Rinji gunji chōsa iin geppō and also to
the broader public, for example, in the form of public lectures. The most no-
table of his early studies is the transcription of his lecture held on August 1919
titled “Kokubō ni kansuru Ōshū sen no kyōkun” (Lessons of the War in Europe
Regarding National Defense; Nagata 1920).7 After discussing in considerable
detail the causes of Germany’s surrender, it sets forth the lessons of the war in
Europe. This is probably the most accomplished of Nagata’s published works,
and it surpasses his later studies in terms of comprehensive treatment of the
topic. At the same time, this lecture does not touch upon Germany’s state of
affairs at the outbreak of war and in 1916.
Six years later, in 1926, Nagata gave another lecture titled “Kokka sōdōin no
gaisetsu: fu, zaiei nengen tanshuku mondai ni tsuite” (An Outline of National
Mobilization. With an Appendix on the Problem of Shortening the Term of
Duty), which again was noteworthy for handling Germany’s situation during
the war (Nagata 1926a).8 After a definition of national mobilization and re-
sources, Nagata outlined the realities of mobilization of belligerent nations
during the European war.
Beginning with Germany, Nagata gives examples of total mobilization for
the countries. After introducing the enforcement of rapid industrial mobiliza-
tion in the initial stage of war, he refers to “total manpower mobilization,” such

7 Nagata’s title is given here as “Major of the Infantry” (Rikugun Hohei Shōsa).
8 Nagata’s title is given here as “Lieutenant Colonel of the Infantry” (Rikugun Hohei Chūsa).
Rathenau And Ludendorff 259

Figure 9.3 Nagata Tetsuzan.

https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E3%83%95%E3%82%A1%
E3%82%A4%E3%83%AB:Tessan_Nagata_2.jpg.

as the establishment of an intermediary agency for labor and the enforcement

of the “Auxiliary National Service Law” and the “Citizen’s Mandatory Service
Law.” In addition, he introduces the notion of controlling scientific research
as an example of total mobilization by mentioning America’s “famous Mr.
Edison.” He frequently cites Germany as an example of the legislation and re-
quired for the enforcement of national mobilization. It should be noted that
Rathenau’s name was mentioned; however, Ludendorff’s name was not includ-
ed even though the issue of manpower mobilization in 1916 is broached.
260 Kudō

Although the essay sets out to examine all the belligerent nations, Nagata
repeatedly refers to Germany in the in-depth explanation of the matters for
preparing national mobilization. For instance, in the section entitled “Survey
of Resources” he includes, among other things, a survey of the stockpile of
raw materials at the time of the “mobilization of raw materials” and a cen-
sus taken in preparation for the execution of the “Compulsory Service Law.”
In the section “Promotion of the Protection and Cultivation of Resources,” he
cites examples of Germany’s nitrogen fixation industry for the production of
ammonia and fertilizers, and the related “principle of national development
based on both agriculture and industry.” Here, again, Rathenau’s name surfac-
es, whereas Ludendorff’s was absent.
The references to Rathenau in this lecture are conspicuous, but the follow-
ing reminiscences in the section “Legislative Preparations” are of even greater
interest:

At the outbreak of war, I was in the German countryside. Even on the first
day of mobilization, various kinds of notifications were posted on the
city’s billboards. A range of machine printed ordinances relating to the
regulation of commodity prices and the like (intending not disrupting
economic life) were posted. I think they must have been prepared in an
era of peace. (Nagata 1928: 54–55)

What Nagata called “the German countryside” referred to Erfurt in the state of
Thuringia, a place that he also mentioned in a 1927 lecture record transcription
of the lecture on kokka sōdōin (National Mobilization):

At the time of the outbreak of the Great War, I was in the German coun-
tryside of Erfurt and when the mobilization law was issued, official an-
nouncements of all sorts were posted on the billboards at every street
corner of the city.… All kinds of ordinances and regulations were put
up, such as ordinances related to agreements on the prices of food items,
or ordinances related to the wartime ban on drinking alcoholic bever-
ages.… I think they were, in all likelihood, already prepared during peace-
time and posted at the moment of mobilization. In that martial law was
imposed on all of Germany before the mobilization ordinances executive
orders are issued … in the name of the army corps commander. It is sus-
pected that they must have been prepared under normal circumstances
and held in reserve. (Ibid.)

Nagata’s experiences in Erfurt abruptly ended with the outbreak of war be-
tween Japan and Germany, and the memory of the advance toward Germany’s
Rathenau And Ludendorff 261

west at the start of the war were probably still vivid in Nagata’s mind. Nagata’s
personal recollections should be seen within the context of the times: the
fierce social upheaval during the era of “Taishō Democracy,” the antagonism
between the civilian government and the army regarding the preparations for
total war.
Even Nagata, with his rich experience of life in Europe, formed his image of
Ludendorff primarily through the press. It should be noted that the wording in
the opening paragraphs of the lecture “An Outline of National Mobilization”
includes “France’s [sic: Germany] ‘Ludendorff,’ Germany’s ‘Rathenau,’ Great
Britain’s ‘Lloyd George,’ Italy’s [sic; the United States’] ‘Hoover.’ ” Such surpris-
ing errors are presumably due to the transcriber of the lecture, and either the
transcription was not corrected by Nagata or that he failed to see them. But
considering that Ludendorff did not receive much public attention at the time,
it can also be assumed that audiences did not leave Nagata’s lecture with a very
concrete impression of Ludendorff.
Nagata continued to advocate the German example, with even greater
vigor than in the “Lecture: An Outline of Total National Mobilization”. There
were still comparatively few references to Rathenau, however (Nagata 1926b;9
Nagata 1928). And yet, taken together, these writings should not be dismissed
as being almost identical in scope. Rather, they should be considered indis-
pensable in understanding Nagata’s political ideology relating to the prepara-
tions for total war.10
In these thoughts regarding national mobilization in the Great War Nagata
clearly attached the greatest significance to the example of Germany. However,
with Nagata talking more about Rathenau’s 1914 policies and less about
Ludendorff’s actions in 1916, his references are opposite to those in the various
studies appearing in Kaikōsha kiji. Instead, Nagata linked Ludendorff’s name—
along with manpower mobilization—to the discussion of civil-military re-
lations, praising him for his insistence on the prerogatives of the Supreme
Command. There were probably many issues on Nagata’s mind, including the
development of Taishō Democracy and the struggles between government and
the military. It might well have been this situation that kept him from drawing
any hastily formulated conclusions.
Ultimately for Nagata the image of wartime Germany was linked to
Rathenau. He considered the Rathenau and Ludendorff types as separate,
and he was more actively engaged with the former. As a result, Nagata’s image

9 Nagata’s title is given here as “Secretary for the Maintenance of Operational Material at
the Department of War / Lieutenant Colonel of the Infantry.”
10 It is not the intent of this chapter to explore this point; for a more in-depth discussion, see
Kurosawa 2000: ch. 3 and Kawada 2009.
262 Kudō

of future wars was similarly disjointed: he stopped short of drawing definite

conclusions to the various questions that accompanied a future war, such as
whether it would be a short war (“blitzkrieg”) or a prolonged (total) war, and
whether it would be one in which Japan had to self-sufficient or would be able
to rely on an international division of labor.

Lessons of the Great War

Nagata drew two noteworthy lessons from the Great War. These can be identi-
fied in his lecture “Lessons of the War in Europe Regarding National Defense,”
held in 1919 and published the following year. In it Nagata lays out exceedingly
concrete precepts about national defense as well as battlefield tactics.
The first lesson relates to securing resources which, as already observed, the
Commission for the Investigation of Military Affairs and Nagata considered
particularly important in the preparation for total war. Nagata states that:

… without a doubt, if the Allied Powers had secured the Romanian and
Galician oil fields, Germany’s surrender would have been considerably
hastened. Moreover, if Germany had failed to get possession of the huge
coal-fields across Germany, Belgium, and France and to seize the iron-ore
region of Lorraine, operations would have been impossible. (Nagata 1920:
312)

Nagata also noted “to compensate for the deficiency, measures must be carried
out as part of peacetime policy that ensure a permanent supply from a nearby
land. To this end, resources in neighboring countries must be sufficiently pur-
sued” (Nagata 1920: 317–18; see also Kawada 2009: 134–39). Once again, Nagata
choses Germany from among the belligerent nations; in his opinion Japan
needed to draw lessons from the war and “seize” the resources of China and
Southeast Asia.
The second lesson deals with the substance of the resources. Nagata writes
that:

… someone once changed the content of the three M’s that Napoleon had
defined as the indispensable basics of war—namely, Money, Money, and
Money—by saying that three M’s are equally indispensable for present-
day wars—namely, Men, Munitions, and Money. I regard it a matter of
course that he counted “Munitions” as one of the most important fac-
tors. However, it can also be said that among these three M’s, “Money” is
equivalent to labor and commodities, and so I believe in the end there
are [only] two M’s, even though they are sometimes counted as three.
(Nagata 1920: 289)
Rathenau And Ludendorff 263

In other words, Nagata’s meaning is that men and munitions are prerequisites
for war. Nagata also notes that each of the belligerent nations

… has had enormous war expenditures and were hard pressed, but
none of the countries were compelled to negotiate peace or became in-
capable of fighting. Therefore, the lessons of this war show that the com-
monly accepted theory among pre-war economists that “the enormity of
war expenditures should be the cause for the prevention of an outbreak
of war or for the suspension of war” was squarely contradicted. (Nagata
1920: 311)

Nagata’s concept on money would be categorized as a most vulgar form of the

“veil of money” dogma that views money only as a veil to real economy. After
the Manchurian Incident of September 1931, Nagata accepted Ishiwara Kanji’s
notion that any future conflict would be “a war supported by war” (Katō 2005:
7–8). For Nagata, himself a long-term proponent of seizing “resources in neigh-
boring countries,” the acceptance of Ishiwara’s ideas can be seen as a natural
consequence. At the same time, it is also conceivable that Ishihara’s views of
war changed after the Manchurian Incident. Furthermore, given the fiscal-
monetary crisis and the imbalance of international payments that peaked in
1937 (after Nagata’s death), it also seems quite natural that the army would
continue on the path to war, taking Nagata’s view of the “veil of money” into
account.

Conclusion

We can draw three conclusions regarding the influence of World War I and, in
particular, the study of German wartime mobilization on the changing image
of war in modern Japan. First, the various reports of the Commission for the
Investigation of Military Affairs viewed the rapid mobilization at the early
stage of the outbreak of war as a Rathenau-type industrial mobilization. The
wartime system alterations at the end of 1916, two years after the outbreak of
the Great War, were perceived as a Ludendorff-type manpower mobilization.
However, after more than two years of conflict in Germany, there was a shift
away from the Rathenau type and toward the Ludendorff type; similarly, in-
dustrial mobilization assumed a new form. However, this shift was not fully
realized by the IJA, and ultimately both were perfunctorily integrated under
the term “total national mobilization.” Secondly, the Rathenau-type image of
wartime Germany disappeared from the pages of the journal Kaikōsha kiji; the
Ludendorff-type image remained, in part because the focus of interest was on
264 Kudō

the cause of Germany’s defeat. As a result, the image of wartime Germany, as

well as the image of total war, became divorced from reality. Thirdly, Nagata
Tetsuzan, who after the end of the Great War spearheaded the preparations for
total war, eventually backed away from these two images of wartime Germany.
This led to the disintegration of the image of total war, and in its place was
the increased distinction in the separation between the Rathenau and the
Ludendorff types. This separation between the two images of total war as a
result of World War I would eventually lead to the wavering of the image of
future wars between a short war (“blitzkrieg”) and a prolonged (total) war.

(translated by Michael Wachutka)

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manuscript in three fascicles, held by Hokkaidō University Library.
Hasegawa Tadashi (trans.) (1938): Sensō to sensō ron. Tokyo: Kyōzaisha.
Hōki Saburō (trans.) (1941): Sekai taisen o kataru: Rūdendorufu kaisōroku. Osaka: Asahi
Shinbunsha.
Ichō Mitsuhiro (1924): “Doitsu no hōkai to haisen to no gen’in,” Kaikōsha kiji 597, sup-
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Kaigun Rekishi Hozonkai (ed.) (1995): Nihon kaigun-shi 2: tsūshi dai san hen. Tokyo:
Daiichi Hōki Shuppan.
Kashii Kōhei (1925): “Nichidoku kokujō no hikaku,” Kaikōsha kiji 605, February
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Katō Yōko (2005): “Sōryokusen-ka no sei-gun kankei,” in Kurasawa Aiko et al. (eds.),
Iwanami kōza: Ajia/Taiheiyō sensō 2: sensō no seijigaku. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten.
Kawada Minoru (2009): Hamaguchi Osachi to Nagata Tetsuzan. Tokyo: Kōdansha.
Kōketsu Atsushi (1981): Sōryokusen taisei kenkyū: Nihon rikugun no kokka sōdōin kōsō.
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eikyō,” Kaikōsha kiji 607, April.
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Kurosawa Fumitaka (2000): Taisenkan ki no Nihon rikugun. Tokyo: Misuzu Shobō.
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Mittler und Sohn.
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Rathenau And Ludendorff 265

Mano Toshio (trans.) (1938): Kokka sōryokusen. Tokyo: Mikasa Shobō.

Nagata Tetsuzan (1920): “Kokubō ni kansuru Ōshū sen no kyōkun,” in Chūtōgakkō
Chirirekishika Kyōin Kyōgikai (ed.), Chūtōgakkō chirirekishika kyōin kyōgikai giji
oyobi kōen sokkiroku, dai-yon kai. Record of a lecture held at Tōkyō’s Higher Normal
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ni tsuite,” Dai Nihon kokubō gikai kaihō 93. Record of a lecture held on July 16, 1926.
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Sawamoto Mōko (ed.), Kokka sōdōin no igi. Tokyo: Aoyama Shoin.
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June 1.
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September 1.
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June 1, 1918.
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geppō, December 1918.
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March 1.
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geppō, December.
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ment, May.
266 Kudō

Rinji Gunji Chōsa Iin (1920): “Kokka sōdōin ni kansuru iken,” Rinji chōsa iin geppō, May.
Saaler, Sven (2008): “Nichidoku kankei ni okeru rikugun,” in Kudō Akira and
Tajima Nobuo (eds.), Nichidoku kankeishi 1890–1945, vol. 2. Tokyo: Tōkyō Daigaku
Shuppankai.
Saitō Seiji (1984): “Kaigun ni okeru Daiichiji taisen kenkyū to sono hadō,” Rekishigaku
kenkyū 530.
SY (1920): “ ‘Farukenhain’ cho Doitsu saikō tōsui o yomite,” Kaikōsha kiji 556, December.
Takada Toyoki (1922): “Doitsu haisen no issetsu ni tsuite no shokan,” Kaikōsha kiji 569
(January).
Ugaki Kazushige (Tsunoda, Jun comp.] (1968): Ugaki Kazushige nikki. Tokyo: Misuzu
Shobō.
Yamaguchi Toshiaki (1979): “Kokka sōdōin kenkyū josetsu: Daiichiji sekai taisen kara
Shigenkyoku no setsuritsu made,” Kokka gakkai zasshi 92, 3/4.
 CHAPTER 10

Images of Japan and East Asia in German Politics in

the Early Nazi Era

Tajima Nobuo

The twelve-year period between Hitler’s “seizure of power” (Machtergreifung)

in January 1933 and Germany’s defeat in May 1945 marked an era of close
Japanese-German relations. Various treaties, including the Anti-Comintern
Pact of 1936 (Ōhata 1963; Tajima 1997, 2009b, 2011), the Exchange of Information
and Strategy Agreement of 1938 (Tajima 1997; 2006; 2011; 2017), or the Tripartite
Pact of 1940 (Hosoya 1963; Miyake 1975; Krebs 1984), demonstrate that Japan
and Germany closely cooperated in the political, diplomatic, and military
fields during this period.1 Economic, social, cultural, educational, and per-
sonal exchange between both countries also expanded, and mutual relations
reached an unprecedented high.2 This era constituted a peak within the broad-
er history of 150 years of Japanese-German relations alongside the Meiji period
(1868–1912), which is sometimes also known as the “Golden Age of Japanese-
German relations.” (see introduction and ch. 8 of this volume)
Scholars working on the topic of Japanese-German relations have typically
focused on the 1930s and early 1940s. Representative studies include those by
Presseisen (1958), Sommer (1962), Ōhata (1963), Hosoya (1963), Martin (1969),
Miyake (1975), Krebs (1984), and Yoshii (1987). However, these research efforts
have a number of shortcomings. First, research on German attitudes toward

1 Even this twelve-year period of Japanese-German relations had its ups and downs. Friction
arose because of the Nazi regime’s racial ideology that discriminated against Asians. There
was also political discord in the early phase of the Second Sino-Japanese war (1937–1938),
since Japan regarded China as an enemy state, whereas Germany supported the Guomindang
government under Chiang Kai-shek. Relations further soured after the German-Soviet Non-
Aggression Treaty of August 1939. Moreover, after the German attack on the Soviet Union
in June 1941, a strategic rift occurred between Germany, which aimed at continuing the war
against the Soviet Union, and Japan, which saw political advantage in reconciliation with
the Soviets. This rift was not settled until the defeat of both countries. For more details, see
Tajima 2008a and 2009a.
2 On the economic, social, educational, cultural, as well as personal fields of Japanese-German
exchange, see for instance, Pauer 1984, Hack 1996, Yō 2003, Kudō 2008, Yanagisawa 2008,
Kudo 2009, Koltermann 2009, and Ogawa 2010.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_012

268 Tajima

Japan in the initial phase of the Nazi era, in particular, the years 1933 to 1934,
is scarce. This is due to the fact that negotiations for the Anti-Comintern Pact,
an agreement that helped deepen the relationship between the two countries,
began only in the second half of 1935. Secondly, there has been an emphasis on
the image that Adolf Hitler (1889–1945) and a few Nazi party members held of
Japan—even within the discussion of the years 1933 to 1934—while the aware-
ness of East Asia and Japan by other political, diplomatic, or military actors has
on the whole been neglected.
This chapter analyzes German images of Japan in the early stage of the
Nazi era. In addition to Hitler’s view of East Asia, I will investigate the image
of East Asia by other German politicians, diplomats, bureaucrats, and military
officers. This includes Hitler’s right-hand man and commander-in-chief of
the Luftwaffe, Hermann Göring; Hitler’s advisor in foreign affairs (and foreign
minister since 1938), Joachim von Ribbentrop; Nazi ideologue and Head of the
Foreign Policy Office of the National Socialist Party (NSDAP), Alfred Rosenberg;
Minister of Foreign Affairs (1932–1938), Konstantin Hermann Karl Freiherr von
Neurath; Vice-Minister of Foreign Affairs, Bernhard von Bülow; Germany’s am-
bassador to China (1931–1938), Oskar Trautmann; the Supreme Commander of
the Reichswehr General, Kurt Freiherr von Hammerstein-Equord; the army of-
ficer and later German ambassador in Tokyo, Eugen Ott; and finally the head of
the “Foreign Armies” branch of the Ministry of Defense’s General Staff Office,
Carl-Heinrich von Stülpnagel. This chapter attempts to augment previous re-
search through a quantitative and qualitative analysis of primary sources relat-
ed to these individuals and present fresh results regarding the image of Japan
among Germany’s leadership during early Nazi rule.

Adolf Hitler

An analysis of Hitler’s image of East Asia before 1933 must include an exami-
nation of the contents of his two-volume Mein Kampf (My Struggle; published
in 1925 and 1926) and his Zweites Buch (Second Book; written in 1928, Hitler
2004). Table 10.1 employs a content analysis method to show a country-specific
“reference frequency” (omitting “Germany”) for Hitler’s major works (Tajima
1992: 75).3

3 This method involved counting the respective nouns and adjectives, but excluding pronouns
and relative pronouns. The following editions were used for this study: Hitler 1935, Bd. 1,
Abrechnung; Hitler 1939, Bd. 2, Die nationalsozialistische Bewegung; Hitler, 1961.
Images Of Japan And East Asia In German Politics 269

Table 10.1 Content analysis of Hitler’s interest in world affairs as recorded in Mein Kampf
and Zweites Buch.

Country Mein Kampf Zweites Buch

Austria 212 216

Britain 184 197
France 157 208
Russia 83 136
Italy 49 324
USA 34 68
Japan 22 8
India 14 8
Czechoslovakia 14 18
Poland 10 23
Greece 7 0
Yugoslavia 6 7
Hungary 6 3
Spain 5 5
Egypt 5 2
China 3 7
Palestine 2 0

A “reference frequency” analysis defines the interest in a subject to be high

when it is often cited. As Table 1 indicates, Hitler’s interest in world affairs was
focused in the first instance on European affairs, and particularly on his native
Austria. But he was also attentive to events in Britain, with which he sought a
lifelong alliance, and on France, which he considered to be Germany’s “arch-
enemy.” The next most frequently mentioned country was Russia (the Soviet
Union), which in Hitler’s view was Germany’s future enemy. Following this are
references to Germany’s “ally” Italy. Hitler’s fascination with this country grew
considerably between the writing of Mein Kampf and Zweites Buch. Regular
notations to Italy appear in Zweites Buch, and in fact, Hitler may have written
this book to justify his own pro-Italy policy.
Hitler’s comparatively low interest in non-European countries is conspicu-
ous. For example, Japan is ranked seventh, and China appears second to last
in the countries listed in Table 10.1. It could therefore be conjectured that East
Asia remained a marginal region for Hitler during the time he was writing
270 Tajima

Mein Kampf. However, a further investigation of the references to Japan

in Mein Kampf reveals Hitler’s views on Japan before he came to power. In the
following passage, for instance, he states:

As a result of his millennial experience in accommodating himself to

surrounding circumstances, the Jew knows very well that he can under-
mine the existence of European nations by a process of racial bastardiza-
tion, but that he could hardly do the same to a national Asiatic state like
Japan. Today he can ape the ways of the German and the Englishman, the
American and the Frenchman, but he has no means of approach to the
yellow Asiatic. Therefore, he seeks to destroy the Japanese nation state by
using other national states as his instruments, so that he may rid himself
of a dangerous opponent before he takes over supreme control of the last
national state and transforms that control into a tyranny for the oppres-
sion of the defenseless. (Hitler 1939a: 488; 1973, vol. 2: 373–74)

This excerpt indicates that Hitler’s image of Japan was mirrored in his image
of the Jewish people. Furthermore, his seemingly positive depiction of Japan
stood in contradiction to his “Yellow Peril” (Gelbe Gefahr) racial ideology (see
the introduction and chapter 5 in this volume). For example, he contrasted
the “culture-founding Aryan” people with the (merely) “culture-bearing”
Japanese race, which occupied a lower place than the Aryan people in his
racial hierarchy:

If, from today onward, the Aryan influence on Japan would cease—and if
we suppose that Europe and America would collapse—then the present
progress of Japan in science and technology might still last for a short du-
ration; but within a few decades the inspiration would dry up, and native
Japanese character would triumph, while the present civilization would
become fossilized and fall back into the sleep from which it was aroused
about seventy years ago by the impact of Aryan culture. (Hitler 1935: 318–
19; 1939a: 227; 1973, vol. 1: 414)

It should be noted that except for a few entries in his Mein Kampf and Zweites
Buch, Hitler exhibited little interest in China as regards to foreign policy.
Although in terms of its territory and population he ranked China among the
“huge nations”—and on par with the United States and Soviet Russia—his
image of the Chinese people was based on feelings of racial contempt, as the
following passage illustrates:
Images Of Japan And East Asia In German Politics 271

But it is almost inconceivable how such a mistake could be made as to

think that a Nigger or a Chinaman will become a German because he
has learned the German language and is willing to speak German for the
future, and even to cast his vote for a German political party. (Hitler 1935:
428; 1939a: 303; 1973, vol. 2: 34)

Nazi Party Officials: Göring, von Ribbentrop, and Rosenberg

Hitler’s closest supporters, Hermann Göring and Joachim von Ribbentrop

(both 1893–1946), similarly displayed relatively little admiration for or under-
standing of East Asia early in their careers. Göring, who had left Germany for
Italy and Scandinavia after the failed Munich Beer Hall Putsch of November
1923, was knowledgeable on European issues, but his interests did not extend to
East Asia. In March 1933, for instance, Göring wrote to the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs that he “cannot assess … the degree of importance [of the political situ-
ation in East Asia].”4 Like Hitler, Göring was also racially prejudiced against
Japan. In January 1936, he reportedly called an alliance with Japan “distasteful”
because of the “differences in race” between Germany and Japan (Phipps to
Vansittart on January 23, 1936, DBFP, 2–XV, pp. 588–89).
There are few historical records regarding von Ribbentrop’s image of East
Asia at the beginning of his career. Erich Kordt (1903–1969), who had been
dispatched by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to von Ribbentrop’s office (Büro
Ribbentrop) as his assistant, once recorded the following: “One day in the
summer of 1934, he [von Ribbentrop] abruptly asked whether a secret mili-
tary agreement existed between Germany and Japan.” Kordt responded in the
negative and referred to the “Shimonoseki Incident” (the Triple Intervention
of 1895) as an example of tensions in past Japanese-German relations. To
this, however, von Ribbentrop reportedly reacted with a gloomy look, inquir-
ing of “Shimonoseki”: “Who is that fellow?,” clearly not understanding that
Shimonoseki was a place and not a person (Kordt, Erich: “German Political
History in the Far East during the Hitler Regime,” in Library of Congress,
German Captured Documents, Box 809, folder p. 4). Given the fact that the
1895 Triple Intervention was a central moment in Japanese-German relations,
von Ribbentrop’s ignorance of the event is clear evidence of his low interest in
East Asian affairs.

4 Göring to von Neurath on March 4, 1933; PAAA (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amtes,
Berlin [PAAA]), Abt. IV-OA, Geheimakten OA, “Fall Heye”, Bd. 1, 6693/H 098860.
272 Tajima

The views on external issues held by Alfred Rosenberg (1893–1946), the Head
of the Foreign Policy Office of the National Socialist Party, centered on the idea
of a “northern common-fate community” based on the racial superiority of the
“Nordic peoples.” His stance was pro-British but he was hostile toward France
and the Soviet Union. By realizing an alliance with England, his goal was to
establish “various prerequisites upon which the safety of the white race around
the globe and security in Europe itself depend” (“England und Deutschland,”
May 12, 1934, in Rosenberg 1956: 163–67).
It could be said that Rosenberg’s image of East Asia was an extension of
such Anglophile and anti-Soviet sentiments. He asserted that, “No antipathy
toward Japan prevails in Germany; rather we may behold in the Japanese state
the naturally given factor holding Soviet Russia at bay.” Moreover, Rosenberg
held the view that Japan might have the ability to “challenge Soviet Russia
and perhaps even annihilate it with a single blow” and, thus, was positioned
as a potential ally for Germany. However, he also believed that there was the
possibility that “a commitment to the entire Japanese plan [of expansion in
East Asia] would openly challenge England.” As a consequence it “may push
England to side with France rather than remain neutral in regards to impor-
tant political matters.… It is therefore not in Germany’s interest to get involved
in the currently ongoing dispute between Japan and England without reason”
(ibid.).
Rosenberg attributed little “racial value” to the Chinese, and this is in part
why he tolerated Japan’s invasion of China and other areas of East Asia. He
noted that “we don’t think of obstructing Japan from consolidating her yellow
lebensraum” in the Far East (Rosenberg 1935: 117, 408). However, it is difficult
to claim that Rosenberg’s East Asian policy concept was based on an accurate
perception of affairs in that region. For instance, on May 12, 1934 he remarked:

The Japanese policy of expansion undoubtedly emanates from the direc-

tion of central Japan, via Manchuria, Mongolia, and Turkestan, searches
for ties with Turkey, and will settle more and more in Abyssinia. (“England
und Deutschland,” May 12, 1934, in Rosenberg 1956: 163–67)

There was an increased interest in Abyssinia (the Ethiopian Empire) in Japan,

as is evinced by a visit of an Ethiopian delegation to Japan in November/
December 1931 at roughly the same time as the Manchurian Incident. This
“Ethiopia boom” reached its climax in January 1934 with the announcement
of the engagement of Lij Araya Abebe, a relative of Ethiopian emperor Haile
Selassie I, to Viscount Kuroda Hiroshi’s second daughter Masako. However, in
April 1934, Japanese interest in Ethiopia waned with the cancelation of the
Images Of Japan And East Asia In German Politics 273

engagement and faded completely when Italy began an all-out war against
Ethiopia in September 1935 and annexed the African state the following year.
During these events, the Japanese Black Dragon Society (Kokuryūkai) had
worked behind the scenes to garner support for Ethiopia against Italy, but nei-
ther the imperial court nor the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs had been
enthusiastic about an alliance with the African state. The fact that Rosenberg
paid attention to Japanese-Ethiopian relations is intriguing, but in reality the
“Ethiopian boom” remained but a brief interlude in Japanese foreign relations
(Fujita 2005: 178–218).
It is true that Japan, in particular, the Kwantung Army (troops that pro-
voked the Manchurian Incident in 1931) expanded its political interest from
Manchuria through Inner Mongolia and into Xinjiang in the early 1930s. From
the end of 1933, the Kwantung Army established close relations with the Inner
Mongolian independence movement led by Prince Demchugdongrub (De
Wang, 1902–1966). However, the Kwantung Army began full-scale activities
in Inner Mongolia only after the “North China Separation Operations” of 1935
and Prince Demchugdongrub’s visit to the Japanese puppet state Manchukuo
at the end of the same year. With the failed Suiyuan Campaign of November
1936, Japan’s attempts to create an independent Inner Mongolian state even-
tually came to an end (Mori 2009). Although Rosenberg’s above speculation
that Japan aimed to expand into areas west of Manchuria was accurate, in re-
ality it is doubtful how much of this was based on the actual moves of the
Kwantung Army.
Rosenberg appears to have overlooked the fact that a “securing of the entire
yellow lebensraum by Japan” would collide with the then growing national-
ism in Asian countries, as well as with the interests of Britain in East Asia.
Furthermore, Japan at that time did not have the capacity to “annihilate Soviet
Russia with a single blow,” as the Nomonhan Incident (1939) would soon reveal.

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs

On March 1, 1932, the founding of the new state of Manchukuo was proclaimed,
and the signing of the Japan-Manchukuo Protocol on September 15 established
Japanese control over what has been a Japanese puppet state. Nevertheless,
anti-Japanese resistance in Manchukuo continued, and the army in Manchukuo
also clashed with troops of Republican China, leading to the occupation of the
Shanhaiguan area by the Japanese Kwantung Army in January 1933.
During these developments, on January 6, 1933, the Vice-Minister of Foreign
Affairs (1930–1936) Bernhard Wilhelm von Bülow (1885–1936, nephew of
274 Tajima

Bernhard von Bülow, the fourth Chancellor of the German Reich) confided in
the minister of the German legation in Beijing, Oskar Trautmann (1877–1950),
that “due to a lack of experience in Asian mentality and history, I can by no
means assess the problem.” He additionally lamented that “for us Europeans
it goes very much against the grain that there is no general formula and no
general solution to the question of Manchukuo.”5 In other words, Bülow was at
a loss because he had no image of East Asian affairs and for him faced the un-
usual situation that none of the involved parties came forward with a general
policy proposal to settle the “Manchukuo” question.
Oskar Trautmann conversely lacked a lucid picture concerning the unfold-
ing of events in Europe, especially after Hitler’s Machtergreifung, and thus
did not have confidence in the workings of diplomacy. On February 25, 1933,
Trautmann explained that “we [the German legation in China] are too far away
[from Europe] to dare to render our own judgment.”6 Confronted with the
rapidly emerging political situation occurring concurrently in both Europe
and East Asia, the state of German diplomacy was in turmoil. This hindered
diplomats from arriving at a policy analysis about events in these two areas.
A fuller understanding of the state of foreign policy of the Ministry of
Foreign Affairs in the initial stages of the Nazi regime can be grasped from a
policy speech given at a cabinet meeting on the afternoon of April 7, 1933 by
the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Konstantin Freiherr von Neurath (1873–1956),7
as well as from a memorandum written by the Vice-Minister of Foreign Affairs
von Bülow just one month earlier in preparation for the same cabinet meeting
(von Bülow 1973). Both were manifesto-type documents from the ministry that
set out guidelines for Germany’s future foreign policy toward Britain, Austria,
France, Soviet Russia, and the United States. It is worthy of mention that these
documents did not contain a single reference to East Asian affairs. In other
words, early in the Nazi regime, the German Ministry of Foreign Affairs did not
possess a concrete, future-oriented East Asian policy plan that could have been
incorporated into a comprehensive foreign policy.
At the same time, it should be noted that the image of East Asia by the
German Ministry of Foreign Affairs was not a blank page; in fact, anti-Japanese

5 Bülow to Trautmann, January 6, 1933, PAAA, Politischer Schriftwechsel des Herrn

Staatssekretärs, Captured German Documents, Microfilm Series T120, 4620/E201015–16.
6 Trautmann to Bülow, February 25, 1933, PAAA, Politischer Schriftwechsel des Herrn
Staatssekretärs, Captured German Documents, Microfilm Series T120, 4620/E201017–20.
7 Niederschrift über die Besprechung am 7. April 1933 in der Reichskanzlei, ADAP, Serie C, Bd.
1, Dok. Nr. 142: 255–61.
Images Of Japan And East Asia In German Politics 275

sentiment among Germany’s diplomatic corps appears to have been wide-

spread. For instance, Foreign Minister von Neurath stated the following in a
conversation with Japan’s ambassador to Germany, Nagai Matsuzō (1877–1957)
in April 1934:

Germany especially took offense that the government of Japan, bare of

any reason, was one of the first to side with our enemies in 1914. After the
great kindness that we had shown the Japanese in all areas before the
war, it deeply hurt us to have our courtesy repaid with such vile ingrati-
tude. Since then we have become suspicious of Japanese aspirations for
friendship. (Aufzeichnung Neuraths, April 18, 1934, ADAP, Serie C, Bd. II,
Dok. Nr. 404: 733–34)

The Military

Ott’s Activities, 1933–1934

Eugen Ott (1889–1977), at one time the head of the army bureau under General
Kurt von Schleicher and a frequent participant in political negotiations with
Hitler, asked Defense Minister Werner von Blomberg (1878–1946) for a new as-
signment in East Asia after the Nazis rose to power (Kokusai Kensatsukyoku
1993: 5). When the supreme commander of the army, General Kurt Freiherr
von Hammerstein-Equord (1878–1943), heard of this, he replied: “this is excel-
lent, [because] since 1914 we have not had any information about the power
on the other side of Russia [i.e., Japan]” (Sommer 1962: 20, 1964: 28). Von
Hammerstein-Equord’s statement indicates that he was relieved that Ott, a
member of the armed forces, decided to go to East Asia since there was a com-
plete lack of knowledge within the army regarding the situation in that region.
Ott’s observations in East Asia played a vital role in forming the German
Defense Ministry’s image of Japan, especially as relates to its policy of expan-
sion. Ott initially hoped to be dispatched to Manchuria as a military observer of
the Manchurian Incident. But since the conflict had virtually ended following
the Tanggu Truce of May 31, 1933, he was appointed as an “Embedded Officer”
with the third division of the Imperial Japanese Army at Nagoya. In August
1933, before arriving in Nagoya, Ott was allowed a one-month study trip to
Manchuria, where he held talks with the military commander of the Kwantung
Army, Hishikari Takashi (1871–1952), the chief of staff and head of special ser-
vices Koiso Kuniaki (1880–1950), and others. He also deepened his awareness of
the Kwantung Army’s purpose in Manchukuo and the neighboring provinces
276 Tajima

from the anecdotes of a Kwantung Army field rank officer.8 At that time, he
also was given permission to do an aerial reconnaissance of the territory ac-
quired by the Kwantung Army during the Jehol operation. Once in Nagoya, Ott
continued to “concentrate solely on studying the Japanese army.” As he later
wrote, the German army at that time “had no knowledge of the Japanese Army,
having lost all contact since 1914.”
In late December 1933, Ott went to Germany to report to Hitler about the
situation in Japan, and also to submit a report about East Asian Affairs to the
German Ministry of Defense (Kokusai Kensatsukyoku 1993: 54–55, 84–86,
111–14, 184–86). Ott then returned to Japan in April 1934 as the first German
military attaché since World War I. This appointment also opened the door for
his later promotion as the German ambassador to Japan.

The Image of the Manchurian Incident

On January 22, 1934, the German Army’s Staff Office held a lecture entitled
“Die Lage im Fernen Osten” (Far Eastern Affairs) at its Section Three (TIII),
a planning unit of the German Army’s Staff Office (Truppenamt) responsible
for “Foreign Armies” (BA/MA [Bundesarchiv/Militärarchiv, Freiburg], RW5/
v. 348). The lecturer may have been the head of Section Three, Karl Heinrich
von Stülpnagel (1886–1944), although the timing is such that Eugen Ott could
have given the talk during his stay in Germany. In either case, the lecture con-
veys the image of Japan among German military circles in the early 1930s, and
is therefore very revealing.
The lecturer maintained that it was the rise of the “island empire Japan” from
a “self-sufficient and isolated, medieval polity” to the Pacific’s undisputed com-
mercial superpower and the leader of the “Yellow Race” (Gelbe Rasse) in just
fifty years that left the “strongest impression.” He then compared China, Soviet
Russia, and Japan: China, he explained, had for decades been “the object, not
the subject” of world politics—it was an “earthen colossus.” Although China
had the oldest culture and the world’s largest population, its development and
cultivation had not advanced. Moreover, the speaker noted that there was no
spiritual unity in China due to differences between north and south, mutu-
ally opposed power holders, as well as the powerful communist party forces

8 Ott stated that he did not clearly remember the field rank officer’s name, but had the feeling
it was something like “Fujimura.” In addition, it seems that he also did not hear the officer’s
name again during his long-term stay in Japan as German military attaché and as German
ambassador (Kokusai Kensatsukyoku 1993: 86, 185). While a name similar to “Fujimura” can-
not be found among the Kwantung Army’s field rank officers from that period, this author
believes that it may have been Colonel Matsumuro Takayoshi.
Images Of Japan And East Asia In German Politics 277

in central and south China. In the speaker’s opinion, central China’s authorita-
tive figure Chiang Kai-shek (1887–1975) had not succeeded in destroying the
Communist Party; moreover, China was forced to tolerate the economic privi-
leges of foreign countries.
In his description of Russia the speaker commented that “from the ice-
bound North of the Asian continent, the young striking force of the expanding
Russian empire pushed for a share of the coast, and for ice-free ports.” After
it was pushed back from southern Manchuria in the Russo-Japanese War, it
continued to manage the Eastern Chinese Railway together with China and
remained politically influential in China due to a cooperative relationship
with the Chinese nationalist movement and the Chinese Nationalist Party
(Guomindang). He added that Russia was carrying out the construction of in-
dustrial centers in central Siberia and the Baikal region, and as a result Outer
Mongolia was completely under Russian influence.
As regards Japan, the lecturer remarked that since before World War I this
“East Asian island empire” had begun to move toward Sakhalin in the north
and Taiwan in the south. Moreover, Japan’s powerful naval force resulted in
the domination of the sea routes in the Yellow Sea, together with maritime ac-
cess to central China and Eastern Siberia. The speaker stated that even though
mainland Japan was poor in natural resources, had a high population density,
and was threatened by volcanic activity, it had nevertheless developed into an
industrial nation. He also explained that Japan had advanced into the Asian
mainland, politically strengthened by the Anglo-Japanese Alliance (1902), and
had won hegemony over Korea and southern Manchuria through the annexa-
tion of Korea (1910), victory in the Russo-Japanese War (1904–1905), and the
acquisition of the Kwantung leased territory in Southern Manchuria (1905).
In World War I, Japan forced the “Twenty-one Demands” on China,9 and after
the war it cut off the US-Philippine line by taking charge of Germany’s island
territories in the Pacific.
It was against this background, noted the speaker, that the Manchurian
Incident erupted in 1931. The conflict, he opined, was a struggle between a
“well-disciplined, well-trained, and technically superior minority” (Japan) and
the “numerically far stronger, but insufficiently armed, disorganized, and poor-
ly led masses” (China). Yet, the speaker also signaled that during the “Shanghai
Incident” of January 1932 and in the face of enormous technological disparities,

9 The “Twenty-one Demands” was a set of demands presented to the government in Beijing
that were intended to expand Japan’s influence over China. The demands were later softened
as a result of pressure by Western powers, which wanted to prevent Japan from achieving a
dominant position in China.
278 Tajima

the Chinese army was able to surmount considerable resistance against the
Japanese army because of its admirable organization and leadership.
The lecturer delivered the following comparatively ambiguous judgment
about the military situation in East Asia after the Manchurian Incident, in par-
ticular, as concerned Japanese-Soviet relations:

A comparison of the mutual balance of power shows that both countries

do not believe themselves to be ready for a military campaign in the near
future. The Russian army is undoubtedly superior to the Japanese in terms
of modern weaponry, artillery, tanks, and air forces, but the armament
and supply situation gives it cause for serious concern. Russia therefore is
completely focused on defense. Japan, on the other hand, is so obviously
busy with the modernization and re-equipment of its army that, in this
period of building and growth, a great conflict would be undesirable.

In other words, the speaker held the view that Japanese and Soviet military
powers were almost on par, and thus a war between Japan and Russia seemed
unlikely for the time being. He drew the following conclusions as “a warning
to the white race”:

One thing is certain: the constitutional organization of the world by the

white race, as expressed by the League of Nations and in the Kellogg-
Briand Pact, has been dealt a heavy blow in the eyes of East Asians. For
them, it seems to have been proven that it is not the ideals of peace, law,
and cooperation that serve as the guiding stars for the actions of the na-
tions, but that they are motivated rather by power and money.

According to the lecturer, therefore, “this is the sobering lesson that Germany
can also learn from the East Asian conflict.” The lecturer made relatively objec-
tive judgments in his analysis of Japanese-Soviet and Japanese-Chinese power
politics; however, he appeared entirely unaware of his own racist attitudes.
Moreover, he appeared totally indifferent to the fact that the Nazi political sys-
tem was also a far cry from being a “guiding star” of the “ideals of peace, law,
and cooperation.”

The Image of “Japan’s Westward Advance”

The head of the Section Three of the German Army’s Staff Office, Carl-Heinrich
von Stülpnagel, offered the following analysis in an overview from March 29,
1934 titled “Übersicht über die politische Entwicklung. Überblick über die ja-
panische Politik in Asien” (Overview of the Political Development. Overview of
Japanese Politics in Asia). Based on Ott’s reports, he wrote:
Images Of Japan And East Asia In German Politics 279

Increased political activity of Japanese emissaries is noticeable around

Russia, while at the same time such activity has become calmer around
Manchuria.… The Japanese infiltration of Inner Mongolia is proceed-
ing.… In Chinese Eastern-Turkestan (Sinkiang [Xinjiang] Province),
Russian, Japanese, and English agents and their supporters are fight-
ing one another. Japanese influence presently has the upper hand in
Kashgar.… (“Übersicht über die politische Entwicklung. Überblick
über die japanische Politik in Asien,” March 29, 1934, BA/MA, RH1/v. 78.
Bl. 138–41)

Von Stülpnagel’s words reflect the interests of the Japanese Kwantung Army
at the time, i.e., the idea of expanding Japanese influence from Manchuria
into Inner Mongolia, Ningxia, and Xinjiang. In October 1933, for instance,
the Kwantung Army’s Colonel Matsumuro Takayoshi (1886–1969) draft-
ed his “Opinion Regarding the Construction of an Inner Mongolian State”
(Matsumuro 1966), in which he developed a plan to construct the new state
of “Mongolia” (Mōko-koku) in the inner Mongolian area between Manchukuo
and the Mongolian People’s Republic, a satellite state of the Soviet Union.10
Although Japan had a dominating presence in [Manchuria …], its influence
in the Islamic Republic of Eastern Turkestan was minimal. Eastern Turkestan
was established in the Kashgar region in November 1933, but it witnessed
virtual collapse in May 1934 (Wang 1995). The Xinjiang warlord Sheng Shicai
(1897–1970), who subsequently re-established control over the East Turkestan
region, was semi-independent from the national government. As regards
Japan’s policy toward Afghanistan, von Stülpnagel stated that “in Afghanistan,
the Japanese trade and military mission has been growing considerably stron-
ger for quite some time.” This partly reflected reality as seen in the dispatching
of an investigative group headed by Tanaka Ippei (1882–1934) from the daily
newspaper Mainichi shinbun (Osaka edition) to Afghanistan in January 1934

10 Furthermore, Matsumuro (1966) states that together with making “the [Japanese] em-
pire’s military operations against Russia and China along with policy enforcements easi-
er,” this “Mongolia” would take the “role of restraining Russia throughout Outer Mongolia.”
Moreover, should this “Mongolia” be created, it would promote the “rise of the Islamic
people in Kansu and Xinjiang, and so forth,” naturally lead to the “creation of an Islamic
state” and would bring about the chance for “Tibet to cooperate with Japan via Mongolia.”
Hence, Matsumuro saw the creation of an anti-Soviet and anti-communist “circular alli-
ance” with Japan as a starting point and extending through “Manchukuo,” “Mongolia” and
the “Islamic state” to “Tibet.” Moreover, this “circular alliance” was seen as holding the
opportunity to connect Eurasia with “central Asia and Persia.” Matsumuro thought “the
preparation period for the creation of Mongolia to be three years” and showed a willing-
ness to carry out this new conspiracy of the Kwantung Army until 1936.
280 Tajima

(Maeda and Sekine 2006: 140). In addition, Major Shimonaga Kenji (1890–
1949) was sent to Afghanistan in January, arriving in Kabul in March that year
(Maeda and Sekine 2006: 150; Rikugunshō chōsa han: “Shōkō kaigai shucchō
ni kansuru ken,” January 20, 1934, Japan Center for Asian Historical Records,
www.jacar.go.jp, no. C01006526800). On the one hand, it could be conjectured
that the German army accurately perceived the intent of the Japanese army
and business world. On the other, von Stülpnagel’s claim that Japan’s “military
mission [in Afghanistan] has been growing considerably stronger” was clearly
an exaggeration.
Von Stülpnagel’s remarks that on February 16, 1934 the German minister in
Tehran reported the following concerning Japan’s policy toward Persia (Iran):

The newly arrived Japanese military attaché in Tehran is collecting ma-

terial on the Caucasus. The Japanese minister mentioned in a conver-
sation the possibility of Japanese air attacks from aircraft carriers in
the Persian Gulf on the Russian oil wells of Baku. (“Übersicht über die
politische Entwicklung. Überblick über die japanische Politik in Asien,”
29 March 29, 1934, BA/MA, RH1/v. 78. Bl. 138–41)

Once again, this observation is only partly correct. The Japanese Army had in-
deed dispatched Captain Ueda Masao to Persia in September 1933 and intro-
duced the post of a resident military officer in Persia three years later (Hata
1991: 368). The report that Ueda “is collecting material on the Caucasus” also
seems to be factual. However, it seems highly unlikely and cannot be veri-
fied in Japanese sources that the Japanese minister Okamoto Takezō (1883–
1943)—appointed in February 1933—had mentioned plans for an airstrike
on Baku.
Von Stülpnagel takes the following view regarding Japan’s policy toward
Turkey:

According to newspaper reports, Japan is planning to develop the Turkish

fleet. The plan involves two 10,000-ton cruisers, four destroyers, four sub-
marines, and smaller units. To carry out the construction of these ships,
Japan will grant Turkey a loan of four hundred million gold Marks. In re-
turn, Japan is to receive a large concession to cultivate cotton and fruits in
Anatolia. (“Übersicht über die politische Entwicklung. Überblick über die
japanische Politik in Asien,” March 29, 1934, BA/MA, RH1/v. 78. Bl. 138–41)

This newspaper reports seem highly questionable because Japan never pro-
moted such massive military expansion plans in Turkey during this period; the
mention of aid and its compensation also clearly lack balance.
Images Of Japan And East Asia In German Politics 281

Von Stülpnagel believed that in order to investigate these plans “Japanese

lieutenant colonel Tanaka traveled the European countries adjacent to the
Russian western border and had conversations with the Hetman [of Ukraine,
Pavlo] Skoropadskyi” and that “Japanese emissaries are also present in Finland.”
Pavlo Skoropadskyi (1873–1945) was a former chamberlain to Tsar Nicholas II
(1868–1918) and a military officer from the prestigious Ukrainian aristocratic
family. During the 1918 civil war, Skoropadskyi had been chosen as military
director of the Central Rada parliament, the revolutionary Central Council
of Ukraine. When Ukraine was later occupied by Germany, Skoropadskyi be-
came the puppet government’s head (Hetman). Eventually defeated by the
Soviet Red Army in December 1918, he continued anti-Soviet activity in exile in
Germany. In 1938, Ōshima Hiroshi (1886–1975), then Japanese ambassador to
Germany, resumed contact with the Skoropadskyi group (Tajima 1997: 212–13).
On this point, von Stülpnagel’s 1934 notes are revealing since they testify to
the Japanese army’s early interest in Skoropadskyi. However, it is unclear who
“Lieutenant Colonel Tanaka” was (perhaps Tanaka Shin’ichi, at the time resi-
dent in Berlin and whose rank was lieutenant colonel), or whether this Tanaka
actually met Skoropadskyi.
In addition, von Stülpnagel’s report also covered Japan’s policy toward
Africa:

The Japanese begin to establish themselves in Africa as well by acquiring

extensive concessions (cotton) in Abyssinia [the Ethiopian empire]. An
Abyssinian prince will soon marry a Japanese princess. The newspapers
report alarming news on the planned Japanese subsidiaries in Abyssinia.
There are talks about the building of air bases. Japanese air power in
Abyssinia would heavily threaten passage through the Straits of Aden.

At that time, there was not a single branch of a Japanese business firm or trad-
ing company in Ethiopia, but Japan did come to monopolize the market for
raw cotton cloth through Indian merchants (Fujita 2005: 196). This did not
mean that “Japan had acquired concessions”—as von Stülpnagel’s report indi-
cates—and thus his image of this issue was somewhat exaggerated. However,
it is not entirely surprising that von Stülpnagel himself believed such overly
embroidered information. This is because at this time Italy had been circu-
lating rumors in Europe that nearly one thousand Japanese were resident in
Ethiopia. In fact, very few Japanese were in the African country, and Japan
had denounced such statements as “foolish Italian propaganda” (Fujita 2005:
210–11).
The examples above demonstrate that von Stülpnagel’s and Rosenberg’s
views were parallel in that they both paid close attention to a potential Japanese
282 Tajima

“westward advance.” However, while Rosenberg was in favor of Japan’s expan-

sion and stated that “Japan should not be prevented from obtaining the entire
yellow lebensraum,” the German army, as indicated in von Stülpnagel’s report,
saw Japan instead as a possible threat. Von Stülpnagel’s report drew heav-
ily on spotty newspaper coverage, which led to inaccurate information being
propagated.

Conclusion

The image(s) of Japan held by German politicians, diplomats, and military of-
ficers during the early stage of the Nazi regime can be summarized in three
points. First, Hitler, von Ribbentrop, Göring, Rosenberg, von Neurath, Bülow,
and von Hammerstein-Equord all initially lacked a clear image of East Asia.
As exemplified in the general foreign policy strategy of the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs from spring 1933, this was the reason for the “absence of objectives” in
their East Asian policies (Schieder 1978: 327). Secondly, von Neurath’s state-
ment of April 1934 shows that German diplomats still harbored strong feelings
of mistrust toward Japan as a result of the Japanese declaration of war in 1914
and its alliance with Great Britain. In the early 1930s, this feeling of betrayal by
Japan became the “unspoken assumptions” (Joll 1968) of German diplomacy
vis-à-vis Japan. Thirdly, Nazi party members Hitler, Göring, and Rosenberg
held strong racial prejudices against the “Yellow Race.” Hitler denigrated the
Japanese as racially inferior “culture-bearers” and regarded the Chinese as
equivalent to black people in terms of their low racial standing. The German
army was also not free from such racial prejudice as is evident in the aforemen-
tioned lecture on “Far Eastern Affairs” held at Section Three of the German
Army’s Staff Office in January 22, 1934, in which the Manchurian Incident was
characterized as a “warning to the white race.”
Yet, a year after the Nazis had seized power and firmly established their con-
trol in German politics and society, and as a result of the stabilization of the
international situation in East Asia as well as Ott’s dispatch to the region, a
concrete image of East Asia slowly began to take shape within the Nazi regime.
Although some, such as Rosenberg and von Stülpnagel, still held a mostly erro-
neous image of Japan “advancing westward” and posing a potential threat, this
view was gradually rectified as more reliable information emerged. Eventually,
the development of more positive images of Japan led to alliances between
Japan and Germany in the second half of the 1930s.

(translated by Michael Wachutka)

Images Of Japan And East Asia In German Politics 283

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Yoshii Hiroshi (1987): Nichi-Doku-I sangoku-dōmei to Nichi-Bei kankei. Tokyo: Nansōsha.
Yō Teruko (2003): “Nichidoku bunka kyōtei teiketsu to sono haikei ni tsuite,” in Inamoto
Megumi sensei koki-kinen: Doitsu bungaku/gogaku ronshū. Tokushima: Inamoto
Megumi sensei koki-kinen ronshū kankōkai, pp. 197–210.
 Part 4

Idealization of “The Other” in the Age of

Totalitarianism

∵
 CHAPTER 11

“Strength Through Joy” in Japan: Mutual

Perceptions of Leisure Movements in Germany
and Japan, 1935–1942
Tano Daisuke

From the second half of the 1930s to the 1940s, the National Socialist leisure or-
ganization “Strength Through Joy” (Kraft durch Freude; hereafter cited as KdF)
greatly influenced the development of the Japanese leisure movement (kōsei
undō) and played a crucial role in the evolution of relations between the two
countries. After the 1936 Second World Recreation Congress (Weltkongress
für Freizeit und Erholung) in Hamburg, the KdF—with the aim of improv-
ing workers’ strength by providing them with more leisure opportunities—
attracted public attention in Japan, where general interest in the subject had
previously been weak. The increased Japanese interest eventually led to the
formation of a Japanese movement that was modeled on the KdF. After the
Japanese Recreation Association (Nihon Kōsei Kyōkai; hereafter cited as JRA)
was founded in 1938, the Japanese leisure movement grew rapidly. In October
1940, the Recreation Congress for Asian Development (Kōa Kōsei Taikai)
was held in Osaka, to which representatives from Germany were also invited
(fig. 11.1). At the congress, the slogan “Strength Through Joy” was adopted, and
Japanese-German cooperation in the field of social policy was proclaimed.
However, the congress did little to further actual discussions regarding the two
countries’ policies on leisure, and the mutual perceptions of Germany and
Japan on this matter remained contradictory in many respects. This chapter
examines the image of the KdF in Japan and that of the kōsei undō in Germany,
and investigates how the association between the two countries influenced
mutual perceptions in this field.

“Strength Through Joy” and the kōsei undō

It was not until the July 1936 Second World Recreation Congress held in
Hamburg that interest in the subject of leisure took hold in Japan. Prior to
that, the German authorities had been aware of the low level of Japanese in-
terest, and the German Embassy in Tokyo questioned whether the Japanese

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_013

290 Tano

Figure 11.1 Coverage of the Recreation Congress for Asian Development

(Kōa Kōsei Taikai) in the journal Shashin shūhō, no. 141,
November 6, 1940.
“ Strength Through Joy ” in Japan 291

government would attend the planned congress. At the end of 1935, the
German Ambassador in Tokyo Herbert von Dirksen (1882–1955) reported to
Germany:

As for the proposed invitation to the World Congress, Japan’s participa-

tion is almost out of the question because of the high costs associated
with it. (German Embassy [Dirksen] to the Foreign Ministry, December
19, 1935, Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts, Berlin [hereafter cited
as PAAA], R49235)

Dirksen attributed Japan’s assumed lack of interest in the congress to what he

saw as the “completely different structure of social life in Japan”:

The concept of leisure and free time activities is almost unknown in

Japan because of the ruling family system and coercion to conform to
it.… The fundamentally different social structure of the Japanese people
compared with Germans has not disappeared regardless of their recent
industrial development. (ibid.)

Dirksen regarded the family system in Japan as an obstacle to the evolution of

a leisure movement and also reported that “social organizations dealing with
leisure in general do not exist in Japan.” The German Ambassador therefore
further commented: “It is instead recommended that the Japanese team, which
is participating in the Olympics in Berlin, should also be invited, through the
Japanese Embassy in Berlin, to the World Congress” (ibid.). In early June 1936,
shortly before the beginning of the congress, the German Embassy sent an in-
vitation to the Japanese Foreign Ministry and asked the Japanese authorities
to appoint officials, already in Germany to participate in the Olympics, to rep-
resent the government so that they could form a Japanese delegation (German
Embassy [Dirksen] to the Foreign Ministry, June 25, 1936, PAAA, R49239).
One of the Japanese participants of the 1936 World Recreation Congress in
Hamburg, Kitayama Jun’yū (1902–1962), a teacher at a German university, re-
ported on the problems of leisure in Japan. The congress was characterized by
general praise for the success of the KdF. Another Japanese attendee, Isomura
Eiichi (1903–1977), was also in Germany in preparation for the planned 1940
Tokyo Olympics. Isomura was so impressed with the congress that he began
preparations to hold the next one in Japan. After his return to Japan, Isomura
worked to establish an organization that would eventually lead the kōsei undō
and become the host organization for the World Congress (for more on this
292 Tano

topic, see Tano 2010). Isomura worked quickly, and the JRA was founded in
April 1938. At the time of its creation, Japanese newspapers also reported on
the activities of the KdF in detail, because it was regarded as the model for the
JRA. The Asahi shinbun writes:

The Japanese Recreation Association was founded as a society affiliated

to the Ministry of Welfare and intends to be a nationwide umbrella or-
ganization to improve the life, health, and recreation of working people
and youth. Like the movement “Strength Through Joy” in Germany and
“Dopolavoro.” [After Work] in Italy, the JRA has begun large-scale activi-
ties. (Asahi shinbun, Tokyo edition, April 10, 1938)

Articles chronicling the congress did not yet employ the later common Japanese
term “Kankiriki kōdan” as the equivalent of “Strength Through Joy,” presum-
ably because interest in the topic of leisure had grown so suddenly. Various
expressions such as “Japanese Movement for the Utilization of Leisure” or
“The Movement for Sport and Welfare of the People (Utilization of Leisure for
Health and Recreation)” were inconsistently adopted to refer to the kōsei undō.
This gave the impression that the movement had no clear objectives (Yomiuri
shinbun, April 29, 1938). When the Third World Recreation Congress took place
in Rome at the end of June 1938, the newspaper Yomiuri shinbun reported:

The aim of this congress is to solve, through the sports movement, the
social problems brought about by modern capitalism. Therefore, mate-
rial exchange for the utilization of leisure and for the improvement of the
physique of the nation took place at the congress, as well as international
cooperation between these movements. (Yomiuri shinbun, June 26, 1938)

The same Yomiuri article pointed out that:

… the well–organized “Strength Through Joy” [movement] of the Nazis

and the Italian movement for the utilization of leisure formed the model
for this movement [kōsei undō]. In Germany, huge sums of precious fi-
nancial resources were spent to establish the “Strength Through Joy”
movement … which works to improve the people’s lives and physique. In
this way, even under the burden of war, a life with joy of work is guaran-
teed through the outlets of entertainment and recreation. This example
clearly indicates the social significance of a movement to utilize leisure
in wartime. (ibid.)
“ Strength Through Joy ” in Japan 293

Praise for the German policy was accompanied by a criticism of the backward-
ness of Japan:

It is very regrettable that in our country the movement to use leisure is

still inextricably related to labor policies and is inadequately developed.
(ibid.)

This sense of backwardness remained with Japanese observers of the emerging

Japanese leisure movement, and it had a decisive influence on the course the
movement took.
At the 1938 congress in Rome, it was decided that the next congress would be
held in Osaka in 1940. But in July 1938, shortly after this decision, it was announced
that the planned 1940 Tokyo Olympics, as well as the Osaka congress, were can-
celled as a result of the escalation of the Second Sino-Japanese War. Nevertheless,
the JRA, which was to have hosted the congress, continued its activities, and
in November 1938 the First National Recreation Congress was held in Tokyo.
Organizers of the congress emphasized that the goal of the Japanese leisure
movement was to strive to reform the “life of the people,” especially by training
minds and bodies. They also stressed the goals of cultivating character through
the “utilization of leisure,” strengthening “human resources”, and the “energy
of the nation” during the course of the war (Nihon Kōsei Kyōkai 1939: 11).
The Japanese participants repeatedly praised the well-organized measures
taken in Germany, and held them up as an instructive example for Japan. The
President of the JRA, Godō Takuo (1877–1956), explained that by “giving the life
of workers a cultural value that awakens joy and makes their life meaningful,”
the KdF “seeks to form a Nazi society in which the joy of work and the pride of
the labor aristocracy can be felt.” He welcomed the fact that “interest in this di-
rection has finally been aroused in recent times” in Japan as well (Nihon Kōsei
Kyōkai 1939: 4–5). Godō, who had visited Germany and become interested in
the KdF, explained that “Germany is the only country on earth that has cov-
ered new ground in this field” and that this was the “course we must follow
whether we like it or not” (Godō 1938: 2). Yet by taking such a dogmatic ap-
proach, Godō failed to anticipate the inherent difficulties in adopting a foreign
model outright.
Instead, he and others dismissed these issues in favor of a vague concept of
the “Japanese spirit.” Yoshizaka Shunzō (1889–1958), a board member of the
JRA and a former Home Ministry bureaucrat, for instance, explained that “the
German ‘KdF’ and the Italian ‘Dopolavoro’ have been introduced to our coun-
try” and “have suddenly awakened a general interest in these movements.”
294 Tano

Indeed, he admitted that “much has to be learned” from the two movements,
but at the same time he warned that “we must make no direct translation” and
rather advocated that a native leisure movement based on the “Japanese spirit”
should be formed (Nihon Kōsei Kyōkai 1939: 57–58). Yoshizaka offered ambigu-
ous phrases such as “fulfilling our duty to the Emperor,” but failed to explain
in concrete terms what he meant by “Japanese spirit.” Moreover, Yoshizaka
sidestepped the issue of how to adapt the German leisure movement to the
Japanese concept of state and family.
By contrast, Isomura Eiichi, another pioneer of the JRA, attempted to di-
rectly confront potential problems between the Japanese family system and
the Western origins of the leisure movement. He said: “I am convinced that
there is considerable friction and conflict between the present Japanese family
system and the leisure movement, and that a Japanese solution can be clarified
only through them” (Nihon Kōsei Kyōkai 1939: 85–87).
Even after the cancellation of the World Congress in Osaka, the Japanese par-
ticipants maintained their connection with Germany. At the end of September
1938, Isomura sent a letter to Arthur Manthey, the Secretary General of the
International Central Bureau “Joy and Work” (Internationales Zentralbüro
“Freude und Arbeit;” hereafter cited as IZB). In it he expressed regret that “the
KdF Congress in Osaka had to be canceled on the grounds of the Chinese con-
flict” and stressed, “should the conflict be resolved in the near future, we intend
to hold the next international KdF Congress in Tokyo in 1940 or 1942” (Isomura
to Manthey, September 28, 1938, PAAA, R49234).
At the end of January the following year, Isomura sent a New Year’s greet-
ing to Manthey in which he explained that preparations in Tokyo were under
way (Isomura to Manthey, January 26, 1939, reproduced in Freude und Arbeit
4/1939, no. 5). Manthey then presented the German Foreign Ministry with a re-
port on the situation of the kōsei undō in Japan. He explained that a “National
Committee ‘Joy and Work’ ” [JRA] had been created in Tokyo and had held
its first congress. After the cancellation of the World Recreation Congress of
1940, the committee had been working to hold a similar congress in Japan in
1942. Furthermore, Manthey expressed his intention of founding a “Far East”
branch of the IZB. He also reported that the withdrawal of Japan from the
International Labor Office had helped to steer Japanese interest towards “the
possibilities of international cooperation in the field of social policy, such
as the IZB ‘Joy and Work’ ” (Information about Japan [Manthey], 2 February
1939, PAAA, R99028). In the eyes of the German authorities, the Japanese kōsei
undō was subordinate to the IZB and was therefore a kind of “Japanese KdF.”
Japanese authorities also shared this perception. In his aforementioned letter,
for example, Isonuma also spoke of an “international KdF Congress.”
“ Strength Through Joy ” in Japan 295

The KdF Visit to Japan

Conditions for establishing a Japanese-German cultural exchange via the

KdF improved in the beginning of 1939. After a Hitler Youth delegation vis-
ited Japan in 1938 (see Nakamichi 1999), a delegation of Japanese youth or-
ganizations went to Germany. Cultural exchanges between the two countries
were also deepened as a result of the German-Japanese Cultural Agreement
(Kulturabkommen) signed in November 1938. Following this, a visit of five
hundred German workers to Japan through the KdF was planned. At the
congress in Rome, the Japanese representative had already heard from the
German authorities about a “great plan to send more than eight KdF ships with
twenty thousand Germans on board to Japan,” to participate in the planned
1940 Olympics as well as in the World Recreation Congress (Nihon Kōsei
Kyōkai 1939: 26).1 However, since both events were canceled, this plan was
abandoned.
After the conclusion of the Cultural Agreement, the Japanese authori-
ties planned to send another invitation to the KdF, this time through the
International Tourist Bureau of the Japanese National Railways. The KdF
was the model in terms of leisure activities for the Japanese Tourist Bureau
(Kokusai Kankōkyoku, hereafter JTB). JTB, which intended to promote
Japanese–German exchange through tourism, began preparations to invite
five hundred visitors via the KdF in January 1939 (Kokusai Kankōkyoku 1939:
23, 42). The German Foreign Ministry, which was informed of this project by
its ambassador in Tokyo, Eugen Ott (1889–1977), reported to the German Labor
Front (Deutsche Arbeitsfront, DAF) that “JTB has invited five hundred German
KdF tourists for a four-week visit to Japan through the overseas branch leader
of the Nazi Party in Japan,” and that if possible, they hope to hold it “from mid-
October of this year” (Foreign Ministry [Rödiger] to the German Labor Front,
January 30, 1939, PAAA, R49245).
Japanese newspapers carried detailed reports on the KdF’s trip to Japan.
The Asahi shinbun introduced the story under the headline “Big Tourist Boat
from Germany.” The article started by introducing the initial “truly great plan”
of “sending fifteen thousand visitors to the 1940 Olympics,” and then reported
that the JTB “deeply regretted” that this plan had failed, and thus was now in-
viting the KdF to Japan:

1 Ley had personally told Godō of this plan, when the latter was on an inspection tour in
Germany from the fall of 1937 until June of the following year (Kōa Kōsei Taikai Jimukyoku
1941: 121).
296 Tano

The head of the JTB Den asked the overseas branch leader of the Nazi
Party in Tokyo Mr. Reinhold Schulz, the representative of the KdF in
Japan Mr. Wilhelm Bunten, the representative of the German National
Railways Mr. Jörn Leo, and the staff of the German Embassy amongst
others to attend a meeting and told them that he “wished to invite five
hundred or one thousand people from those who had wanted to come to
Japan for the Olympics.” The German authorities also showed great inter-
est in this project, and the German embassy immediately sent a telegram
with this information to Germany. The reply from Germany to the JTB
was favorable … saying that a delegation had “agreed to visit Japan from
about mid-October.” (Asahi shinbun, January 31, 1939, evening edition)

Articles about the KdF’s visit appeared regularly in Japanese newspapers until
around August 1939. One March article, for instance, explained that the aim
of inviting “a big tourist group of five hundred people of the KdF from our
German allies” was to teach the visitors about “Japan, and our holy war,” and at
the same time to give them an impression of “Japan as a land of beauty” (Asahi
shinbun, March 5, 1939, evening edition). By the beginning of August, reports
on the KdF’s visit had become more concrete:

The JTB was informed that the group of two hundred German KdF par-
ticipants will leave from Germany in a special steamship in January next
year, and will arrive in Japan in early April. They are expected to stay for
about a month. (Asahi shinbun, August 19, 1939)

The same newspaper also reported that the JTB was going to send “pamphlets
with easy Japanese conversation” to Germany, and that they had planned for
“Japanese teachers” to accompany the visitors on the ship (ibid.). But these
plans, and the hope that one newspaper expressed to “shake hands with the
German allies” (Yomiuri shinbun, July 19, 1939, evening edition) through the
KdF’s visit never materialized. In September 1939, the World War II broke out
in Europe, and the entire project was canceled.
However, the dream of a KdF visit to Japan was realized in another form
the following year. In October 1940, the Recreation Congress for Asian
Development was held in Osaka to mark the “2600th anniversary of the
Founding of the Nation,” and representatives from Germany and Italy were in-
vited to the event. Shortly after the conclusion of the Tripartite Pact between
Japan, Germany, and Italy in late September 1940, it was decided that the head
of the Nazi Party’s Organization Department, Claus Selzner (1899–1944), and
“ Strength Through Joy ” in Japan 297

Reich schooling leader Otto Gohdes (1896–1945) should be sent to Japan. Their
trip took them through Moscow, Siberia, Manchuria, and Busan before they
arrived at the port of Shimonoseki in Japan. As representatives of Germany
they attended the five-day long Recreation Congress for Asian Development
(October 16–21). In addition to giving a greeting speech and a lecture on the
KdF at the plenary session, they watched a sports festival at Kōshien Stadium,
visited the Kabuki Theater, and participated in an International Recreational
Evening at the Takarazuka Theater. Through these excursions, it was reported
that their relationship with the Japanese participants was strengthened (on
the visit of the German delegation to Japan, see Yanagisawa 2008).
Newspapers reported daily on the congress throughout its duration. Some
papers included greetings from and interviews with German representatives.
The newspaper coverage of the KdF was nearly all positive. The Mainichi
shinbun perhaps had the most coverage of the congress, and it also ran a four-
part series on “Leisure Movements in Different Countries.” One of the paper’s
reports noted: “it is already generally known that the German leisure move-
ment has been carried out using excellent organizational skills on the largest
scale in the world.” (Mainichi shinbun, Osaka edition, October 16, 1940) The
fact that the Tripartite Pact had been concluded only a short time earlier may
have helped to enhance the mood of friendship between Japan and Germany,
and thus encouraged Japanese newspapers to report more intensively on
the KdF.
In addition, the “close and lasting cooperative relations” between the leisure
movements of Japan, Germany, and Italy were stressed at the congress, and the
German and Italian representatives were treated with great respect. That the
Japanese kōsei undō had its origins in the German KdF was clearly emphasized
when the slogan “Serve the Empire with ‘Strength Through Joy’ ” was adopted
at the final resolution of the congress. The term “Kōa” (Asian Development)
was used in both the title of the congress and the resolution, the latter of which
also declared that the connections between Japan, Germany and Italy “should
be extended to the countries within the Greater East Asian Co-Prosperity
Sphere, and that the three countries could thus contribute to building the New
World Order” (Kōa Kōsei Taikai Jimukyoku 1941, preface).
However, it was clear to the Japanese participants that the resolution of
the congress offered little more than flowery rhetoric. Shirayama Genzaburō
(1898–1985), a professor at Kantō Gakuin University and a board member of
the JRA, commented that the reception of the “honorable representatives” of
Germany and Italy was “an unexpectedly big success for the kōsei undō,” but
nonetheless went on to criticize its inadequacies:
298 Tano

You could say that the reception was extremely haphazard.… There were
just too many useless, extravagant lunches and dinners, and all the in-
spections and tours were apparently off the point.… Although they [the
foreign delegates] went home happy, I wish that they had seen Japan
from various different aspects. (Shirayama 1940: 50, 52)

These regretful words seem to reflect Shirayama’s dissatisfaction that more

meaningful discussions about the issue of leisure had been neglected under
the aegis of promoting international friendship. Shirayama also severely criti-
cized the various reports that had been presented at the congress: “Apparently,
many reports strayed from the topic and were nothing more than arbitrary as-
sertions that can hardly be regarded as reports.” JRA President Godō declared
that a stand had been taken, which he called the “imperial leisure movement”
(Kōa Kōsei Taikai Jimukyoku 1941: 118). But Shirayama’s criticism of this was
also severe:

The imperial leisure movement as described by President Godō sounds

very powerful indeed. However, the boundary between leisure, exercise,
and training is still unclear, and therefore the particular task of leisure in
wartime cannot be clearly defined. (Shirayama 1940: 47)

In his speech, Godō pronounced that Japan had displayed the “great spirit of
the founding of the nation” from ancient times, but he avoided addressing con-
crete problems that the Japanese leisure movement might face by using vague
words such as exercise or training. Shirayama, however, called for a sharp dis-
tinction to be made between the importance of leisure and the Japanese na-
tional spirit. In this respect Shirayama agreed with Suehiro Izutarō (1888–1951),
a professor at Tokyo University, who also stressed the vital role of leisure and
equated it with pleasure and entertainment (ibid.: 47–48).
In any case, even the leaders of the kōsei undō failed to give clear direction
or to define what constituted “leisure.” Therefore, although the congress sought
to extend the kōsei undō to the “Greater East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere,” it
was clear from the outset that this would not be achieved.2 The motto “Asian
Development Through Leisure” remained a slogan with no real substance.

2 
Shirayama (1940: 52) noted that although the congress had the motto “Kōa” [Asian
Development] in its title, only the representatives of Germany and Italy were treated with
favor, while the representatives of Asian countries “were not given enough satisfaction.”
“ Strength Through Joy ” in Japan 299

The German View of the kōsei undō

How did the German authorities see the congress? A report written by German
representative Claus Selzner and then presented to his superior Robert Ley
(1890–1945), the leader of the German Labor Front (DAF), in late January 1941
helps answer this question. In the report, Selzner wrote that “the congress
served to secure the leadership of Japan in the field of leisure in East Asia,”
and asserted that “this purpose has been achieved.” Selzner also reported that
“the German and Italian delegations were regarded as representatives of lead-
ing countries in the leisure movement and were highly praised.” Japanese,
German, and Italian cooperation in the field of leisure had been confirmed,
and the “Ley-Godō agreement” between the KdF and the JRA had been con-
cluded. However, Selzner’s report on the congress was mute on the content of
discussions with the Japanese authorities and the participants’ presentations.
Rather, Selzner curtly offered his impression of the congress, saying that it was
“in all respects a copy of the annual meetings of the KdF in Hamburg, and
its theme also aimed essentially at the same subjects set by the International
Central Bureau through Dr. Ley” (Report on the Japan Tour of Claus Selzner
and Otto Gohdes, January 30, 1941, Bundesarchiv, R43-II/1456a; Ley also for-
warded this report to Hitler).
But Selzner did chronicle in detail the conversations he had in Tokyo after
the congress with political and military representatives such as Prime Minister
Konoe Fumimaro (1891–1945), Foreign Minister Matsuoka Yōsuke (1880–1946),
and Army Minister Tōjō Hideki (1884–1948) (ibid.). Selzner’s remarks that the
Japanese authorities had meticulously studied the German system and had
worked in earnest to introduce it in Japan clearly showed his satisfaction with
the fact that German social policy had begun exerting an international influ-
ence. Moreover, the conversation with Matsuoka indicated that Germany was
competing with Italy for influence over Japan (Liebscher 2009: 611–12 gives
a similar interpretation). The introduction of the KdF model in Japan gave
Germany an excellent opportunity to demonstrate its international prestige
in public diplomacy, and also coincided with its goal of strengthening the
Tripartite Pact in the field of social policy.
Selzner reported on his experiences in Japan in two more articles in the
March 1941 issue of the magazine Freude und Arbeit (Joy and Work), the organ
of the IZB. The first article was an interview with him about the purpose and
the course of his visit to Japan and his experiences during the trip. His de-
scription of the JRA as “a Japanese KdF” and his comments on the enthusiastic
welcome given to the Germans by the Japanese National Labor Front (Sangyō
hōkoku) expressed his confidence in Germany’s diplomatic successes in the
300 Tano

area of social policy (Selzner 1941a). In the second article, Selzner applauded
the national spirit of “Germany’s friend, Japan.” Here he reduced “the secret of
Japan’s success in the world” to its use of a “highly ethical idea as a driving force
of the whole nation” and “national discipline on an ethnic base.” Selzner also
highly praised the diligence, perseverance, fighting spirit, concentration, and
self-discipline that the Japanese displayed in their struggle against adversity, a
situation that he likened to Germany (Selzner 1941b). Selzner’s vague remarks
on the similarities between Japan and Germany reveal his limited knowledge
of the actual social situation in Japan.
By contrast, an essay by Otto Gohdes published in the same issue of Freude
und Arbeit went into greater detail. Gohdes similarly lauded the diligence,
emperor worship, enthusiastic patriotism, and the religious attitudes of the
Japanese, but he also referred to the backwardness of Japan, saying that “we
must uphold the great traditions of this country and the people, but we must
also sweep away many of the old customs that still hinder their development.”
But instead of expanding on this point, Gohdes merely expressed his optimistic
hope that the Japanese would overcome these problems. In addition, Gohdes’s
remark that “we go so far as to confirm that this industrious, modest and, in
its goal setting of tasks, so very patient people are willing to work to solve the
enormous problems of the future, especially in Greater East Asia” showed that
the visit of the German delegation to Japan was mostly a reconfirmation of
German-Japanese friendship under the Tripartite Pact. However, it did not lead
to substantial discussions on the issue of leisure (Gohdes 1941).
The tendency to depict the Japanese leisure movement positively—and
evading essential problems by keeping the language vague—was common in
the German media. Three months before Selzner’s and Gohdes’s visit to Japan,
the feature article in the July 1940 issue of Freude und Arbeit dealt with the
kōsei undō (fig. 11.2). This article introduced the “young Japanese leisure or-
ganization, namely the kōsei undō” with numerous photos, and described its
tasks as “reforming the lives of workers in Japan, China and Manchukuo” and
“utilizing leisure time to preserve the mental and physical health of the people
and to strengthen their vitality.” But the same article also stated that “along
with all the modern sports, the kōsei undō preserves old Japanese folk customs.
Here the old connects with the new; established tradition connects with sci-
entific progress” (“Kosei–Japanische Freizeitbewegung,” Freude und Arbeit 5/7,
1940). Although the German authorities originally thought that the traditional
social structure in Japan was a hindrance to the development of the new lei-
sure movement, this article blurred the relationship between the two. Having
seen the rapid evolution of the kōsei undō with their own eyes, the German
authorities had apparently changed their perception of Japan. This new
“ Strength Through Joy ” in Japan 301

Figure 11.2 Report on the Japanese kōsei undō in the journal Freude und Arbeit, vol. 5, no. 7,
1940.

perception, which conveniently combined tradition with modernity, aligned

precisely with the official view of the Japanese authorities. In fact, many of the
articles in Freude und Arbeit about the kōsei undō were mere translations of
statements by the Japanese authorities. The feature article mentioned above,
for example, dedicated several pages to an essay by the Mayor of Yokohama
Aoki Shūzō (1875–1946, not to be confused with the Meiji-era Germanophile
diplomat), titled “The Essence and Goal of the kōsei undō.” In this article,
which was published in two parts in the July and August issue, Aoki openly
admitted the influence of the KdF on the kōsei undō. At the same time, he
stressed the movement’s “Japanese spirit” and its “family principles.” But Aoki
did not explore the association between the German model and the Japanese
tradition (Aoki 1940). The German authorities also followed this ambiguous
and superficial attitude.
The period from the latter half of 1940 to the beginning of 1941 when Freude
und Arbeit covered the kōsei undō was also a time when German interest in
Japan increased. Yet this did not always transfer to the kōsei undō, and coverage
of it in the German press was sporadic. Freude und Arbeit was probably the only
publication that reported on the Recreation Congress for Asian Development,
302 Tano

and this reportage was simply a translation of an official proclamation (“Aufruf

zum Ostasiatischen Kongress ‘Freude und Arbeit,’ ” Freude und Arbeit 5/11,
1940). The newspapers dealt at length with the Second Sino-Japanese War and
the situation in East Asia, and reported favorably on their Japanese allies, but
there were no reports on the 1940 congress in the Völkischer Beobachter (The
National Observer), the organ of the Nazi Party. The German media at this time
was mostly favorable in its depiction of Japan as an imitator of Germany and
a leading power in East Asia, which by extension demonstrated the prestige of
Germany. A 1940 Völkischer Beobachter article, for instance, praised Japan for
its aim of following the model of the German idea of “labor service”:

It is amazing to foreigners to see how tenaciously the Far Eastern Empire

keeps to its ancient traditions but at the same time works tirelessly
in building a modern state.… And for several years we have seen not
only the use of the German word “labor service” in the Japanese lan-
guage, but have also found, here and there, practical attempts to real-
ize it.… The Japanese instinctively feel the power residing in the concept
and find the German example to be of immense educational value.
(“Arbeitsdienstgedanke in Japan,” Völkischer Beobachter, October 22,
1940)

Similar to previous articles, this piece, too, emphasized Japan’s combination of

tradition and modernity, the adoption of the German system in Japan, and the
spiritual ties between the two countries.
German press coverage on Japan reached its peak in the spring of 1941
when Foreign Minister Matsuoka Yōsuke visited Germany. The organ of the
DAF, Arbeitertum (Working Class), reported on the kōsei undō and the Sangyō
hōkoku (Serve the State Through Industry). This report proclaimed that the
Sangyō hōkoku movement deserved to be called “a kind of Japanese Labor
Front.” It also said that the movement’s aim of a “unity of capital and labor”
(rōshi ittai) was in line with the example of Germany (“Sangyohokoku. ‘Dienst
an Japan durch Arbeit.’ Japan strebt soziale Neuordnung nach deutschem
Vorbild an,” Arbeitertum 10/26, 1941).
But this Arbeitertum report also appealed to the idea that the ancient
Japanese “tradition,” especially the Japanese family structure, underpinned
the modern movement. The goal of the sangyō hōkoku movement, the report
boldly asserted, was for:

… industry, technology, and people … to serve the nation, so that all

participants form one large family. The program of the Sangyō hōkoku
movement is basically just an application of ancient Japanese ideas to
“ Strength Through Joy ” in Japan 303

the areas of social policy—namely, a realization of the family principle at

the heart of their most advanced factories and mines. (ibid.)

Furthermore, the report named “the Japanese leisure movement, namely, the
kōsei undō,” as a complement of the sangyō hōkoku movement. It then dis-
cussed the foundation of the JRA, but its coverage of this corresponded almost
verbatim to the article published in the July and August 1940 issues of Freude
und Arbeit. The single difference was that the Arbeitertum report placed great-
er emphasis on the influence of Germany:

There can be no doubt that the great successes which the National
Socialist organization ‘Strength Through Joy’ have achieved in Germany …
have given an impetus for the foundation of a similar organization in
Japan. (ibid.)

To further support this claim, the Arbeitertum report compared the relation-
ship between the movements, kōsei undō and Sangyō hōkoku, with that be-
tween the KdF and DAF:

Sangyō hōkoku as the will to improve labor performance and Kōsei as a

leisure movement—together both form the great Japanese movement of
work and joy. The powerful advance of these movements in Japan, how-
ever, proves that Japan, which now stands side by side with Germany and
Italy in the fight for the new world order, has understood the demands of
our time—namely, the demand to make itself a welfare state in the true
sense of the word. (ibid.)

The German interest in the Japanese kōsei undō generally did not go beyond
praise of the national spirit of their Japanese allies and an emphasis on the
steady efforts made by the Japanese as an example of the common virtues
shared with the Germans.

“Strength Through Joy” as an Exemplar

Similar trends can be observed in Japanese press coverage during the pe-
riod before and after the Recreation Congress for Asian Development, when
interest in the KdF had reached its peak (fig. 11.3). The statements of Godō,
Yoshizaka, and others indicated that they considered it necessary to follow the
German model regarding problems of leisure. On the other hand, Japanese
newspapers repeatedly stressed that it was more important to promote the
304 Tano

Figure 11.3 Photo of a KdF event held in Japan. From Reichsamtsleitung Kraft durch Freude
(ed.): Unter dem Sonnenrad. Ein Buch von Kraft durch Freude. Berlin: Verlag
der Deutschen Arbeitsfront, 1938, p. 194.

“Japanese spirit.” Many who expressed their opinions in the media generally
agreed that a strong “spirit” served as the base for the advanced German model
of leisure. At the same time, they argued that this same “spirit” had already
long existed in Japan. Therefore, the authors’ arguments often offered dis-
torted interpretations of the German influence on Japan. A debater, for exam-
ple, argued in an Asahi shinbun discussion titled “The Tripartite Pact and the
Willingness of the Nation” that one should not rely too much on the Tripartite
Pact, but should instead enhance “Japan’s unique national spirit”:

The leading spirit of the Nazis and the top-down and bottom-up hier-
archy are in continuous demand today, yet these ideas have existed in
Japan since ancient times. With this in mind, we must make strenuous
efforts under the new system. (Asahi shinbun, October 1, 1940)

Another debater went so far as to insist that “German and Italian totalitarian-
ism” had learned a great deal from Japanese thought and had made it his own,
so that in this respect “the origin lies rather in Japan”:
“ Strength Through Joy ” in Japan 305

The term “the primacy of public interest” sounds new to us, but in our
country the idea of self-sacrifice (messhi hōkō) is much more deeply root-
ed. (ibid.)

This way of thinking seemed to repress an awareness of Japan’s backward-

ness compared with Germany by emphasizing instead the unique spirit of the
Japanese.
Another example of this way of thinking was displayed in an October 1940
interview in Freude und Arbeit with Fujisawa Chikao (1893–1962), theorist of a
Tennō-centered Empire. Fujisawa believed that Japan had reached the stage
of a revival of the “traditional Japanese national spirit.” This “spirit,” he said,
was firmly grounded in the relationship between the Emperor (Tennō) as the
“father of the nation” and his “one hundred million subjects” who, filled with
national consciousness, work hard to “increase production through their con-
viction in a common principle and … realize the co-prosperity of capital and
labor.” In Fujisawa’s view, this common principle was the “unique” Japanese no-
tion of family: “This is, after all, no more than becoming aware of the tradition-
al Japanese principle of the large family specifically in the national economy”
(“Gedankenaustausch mit Professor Fujisawa,” Freude und Arbeit 5/10, 1940).
However, Fujisawa’s argument quickly turned to the spiritual similarities
between Japan and Germany:

It is no wonder that the new movement of the Japanese Labor Front, the
sangyō hōkoku movement, has much in common with the German Labor
Front in principle. However, this movement is certainly peculiar to Japan
in that it regulates the relationship between employers and employees
through a purely Japanese perspective. (ibid.)

Fujisawa maintained that the same was also true of the KdF: “the German or-
ganization ‘Strength Through Joy’ served in many aspects as a model for the
foundation of the Japanese kōsei undō, but there is nothing new to us in the
basic notion of a labor union.” Fujisawa was deeply impressed by the principle
of “Give Honor to Work” during his visit to Germany and thought that this was
precisely “the secret of the German revival.” But even on this point he saw only
“various similarities with the Japanese structure of nation and state” and did
not go further than emphasizing the spiritual ties between Japan and Germany
(ibid.). Here is the paradox: that the adherence to peculiarities of Japan would
lead to the unlimited adoption of Western culture.
306 Tano

The tendency to stress only the “spiritual” similarities between Germany

and Japan often led to a position that overlooked Japanese organizational
defects and affirmed current social policy. Kondō Haruo’s 1942 book Nachisu
no kōsei bunka. Kankirikikōdan (K.d.F.) no kenkyū (The Leisure Culture of the
Nazis—A Study of Strength Through Joy [KdF]) clearly exemplified this stand-
point. Kondō argued that the question of leisure in Japan was “usually limited
to physical training and the expansion of sanitary facilities, but its role in spiri-
tual and moral education tends to be completely ignored and even excluded as
a different problem.” He felt this was unfortunate, because the spiritual aspect
deserved more importance than structural or organizational ones. In order to
form a “highly organized defense state” or a “new system,” Kondō said, it was
above all necessary to “establish a backbone of moral principles with its own
views based on the traditional national spirit and sentiments.” Kondō also in-
sisted that his book was “neither a simple introductory note nor a mere guide
for imitation”:

It will rather look for a solution to the various problems facing our country
in these times … and give some tips for promoting reflection or enlight-
enment in thoughts and actions by presenting an instructive example of
another nation to the general authorities. (Kondō 1942: preface, 2–3, 7)

In this way, Kondō’s work attempted to show a “correlative understanding of

and insight into … the leisure movement in Nazi Germany” (ibid., preface). He
devoted nearly one-fifth of the book to explaining major Nazi principles, yet
the remainder was occupied with straightforward explanations of the organi-
zation and projects of the KdF. In other words, Kondō did not deliver on his
promise of offering reflections on “the various problems facing our country in
these times,” nor on the foundation of a “moral backbone” based on the “tradi-
tional national spirit.” Kondō had high regard for the activities of the KdF as an
organization providing “comprehensive measures in all areas,” but these gave
him no cause for “reflection” on the organizational defects of his own country
(ibid.; 2, 7, 22).
A similar stance often appeared in the press during this period. The KdF was
usually introduced as a model, while criticism of the Japanese situation was
rare. A good representation of this is the 1942 book Nachisu kōsei dan (KdF) (The
Leisure Organization of the Nazis [KdF]) by the sociologist Gonda Yasunosuke
(1887–1951). In this work Gonda referred to “the demands of a highly struc-
tured defense state in the final battle situation,” and explained that, in order
to comply with these demands, it was essential not only to “increase national
productivity and strengthen the national labor force,” but also to “improve the
“ Strength Through Joy ” in Japan 307

lives of working people and promote the culture of workers.” He further argued
that “individualistic methods and liberal measures” would not be sufficient to
activate “the lives of workers,” and thus “state measures and adequate facilities
for this must be established or conducted” (Gonda 1942: 1–2). Gonda noted that
“many instructive suggestions” for Japan could be gained by “discerning the
aim and project of the KdF as a great state institution for the welfare of work-
ing people in our German allies.” Gonda also suggested:

If the Empire intends to fulfill the grand mission of creating the Greater
East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere, it must reinforce the human resources
that form the basis for achieving this mission and promote the culture of
workers for this purpose. To this end, the attempts of the KdF undoubt-
edly offer a highly valuable and important example. (ibid.: 2–3)

In his book, Gonda used German sources like the magazine Arbeitertum
to sketch an outline of “the organization and projects” of the KdF (ibid.: 3).
However, overall he repeated, without critique, the opinions of the Nazis. In
newspaper articles, Gonda had criticized the “poverty of entertainment” dur-
ing the war. Yet, in his book he simply presented the KdF in a favorable light,
refraining from criticism of the current situation in Japan.3
Unlike Gonda, some Japanese newspapers of that time expressed very
different opinions and criticized the backward social development of Japan
compared with Germany. They were particularly critical of what they saw as
excessive measures enacted to restrict entertainment during wartime. A com-
mentary in the Asahi shinbun in June 1939, for instance, objected to the restric-
tive entertainment policies of the National Spiritual Mobilization Movement
(Kokumin seishin sōdōin undō or Seidō).4 As an alternative, the commentary
emphasized the necessity of taking organized measures for recreation and
pointed to Germany as an example:

The National Spiritual Mobilization Movement should not be a prohibi-

tive movement that restricts people from doing this and that. If parts of
the government and the people are of the opinion that the Seidō must be
a brake on peoples’ lives, then they are completely wrong. (Asahi shinbun,
June 1, 1939)

3 On Gonda’s attitude during the war, see Tsurumi 1976.

4 Godō asserted at the First Japanese Recreation Congress that the kōsei undō would form the
core of the “national spiritual mobilization” (Nihon Kōsei Kyōkai 1939: 5).
308 Tano

The commentary also stated that “a nationwide organization of healthy rec-

reation” was necessary “for the vitality of tomorrow” and to conduct a long-
term war. Yet, it said, the measures of the responsible authorities, above all the
Seidō, only restrict entertainment and so fail to display “leadership on national
entertainment.” Rather than this, the commentary suggested, the government
must arrange for “healthy recreation and entertainment.” The commentary cri-
tiqued the Japanese kōsei undō as being “very backward” in comparison with
the activities coordinated in Germany and Italy, and it demanded that “both
the government and the Seidō should now take measures for entertainment
seriously and give instructions for healthy recreation” (ibid.). The frequent ap-
pearance of this kind of criticism in newspapers indicated that the restriction
of entertainment had become increasingly unpopular among the people and,
moreover, the government apparently did not suppress the public expression
of this frustration.5
The Mainichi shinbun also ran articles that called for recreation and en-
tertainment. One such article was a discussion titled “Entertainment is the
Mother of Vitality.” When asked if “an organization of entertainment like the
KdF is also necessary in Japan,” Hata Toyokichi (1892–1956), the director of
the Tokyo Takarazuka Theater, answered by enumerating the advantages and
disadvantages of the KdF and pointing out the difficulties that would arise
from adopting it in Japan:

It is certainly necessary. I also often want to try it … but it is not so sim-

ple.… The methods of the KdF indeed have great advantages, but they
also have disadvantages. One advantage is that the admission prices are
very low.… However, if the admission prices are too low, then conversely
there might be the disadvantage that good programs will not be shown.…
I myself have been to see such programs and found them not particularly
interesting. If a movement like the KdF started in Japan, then I fear that
only trashy programs would be offered. (Mainichi shinbun, Osaka edition,
October 7, 1940)

5 Newspapers of this time were on occasion extremely aggressive in their critiques of the
Seidō, which they saw as attempting to restrict people’s lives under slogans like “Luxury is
Our Enemy.” One major newspaper, for example, asked General Araki Sadao (1877–1966),
Minister of Education and the chairman of the Seidō: “Does the Seidō have a tendency just to
prohibit things simply because it does not know what else to do?” (Ōsaka jiji shinpō, July 13,
1939).
“ Strength Through Joy ” in Japan 309

The article also citied another writer as saying that “the ‘moving theaters’ of
the German KdF are enviable. Theaters are loaded on trucks and carried any-
where, even into the most remote villages.” Hata agreed with this and said: “I
also find it excellent. But to realize it in Japan one would first have to build
highways.” In this way, Hata pointed out the obstacles that stood in the way of
bringing such a project to fruition (ibid.).6
The articles mentioned above were not one-sided in their praise of the KdF.
Instead, they considered the real possibilities of adopting this movement in
Japan. Even if these opinions only represented a minority, it should be noted
that some authorities did have level-headed views about creating a similar
movement based on the German example.

Conclusion

The Japanese public and press remained interested in the KdF even after the
Recreation Congress for Asian Development in October 1940. The German
model was brought forth as an example, especially when people voiced their
concerns over the scarcity of entertainment caused by the war. Such criticism
reached a peak after the National Day in February 1941, when tens of thousands
of people flooded to a theater in the Marunouchi district of Tokyo. The Asahi
shinbun published the opinions of different personalities on this “uproar of the
crowd” and stressed the “urgency of decisive action for healthy entertainment
in wartime.”7 The first of these opinions was from Kita Sōichirō (1894–1968),
the director of instruction for the people’s life in the Imperial Rule Assistance
Association (hereafter cited as IRAA), who felt that the incident showed “a lack
of national discipline.”
Three other people who expressed their views on recreation and entertain-
ment after him, however, thought the incident to have been “the fault of the
politicians who have provided too little entertainment for the people” and “the
result of negative measures by the responsible authorities that have restricted
entertainment too much.” Gonda noted:

6 Hata conducted the European tour of the Takarazuka Girls’ Revue from the end of 1938 to
1939.
7 This incident involved a disturbance caused by a crowd that had gathered outside the
Nichigeki Theater to see a performance of the top actress, the Chinese-born Japanese Lee
Xianglan (Yamaguchi Yoshiko, 1920–2014).
310 Tano

The politicians are blind to the needs people have in wartime for enter-
tainment. They think that it is simply enough to suppress and avoid it.…
But it is essential for the authorities to grasp the needs of the people for
entertainment, and to make plans and create appropriate facilities for it.
(Asahi shinbun, February 13, 1941, evening edition)

The sociologist Matsumoto Jun’ichirō (1893–1947) referred to the example of

the KdF and commented:

Is it not that the people are deprived of the possibilities of entertainment

because of a certain point of view that sees something reprehensible in
entertainment? … The method of “Strength Through Joy,” which achieved
success in Germany, emphasized voluntary entertainment and thereby
strengthened the power of the nation. We should learn from this exam-
ple. (ibid.)

It is noteworthy that two of the three people above criticized the restrictive
measures of the authorities on entertainment and, whether intended or not,
referred to the example of Germany as an argument for their criticism. In other
words, Germany’s advanced system functioned as a springboard from which to
condemn the lack of entertainment during the war in Japan.
It is also evident from the readers’ letters responding to this article that
many people were dissatisfied with the worsening shortage of entertainment
during the war. They demonstrate that the majority of the public was familiar
with the ideas underlying the activities of the KdF. The Asahi shinbun pub-
lished some of these letters, whose number amounted to “seventy or eighty a
day,” under the headline “The Voice of the People.” Many “discussed the lack of
mass entertainment” or “asked the politicians to reflect on their conduct.” One
letter remarked:

Especially in times of war, healthy entertainment is necessary. Therefore,

on this occasion, I express the hope that the responsible authorities re-
flect seriously on their inadequate conduct of the past and, at the same
time, abandon immediately the narrow-minded principle of prohibition
demanded by the Seidō, which has made the people frightened. (Asahi
shinbun, February 18, 1941, evening edition)

In this way, the Seidō’s “prohibition principle” was criticized as being respon-
sible for the paucity of entertainment. Another letter demanded that the au-
thorities should learn from the examples of Germany and Italy:
“ Strength Through Joy ” in Japan 311

I’m not saying that we should imitate the German KdF or Italian lei-
sure organization. But is it not true that the entertainment facilities for
workers in our country, which would correspond to these institutions in
Germany and Italy, are insufficient? … Is it not the duty of the authorities
to give the people cheerful culture and healthy entertainment? (ibid.)

After the outbreak of war against the United States and facing growing short-
ages of material, it became increasingly difficult for the authorities to provide
forms of entertainment. A commentary in the Yomiuri shinbun in October 1942
deeply regretted this situation:

The poverty of entertainment is deplorable.… As usual, it reminds us

of the German “Strength Through Joy.” … From this German example,
we conclude that the government—possibly with the help of the IRAA,
Sangyō hōkoku, and so forth—should actively take measures to build
entertainment facilities. This would help to spread healthy entertain-
ment through the nation at the time of a long-term war and to develop
strength for tomorrow through joy in leisure. Rather than the current
negative attitude toward entertainment that has been displayed by the
Home Ministry and the Department of Information, which are merely
issuing commands, regulations, and restrictions, the government must
go a step further and provide the people with entertainment. (Yomiuri
shinbun, October 21, 1942, evening edition)

The commentary concludes with a quote from Gonda Yasunosuke: “Politicians,

give the fighting nation joy! Give it the energy to work!” (ibid.). This demand,
however, would remain unfulfilled until the end of the war. The Japanese kōsei
undō, which was modeled on the KdF, ended after only a few years without
ever having fully matured.

References

Aoki Shūzō (1940): “Wesen und Ziel der Kosei-Bewegung,” Freude und Arbeit 5/7–8,
pp. 48–49.
Godō Takuo (1938): Nobiyuku Doitsu. Tokyo: Nihon Hyōronsha.
Gohdes, Otto (1941): “Japans Land und Leute,” Freude und Arbeit 6/3, pp. 20–21.
Gonda Yasunosuke (1942): Nachisu kōsei dan (KdF). Tokyo: Kurita Shoten.
Kōa Kōsei Taikai Jimukyoku (1941) (ed.): Kōa kōsei taikai shi. Osaka: Kōa Kōsei Taikai
Jimukyoku.
312 Tano

Kokusai Kankōkyoku (1939) (ed.): Kokusai kankō gaisetsu. Tokyo: Kokusai Kankōkyoku.
Kondō Haruo (1942): Nachisu no kōsei bunka. Kankirikikōdan (K.d.F.) no kenkyū. Tokyo:
Sanseidō.
Liebscher, Daniela (2009): Freude und Arbeit. Zur internationalen Freizeit- und
Sozialpolitik des faschistischen Italien und des NS-Regimes. Cologne: SH-Verlag.
Nakamichi Hisakazu (1999): Kimi wa Hitorā yūgento wo mitaka? Kiritsu to nekkyō,
aruiwa mekanikaruna bi. Tokyo: Nansōsha.
Nihon Kōsei Kyōkai (1939) (ed.): Dai 1-kai Nihon kōsei taikai hōkokusho. Tokyo: Nihon
Kōsei Kyōkai.
Reichsamtsleitung Kraft durch Freude (ed.) (1938): Unter dem Sonnenrad. Ein Buch von
Kraft durch Freude. Berlin: Verlag der Deutschen Arbeitsfront.
Selzner, Claus (1941a): “Wir kommen eben aus Japan,” Freude und Arbeit 6/3, pp. 7–14.
Selzner, Claus (1941b): “Deutschlands Freund Japan,” Freude und Arbeit 6/3, pp. 17–18.
Shirayama Genzaburō (1940): “Kōa wa kōsei yori. Kōa kōsei taikai no inshō,” Kōsei no
Nihon 2/12, pp. 50–51.
Tano Daisuke (2010): “Der Weltkongress für Freizeit und Erholung 1936 und Japans
Blick auf Deutschland,” Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaft 58/9, pp. 709–29.
Tsurumi Shunsuke (1976): “Minshū goraku kara kokumin goraku e,” Shisō 624,
pp. 1012–2022.
Yanagisawa Osamu (2008): “Nachisu seisaku shisō to ‘keizai shintaisei’: Nihon keizai-
kai no juyō,” in Kudō Akira and Tajima Nobuo (eds.), Nichidoku kankeishi 1890–1945,
vol. 3. Tokyo: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, pp. 275–322.
 CHAPTER 12

Images of German-Japanese Similarities

and Affinities in National-Socialist Germany
(1933–1945)
Hans-Joachim Bieber

Prior to 1933, few people in Germany knew much about Japan. Their image of
the East Asian country, if they had one at all, was mostly one of clichés and ste-
reotypes—that is, of temples, teahouses, traditional religions, theatre, cherry
blossom festivals, geishas, and dancers; of Mount Fuji, hot spas, friendly, smil-
ing, but somehow child-like inhabitants; and of an incomprehensible language
and culture. In short, most Germans saw Japan as an exotic land.
Japan’s victories over China in 1895 and Russia in 1905 gave the Japanese a
certain reputation in Germany for being the “Prussians of the East.” Moreover,
German journalists and authors visiting Japan during the 1920s and 1930s wrote
about visible signs of the country’s rapid modernization, such as skyscrapers,
department stores, factories, research institutes, cinemas and jazz clubs, cars,
and railways running on time like their best European counterparts—and
Japan’s impressive army and navy. Many visitors were fascinated by the coex-
istence of tradition and modernity. But most such accounts were superficial,
as most German visitors did not stay for longer than a few weeks, and hardly
any of them were capable of understanding Japanese. German newspapers
reported relatively little about the country because none of them had a cor-
respondent there.
Before 1933, therefore, German National Socialists knew little or nothing
about Japan.1 None of their leading officials had ever been there, and Hitler’s
remarks about the Japanese were a mixture of popular stereotypes and racial
clichés. In Mein Kampf he stated that the Japanese were merely “bearers of
culture” (kulturtragend) in contrast to the Aryans, who he saw as being “cul-
ture creating” (kulturschöpferisch). Hitler, however, did have some respect for
Japan’s military and was impressed that the country had remained untouched
by “International Jewry” (das internationale Judentum).
Soon after the National Socialists came to power in 1933, Germany’s
image of Japan began to change—even before the two countries began to

1 See ch. 10 in this volume.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_014

314 Bieber

Figure 12.1 Cover of the journal Die Gartenlaube (Gazebo).

„Geist von Eurem Geist.“ Wie die japanischen Frauen in der Heimat um den Sieg
kämpfen.

cooperate politically. Now, it focused on two national traits with greater fre-
quency: the Japanese spirit of heroism and willingness to make sacrifices,
and Japan as a model of an alternative modernity. The first of these traits
was reflected in a phrase that now began to appear with greater frequency in
German publications, even in women’s magazines: “The spirit of the samurai
has become the spirit of the whole Japanese people” (Bichler 1936: 356–58;
Stoye 1936: 76–78; see also Bieber 2014 for details) (fig. 12.1). The second trait
meant that Japan was seen as a country that was modern technologically and
economically, but that had been able to preserve its cultural and political
traditions.
The focus on these characteristics in National Socialist Germany indicates
that Japan was being used as a kind of surface onto which Nazi ideals of a new
Germany were to be projected: the ideals of social and racial homogeneity,
Images Of German-japanese Similarities And Affinities 315

social unity, political leadership under a quasi sacred individual, the combina-
tion of modern technological and economic structures with the preservation
of cultural traditions. This focus could be found in many German books and
articles about Japan, the number of which increased rapidly after 1933. That all
of this was largely a projection was demonstrated by the fact that an emphasis
was also being placed on alleged political, social, and cultural similarities and
affinities between Japan and Germany that (except for common military vir-
tues) had not been mentioned in Germany previously. This paper highlights
some examples of these perceived “similarities,” and attempts to analyze what
they reflected about popular German thought and the socio-political situation
regarding Japan at that time.

Japan and the Early Years of National Socialism

As early as 1933, official representatives of both countries spoke of simi-

larities in history and culture and cited “national solidarity” (nationale
Geschlossenheit), “national rebirth” (nationale Wiedergeburt), and the military
virtues of bravery and tenacity as examples (see The Japan Weekly Chronicle,
April 13, 1933: 515; Ostasiatische Rundschau 14, 1933: 518; Billmann 1933: 724–26;
Fischer 1933: 319–20; Iklé 1956: 26; Presseisen 1958: 32). In 1934, on the occa-
sion of a visit by the commander of the Japanese Navy’s training squadron to
Berlin, emphasis was placed upon a kinship between “genuine Prussianness”
(wahrem Preußentum) and the “old spirit of Japanese knights” (altem japa-
nischen Rittergeist). Similarities between the “samurai spirit” (Samuraigeist) of
Japanese troops and the spirit of the German officer corps were highlighted as
well, as were those between the spirit of the samurai and the National Socialist
concept of race. In 1936, the SS periodical Das Schwarze Korps (The Black
Corps) published a series of articles about the samurai (fig. 12.2).
These contributions were intended to show that “since ancient times, these
people in the Far East had the same laws of honor (Ehrgesetze) as our fore-
fathers” and that a “small social elite of the highest value” was the most im-
portant factor for granting a people “eternal life (in this-worldly terms).” Here,
the samurai and the SS were portrayed as sharing the same mentality, which
was seen to express itself in the heroic obligation to sacrifice everything, in-
cluding one’s own life, on behalf of the leader, in the desire to maintain ra-
cial purity (Reinhaltung der Rasse), and in a common respect for the “heritage
passed down from ancestors” (Ahnenerbe) (Corazza 1937: 151). One year later,
The Black Corps series was published as a book, with an introduction by the
Reichsführer SS, Heinrich Himmler (1900–1945).
316 Bieber

Figure 12.2 The SS journal Das Schwarze Korps (The Black Corps).
Die Samurai. Eine alte Kampfgemeinschaft erneuert den Staat.

The Impact of Japanese-German Alliances

In the second half of the 1930s, the political and cultural ties between Germany
and Japan grew stronger. In November 1936, the Japanese-German Anti-
Comintern Pact was finalized. A year later, Italy joined the Pact, and the Axis
powers proclaimed the “global triangle” (weltpolitisches Dreieck). In December
1938, Japan and Germany signed a Cultural Agreement. During this period, im-
portance was placed on further alleged affinities, such as historical similari-
ties in the medieval feudal systems of both countries as well as in Shintoism
and Japanese national ethics on the one hand and Germanic pagan religion
and ethics on the other (Nationalsozialistische Monatshefte, 8. Jg. Heft 82,
January 1937: 161). Similarities were also seen to exist in a “strong sense of na-
tional and racial awareness” (Minister of Education Bernhard Rust, cited in
Pustau and Okanouye-Kurota 1936: 125) and in a desire of both countries to
combine the technological needs of modern industrial society with a rebirth
and preservation of national traditions and identity (Alfred Rosenberg; cited
in ibid.). Furthermore, both nations were depicted as suffering from a lack of
Images Of German-japanese Similarities And Affinities 317

“space to live” (Lebensraum) and as fighting for equality with the great powers
and likewise against Western democracy and communism, bolshevism, and
“empty internationalism” (Paul Behncke, president of the German-Japanese
Association, or Deutsch-Japanische Gesellschaft, cited in ibid.). Constructing
similarities between the Führer and the Japanese emperor, the Tennō, also be-
came popular. Occasionally, some publications even went so far as to suggest a
racial relationship between Germans and Japanese. Such alleged resemblanc-
es are well captured in a 1934 German-Japanese friendship issue of a leading
English newspaper in Japan, The Japan Times. Inspired by the German embas-
sy in Tokyo, this issue juxtaposed images of Mount Fuji with those of the Rhine
River and Pfalz Castle in an impressive collage (“Japan and Germany Linked
in Friendship,” Special edition of The Japan Times, May 1934). This image was
later reproduced in Germany by Die Gartenlaube, a popular periodical (Die
Gartenlaube, 2. Dezemberheft 1936: 1184).
Although the National Socialists utilized material of this kind, there did not
seem to be any top-down directives to construct and propagate such images
of Japan. Instead, these images were initially the result of a process of accom-
modation to the domestic and external situation of the Third Reich. They were,
in part, created by journalists of whom some had never been to Japan and who
merely infused old clichés obtained second hand with new ones. Nevertheless,
the number of German journalists reporting directly from Japan then began
to grow. International radio communication between the two countries be-
came possible in 1934, and direct telephone lines were opened a year later.
The Völkischer Beobachter (The People’s Observer), the daily newspaper of the
Nazi party, sent Albrecht Fürst von Urach, a member of Germany’s high aris-
tocracy, to Tokyo to serve as a correspondent. Scholars of Japanese culture and
other alleged “experts” were also involved in constructing similarities between
Germany and Japan. One example would be Walter Donat (1898–1970), who
became secretary general of the Japanese-German Cultural Institute in Tokyo
in 1937; another would be Karl Haushofer (1869–1946), professor in Munich
and leader of German “Geopolitik,” who had been propagating German-
Japanese cooperation since his visit to Japan as an officer before World War I
(on Haushofer, see Spang 2013).
Concurrent with the political convergence of Germany and Japan, the
National Socialist regime became engaged in disseminating the new image of
Japan in order to acquaint German citizens with their new ally in the Far East.
The Völkischer Beobachter contained more reports on Japan than on any other
country. After May 1939, Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946)
initiated the publication of a monthly periodical entitled Berlin-Rom-Tokio
(fig. 12.3), the purpose of which was to further spread an image of close ties
318 Bieber

Figure 12.3 Cover of the journal Berlin-Rom-Tokio.

between the countries of the “global triangle.” It was filled with many expen-
sive full-color illustrations; Donat and Haushofer were frequent contributors.
Other media as well sought to “familiarize” Germans with Japan for the pur-
pose of strengthening an awareness of German-Japanese kinship. Films such as
Die Tochter des Samurai (The Daughter of the Samurai; Jp. Atarashiki tsuchi, or
The New Earth, 1936/37), or the adaption of traditional Japanese stories, like the
forty-seven masterless samurai (rōnin), as German theatrical works and novels
serve to illustrate this. Art exhibitions such as the 1939 Berlin Exhibition of
Traditional Japanese Art had the same purpose. The National Socialist regime
also attempted to incorporate elements of Japanese popular culture, name-
ly the board game go, into German life. In October and November 1936, the
Völkischer Beobachter reported daily on a long-distance go match between a
Images Of German-japanese Similarities And Affinities 319

Japanese and a German. Hardly by accident, the match ended in a close victory
for the Japanese participant one day before the pact against the Communist
International was signed. Two years later, the German Go Institute was estab-
lished and headed by an official of the German Youth Organization. Annual go
competitions were held in Berlin in the presence of the Japanese ambassador
and the president of the German-Japanese Association.
Politically, the representation of Japanese culture in Germany, the dissemi-
nation of alleged similarities between Germany and Japan, and the attempt
to popularize elements of Japanese popular culture among Germans were
aimed at social groups other than the small number of researchers, schol-
ars, and artists who had been interested in Japan previously and who had
personal ties to Japanese. They were aimed, in particular, at young people
and students who were seen as the future elite of German society. The orga-
nizations of German youth and German students (Reichsjugendführung and
Reichsstudentenführung) made a considerable effort to cooperate with cor-
responding organizations in Japan. In 1938, a delegation of the Hitlerjugend
was sent to Japan. Its members toured the entire country and were given ex-
tensive media coverage. In addition, delegations of German students, athletes,
and journalists visited Japan; and, in turn, corresponding Japanese delega-
tions came to Germany. The leisure organization of the German Labor Front
(Deutsche Arbeitsfront), Kraft durch Freude, planned to transport thousands of
German workers and employees on its own ships to the 1940 Tokyo Olympics.2
Furthermore, exchange programs were being planned for musicians, artists,
master craftsmen, and civil servants. These projects were also designed to pro-
duce a feeling of unity among fascist, authoritarian, anti-democratic, and anti-
communist countries all over the world in order to provide an alternative to
communist and socialist internationals.
However, not all groups were enthusiastic about propagating images of
German-Japanese similarities. Japanese living in Germany during the 1930s,
to cite one example, were largely uninvolved in the manufacture of German-
Japanese kinship. Instead, they sought to set Japanese culture apart from
German culture by emphasizing its uniqueness. Japanese officials attempted to
do the same at the 1939 Berlin Exhibition of Japanese Art, as did Japanese art-
ists performing in Germany. By stressing the productive potential of Japanese
culture and its equality with German culture, these groups implicitly, and
sometimes even explicitly, challenged the derogatory remarks made by Hitler
in Mein Kampf.

2 See ch. 11 in this volume for details.

320 Bieber

Along with these deviations from the production of mutual images, there
were some other major setbacks during this period as well. One example was
that the National Socialist party and others paid little attention to the ques-
tion of whether exchange programs for Germans without some command
of Japanese could lead to more than just government-organized group tour-
ism. Then, with the escalation of World War II, most cooperative projects be-
came almost entirely unworkable. In 1937, war broke out between Japan and
China; two years later Germany attacked Poland, thereby provoking a new war
in Europe. After the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941 and
the ensuing spread of the war to the Pacific, direct links between Japan and
Germany ground to a halt.

The Climax of Japan’s Popularity in Germany During the War

Production and dissemination of German-Japanese similarities within

Germany continued, however, and were readily changed or adapted according
to the wartime situation. Following the reaffirmation of the Japanese-German
alliance in late 1940, for instance, a record number of books on Japan were pub-
lished in Germany. Publication peaked during 1941–1942, causing an unprec-
edented availability of material on Japan on the German market. Such material
included travelogues and essays of every kind, illustrated books, plays, novels,
and German translations of Japanese literature. In many cases, these publica-
tions underscored the Japanese sense of heroism as perceived in Germany and
the willingness of the Japanese people to make sacrifices (Opferbereitschaft).
“The spirit of the samurai has taken possession of the whole people in its deci-
sive battle,” wrote Walter Donat in 1942 (Donat 1942: 13). The periodical of the
German Labor Front, too, stated that “everyone in the country of the rising sun”
was “captivated by heroic thoughts and filled with heroic ideals” (Italiaander
1942: 6). Some authors even went so far as to suggest that the German people
were especially suited to understand such “Japanese” ideals. One author of he-
roic war novels and a long-time supporter of Hitler, for example, wrote that “if
any people of the world can understand the Japanese,” in particular its spirit
of self-sacrifice, “it is the Germans…” (Schauwecker 1942: 14). The same au-
thor utilized a self-image of the Germans that was propagated by the National
Socialists to explain why this was the case: he claimed that it was because the
Germans had gone “through the relentless Prussian school of Frederick the
Great” (ibid.).
Other authors sought parallels in other areas. Some claimed, for instance,
that there was a “curious parallel between the historic experience” of both
Images Of German-japanese Similarities And Affinities 321

countries (seltsame Gleichläufigkeit geschichtlichen Erlebens; Haushofer 1942:

62), while still others saw “striking parallels” and “much consonance” (eine
frappierende Parallele und zahlreiche Gleichklänge) between the political and
cultural development of Germany and Japan, and between the future tasks
that both countries faced (Reichel 1943: 15–16). Authors claimed to have
found parallels, too, in the area of religion, especially between Shintoism and
Germanic religion on the one hand (Gundert 1943: 21) and between the respec-
tive developments of Christianity in Germany and Buddhism in Japan on the
other (ibid., 27). Furthermore, a “striking similarity” between Japanese, Greek,
and Germanic culture was said to exist and have its source in a “common pri-
mordial culture” (gemeinsame Urkultur) of the “entire Eurasian North.” It was
claimed that this culture had been preserved “in the Germanic and Japanese
belief in the sun” (Sonnenglauben) (Hinder 1942: 37). One author insisted that
even in dance resemblances could be observed down to the minutest details
(Gleichlauf … bis in kleinste Züge) (Böhme 1942: 14).
Although the deluge of Japan-related images in Germany may have tem-
porarily increased interest among Germans in their Far Eastern ally and may
have strengthened German admiration for Japan’s military performance, the
effect of the excessive emphasis of Japanese soldiers as model fighters was un-
intended and possibly even counterproductive. According to a secret report
by the Security Service (Sicherheitsdienst) of August 1942, the presentation of
the Japanese “as something like ‘Super-Germans’ ” (sozusagen als “Germane
im Quadrat”) had produced “a kind of inferiority complex” (so etwas wie
“Minderwertigkeitskomplexe”) among the German population. The Security
Service thus concluded that the image of Japan presented to fellow Germans
(deutsche Volksgenossen) “needed some correction, primarily a clear and posi-
tive comparison to [Germany’s] own achievements and values” (eine “klare und
positive Gegenüberstellung eigener Leistungen und Wertmaßstäbe”) (Security
Service report, August 6, 1942, cited in Boberach 1984: 4042–44).
After the German defeat near Stalingrad in early 1943, however, when a
German victory in World War II became increasingly unlikely, German media
began to highlight alleged common military virtues more frequently, and pre-
sented the samurai and the modern Japanese soldier as examples of endurance
and dedication in an attempt to preserve confidence in a final victory. Such
depictions could be found in newspapers, periodicals, monographs, films, and
stage plays; and they became more prominent due to the fact that Japanese
troops continued, for a time, to be victorious in battle while German troops
in the East had to retreat. To cite an example, hundreds of thousands of cop-
ies of a brochure by Urach on “The Secret of Japanese Power” (Das Geheimnis
japanischer Kraft) were published (fig. 12.4). Ending in an optimistic promise
322 Bieber

Figure 12.4 Albrecht Fürst von Urach. Das Geheimnis japanischer

Kraft (The Secret of Japanese Power), 1942.

of victory, the publication again invoked parallels between the Japanese and
National Socialist concepts of state and society, and between the political aims
of both countries. The front page showed the stylized figure of a Japanese sol-
dier with steel helmet and bayonet—dress which resembled that of German
soldiers at the time.
Then, beginning in the second half of 1944, the propagation of common
military values and of Japanese heroes as role models declined drastically—
in print media as well as in films and stage plays. This was largely due to the
destruction of Germany’s printing industry by the growing intensity of Allied
air raids on German cities and by the deteriorating consequences for the coun-
try’s economy and society. In addition, the more the tide of the war turned
against Germany, the more some National Socialist leaders showed their true
Images Of German-japanese Similarities And Affinities 323

colors. Possibly irritated by the ineffectiveness of pro-Japanese propaganda,

they began to give full expression to deeply rooted racial prejudices. In a June
1944 address to high ranking SS officials, for example, Himmler showed respect
for the bravery and courage of Japanese soldiers, but went on to say “that we,
the oldest civilized people and the oldest warrior people of the world, do not
need to obtain examples and role models from a different race” (daß wir, das
älteste Kulturvolk und das älteste Kriegsvolk dieser Erde, es nicht nötig haben,
uns … Beispiele und Vorbilder von einer fremden Rasse zu holen) (Himmler’s ad-
dress to high-ranking SS officials in Sonthofen/Bavaria, June 21, 1944, cited in
Smith and Peterson 1974: 193).
During this time, however, favorable reporting on Japan did not disappear
entirely. The Völkischer Beobachter, for instance, continued to report on alleged
Japanese military successes in the Pacific theatre and on German-Japanese
solidarity (Verbundenheit). Furthermore, in the autumn of 1944, when most
periodicals had ceased publication and most theatres had closed down, an
additional hundred thousand copies of Fürst Urach’s brochure were printed.
Nevertheless, the growing weakness of the German army and the rising spread
of war damage to German cities were causing the images of German-Japanese
solidarity and of Japanese soldiers as role models to appear increasingly unre-
alistic among the German public. By the end of 1944, rumors about Japanese
attempts for a separate peace were circulating in Germany; and in Berlin,
Japanese diplomats and journalists began to express in private so many doubts
about a German victory that Himmler imposed severe restrictions on their
meeting with members of the SS.
Japanese living in Germany at the time continued to contribute surpris-
ingly little to the construction of images dealing with German-Japanese simi-
larities. Exceptions could be found among Japanese diplomats, in particular
Ambassador Ōshima Hiroshi (1886–1975). Kitayama Jun’yu (1902–1962), how-
ever, the de facto Japanese director of the Japaninstitut in Berlin since 1939
and probably the most prominent Japanese writer in Germany during the war,
emphasized the “deep gap” (tiefe Kluft) between German and Japanese culture
and mentioned certain similarities only reluctantly. Moreover, he remained
silent on issues concerning National Socialism. The Japanese media as well
were probably not very engaged in constructing German-Japanese analogies.
It would seem that the images that Germans and Japanese had of one another
between 1933 and 1945 could serve as further examples of the asymmetrical
nature of the cultural relations between the two countries. It would be inter-
esting to learn more about this from Japanese historians.
Germany’s final defeat ended the propagation of alleged German-Japanese
similarities. Editorials in Japanese newspapers indicate that such images had
324 Bieber

not been valued highly in Japan. In May 1945, many editorials blamed the
defeat of Japan’s European ally on National Socialist racial hubris and arro-
gance; the Germans had lacked “fighting spirit” (Kampfgeist), while bushidō
and kokutai, or national polity, had proven superior (Shillony 1981: 153–54;
Koltermann 2009: 76–78).

Epilogue

In the history of mutual German and Japanese images, the German creation
of images of Japan during National Socialist rule remained only a brief epi-
sode. Few spoke of alleged German-Japanese similarities after the final defeat,
and those who had propagated such images most actively either lost their jobs
and influence or turned to other subjects on which to write. Haushofer, for
instance, committed suicide in 1946; and Donat, until his death in 1970, was
largely ignored by the small group of German experts on Japan. Only Karlfried
Graf von Dürckheim-Montmartin (1896–1988), who had propagated National
Socialism and a kinship between German and Japanese culture while in Japan
between 1938 and 1945, continued to write about that country. However, he
retouched his image of Japan and started a new career as the first Zen teacher
in post-war Western Germany. In addition, no publication that had propagat-
ed Japanese-German similarities during the period of National Socialist rule
was reprinted after the war. The only German work on Japan published be-
tween 1933 and 1945 to attain mass circulation in post-war Germany was Eugen
Herrigel’s (1884–1955) “Zen or the Art of Archery” (Zen oder die Kunst des
Bogenschießens); first published as a magazine article in 1936, it was reprint-
ed as a booklet in 1948. Although Herrigel eventually lost his professorship in
Erlangen because of his support of National Socialism, his past did not prevent
the booklet from becoming a bestseller. There were forty-two German editions
of the publication, which was also translated into at least thirteen languages.
One should perhaps note that “Zen or the Art of Archery” does not contain a
single reference to similarities between German and Japanese culture.
Today, the symbols of the samurai and bushido have once again under-
gone a drastic change. In Western countries, they have become role models
for manager training programs and programs aimed at the enhancement of
individual success. At the same time, they have become elements of a global-
ized culture of youth and consumerism. Today’s young Germans, for example,
would tend to associate the word “bushido” with a Berlin rapper using that
name—he is the son of a German mother and an Arab father—than with the
Images Of German-japanese Similarities And Affinities 325

former samurai cult of the Nazis. They might also be reminded of a Japanese
malt shop which opened in Berlin in 2008 and marketed its products with the
slogan: “The ice cream of the samurai.” While such words are strongly tainted
historically and politically, there is probably little need for alarm. Their use as
globalized symbols rather indicates a de-mystification of the aura they once
held as a tool for political propaganda.

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pp. 724–26.
Boberach, Heinz (ed.) (1984): Meldungen aus dem Reich 1938–1945. Die Geheimen
Lageberichte des Sicherheitsdienstes der SS. Herrsching: Pawlak.
Böhme, Fritz (1942): “Der Japanische Tanz,” Der Tanz 15/1, p. 14.
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Foerster (ed.), Kulturmacht Japan. Ein Spiegel japanischen Kulturlebens in
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Fischer, Jakob (1933): Mandschukuos Kampf und Sieg. Hamburg: Meissner.
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 CHAPTER 13

German Perspectives on Japanese Heroism during

the Nazi Era

Gerhard Krebs

In the German imagination of Japan during the Nazi era, the heroism of
Japanese soldiers and the Japanese people played a crucial role. It went beyond
a simple interest in a foreign country and its people to embrace political aims as
well. Prominent Japanologists such as Walter Donat (1878–1970) and Wilhelm
Gundert (1880–1971), for example, felt that Japanology should be utilized to
serve the aims of German propaganda (Donat 1938a: 2; Gundert 1936: 249–50,
255–58). However, popular attitudes toward Japan as an alliance partner were
mixed, and the potential to intimidate the Allies with Japanese-German coop-
eration remained ambiguous. On the one hand, Japan could serve as a model
for motivating the German people to fight even more fervently in the war, pos-
sibly even to the extent of adopting kamikaze-like attacks by German fighter
pilots (Miura 2009). On the other, many in Germany also feared Japan as a
potential enemy, with the German propaganda machine imaging Japanese sol-
diers as possessing an extremely strong fighting spirit (Donat 1938a: 2; Bichler
1936: 358).
It was precisely this notion of Japanese heroism that the Nazis tried to dis-
seminate among Germans. According to the racial taxonomy of the Nazis, the
Germans were the “master race” and therefore had the right to rule over other
races. They also perceived themselves as a heroic people in terms of fight-
ing spirit. This heroic heritage was believed to be manifest in the enthusiasm
for epics of chivalry and war (Donat 1938a: 1–2; Haushofer 1939a: 31–32, 34;
Schacht 1942: 24–25). The ardent Nazi propagandist Walter Donat and others
drew parallels between the Germans and the Japanese, pointing to similarities
between peasant warriors in ancient times as well as the later development
of the caste of knights and samurai. Similarly, the Prussian officer came to be
considered the counterpart of the Japanese samurai, while the “political sol-
dier” of National Socialism invited comparison with the soldier-like attitude
of the modern Japanese people, in general, and the imperial Japanese soldier,
in particular (Donat 1943b: 9–10; Donat 1938a: 22–23; see also Rüdiger 1942: 58;
Mossdorf 1943a: 101). The Chinese, by contrast, were viewed with contempt.
They were stereotyped as a passive, pacifist people with little regard for the

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_015

328 Krebs

warrior-spirit (Meissner 1934a: 3–4; Donat 1938a: 34; Hammitzsch 1942: 632;
Haushofer 1942b: 62).
This chapter introduces select aspects of Japanese history, philosophy, and
society that Nazi supporters and German Japanologists looked to for military
inspiration and held up as objects of fascination. Focusing on Germany in the
1930s and 1940s, this analysis explores the core of Nazi ideology and thought
in an effort to understand the thinking of some of its most prominent leaders
with special reference to their image(s) of Japan. At the center of this investi-
gation is the question of how Nazi leaders and German Japanologists viewed
Japan, which was at once Germany’s most promising ally and possibly its most
frightening foe?

Bushido, Yamato damashii, and the Ideology of the Honorable Death

There was great admiration in Germany for the Japanese tradition of bushido—
the “way of the samurai”—that emphasized honor, loyalty, and the sacrifice in
death to a cause. And this admiration peaked in the wartime years (See Strunk
1934: 204; Donat 1938a: 111, 130; Schirach 1938: 6; Johann 1941: 441; Klingenberg
1941: 36–38; Eberhard 1942: 8; Schwind 1942: 18; Mossdorf 1943a: 97; and Heuvers
1939). During the early Hitler regime, a pro-Japanese attitude coexisted along-
side an anti-Asian rhetoric of the “Yellow Peril” (Krebs 2008: 245–46). After the
Anti-Comintern Pact of 1936, anti-Japanese rhetoric was censored and gave
way to more positive descriptions of the Japanese.
Publications from the 1930s describe bushido as a religion or divine service
(Strunk 1934: 14; Strunk 1938: 255). In this sense, it was occasionally compared
to the spirit and ethics of the Nazi’s paramilitary units, the SA (Sturmabteilung)
and SS (Schutzstaffel), and the virtues of the Roman Empire, the “soul” of
Fascist Italy (Herzog 1938: 17). SS Reichsführer, Heinrich Himmler (1900–1945),
wrote in a foreword to a book on the samurai that “Since ancient times the
Japanese had retained the same laws of honor as the Germans, whose knights
of the medieval world were similar to their Japanese counterparts” (Himmler
1937: 3; see also Heintze 1938: 469). On occasion the samurai were seen as an
“order like the European crusaders” (Urach 1942a: 18) and were considered a
model for the SS Himmler was attempting to establish (Ackermann 1970: 66;
Ackermann 1989: 127; Kaufmann 2010: 645). The Japanese soldier was consid-
ered the “toughest fighter in the world;” he was glorified for tenacity, a willing-
ness to sacrifice his life, an uncompromising code of honor, obedience, and the
religious nature of his warfare.
German Perspectives On Japanese Heroism 329

The bushido emphasis on the protection of honor was also seen as com-
parable to ancient Germanic (or Teutonic) values (Eberhard 1942: 4). That
the samurai was willing to die or commit suicide rather than face disgrace
by becoming a prisoner greatly impressed German authors and the public
(Bäuerlein 1936: 348; Kropp and Miyazawa 1942: May 28, 1942; Boberach 1984,
11: 4042–47). German readers assumedly imagined that the constant supervi-
sion from birth to death of the Japanese strongly pressured the individual to
act honorably rather than bring dishonor on his or her family or be labeled a
coward (Wulle 1936: 89).
For German readers, the ultimate goals of bushido and of Yamato da­­mashii,
or “Japanese spirit” were not necessarily victory in battle (Strunk 1934: 23;
Schwager 1934: 4; Dürckheim 1939: 26; Haushofer 1942b: 62; Barth 1943: 22).
Instead, it was a devotion to one’s own ideals and faith even if it led to self-
destruction (Haushofer 1936: 342; Johann 1941: 441; Urach 1942b: 10). Some
German writers further suggested that in Japan the education of young men
was regarded as a preparatory step to a “beautiful death” (Bälz 1936: 43; Bichler
1936: 35; Klingenberg 1941: 36). This “beautiful death” often referred to the act
of seppuku—a form of ritual suicide also known in the West as harakiri—and
some German authors understood it as presenting “an example for an entire
nation” (Donat 1938b: 16–17; Donat 1943b: 9–10; Bälz 1936: 27–28; Bichler 1936:
357).1 Young samurai were instructed to commit seppuku as an admission of
guilt or failure, as a protest against unjust treatment when faced with a hope-
less situation, or to protect their honor (Brosius 1936: 123). In the same spirit,
some authors maintained that Japanese women received a dagger as a wed-
ding present for the purpose of cutting their throats when the risk of dishonor
arose (Devaranne 1935: 4; Klingenberg 1941: 36).
German writers were much impressed by what they considered the death-
defying resolve of Japanese soldiers to sacrifice themselves for the ideals of
loyalty and honor (Strunk 1934: 150, 204; Bichler 1936: 357; Brosius 1936: 123;
Herrigel 1942:15; Kropp and Miyazawa 1942: May 28, 1942; June 4, 1942). In seek-
ing examples from history to support their understanding of Japanese adher-
ence to these ideals, German writers picked up on a number of stories that
seemed exemplary. One of these involved Japanese General Nogi Maresuke
(1849–1912), the hero of the Russo-Japanese War (1904–05), who, after receiv-
ing news that his two sons had fallen in battle during this conflict, was said to

1 Erwin Bälz’s Über die Todesverachtung der Japaner (The Death Defying Attitude of the
Japanese) was originally published in 1904; a revised edition was published in 1936 by his son
Erwin Toku Bälz.
330 Krebs

have been satisfied (Thimmermann 1936: 53). When the Meiji emperor died
in 1912, Nogi expressed the ultimate loyalty of a vassal by committing suicide
together with his wife in order to follow his master in death (Strunk 1934: 14,
204; Schwager 1934: 10–11). Authors also cited the chronicle of the forty-sev-
en masterless samurai (rōnin) of the early eighteenth century, who defended
their honor by avenging their lord’s unjust death but ultimately were forced
to commit seppuku as atonement for violating the law (Lucht 1933; Grix 1941;
Italiaander 1941; Johnen 1941; Lux 1942). Here again parallels were drawn with
the West. Some suggested this same valiant attitude could be observed in
the behavior of the Germans and their Germanic, or Teutonic, forebears (the
Germanen) (Schwager 1934: 2; Abegg 1936: 15; Haushofer 1942b: 61; Rüdiger
1942: 58). Others argued that the Greek hero, the King of Sparta Leonidas, was
a pure Aryan and had also demonstrated similar self-sacrifice in the Battle of
Thermopylae in 480 bc (Reichel 1944: 53).2
German Japanologist and former military officer, Friedrich M. Trautz (1877–
1952) offered one theory to explain the readiness of Japanese soldiers to sacri-
fice themselves in battle: every soldier who fell on the battlefield in the name
of the emperor was promised happiness in the afterlife (Trautz 1942: 16). The
idea of a paradise for slain warriors was certainly nothing new in the German
mind. The Yasukuni Shrine in Tokyo, where all fallen Japanese soldiers were
(and still are) venerated as deities, had analogies with Valhalla, the residence
of the Teutonic gods (Schwager 1934: 5, 10; Bauer 1940a: 37; Bauer 1941: 730). The
fighting spirit of both Germany and Japan was believed to be a very effective
weapon, and Japanese suicide attacks, in which soldiers used themselves as
human bombs (nikudan), were glorified in numerous German wartime writ-
ings (Bichler 1936: 358; Bauer 1940b: 11; Lux 1941; Italiaander 1942: 43, 45–46,
91–93; Urach 1942a: 79, 94; Maurer 1942: 117; Olberg 1942: 34).
Women, too, were not excluded from the fighting-spirit equation. For in-
stance, it was deemed commendable for a wife seeking to relieve her fight-
ing husband of the responsibility for his family at home to commit suicide
(Bohner 1942: 9; Urach 1942b: 10; Italiaander 1942: 73–76; Kropp and Miyazawa
1942: June 18, 1942; Mossdorf 1943b: 219). The caption to an idyllic photo of a
Japanese woman with her baby poignantly captures this way of thinking: “This
Japanese mother is so proud of the small soldier she presents to the father-
land” (Cordes 1939: no pagination [between 80 and 81]). Such portrayals led the
writer Rolf Italiaander (1913–1991) to conclude that almost all Japanese women

2 Leonidas was also the nickname of a German kamikaze-style squadron formed in 1945
(Beevor 2002: 238).
German Perspectives On Japanese Heroism 331

were heroines (Italiaander 1943: 6). Heinrich Klingenberg noted that modern
Japanese women, analogous to earlier samurai daughters learning to fight with
a long halberd (naginata), were now trained in jujitsu in a manner equal to
their male counterparts (Klingenberg 1941: 38).
The samurai sword bolstered the Japanese soldier’s fighting spirit and
supported him on his quest for a heroic, honorable death. German writers
believed that the sword contained the soul of the samurai. To back up this
theory many pointed to Nitobe Inazō’s 1900 bestseller Bushido: The Soul of
Japan (Nitobe 1937: 55), which quite tellingly was reprinted in Germany in 1937
(Strunk 1934: 23; Bichler 1936: 358; Heintze 1938: 469; Johann 1941: 442; Krüger
1941: 17; Kitayama 1942: 636–40). In Nazi-era publications, the Japanese admi-
ration of the sword is compared to sword worship among ancient Germanic
tribes (Mossorf 1943a: 98, 103), as portrayed in the national epic Nibelungenlied
(Urach 1942a: 90; Urach 1942b: 10). When Himmler, in his ongoing quest to es-
tablish links between the Nordic race and Asian nations, was presented with
a Japanese sword, he was said to have discovered a relationship between the
Japanese and old German cults. Calling on the support of select scholars,
Himmler attempted to discover how these parallels could be traced back to a
common racial origin (Speer 1969: 136).

Japanese Religions and Belief Systems

Together with bushido, Japanese religions and spiritual beliefs were also seen
as central elements of Japanese heroism and fighting spirit. Nazi leaders
particularly honed in on the Shinto religion and emperor worship, and they
compared these to what they perceived as shortcomings in the German re-
ligious tradition. Adolf Hitler (1889–1945), for example, lamented Germany’s
misfortune at having the “wrong” religion, Christianity, because it preached
irresolute tolerance (Speer 1969: 109–10). He stated that even Islam would have
been a more suitable religion for his objectives. Hitler believed that had the
Arabs’ eighth-century advance into Europe been successful—rather than end-
ing in defeat at the Battle of Tours and Poitiers (732 ad)—that Islam would
have spread and the Islamized Germans would have become the dominant
race. Japan conversely had defended itself successfully against the “poison” of
Christianity (Picker 1977: 184). In Hitler’s opinion, this and their state philoso-
phy, which unified the state and the Shinto religion, was responsible for Japan’s
strength and military successes. Hitler wished that Germany would emulate
this and create a system in which sacrifices for the fatherland were regarded
as the highest good (Picker 1977: 81, 107, 209–10; Jochmann 1982: 151; Goebbels
332 Krebs

1994/96: II, 2: 493–94, 500, 506, 515). This, Hitler thought, was the source of
Japanese “invincibility;” he therefore hoped to foster this ideal among the
German people (Meissner 1934b: 17).
Hitler was not alone in his admiration of Shinto. Well-known Japanologists,
such as Wilhelm Gundert; the Indologist Walther Wüst (1901–1993), direc-
tor of the SS-organization Ahnenerbe Institut (Ancestors’ Heritage Institute)
since 1937 and president of Munich University from 1941 onward; and General
Karl Haushofer (1869–1946), the founder of German geopolitics, also lauded
Shinto. They sought to emphasize the similarities between Shinto and the old
Germanic, pre-Christian polytheistic religion (Gundert 1937a: 6; Haushofer
1939b: 130; Gundert 1942: 223; Gundert 1943: 19–21; Wüst 1943: 144; Hinder 1942:
37). German propaganda glorified the former Teutonic religion as superior to
Christianity, which they asserted had damaged Europe. This anti-Christian
sentiment was particularly strong among the SS, which propagated a return
to the pagan Teutonic religion. Nationalist author Felix Dahn (1834–1912), for
instance, was quoted in one SS periodical as saying that, “What is Christian is
not Teutonic (Germanisch); what is Teutonic, is not Christian. Teutonic virtues
are manliness, heroic spirit, and loyalty, not gentleness, contrition, sin, misery,
and a life to come with prayers and psalms” (SS Leitheft, vol. 3, August 1937, p.
12). Gundert further argued that Shintoism had developed from a simple folk
religion to one rooted in modern nationalism (Gundert 1937b: 6).
Himmler was taken by all things Japanese early in his career (Himmler
1937: 3; Smith 1974: 192). It was his hope that one day the men of the elite SS
units would become the German version of the samurai (Ackermann 1970: 66;
Ackermann 1989: 127; Kaufmann 2010: 645). He identified with another facet of
Japanese belief that he felt was the source of the Japanese “warrior spirit”—
namely, the tradition of ancestor worship (Dürckheim 1939: 26; Klingenberg
1941: 37; Wüst 1943: 143). In 1942, he explained that a people with such an estab-
lished tradition of ancestor worship could never suffer defeat. Himmler went
on to argue his case for introducing ancestor worship to the German nation
and, eventually, for making it the basis of the SS (Smith 1974: 192).
Propaganda Minister Josef Goebbels (1897–1945) was another high-ranking
representative of the National Socialist regime who attempted to disseminate
the notion of a Japanese-style ancestor worship. In an article written during
the Battle of Stalingrad in late 1942, Goebbels lamented that the Germans had
nothing near the fighting spirit of the Japanese. The latter, he wrote, were con-
centrating all their “racial strength,” so that the worship of the dead and the con-
nection of nationalism with religion were guaranteed for every individual. As
a result of Japan’s superior ethics and superior religion, the fallen heroes were
still marching together with the soldiers on the battlefield so as to harden their
German Perspectives On Japanese Heroism 333

fighting spirit.3 Goebbels’s opinion did not fall entirely on deaf ears, however.
One secret police report concluded that ancestor worship would assure that
soldiers who sacrificed their lives for the nation would live on and strengthen
the community (Boberach 1984, vol. 12: 4622; Koltermann 2009: 138).
Conversely, while Shinto and the old Teutonic religion were seen as heroic re-
ligions, the Christian-Roman influence in Germany and the Buddhist-Chinese
influence in Japan were interpreted as negative developments that weakened
the spirits of these two nations (Gundert 1937a: 5–6; Donat 1938a: 31–32, 34).
This view is apparent in a film and publication based on a 1939 German expedi-
tion to Tibet, which was commissioned the patronage of the SS. The film point-
ed out that Tibet was originally a warrior nation adhering to the animist and
shamanist Bön religion, but that it became corrupt and feeble after the adop-
tion of Buddhism. Under Buddhism, the pacifist Tibetans allowed their armory
to rust while monasteries frittered away valuable labor power. This eventually
led to the decline of Tibet and its subordination to China, and even provoked
Russia and Great Britain to push into the power vacuum during the nineteenth
and twentieth centuries. Similar to Shinto and the old Nordic religion, German
authors characterized Bön as a heroic religion that focused on ancestor wor-
ship and marked it in sharp contrast to the weak religions of Christianity and
Buddhism (Hale 2003: 47, 49–50).
Such a negative image of Buddhism was not universally shared among Nazi
leaders and German Japanologists, however. Many saw a close link between
the transformation of Buddhism in Japan under the Zen sect and the samurai
ethic, and regarded this as the basis of Japanese heroism (Glasenapp 1936: 286;
Hauer 1937: X, 271–72, 291–92; Furukawa 1938: 52–53, 55, 69–70; Wüst 1943: 86;
Kitayama 1943: 27–28; Kitayama 1944: 69, 77–79; Krieck 1943: 6; Reichel 1944:
53). For example, the German Buddhist and early member of the Nazi party,
Wolfgang Schumacher (1908–1961), advocated an “active” Buddhism for belli-
cose Teutons. Along with the Buddhist concepts of a brave spirit and an imper-
turbable mind, it also encouraged a heightened sense of honor. He classified
Buddhism as an “Aryan religion” suited to the Nordic ideals of the Germans
(Schumacher 1933: 8–9).4

3 An example of this is seen in the German wartime song, “Horst Wessel Song” (Horst-Wessel
Lied), written in 1929 by Sturmführer Horst Wessel (1907–1930). Beginning in 1933 it was sung
alongside the German national anthem; it includes the lines “Kam’raden, die Rotfront und
Reaktion erschossen, Marschier’n im Geist in unser’n Reihen mit” (Comrades shot by the
Reds and Reactionaries march in spirit within our ranks).
4 The role of a highly nationalistic, aggressive form of Buddhism in wartime Japan has been
explored in the research of Brian Victoria (1997).
334 Krebs

Japanese Sports

Together with religion, German Japanologists sought to introduce Japanese

sports to German society. However, popular stereotypes colored German in-
terpretations in this field. The Italian journalist Mario Appelius (1892–1946),
for instance, drew on the alleged Japanese preoccupation with fighting (i.e.,
martial arts) to conclude that war was the “sport” of Japan (Appelius 1943: 85).
German authors were fascinated by the popularity of martial arts in Japan
and attempted to interpret the expression of various national characteris-
tics through sports. For example, in its use of bamboo swords the martial art
of kendo was seen not as a struggle between two men, but as an eruption of
demonic forces (Heintze 1938: 469). German writers also stressed that sumo
wrestling, considered entirely different from Western-style wrestling, was a re-
flection of the Japanese landscape—two wrestlers calmly poised before collid-
ing with each other with the force of erupting volcanoes (Filla 1939: 30).
With their emphasis on defensive moves rather than offensive applications
of strength, judo and jujitsu proved more difficult for German authors to inter-
pret. For some, they seemed to contradict the image of “frankness” and “fair-
ness” in sport. A more favorable view of judo and jujitsu eventually prevailed,
however. Even though the sport advocates temporary retreat as a stratagem,
the more able athlete will ultimately emerge victorious. Yet some authors noted
that these two types of martial arts had an affinity with the fighting methods of
Western knights. They were therefore considered to be as sportsmanlike and
noble as any other competitive sports, and indeed were viewed as aristocratic
forms (Wildhagen 1936: 139–40).

Japanese and Aryans

Despite the eagerness on the part of German Japanologists and Nazi leaders to
draw parallels between Japanese and German concepts of heroism, they faced
a formidable hurdle because of their own Nazi ideology of racial superiority
and its resultant relegation of the “Japanese race” to a lower rank in the ra-
cial hierarchy. This, however, did not dissuade supporters of this theory, who
argued that the “Japanese race” had a number of superior qualities and even
shared a historical relationship with the “Aryan race.” In ancient times, they
asserted, the original Aryan culture had covered all of Northern Europe and
Northern Asia.
Himmler was a staunch believer in this theory, and he developed a profound
interest in Asia. Throughout the war, Himmler carried a copy of the Hindu
German Perspectives On Japanese Heroism 335

devotional book Bhagavadgita and often quoted from it. He even compared
Hitler to the Indian deity of war, Krishna (Kersten 1952: 189–90). Himmler
demonstrating his interest in Japan by becoming an honorary member of the
German-Japanese Society in Berlin in 1938, and he took part in several events
(Haasch 1996: 194, 233, 255, 293). He devised a number of theories in an effort to
verify the Aryan origins of the Japanese. For example, he was obsessed with the
idea that the native land of the Aryan race was somewhere in Central Asia or,
at the very least, that a region like Tibet had been a temporary home to Aryans
dispersed after the catastrophe of the sunken city of Atlantis recorded by Plato.
Himmler firmly believed that the leaders of the Mongol and Turkic tribes pos-
sessed the drive, courage, war-like spirit, and leadership qualities that were
entirely “un-Asian.” For him, this was evidence that their origins were Aryan.
In keeping with this line of thought, members of the elite such as Brahman
priests, Mongol commanders like Genghis (Cinggis) Khan, Gautama Buddha’s
parents, and the Japanese samurai, must all have been descendants of ancient
European conquerors (Pringle 2006: 145–76; Mierau 2006: 311–64). In his search
for proof, Himmler supported the above-mentioned SS expedition to Tibet in
1938–1939 (Greve 1997: 106–09).
German scholars and writers were influential in molding Himmler’s theories
of an original Aryan culture, and they, too, proposed their own theories. Race
theorist Hans F. K. Günther (1891–1968), for example, attempted to “Aryanize”
certain Asian nations and emphasized the presence of persons with “Nordic”
features—tall stature, light skin, green or greyish-blue eyes, and reddish-brown
hair—among the Mongolian upper classes. He determined that these people
were not “pure Asians,” but rather descendants of Indo-Aryan tribes who had
migrated eastwards in prehistoric times (Günther 1934: 185–86). Walther Wüst
also related his quest for shared German-Japanese origins to Buddhism: he
saw the religion as an Indo-Germanic-Aryan achievement and praised Buddha
as an example of “Nordic” influence in world history. According to this view,
Buddhism and the Teutonic religions were related (Wüst 1935: 490). Günther
likewise saw a certain “Nordic” influence in Buddha, who was described in
Chinese texts as light-skinned and blue-eyed (Günther 1934: 52, 57).
The ideologue Johann von Leers (1902–1965) was the most active propagan-
dist, suggesting a “Nordic” connection with the Japanese people (Leers 1934a:
34–35). Leers observed that many symbols used in the family crests of Japanese
aristocrats were similar or even identical to old Nordic symbols like oak leaves,
swastikas (manji), axes, and hammers (Leers 1933: 28–31). Moreover, Leers de-
lineated similarities in the law of succession, such as the custom of favoring
the eldest son, the Germanic Odalsrecht as testimony to a common heritage
(Leers 1934/35: 413; Leers 1934c: 886–87; also Meissner 1934b: 26–27).
336 Krebs

For German writers who had embarked on this path, German-Japanese

similarities would have seemed endless. Many pagan beliefs, for example,
such as sun worship, the divine status of white horses, stone arrangements in
holy groves, virgins as priests, the use of alcohol in religious services, and the
worship of the sword as a symbol of justice, all seemed to justify some sort of
shared origin (Hinder 1942: 37). Even the activities of Japanese pirates (wakō)
in former centuries were compared to the Viking invasions (Anonymous 1933:
420). Such theories led to a number of myths aimed at substantiating further
the idea of Japanese “whiteness.” After all, noted some authors, the Japanese
shared a high percentage of Ainu blood, a people that were reportedly of an-
cient European origin (von Pustau and Okanouye 1936: 2; Haushofer 1938: 22;
Hinder 1942: 31).5 Other observers claimed to have discovered what they felt
were “European” characteristics, especially among Japanese samurai, states-
men, military leaders, and intellectuals (Eickstedt 1934: 195–96; Günther 1934:
199–201). In fact, a certain degree of “whiteness” and light hair was discovered
among all Japanese (Leers 1933: 32; Leers 1938: 388; Hinder 1942: 32). This phe-
nomenon was explained as being a result of the Japanese people having some
Polynesian ancestry. Because gods in Polynesian mythology had blonde hair, it
was believed that the Polynesian people had European heritage (Mühlmann
1935: 13). In addition, the Japanese women’s fashion of white make-up was in-
terpreted as a vestige of their own “white” past (Günther 1934: 197–98).

Liberalism in Japan and Germany

Another topic that instilled German writers with admiration for Japan and the
Japanese was their political trajectory. Many noted that the current military-
centric authoritarian type of government in both Japan and Germany had
been established after “overcoming” liberal forms of government—namely,
the “Weimar Republic” in Germany and “Taishō Democracy” in Japan (Leers
1934b: 14; Herzog 1938: 14–15; Koellreutter 1939: 201; Klingenberg 1941: 101; Donat
1942: 449–50; Reichel 1943: V–VIII). This development was considered by many
writers as exemplary of a Japanese and German return to the traditional form
of their nation—that is, to before the corruption by “dangerous ideologies”
such as liberalism and democracy—and to heroic attitudes aiming at a strong

5 As former ambassador to Japan Herbert von Dirksen (1933–1936) remarked in a letter from
1943, it was his understanding that German authorities always adhered to Tokyo’s wish of
overlooking the Japanese connection to the indigenous Ainu people of Hokkaido, Japan’s
largest northernmost island (Haasch 1966: 249). Japanese leaders argued that they were sim-
ply not a part of the “divine race.”
German Perspectives On Japanese Heroism 337

empire. Consequently, the creation of militarism and National Socialism in

Japan and Germany, respectively, also meant a victory over a swath of “danger-
ous” Western or, rather Anglo-Saxon, ideologies such as liberalism, pacifism,
individualism, and socialism (Leers 1934b: 14; Herzog 1938: 14–15; Koellreutter
1939: 201; Klingenberg 1941: 101; Donat 1942: 449–50; Reichel 1943: V–VIII).
Karl Haushofer, a representative of the new academic discipline of “geo-
politics,” referred to the assassinations of party politicians in 1930s Japan as
representative of this “triumph of the samurai spirit” (Haushofer 1933: 14). As
another advocate, Carl von Weegmann (1879–1960), explained the framework
for an authoritarian state in Japan had existed since antiquity. Conversely, in
Germany, such a system could only be realized by the takeover of power by the
Nazi party (Weegmann 1935: 1). Other writers held the view that while the rise
of Hitler had invited the change from a liberal to nationalistic state structure in
Germany, in Japan it had been the emperor’s army that had “guided” the nation
(Bleyhoffer 1937: 133; Dürckheim 1939/40: 197–98; Koellreutter 1941: 234).
Against such a background, many Nazi supporters bid farewell to pacifism.
It was war that fueled the Japanese state and that, according to Nazi propa-
gandist Karlfried Graf von Dürckheim-Montmartin (1896–1988), was the great
educator of the Japanese people (Dürckheim 1939: 27–28; Dürckheim 1939/40:
198). Similarly, the German Jesuit Heinz S. J. Dumoulin (1905–1995) admired the
stoicism with which the Japanese people endured the hardships of total war,
and concluded that they were endowed with considerable reserve capacities
of “spiritual power” (Dumoulin 1940: 261). The “spiritual power” needed to feed
the fires of nationalism and the Japanese war machine further relied on an-
other crucial element for German Japanologists: the idea of the “family state.”
In this belief, all Japanese belong to one “family” with ultimate national power
resting with the family head, the emperor. The family state, German writers
contended, corresponded to the Nazi Volksgemeinschaft (people’s community)
(Schwager 1934: 1–2; Haushofer 1939a: 31–32; Urach 1943: 198). Moreover, they
claimed that the Führer Adolf Hitler served a similar role in Germany to the
emperor in Japan. While such an interpretation might well have appeared blas-
phemous to the Japanese (Zöller 1937: 268), the Japanese “family state” nev-
ertheless became an ideal for Nazi ideologues in their attempt to explain the
success of Hitler and the Nazi party (Fanck 1935: 4).

Volcanic Japan

After searching the field for political comparisons, German Japanologists and
Nazi leaders moved on to geography and nature, where they found another
area replete with Japanese-German parallels. German authors attempted to
338 Krebs

locate the origins of distinct “Japanese” traits within Japanese nature. They ar-
gued that Japanese warriors were, among other things, ferocious but showed
extreme self-control in daily life, much like the volcanoes that were so char-
acteristic of Japan’s natural environment. Thus, they reasoned, geography and
nature influenced human behavior: while some volcanoes are extinct, others
occasionally erupt, spewing out molten lava. This same bubbling and boiling
under the earth’s surface also produced the thousands of hot springs scat-
tered throughout Japan. German authors such as P. A. Eckhardt theorized that
this illustrated the political and religious unrest of the people’s souls (Eckardt
1933: 399). Following this same line of thought, the unpredictable quality of
Japanese nature, which can suddenly turn from tranquility to catastrophe,
was paralleled in the usually accommodating, smiling, and self-restrained
Japanese, who were thought to be capable of erupting into a raging foe when
insulted (Filla 1939: 30; also Wulle 1936: 88–89). Writers such as the politician
Reinhold Wulle (1882–1950) pointed to the example of the 1936 coup d’état
by young Imperial Japanese Army officers known as the “The February 26th
Incident” (ni-ni-roku jiken) (Wulle 1936: 89).
A contrasting, but analogous, theory held sway for some authors, who pos-
ited that the great irascibility of the Japanese was attributed to their “Malayan
heritage.” They reasoned that dormant under the calm countenance of the
Japanese were potential anger and aggression. Interweaving theories of race
and geography, the “Malayan heritage” hypothesis maintained that constant
geographical unrest (i.e., earthquakes, volcanoes) had planted the seeds of sin-
ister power into the soul of the Japanese, powers so great that they could be
all destructive if not restrained. Moreover, they predicted, eruptions of these
“restless” souls would become increasingly frequent, and when this happened,
the surfacing of the Malayan “blood” heritage would lead to a fanatic desire
for annihilation and suicide (Eiardt 1937: 10). Karl Haushofer opined that the
Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, when the latent force of
the Japanese burst into kinetic energy “like a flash of lightning,” was a prime
example (Haushofer 1942a: 24).

From Military Success to Defeat

Pro-Japanese propaganda and public admiration in Germany reached new

heights when the Japanese military stunned the world with its first victories
in late 1941 and early 1942. The Secret Police reports of Propaganda Minister
Goebbels, who noted the German public’s sense of relief and admiration for
the success of the Japanese military, chronicled these events in much detail
German Perspectives On Japanese Heroism 339

(Goebbels 1994/96: II, 2: 458, 464–65, 480–81; II, 3: 295; Boberach 1984, 8: 3092).
Favorable coverage of the Japanese military advance immediately flooded
radio propaganda and German publications (Lammert 1941: 910; Haushofer
1942b: 61; Fürholzer 1943: XIV). At the same time, the United States and its
allies were jeered at for provoking Japan and for underestimating her mili-
tary prowess (Riebe 1942: 132–33). These accounts attributed the strength of
the Japanese forces to many of the same concepts discussed above, such as
an unassailable spirit rooted in national mythology and religion (Haushofer
1942b: 62; Endo 1942: 607–08). To the same end, the spirit of the samurai—the
displays of heroism and willingness for self-sacrifice and the reverence of the
“divine” emperor—were praised as actions that the Americans could never
equal (Kropp and Miyazawa 1942; Mossdorf 1943b: 243; Kris and Speyer 1944:
262–63, 265; Croitoru 2003: 58–59). If only the Italians, Hitler and Goebbels
hoped, could have been more like the Japanese. Instead, Italy had suffered one
military defeat after another and in 1943 even betrayed their partners by con-
cluding a separate peace with the Allied powers (Goebbels 1994/96: II, 3: 48,
150; II, 4: 458; II, 8: 395; II, 9: 471).
Hitler also expressed his relief that Japan was located in East Asia and not
in Europe, where the Japanese, unlike the Italians, would become serious ri-
vals for German supremacy (Goebbels 1994/96: II, 8: 395). Secret Police sources
confirm that the German public, too, developed an inferiority complex vis-à-
vis the Japanese, who seemed to be “Super Germans” (Germanen im Quadrat)
(Boberach 1984, 11: 4042–47). As a result, the achievements of German soldiers
were underestimated in view of the strong praise for the Japanese “Super
Soldiers” (Boberach 1984, 11: 4069; 12: 4578). It is for this reason that in the later
stages of the war the German leadership attempted to play down their earlier
praise for Japan. For instance, in a June 1944 speech addressing military gener-
als, Heinrich Himmler declared that despite Japanese heroism there was no
need for the Germans, as members of the oldest civilized nation of the world,
to follow the examples and models of a foreign race (Smith 1974: 193). This
marked a distancing from his earlier advocacy of Japanese spirit as a model for
German soldiers and even his SS troops.
Nazi leaders were also wary of a potential backlash in public opinion against
the Japanese as a result of their military successes in late 1941 and early 1942.
Some National Socialist leaders worried that the Japanese capture of Singapore
in February 1942 threatened to revive fears of the “Yellow Peril.” In fact, many
Germans viewed the resounding win over the British as a defeat of the sup-
posedly superior “white race.” To prevent the situation from spiraling out of
control, Nazi leaders censored publications that pictured Japanese victories
in terms of the “Yellow Peril” (Boberach 1984, 9: 3338; see also Roß 1942: 26).
340 Krebs

Goebbels, fearing cries of “hypocrisy” from the Allies and under pressure from
the Japanese embassy to temper such racist rhetoric, also warned against the
disastrous consequences of “Yellow Peril” propaganda. He banned all discus-
sions on the subject in the media (Boelcke 1967: 222).
Secretly, however, Goebbels harbored suspicions and was irked by Japan’s
boastful propaganda of their military triumphs (Goebbels 1994/96: II, 3: 232,
453, 484). Hitler also sensed the dilemma Japanese military successes could
potentially create for his original aim of global supremacy of the “white man.”
At one point both showed regret for having joined with the “yellow” Japanese
against the British and other European nations. But, Hitler responded with an-
noyance to the sarcastic comments made by foreign journalists and statesmen
about the German-Japanese alliance between two racist powers, themselves of
different races. He claimed that it was England who had appealed to Japan for
support in World War I and added that he would even have allied with the devil
himself in order to win the present war (Picker 1977: 351–52; see also Goebbels
1994/96: II, 2: 495, 514, 564, 591; II, 3: 65, 514; Roß 1942: 26). Goebbels, similarly
aggravated by Allied criticism, attempted to defend the German-Japanese al-
liance by stating that the Allied alliance with the Soviet Union was equally
unnatural (Goebbels 1994/96: II, 3: 59). However privately Hitler and Goebbels
lamented the British defeat in Singapore, which evoked a mixture of joy and
sadness, and that the loss of Asia for the white man ran contrary to their inten-
tions (Hassell 1964: 226; Jochmann 1982: 156, 163–64, 179, 182; Goebbels 1994/96:
II, 2: 564).
Such worries were set aside when Germany’s fortunes in war worsened.
For Nazi propagandists eager to turn defeats into victories, information from
the Pacific front began to appear more appealing (Kris and Speyer 1944: 278).
Nevertheless, the question of how to interpret and report on Japan’s mili-
tary strategies during the latter stages of the war occasionally left Nazi lead-
ers and the German media in a quandary. A particularly problematic topic
was the Special Attack Forces (tokkōtai or kamikaze), on which the German
press reported intensively following the Battle of Leyte Gulf in October 1944
(Boberach, XIV: 5414). When female German pilot Hanna Reitsch (1912–1979)
suggested implementing a similar squadron in Germany, her request was
refused by Hitler. It was considered that such actions were in contradiction
to Western traditions of warfare that viewed suicide as taboo. Erhard Milch
(1892–1972), field marshal of the air force (Luftwaffe), also concurred, claiming
that such acts of futility would run counter to the mentality of the German
people (Reitsch 1952: 296). Unwilling to remove all his cards from the table,
however, Hitler then agreed to investigate the possibility of conducting suicide
squad missions at a later point (Reitsch 1952: 295–307; O’Neill 1989: 169–70).
German Perspectives On Japanese Heroism 341

He consulted with Himmler, who suggested that either criminals or men who
were either ill or weary of life could be used for these operations (Reitsch 1952:
307). With the exception of the rather ineffective Sonderkommando Elbe unit,
which flew into Allied bomber planes and destroyed bridges across the Oder
River in April 1945, such strategies were rarely implemented (Stahl 1977: 214–18;
O’Neill 1989; Croitoru 2003: 68–70; Miura 2009).

Summary and Outlook

Throughout the war German Japanologists such as Walter Donat and Wilhelm
Gundert strongly promoted pro-Japanese propaganda in Nazi Germany. Many
of their ideas resonated with the ideology of Nazi leaders, including Hitler,
Goebbels, and Himmler, who were fascinated by Japan for various reasons.
These Nazi leaders and Japanologists were especially interested in those areas
from which they could draw practical military advantages. Nazi propagandists
examined Japanese military virtues, religion, politics, nature, and geography
in a search for perceived similarities between the Japanese and Nordic-Aryan
traditions (and examples of Japanese heroism). They also attempted to work
the Japanese into their racial framework. At the same time, Nazi readings of
Japan did not remain unchallenged, and Nazi supporters occasionally found
themselves hard-pressed to reconcile the contradiction between their racist
ideology and a German-Japanese alliance.
Whatever visions Hitler, Goebbels, and Himmler, as well as the geo-politi-
cian Karl Haushofer, may have had for incorporating ideas of Japanese hero-
ism into the German model, these came to an abrupt end with their suicides
in spring 1945 (and Haushofer in 1946). Some of the Japanologists cited in this
chapter, however, had different fates. Walter Donat, Hans Eckardt, Wilhelm
Gundert, Friedrich M. Trautz, Otto Koellreutter (1883–1972), Martin Schwind
(1906–1991), and Horst Hammitzsch (1909–1991) all pursued university ca-
reers in Germany and remained prominent shapers of the image of Japan in
post-war Germany. Carl von Weegmann, Johannes Barth (1891–1981), and Kurt
Meissner (1885–1976), central personalities in the German East Asiatic Society
(OAG) in Tokyo before the war, were repatriated to Germany in 1945. However,
they would soon return to Japan to resume their business activities and their
leadership of the OAG (Spang, Wippich, and Saaler, 2017).
Many of the writers introduced in this chapter, such as Hans F. K. Günther,
Heinz Corazza (1908–1978), and Walther Wüst, were force to leave academia
after the war. Others turned to diverse activities. Rolf Italiaander (1913–1991)
and Alfred Wollschläger (1901–1996; under the pen name A. E. Johann)
342 Krebs

continued as writers of non-fiction, Graf von Dürckheim-Montmartin made

a name for himself as the founder of a school of Zen Buddhism, and Albrecht
Fürst von Urach (1903–1969), a correspondent for the Nazi daily Völkischer
Beobachter (The National Observer) in pre-war Japan and employed by the
German Foreign Ministry during the war, served as press attaché for Mercedes-
Benz in Stuttgart from 1953 to 1967. Perhaps the most bizarre case was that
of Johann von Leers, who supported the theory that the Japanese belonged
to a Nordic race. He went into exile in Argentina, and then moved to Egypt
where he converted to Islam. From 1955 until his death in 1965, he worked in
the propaganda section of President Gamal Abdel Nasser (1918–1970), agitating
against Jews and campaigning against the state of Israel.

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 CHAPTER 14

Colonialism through the Mirror: Japan in the

Eyes of the SS and the German Conservative
Resistance
Danny Orbach

Since it entered the war on December 8, 1941, Japan has increasingly be-
come a riddle to its enemies, as well as to its admirers, friends, and al-
lies. Contrary to the (false) hopes of Western powers and their satellites,
Japan has not become exhausted and bled to death in its bitter, over four-
year war with the Chinese giant. Japan’s blitzkrieg enabled it to win after
ninety days of war, and from March 1942 onward turned into a first rate
superpower.… Even cool-headed, seasoned observers, who are familiar
with Japanese progress … were shocked and speechless as they watched
Japan spring on India, England’s dearest possession.… Yes, this is reality:
world history is reshaping itself before our very eyes, and it is Japan, full
of demonic power, that embodies this mysterious development.
Professor Walther Wüst, “Japan and Us,” April 30, 1942 (Wüst 1942: 5–7).

…
In the National Socialists’ hierarchy of the races, the Nordic Race is
placed at the top. However, in 1940 … they gave up white interests in
East Asia to the yellows. On first glance, this might appear like skillful
diplomatic maneuvering. It also may seem to have been in the highest
interest of the [German] state to sign pacts with England and France in
1938, only to achieve the goal of changing the European order unilaterally
in 1939.…

A necessary step [for National Socialist foreign policy] was to win over
new allies. Hence, the efforts to convince Japan to join the war were in-
tensified.… Admittedly, Japan had some significant initial achievements.
But the German foreign policymakers must have known that Japan’s entry
into the war would inevitably drag North America into the hostilities, and
that the United States would soon bring all the states of the American
continent out of their neutrality towards Germany.… However, Hitler’s

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_016

350 Orbach

foreign policy ignored this fact. As a consequence, the Nazis gained a

completely egoistic Japanese ally, which is conducting its own war, while
at the same time, made a new enemy that is many times stronger.
Dr. Carl Friedrich Goerdeler, from “Das Ziel” (The Goal) and “Der Weg”
(The Way), respectively, 1941–1942 (Goerdeler 2003: 886–87, 1005–06).

∵
The three passages above from 1941/42 represent polarized German viewpoints
on the Far Eastern conflict, which would escalate into full-scale war between
Japan and the United States after December 1941. They serve to demonstrate
two fundamentally different images of Germany’s ally Japan: one enthusiasti-
cally admired Japan’s victories in the Far East, while the other was hostile and
suspicious.
The first is from a public lecture entitled “Japan und Wir” (Japan and Us)
given by Professor Walther Wüst (1901–1993), a Sanskrit scholar, high-ranking
SS officer, rector of Ludwig-Maximilian University in Munich (1941–1945),
and the director of the SS Ahnenerbe Institut (Ancestral Heritage Institute).
Wüst presented his talk as part of the inauguration ceremony of the German-
Japanese Society Munich on April 30, 1942. The topic of his presentation was
the common “essence” of Japanese and German cultures, which Wüst felt was
the secret of cooperation between Japan and Germany. Among the attendees
was the Japanese ambassador Ōshima Hiroshi.
The second is excerpted from two secret memoranda written between the
end of 1941 and spring 1942 by Dr. Carl Friedrich Goerdeler (1884–1945), the for-
mer Lord Mayor of Leipzig. Goerdeler was one of the most prominent figures
in the German resistance movement, a loose, underground coalition of civilian
and military anti-Nazi groups. Officers related with this movement, most no-
tably Colonel Claus Schenk Graf von Stauffenberg (1907–1944), were involved
in more than twelve assassination attempts on Hitler. Goerdeler was a leader
of the movement’s civilian sector and was responsible for drafting policy for
post-war Germany and conducting secret negotiations with the Western allies
(Hoffmann 2011: 32–33).
Goerdeler was highly critical of most aspects of National Socialist war-
time policy. Although he believed, in principle, that Germany should annex
Austria, the Sudetenland, and restore the 1914 borders in the east, he loathed
the manner in which the Nazi regime conducted these conquests. Most of all,
he vehemently opposed a war with Britain and France. As conflict escalated,
Colonialism Through The Mirror 351

he frequently disparaged Hitler’s recklessness in waging a war against the en-

tire world, as well as the extermination of the Jews and the mistreatment of
civilians in the newly occupied territories in Poland and the Soviet Union.
Goerdeler also staunchly opposed the Nazi’s colonialist-imperialist policies
in Eastern Europe (Schramm 1965: 230–32; Goerdeler 2003: 847, 1226–29, 1178,
1236–37, 1241).
Wüst represented the opposite side of the political spectrum. His Ahnenerbe
Institute worked closely with the SS Reichsführer and the chief of the German
police Heinrich Himmler (1900–1945) to reconstruct the cultural and material
world of the ancient “Aryan tribes” and to facilitate the intellectual infrastruc-
ture of future SS military “colonies” in Eastern Europe (Poland and the occu-
pied regions of the Soviet Union). As such, he was a willing and enthusiastic
collaborator in one of the cruelest imperialist enterprises the world has ever
known.
But a closer examination at the thoughts by both men reveals some puzzling
contradictions regarding their views on the Far East. Wüst, a scholar associ-
ated with Himmler and the infamous SS, represented National Socialist racial
ideology in its most radical form. However, although Nazi ideology perceived
the Japanese—along with all other non-whites—as an “inferior race,” Wüst ap-
plauded Japanese victories over Western imperialism in East Asia, particularly
over the British, supposedly a part of the Aryan “Herrenrasse” (master race).
Goerdeler, by contrast, condemned Hitler’s policy of “colonializing” Eastern
Europe, yet criticized Hitler for not being imperialist enough in the Far East. In
Goerderler’s mind, Germany should defend the “white man’s” possessions and
interests against attacks from the “yellows.”
Using the example of Goerderler and Wüst, this chapter highlights aspects
of German wartime imperialist thought, especially as relates to East Asia and
Japan. It also sheds light on the image of Japan in Nazi Germany to demon-
strate that the various players perceived Japan differently. Quite surprisingly,
while the Nazis toned down their racism within the framework of relations
with Japan, it was the resistance movement, generally considered a more mod-
erate force, which framed German Far Eastern policies in racialist and colo-
nialist terms.

Japan in German Eyes: “The Yellow Peril” or “The Prussia of the

East”?

Goerdeler’s and Wüst’s attitudes to Japan and East Asia were shaped within
the context of Japan’s relationship with Nazi Germany and the discourse it
352 Orbach

generated. This discourse, especially after the conclusion of the Tripartite Pact
in 1940, revolved around the dilemma of how Nazi Germany would reconcile
a racist ideology that saw non-“Aryans” as “inferior” with a foreign policy that
allied them with a “yellow” Asian power. The origins of this dilemma are rooted
in the image of Japan that existed in Germany prior to the Nazi rise to power
in January 1933.
Diplomatic relations between Germany and Japan date to the 1860s
and 1870s. During the first decades of bilateral ties between Japan and the
German Empire (est. 1871), German policymakers, including Chancellor Otto
von Bismarck (1815–1898), did not pay much attention to Far Eastern affairs.
Imperial Germany maintained friendly relations with Japan and sent mili-
tary advisors, physicians, and experts in the fields of natural science and en-
gineering to Japan throughout the Meiji period (1868–1912). Along with their
colleagues from the United States, France, and other Western countries, these
experts had a long-standing influence on the Japanese modernization process.
The German scholars and advisors in Meiji Japan, the “Meiji-Deutschen,” as
they were soon called in Germany, not only tutored their Japanese counter-
parts in Western culture, but also took pains to study the society and culture
of a country that had been previously considered uncharted territory. Their
books had a decisive influence in creating German stereotypes of Japan. On
the one hand, they praised the Japanese as an aesthetic, friendly, polite, cul-
tured, and curious people. However, on the other, they were quick to criticize
what they saw as negative characteristics: lack of originality, a tendency to imi-
tate, and a reluctance to give up their own culture and adopt Christianity and
“enlightened” Western civilization (Mathias-Pauer 1984: 117–20).
This ambivalence gave birth to two different attitudes that became promi-
nent following Japan’s victories in the Sino-Japanese (1894–1895) and Russo-
Japanese (1904–1905) wars. At that time, many Germans were impressed by
Japan’s military achievements and rapid modernization. Many admirers en-
dearingly referred to Japan as the “Prussia of the East,” a term that remained
popular during the Third Reich. But at the same time, some Germans ex-
pressed growing fears of the “Yellow Peril” (Die Gelbe Gefahr), and described
Japan as a dark force that was about to unite the Asian, “yellow” natives and
jeopardize vital interests of the “white race” (Wippich 2006: 66–67, see also
the introduction and ch. 5 in this volume). The concerns of the latter were
reaffirmed by the support from Kaiser Wilhelm II (1859–1941). The young mon-
arch was more interested in East Asia than Bismarck had been, and aimed to
enhance Germany’s imperial position in the Far East and secure “a place in
the sun” for the German Empire. Wilhelm considered Japan to be a threat (to
German ambitions) and launched verbal attacks against it. His propaganda
Colonialism Through The Mirror 353

campaign against the “Yellow Peril” depicted the Japanese as evil dwarfs, liars,
and imitators, but also as a strong and threatening military force. Underlying
the Kaiser’s racial fears was the belief that the world was advancing towards a
racial war that he saw as a clash between good and evil (Mehnert 1995: 110–15;
Iikura 2006: 88–89, 90–91; Saaler 2007). The “Yellow Peril” hysteria intensified
as Japan joined the enemies of Germany in World War I; as the German news-
paper Bonner General-Anzeiger reported on August 24, 1914:

There is no field in science, technology, military affairs, and commerce in

which Japan had not been the student of Germany.… Their artillery and
gunpowder, everything is “made in Germany.” … These insolent dwarfs
(frechen Knirpse) did not do anything by themselves, but stole everything
from us with the cunning of true Asians. Their entire state is our creation …
all of their glory is stolen from us. (Bonner General-Anzeiger, cited in
Mathias-Pauer 1984: 132)

After the First World War I, however, bilateral relations were quickly restored.
The “Yellow Peril” propaganda aside, Japan had never been seen as the chief
enemy of Germany, and its humane treatment of German prisoners of war
smoothed the way for the restoration of diplomatic relations. Bilateral ties
were strengthened as a result of the efforts of Wilhelm Solf (1862–1936), the
German ambassador in Tokyo until 1928. Solf, a Sanskrit scholar, felt that
Germany needed to learn from Japanese culture, and worked to deepen cul-
tural and economic relationships between the two countries (ibid.: 120–21).
To this end, German-Japanese institutes were established in Berlin (1926),
and Tokyo (1927), which organized conferences, lectures, cultural events, and
scholarly exchanges (see Bieber 2014). But German public interest in Japan re-
mained marginal and primarily the domain of experts, scholars, and a small
number of “fans” (Maltarich 2005: 52–54).
The National Socialist rise to power in January 1933 did not immediately
change German-Japanese relations. During its first three years, the new re-
gime was pre-occupied with the stabilization of its domestic power. The re-
gime’s representatives had mixed feelings about Japan. Hitler’s perception was
a contradictory “mixture of admiration, suspicion, and contempt” (Shillony
1981: 205). Though Hitler greatly respected Japan’s imperialism and its martial
culture, he remained loyal to his racial thinking. His approach was in keeping
with the theories of one of the founders of racialist theories, Joseph Arthur de
Gobineau (1816–1882). In his book Mein Kampf Hitler classified the Japanese
as “bearers of culture,” but that they should be distinguished from the Aryan
“founders [or creators] of culture”:
354 Orbach

Within a few decades the whole of Eastern Asia, for instance, appropri-
ated a culture and called such a culture its own, whereas the basis of that
culture was the Greek mind and Teutonic skill as we know it. Only the ex-
ternal form—at least to a certain degree—shows the traits of an Asiatic
inspiration. It is not true, as some believe, that Japan adds European tech-
nology to a culture of her own. The truth rather is that European science
and technology are merely a thin veneer in the peculiar characteristics
of Japanese civilization. The foundations of actual life in Japan today
are not those of the native Japanese culture, although this characteriz-
es the external features of the country, which features strike the eye of
European observers on account of their fundamental difference from us;
but the real foundations of contemporary Japanese life are the enormous
scientific and technical achievements of Europe and America, that is to
say, of Aryan peoples … If, from today onwards, the Aryan influence on
Japan would cease, and if we suppose that Europe and America would
collapse, then the present progress of Japan in science and technology
might still last for a short duration; but within a few decades the inspi-
ration would dry up, and native Japanese culture would triumph, while
the present civilization would become fossilized and fall back into the
sleep from which it was aroused about seventy years ago by the impact of
Aryan culture. (Hitler 1936: 249–50)

The Japanese considered this excerpt offensive, and it was removed from
the early Japanese translations of Mein Kampf (Shillony 1981: 153). Hitler as-
signed little importance to the question of the Japanese “race,” and during the
1930s the subject was left to the lower echelons of the regime. Some organiza-
tions maintained an outspokenly pro-Japanese stance, such as the Deutsch-
Japanische Gesellschaft (German-Japanese Society; hereafter cited as DJG),
though mainstream Nazi functionaries were not particularly open to these
approaches. The 1934 correspondence between Dr. Walter Gross (1904–1945),
chief of the Rassenpolitisches Amt (Agency for Racial Policy) of the NSDAP,
and Admiral Paul Behncke (1869–1937), head of the DJG, illustrate this divide.
Speaking on behalf of the DJG, Behncke informed Gross about the Japanese
concern regarding the treatment of its nationals living in Germany, and
German-Japanese mixed couples and their children who in the future may not
be able to marry freely with German partners. The Admiral represented the
pro-Japanese circles in Germany and recommended Gross to remove all racial
restrictions on the Japanese. In a detailed memorandum, the DJG head repeat-
ed well-established pro-Japanese stereotypes (the Japanese are talented peo-
ple with an ancient, respected culture), along with new arguments designed
Colonialism Through The Mirror 355

for National Socialist ears. He claimed that due to ancient Aryan presence in
the Japanese islands, the Japanese should be considered Aryans from a racial
and cultural point of view. However, in his response Walter Gross rejected
all of Behncke’s racial and cultural arguments. There was indeed an ancient
Aryan presence in Japan, he explained, but it was meager and negligible. He
stated that Aryans did reside in Japan once, but they also resided in Germany’s
African colonies. Gross then questioned if Behncke would wish Germany to
recognize African tribesmen as Aryans. Nevertheless, he consented to lift some
restrictions on German-Japanese mixed couples and their children, but infor-
mally and without any ideological concessions (Friese 1984: 269–71; Maltarich
2005: 193–208; see also Spang 2013: 421–23). This decision expressed the usual
compromise made at the time by National Socialist policymakers: a political
consideration of Japanese feelings, without giving up the basic ideological no-
tion of the inequality of races and the superiority of the Aryan-German race.
Eventually, these practical concessions seemed to satisfy the Japanese au-
thorities, who found an additional conciliatory gesture when the drafters of
the discriminatory Nuremberg Laws consented to spare Japanese feelings and
replace “non-Aryan” with “Jewish.” But German-Japanese official relations re-
mained uncertain despite various political accords. The 1936 Anti-Comintern
Pact signaled an improvement in bilateral relations, which by now had evolved
into an alliance against international communism. Influential intelligence and
naval officials who dreaded “subversive” Soviet influence stood especially to
gain from this accord (Tajima 2006: 162–71).
German-Japanese relations continued to be strained by German policies
vis-à-vis China, which Japan was at war with from 1937. Until 1938, the German
foreign ministry was influenced by pro-Chinese circles, who warned that
the reckless expansionism of Japan would harm German interests in China
(Sommer 1962: 50–51). Although these circles were silenced in 1938 when the
foreign ministry recalled Oskar Trautmann (1877–1950), the German ambassa-
dor to China, along with all German military advisors, suspicions of Japanese
subversion of German economic interests in China remained. Even the 1940
Tripartite Pact, which historian Johanna Menzel Meskill called a “hollow” al-
liance, did not significantly improve the cooperation between Germany and
Japan. Hitler, however, recognized that East Asia was in Japan’s sphere of influ-
ence, and therefore out of bounds for German imperialist aspirations (Meskill
1966: 3–4; Hitler 1953: 144–45).
However, from a cultural and propagandistic perspective, the alliance was in
no way “hollow.” Japan became an icon in German popular culture partly due
to the signing of the 1938 German-Japanese Cultural Agreement. Unlike vari-
ous political alliances, this agreement yielded many impressive achievements
356 Orbach

including the hosting of cultural events, student and scholar exchange pro-
grams, friendship celebrations, and sporting events in Germany, Japan, and
Manchukuo (see ch. 12 in this volume and Bieber 2014). Official propaganda
depicted Germany and Japan as besieged nations, despised and persecuted by
the rest of the world. The alliance with Japan was a coalition of the “have-nots,”
two poor, yet proud and ancient nations, fighting for their rights against the
abusive and repressive Anglo-Saxon superpowers. Furthermore, after the con-
clusion of the Anti-Comintern Pact, and especially after the conclusion of the
Tripartite Pact, the German press repeatedly stressed what they saw as the pos-
itive traits of the Japanese nation: resolution, manly militarism, a long tradi-
tion of samurai bravery, an ancient, spiritual culture (as a contrast to American
materialism), combined with an advanced modern industry and high national
morale (see chs. 12 and 13 in this volume). The notion of the Japanese as an in-
ferior race was so thoroughly sidelined that in 1939, an official Nazi paper, Die
Bewegung (The Movement), wrote that the Japanese were not mere “bearers of
culture,” but rather “creators.” Four years earlier in 1935, the Foreign Ministry
had prohibited the use of the term “Yellow Peril” (Iikura 2006: 94; Maltarich
2005: 167). These examples indicate that German wartime images of Japan
were a complicated and ambiguous mixture of admiration, traditional stereo-
types, and racial prejudice.

Goerdeler and the Far Eastern Question

Carl Friedrich Goerdeler’s views of Japan were an integral part of oppositional

discourse in the Third Reich. He was generally antagonistic to much that the
Nazis cherished, including the alliance with the empire of Japan. But he also
shared some beliefs with the National Socialists and felt that Germany was
destined to be a world power. The debate between Goerdeler and his enemies
did not revolve around the question of whether Germany should pursue im-
perialist policies, but rather around the cruelty and intensity of these policies,
and, above all, their direction. Goerdeler was greatly influenced by traditional
ideas prevalent among German conservative elites that were colored by con-
siderations of power politics and a modified “Yellow Peril” thinking.

Imperialism and Morality

At the heart of Goerdeler’s views on Germany’s Far Eastern policies was his
conviction regarding the role of “morality” in foreign politics. In his opinion, a
sustainable domestic or foreign policy had to be “total,” or comprehensive in
Colonialism Through The Mirror 357

the sense that it must include moral and religious considerations (Goerdeler
2003: 867, 879). In the memorandum “Der Weg” (1941) also cited at the begin-
ning of this chapter, he bitterly condemned Nazi foreign policy for failing to
see this need for morality:

German foreign policy saw it as advantageous to prove, already during the

war, that the Germans deny all chivalry, soldierly virtues, and humanity
towards a conquered people, while ignoring the disastrous consequences
for the German position as a whole. It is needless to waste words on the
bestial extermination of the Jews now being planned, but also the fact
that foreign policy did not take the moral and political consequences [of
the extermination policies] into account must be seen as a lunacy pure
and simple. (Goerdeler 2003: 999)

It was Goerdeler’s belief that a foreign policy denying “chivalry, soldierly vir-
tues, and humanity” was doomed to failure. Notwithstanding initial military
achievements (as Germany and Japan had in the beginning of the war), an im-
moral foreign policy would not succeed in the long run because a policy based
on greed for power was essentially ill fated. Goerdeler’s worldview was deeply
moralistic: evil will eventually be punished, and it is impossible to separate
national interest from morality (Goerdeler 2003: 1006–07). This conviction was
shared by other prominent resistance fighters like General Ludwig Beck (1880–
1944) and the diplomat Ulrich von Hassell (1881–1944) (Hassell 1994: 62, 99).
Goerdeler’s view of morality was expressed in his deep sympathy with those
subject to persecution and terror in Nazi Germany. He was so shocked by the
events of Kristallnacht (1938), for example, that he set the resolution of the
problem regarding Jewish persecution as a top priority for Germany’s national
interests. Even before the pogrom, Goerdeler praised the British government
for its decision to refuse any negotiations with Germany “over life and death
questions [of foreign policy]” until the Reich’s anti-Jewish policy was reversed.
During the war Goerdeler also wrote to two top military commanders to in-
form them that they did not have to wait for Germany to be defeated on the
Eastern Front in order to start an uprising, because the atrocities against Jews,
Russians, Poles, and prisoners of war were reason enough. His sensitivity to the
plight of the persecuted was not limited to Jews and the European victims of
Nazi persecution and oppression. Even colonies outside Europe, he wrote, had
to be developed in ways that would provide opportunities for their non-white
population. The colonizing power should not exploit them economically lest
they be ruined in the long run (Goerdeler 2003: 891).
358 Orbach

However, Goerdeler’s views of morality did not include ideas regarding na-
tional rights or self-determination for non-European people. He exhorted the
British (even during World War II!) to restore Germany’s African colonies, lost
in the wake of the Great War. Self-determination of the Africans, however, was
not considered:

It is necessary for the German Reich to have colonies. However, it will be

wrong to assume that they are needed on purely material grounds. We
can buy the colonial products in the free market of any country at the
same price and quality … We should also exclude any thought on exploit-
ing the colonies, because it will quickly ruin them. In the colonial ques-
tion, psychological factors play a greater role than economic or political
ones. The German people owned colonies in the past and will always feel
frustrated if deprived from their ownership. Furthermore, one cannot
deny that the activities in the colonies offer the farmer, the merchant, the
industrialist, the official and the soldier the option to cultivate consider-
able abilities in difficult conditions, to gather experience and to gain a
wider perspective. The colonies also open a space to satisfy the youth’s
passion for pioneering. (Goerdeler 2003: 891)

Goerdeler believed that it was completely moral and legitimate to use non-
European territories as a “training ground” for all kinds of professions, as long
as the interests of the “natives” were taken care of. In other words, Goerdeler
demonstrated a traditional European imperialist viewpoint, which was well
accepted at the time among traditional elites in Germany and elsewhere.
Goerdeler’s perception of Japan and the Sino-Japanese conflict was deeply col-
ored by this pro-imperialist ideology.

The “Calm Chinese” and the “Wild Japanese”

Goerdeler’s circle of national-conservative resistance fighters was outspokenly
pro-Chinese, and deeply suspicious of Japan and its rapid expansion in East
Asia. At the Nuremberg trials, Goerdeler’s close colleague Hans Bernd Gisevius
(1904–1974) testified that he and his friends were strong supporters of Chiang
Kai-Shek (1887–1975) and the Chinese Nationalist Party (Guomindang),
and that they had all “sympathized greatly with the Chinese government”
(Nuremberg Trials, 14.11.1945–1.10.1946, Blue Series, Vol. XII). Following the 1938
annexation of Austria, the founding father of the military resistance, Colonel
Hans Oster (1887–1945), and his right-hand man Major Friedrich-Wilhelm
Heinz (1899–1968) openly challenged their government’s pro-Japanese policy.
Colonialism Through The Mirror 359

They called for an alliance with the Guomindang (Meinl and Krüger 1994: 47).
Goerdeler himself was just as clear in his pro-Chinese and anti-Japanese views:

It would be best if we could cultivate good relations with China. The

relations with Japan do not have to suffer as a result, but Japan is the
troublemaker in the Far East and also our dangerous competitor, because
of its cheap cost of living and hence [cheaply produced] export prod-
ucts, as well as its unbridled passion to be recognized [Geltungssucht].…
The Chinese are calm, decent, and do not tend to hasten industrialization
above their own needs; they have a beautiful, ancient culture. Their land
is wide and has many possibilities for investment. It is also rich in raw
materials. China can obtain knowledge, advice and goods from a friendly
Germany. However, the advice must never be pushed, lest the national
pride of the Chinese be fully awakened from its long slumber. (Goerdeler
2003: 893–94)

Goerdeler’s traditional imperialist ideology clearly emerges in this passage: the

best policy was to support and patronize a good, calm, and non-European na-
tion that knows its “place,” that does not “industrialize above its needs,” and
that does not attempt to compete with the “white” nations. Goerdeler was not
a radical racist and did not depict Asians as inferior or barbarians, but rather
as people with an “ancient, beautiful culture.” However, he also felt that the
Chinese should stay in their static realm and not enter the dynamic modern
political and economic world. This was the source of his deep suspicion of
Japan: the Japanese “trouble-makers,” oblivious to their “rightful place” in the
cultural realm, were intruding into the European realm of politics with their
“unbridled passion to be recognized.” But Goerdeler’s worldview was mixed
with political realism: he was wary of Japan, yet was also reluctant to have the
relationship between the empire and Germany “suffer.” Moreover, he was well
aware of the rise of nationalism in China, and therefore warned German poli-
cymakers not to “push” their advice and offend the Chinese.

“Hitler’s Mistakes”
Goerdeler’s criticism of Hitler’s foreign policy was threefold: first, he blamed
the Führer for short-sightedness and diplomatic ineptitude regarding the
exchange of a weak ally (Japan) for a powerful enemy (the United States).
Secondly, he railed against him for implementing cruel, immoral colonialism
in the “white” hemisphere such as Poland and the Soviet Union, while aban-
doning colonialism in its “rightful” place—that is, the “colored” world. Thirdly
360 Orbach

and most importantly, Goerdeler claimed that in doing so Hitler had compro-
mised Germany’s white, Western identity.
As the passage at the beginning of this chapter clearly demonstrates,
Goerdeler attacked Hitler for being a hypocrite: the dictator advocated the su-
periority of the “Nordic races” on the one hand, but provoked war with the
Western nations of England and France and gave up Europe’s precious colonial
possessions in the Far East to the “yellow” Japanese on the other. For Goerdeler,
the geographic scope of Hitler’s colonialism was misplaced—Germany should
participate in European colonialist activities overseas rather than advanc-
ing colonialism in (Eastern) Europe. What he failed to understand is that the
Führer, in following his strategy as laid out in Mein Kampf, gave less thought to
possession of overseas colonies than to expansion in Europe (Hitler 1936: 22;
119). Though he was far from being pro-Japanese, Hitler nevertheless chose to
side with Japan. For him, the East Asian nation was a useful tool with which to
harm Western powers, and could even assist him in establishing his continen-
tal empire (in Eastern Europe) (ibid.: 227; Hitler 1953: 147; Shillony 1981: 205).
Goerdeler, by contrast, opposed the alliance with Japan and sympathized with
China, primarily because he felt that it did not challenge the colonialist, impe-
rialist ambitions of the “Western nations” in East Asia.
Numerous studies have shown that for Goerdeler, Hassell, and other mem-
bers of the conservative resistance the largest mistake of National Socialist
Germany was the declaration of war on the Western powers (Hoffmann 1985:
239–46; Mommsen 2000: 159–207). They maintained that Germany was an in-
tegral part of Western Europe, and as such the nation had the obligation to
support Western domination in the Far East and elsewhere. In the same vein,
Goerdeler and others accused the Nazis of betraying the position of the “white
man” in East Asia through their alliance with Japan and their support, though
indirect, for Japan’s attack on Britain’s colonies in Asia. In the end, Goerdeler
believed that the National Socialist Far Eastern policy was deeply immoral be-
cause it was a betrayal of Germany’s “white” identity.

Justice, Essence, and Factionalism: Wüst, Japan, and the SS

Like Goerdeler, Walther Wüst linked the Reich’s Far East policy with questions
of identity. He noted his views in the lecture cited at the beginning of this chap-
ter: “Even cool-headed, seasoned observers, who are familiar with Japanese
progress … were shocked and speechless as they watched Japan spring on
India, England’s dearest possession.… Yes, this is reality: world history is re-
shaping itself before our very eyes, and it is Japan, full of demonic power, that
Colonialism Through The Mirror 361

embodies this mysterious development” (Wüst 1942: 5–7). However, apart from
his admiration for Japanese culture and military might, Wüst’s rhetoric greatly
differed from that of more traditional German enthusiasts of Japan. Many of
the German advisors in Japan during the Meiji period (1868–1912) tended to
depict Japanese modernization as a successful example of a country that had
assimilated “enlightened” Western culture while still retaining some of its tra-
ditions. They also perceived Japan as a progressive country that respected the
basic Western “rules of the game,” and in no way threatened the interests of the
West (Mathias-Pauer 1984: 117–20).
Although puzzling, Wüst’s words do appear to tie in to the anti-Japanese
rhetoric of the “Yellow Peril,” which asserted that Japan was a rising “Yellow”
power that endangered the interests of Europe and the “whites” in Asia, and
therefore the fate of the whole world (Mehnert 1995: 110–15; Saaler 2007). The
terms used by Wüst such as dämonischer Kraft (demonic power) and tödlich
betroffenen Gegnern (mortally surprised enemies), for instance, sound as if
they were borrowed from the Kaiser’s lexicon. And Wüst, a master of rheto-
ric, aroused the imagination of his audience by claiming that deciphering the
Japanese riddle was the key to understanding the axis alliance as a whole. The
real mystery was not that of Japanese power, but of German cooperation with
Japan: how could National Socialist Germany cooperate with this threatening
Asian power?
The answer to why this question perplexed some Germans at the time lies
in the National Socialist belief regarding Germany’s identity, and its role in
Europe and world. Originally, German elites perceived their country as a part
of Western European civilization. But many National Socialists saw Germany
as different from and superior to Western civilization. They perceived ra-
tional, Western European civilization, born after the French Revolution, to
be a degenerate and corrupt culture, devoid of honor and racial conscious-
ness, and controlled by “International Jewry.” In his speech, Wüst identified
the chief representative of this civilization as the kindische Unart (childish,
bad behavior) of the United States. The Nazis dwelled on popular German
ideas dating back to nineteenth-century Romanticism and also contrast-
ed pure German Kultur with degenerate French Civilisation (Wüst 1942: 16;
Elias 2000: 9–11). This self-imposed isolation from the West enabled National
Socialists such as Wüst to legitimize an alliance with Japan, in keeping with
the principle that the “enemy of my enemy is my friend.” In other words,
Japan remained a “Yellow Peril” for its (Anglo-Saxon) enemies, but not for
Germany. His response to the question of who is an enemy and who is a
friend—a question of identity and belonging—set Wüst dramatically apart
from Goerdeler.
362 Orbach

Furthermore, for Wüst, the German-Japanese alliance represented much

more than a fortunate association of interests. Like Goerdeler, he did not dif-
ferentiate between values and realpolitik. If Goerdeler endorsed morality in-
tertwined with Germany’s national interests, Wüst emphasized that the crux
was justice and essentialist similarity. Germany and Japan, he said, are both
poor, underprivileged nations; they are two “have-nots” fighting side by side for
resources against the opulent capitalist Western, or Anglo-Saxon, nations. In
this respect Wüst ignored the racial component in German identity, so crucial
among National Socialist intellectuals, and replaced it with a common identity
based on victimization and discrimination. This point, too, set him apart from
Goerdeler (Wüst 1942: 11–12).
In addition to the notion of a common victimization, Wüst drew on argu-
ments such as a shared “essence” of culture to explain the German-Japanese
alliance:

Contemporary Greater Germany is ruled by the ancient, kingly idea of

the Führer-Prinzip—this is the essence of its very soul. Likewise, in Japan
the Tennō [Wüst uses the Japanese term] is a living God who, since the
dawn of Japanese history, has embodied state Shinto and the political
structure of the state itself. The imperial family and the people have one
mythological source and are related, just like we consider the Führer the
father of the nation. (Wüst 1942: 12–13)

Wüst opined that the national essence of both Germany and Japan was a py-
ramidal hierarchy: inspiration emanated down from the leader, who embod-
ied political and spiritual power, and then flowed to the people in the form
of spiritual values and religious belief. Wüst wrote admiringly how Shinto, for
example, pervaded the daily life of the Japanese. The masses, he described, are
united by the state Shinto cult centering on the emperor. The shrine of the Sun
Goddess Amaterasu in Ise, “surrounded by amazingly beautiful landscape,” is
the focal point of the political-spiritual identity, and every civilian and military
official pays homage there upon his nomination, and again at his retirement.
Furthermore, he said, elites and common people alike are inspired by the liv-
ing samurai tradition. The samurai, just like the “German knights,” built the
“Japanese Reich” and protected the Japanese national essence from being pol-
luted by foreign influences. For Wüst, these values, even more than the mod-
ern military technology borrowed from Germany, were the true force behind
Japan’s victories on the battlefield (Wüst 1942: 14–16).
Wüst held that the essence of Japanese culture was an uncompromising
loyalty to the imperial house, state Shinto, and an intimate relationship with
Colonialism Through The Mirror 363

nature. He described Japan as a Volksgemeinschaft: the ideal society according

to National Socialist ideology, and an organic community united by tradition,
blood, and soil. This organic structure resulted in Japanese culture being “young
and old at the same time,” in contrast to the “childish” culture of the United
States (ibid.). In essence, Wüst’s descriptions of Japanese society echoed the
rhetoric of the Japanese ideology of kokutai (national polity), and they also
coincided with National Socialist self-perceptions. Concepts, such as “organic
community,” “hierarchical political structure,” “youth,” a leader holding both
spiritual and secular power, and militant values emanating from the elites to
the population as a whole, particularly characterized the SS (Wüst 1936; Kater
1974: 26, 360; Neumann 2002: 26–29, 31–32, 68–70, 102–07). It is therefore not
surprising that Wüst, a SS officer, was among the most important advocates of
this ideology. His talk cited at the beginning of this chapter was an attempt to
project his National Socialist ideals onto the Japanese “other,” thereby creating
a kinship between these two unlikely partners.

Conclusion

The “debate” between the SS and the German conservative resistance, as re-
flected in the two examples of Wüst and Goerdeler, was not an open one—the
writings of the resistance movement were, naturally, confidential. Moreover,
it did not represent the whole spectrum of views in wartime Germany. Yet the
differences in the writings analyzed in this chapter are significant: the writings
of the German resistance were an integral part of a conservative intellectual
tradition that SS intellectuals such as Wüst aimed to replace with something
radically different.
The contradictory character of the writings of Goerdeler and Wüst about
Japan, China, and Germany’s Far Eastern policy was, first of all, a result of dif-
fering opinions on German identity. The two men’s thoughts on race, identity,
and colonialism were a mirror image of Germany. For Goerdeler, Germany was
a Christian and Western nation that should behave according to the standards
of “Western morality” and established realpolitik. In his mind, the West and
Germany had a moral duty to maintain “white” interests in Asia. Abandoning
them would be a deeply immoral act.
Wüst believed that Germany was not a “Western” country and that it should
not be one. He was also not committed to Christian morality and, in fact,
loathed it as a Semitic invention that was foreign to the true “Aryan spirit.”
For him, the factors that bound Germany and Japan together were mainly
the justice of their common cause, a similarity in national essence, and the
364 Orbach

common struggle of discriminated nations against the rich and privileged

capitalist Western powers. Ironically, in his views of East Asia, Goerdeler en-
dorsed a community based on race (“white” nations), while the SS-ideologue
Wüst endorsed a community based on a common cultural essence and com-
mon destiny, ignoring racial differences. This complicates the frequently cited
contrast between racist “Nazis” and the resistance movement, and highlights
the significance of context regarding the questions of colonialism/imperial-
ism, race, and identity.

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 Part 5
Post-war Images

∵
 CHAPTER 15

Images of Japan in Post-war German Media:

How the “Past” is Used to Reinforce Images of
Self and Other
Kawakita Atsuko

Japanese-German relations were established in 1860/61 with the arrival of the

Eulenburg Mission to East Asia and the conclusion of the Prusso-Japanese
Treaty of Amity and Commerce (Ger. Freundschafts- und Handelsvertrag
zwischen Preußen und Japan; Jp. Nippon-koku Puroshia-koku Shūkō Tsūshō
Jōyaku 日本国普魯士国修好通商条約) in 1861 (see introduction, and chs. 1 and
2 in this volume). In the 150 years since, and especially after the 1880s, Germany
significantly influenced Japan. The ties between the two powers first evolved
in the wake of the Japanese government’s policies of achieving “civilization
and enlightenment” (bunmei kaika) and the objective of becoming a “rich
country with a strong military” (fukoku kyōhei) based on the Western model.
By adopting advanced Western technology as well as Western culture, Japan
attempted to gain equal footing with the Great Powers. Nonetheless, the rela-
tionship between Japan and Germany was strikingly skewed: in comparison
to Japan’s considerable interest in Germany, Germany paid little attention to
Japan. However, a different kind of relationship developed after World War II.
During this time, Japan was no longer substantially influenced by Germany,
and compared to the pre-war era its fascination with Germany declined sig-
nificantly. This was particularly so when seen against the degree of attention
given to the United States.
What features characterized Japanese-German relations after World War II?
In recent years, research concerning Japanese-German relations in the pre-war
period has made significant advances (Kudō and Tajima 2008). Yet, there is
a comparative dearth of studies on Japanese-German post-war relations.1 In
an attempt to fill in one part of this research void, this chapter will examine
the post-war Japan-German relationship from the perspective of the forma-
tion of mutual images in both countries. Caution must always be exercised
when discussing topics on a collective level that are normally the domain of
the individual (i.e., awareness, image, and identity). However, this chapter will

1 Kudō and Tajima 2014 was published after this chapter was completed.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_017

370 Kawakita

demonstrate that media outlets served as powerful sources of information re-

garding the construction of another country’s image. Here, I will examine the
image of Japan in the influential DER SPIEGEL from the magazine’s founding
in 1947 until the present day.
DER SPIEGEL is a leading German weekly magazine, boasting a circulation
of one million copies. Today, approximately nine percent of the population
over the age of fourteen—an estimated six million people—read the maga-
zine. A study of the image of Japan in DER SPIEGEL since its founding would
be an ambitious task; the word “Japan,” for instance, appears in either the head-
line or lead of over one thousand articles. For that reason, the primary focus
of this chapter is on those articles dealing with topics related to the settling of
wartime issues (e.g., reparations and war responsibility, Jp. sengo shori) and the
process of “overcoming the past” (kako no kokufuku) or “coming to terms with
the past.” I will compare post-war approaches by Japan and Germany regard-
ing their respective wartime pasts to show that this issue was central in the
construction of the mutual images of both countries in the post-war period.
I will concentrate on the period during the 1970s and 1980s when the German
image of Japan underwent a transition. Highlighting the role that the “past”
has played in the construction of mutual images of self and other, I will inves-
tigate some of the root causes for this transformation. Since the focus of this
chapter is on mutual images, it is also necessary to study Japanese images of
Germany during the same period. Finally, I will examine Japanese newspaper
articles in order to have gain understanding of how they depicted Germany’s
handling of its wartime past.

Overall Changes in the Attention Allocated to Japan

Graph 15.1 assists in summarizing the trends in the development of Japan-

related images presented in German media. It elucidates the changes over time
in the number of articles in DER SPIEGEL that contain the word “Japan” in the
headline. Overall, articles relating to Japan in DER SPIEGEL were relatively
few: there was an increase in such articles from the 1970s until the 1990s, with
a decline observable from 2000 onward. Graph 15.2 compares the coverage of
Japan with that of the United States, France, China, and Korea, and the results
show that the number of pieces pertaining to Japan were few compared to
those on the United States and France. While there was a greater reportage
of Japan than Korea, the number of articles relating to China was higher, and
the latter has increased dramatically since the late 1990s. The shift in the total
number of articles connected to Japan and China in the past twenty years re-
flects a fluctuation in German interest in these two countries.
 Images Of Japan In Post-war German Media 371

38
33 33 33 34
31 32
31
2929 2929 30
28 28 29 29
25 26 26 27 25
24
222323 23 22 23
19 19 1918
17 16
13 13

7
5 54 4 6 5 57 7 6
54
3 3 4 4
1 21 02 23 2
00
1947 1954 1961 1968 1975 1982 1989 1996 2003 2010
Graph 15.1 Number of DER SPIEGEL articles making reference to Japan.
Source: Author’s analysis of DER SPIEGEL online archive.

1483
1421
1290

903

698
646
493 514 478
424 453
400 370 394
342 292 288
325 225
127 165
43
35 56 45 28
12 15 22
6 85 29
25 4
1947‒49 1950‒59 1960‒69 1970‒79 1980‒89 1990‒99 2000‒09

Japan us France China Korea

Graph 15.2 Number of DER SPIEGEL articles making reference various countries.
Source: Author’s analysis of DER SPIEGEL online archive.

The Early Post-war Period: Japan as a Point of Contrast

A detailed analysis of DER SPIEGEL reveals that in the early 1950s most articles
on Japan dealt with issues of how to settle wartime accounts and war respon-
sibility. In the early post-war period, there were still many similarities in how
Japan and Germany handled their pasts. For example, until a payment mora-
torium on war reparations for West Germany was agreed upon under the 1953
372 Kawakita

London Debt Agreement,2 Japan and Germany paid war reparations through
the confiscation of external assets, interim reparations (demontage), and pay-
ment through goods and services. The enormous war reparation payments im-
posed on Germany after World War I created severe economic instability and
contributed to the rise of the Nazi Party. As such, after World War II the Allies
decided to emphasize the importance of war reparation payments in “goods”
as opposed to monetary compensation (see Fisch 1992).
Japan keenly observed developments in its former allies Italy and Germany.
For example, in expectation of the 1947 Paris Peace Conference, the Japanese
Ministry of Foreign Affairs eagerly scrutinized the Allied reaction to Italian
claims regarding reparations, Italian external assets, and claim rights.3
Documents show that the Japanese side examined how a transfer of power
from the military occupation authorities to the civil administration in West
Germany could be applied to Japan.4 Moreover, the enactment of a War Victims
Relief Law in West Germany in December 1950 was immediately picked up in
the Japanese media. This gave rise to a climate in favor of measures to establish
a War Victims Relief Law in Japan, and newspaper editorials in the daily news-
paper Mainichi shinbun and the Tōkyō shinbun began to discuss the necessity
of relief for war victims (Ueno 2004: 3–4).5
What was the focus of German interest in Japan at this time? Before the
conclusion of the Paris Peace Treaties 1947, DER SPIEGEL articles discussed
Italian Prime Minister Alcide De Gasperi’s visit to the United States and the
development of events in Italy (“Italien am toten Punkt,” 1947), but the focus
for comparisons regarding the issue of reparations soon shifted to Japan. First,
in July 1947, DER SPIEGEL reported that the United States had changed its
economic policy and planned to sign a peace treaty that would link its policies
to the interests of Japan (“Den Japanern,” 1947). Then, in October 1947, an ar-
ticle titled “Und Japan?” (And Japan?) examined the proceedings of a meeting

2 The Soviet Union responded to this agreement with a moratorium on reparation payments
from East Germany as well.
3 Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, Historical Archive (Gaimushō Gaikō Shiryōkan),
B4.0.0.120 “Itaria heiwa jōyaku no seiritsu no keii to sono naiyō;” B4.0.0.135(3) “Pari heiwa
kaigi ni oite hyōmei sareta Itaria seifu no kenkai.” I want to express my gratitude to Profesor
Asano Toyomi for pointing out the existence of these documents.
4 Ibid., B2.0.015 “Doitsu ni okeru minsei ikan no hōshiki.”
5 For example, see the editorials “Sensō giseisha no kyūsai,” Mainichi shinbun, March 28, 1951;
“Sensō giseisha no fujo o isoge,” Tōkyō shinbun, March 31, 1951.
Images Of Japan In Post-war German Media 373

between the U.S. Occupation Government and the Supreme Commander of

the Occupied Areas. Dissatisfied with the situation in Germany where the
United States, fearing a resurgence of militarism, had banned whaling and
confiscated whaling boats as part of war reparations, the article voiced its frus-
tration that the same stance was not taken against Japan. Although whaling
boats had been acquisitioned for military usage during the war, small-scale
coastal whaling had resumed in Japan by late 1945, and in 1946 Japan was al-
lowed in U.S.-designated fishing areas.
In West Germany there was also a strong interest in the issue of Japan’s
remilitarization and the coming peace treaty between Japan and the Allied
powers. The establishment of Japan’s Police Reserve Force in August 1950 was
the subject of an article in DER SPIEGEL (“Sofort Tritt fassen,” 1950). A January
1951 article again discussed in detail Japan’s “remilitarization” and the U.S. re-
structuring of Japan’s position in the Pacific in light of the ongoing Korean War
(“Bewerbung mit Blut,” 1951). A series of articles appeared before the conclu-
sion of the San Francisco Peace Treaty (“John F. rückt näher,” 1951; “Gromyko an
Bord,” 1951), and in September 1956 Japanese Prime Minister Hatoyama Ichirō
graced the cover of the issue dealing with Japanese-Soviet negotiations for the
normalization of diplomatic relations (“Die Adenauer-Formel,” 1956; “Finten
um Fische und Frieden,” 1956).
Such articles indicate that DER SPIEGEL’s interest in Japan during this
time was focused on how the former ally was coping with its wartime lega-
cies and the post-war settlement, and with the implications this had for West
Germany. In fact, it would be more accurate to say that, rather than having
an interest in Japan itself, DER SPIEGEL was observing trends in the poli-
cies of the victorious nations of World War II toward Japan. An article titled
“Japan darf später” (Deal with Japan Later, 1950), for example, reported that
West Germany was permitted to participate in the International Wheat
Agreement earlier than Japan and referred to Japan as “Hirohito’s country,
protected by America.” In this regard, it is the United States that was identi-
fied as “the problem,” while Japan was portrayed as a country unable to act
independently.
These issues were temporarily resolved when West Germany regained, in
principle, its sovereignty and achieved remilitarization. Subsequently, DER
SPIEGEL’s attention to Japan waned and this remained low key throughout
the 1960s. Japan-related articles during this period were limited to a few ar-
ticles dealing with the cinema, books, and sports.
374 Kawakita

A Transformation of the German Image of Japan from the End of

the 1960s to the 1980s

The late 1960s and early 1970s saw a major transformation in the image of
Japan in Germany and a sudden increase of articles concerning Japan in DER
SPIEGEL. The background to this was the rapid growth of the Japanese econo-
my and the growing export of Japanese goods—above all, automobiles. We can
also observe a diversification in the coverage of Japan-related topics: politics,
education, women’s issues, and the environment were increasingly addressed
in the magazine. With the exception of a few issues such as the normalization
of relations with China or the return of Okinawa to Japan, DER SPIEGEL’s in-
terest in Japan had moved beyond a focus on the country’s wartime legacy, as
was the case in the 1950s.
There were some twenty articles per decade in the 1970s and 1980s that dealt
with Japan’s wartime past; this was a relatively high number compared to the
1950s. Yet considering the increase in the total number of articles on Japan dur-
ing this period—225 in the 1970s and 292 in the 1980s—it is clear that issues re-
lating to past were no longer the single focal point of German interest in Japan.
Articles from this period that handled Japan’s past included the improve-
ment of relations with Taiwan, China (“Eine Falle,” 1971), and Korea (“Irgendwie
Japan,” 1971; “Wahre Freunde,” 1984). DER SPIEGEL also frequently gave ac-
counts of territorial disputes. For instance, the issue of the return of Okinawa
to mainland Japan was covered on multiple occasions in the 1970s (“Wieder
voll und ganz,” 1970; “Größter Traum,” 1975), and there was an abundance of
pieces pertaining to Japan’s territorial dispute with the Soviet Union over the
Southern Kuril Islands (in Japan known as the “Northern Territories”). In addi-
tion to a 1956 article on the negotiations for the normalization of diplomatic
relations with the Soviet Union, the problem of this territorial dispute again
surfaced in articles in 1972, 1986, 1988, 1990, and twice in 1991 (“Phantastische
Zukunft,” 1972; “Nicht geschenkt,” 1986; “Japan will Inseln eintauschen,” 1988;
“Gibt Moskau die Kurilen zurück?,” 1990; “Verkauft Gorbi die Kurilen?,” 1991;
“Der unheimliche Archipel,” 1991).
German interest in Japan’s territorial disputes reflected the territorial dif-
ficulties that Germany itself had regarding its Eastern border with Poland.
Although the provisional boundary between (East) Germany and Poland was
the Oder-Neisse Line, it was never officially recognized by the government of
West Germany. Germany’s national borders were not settled until September
1990 with the “Treaty on the Final Settlement with Respect to Germany.” A na-
tional border treaty was signed between Germany and Poland in November
Images Of Japan In Post-war German Media 375

1990 and took effect in January 1992. It was in this context that DER SPIEGEL
repeatedly chronicles the issue of Japan’s territorial dispute with Russia. It was
exceptional for German media to concentrate on one Japan-related topic to
such a degree.
DER SPIEGEL eventually began to take a more critical stance toward Japan’s
ways of dealing with its past. An early example was a 1956 article on the sur-
vival of militarism and right-wing trends in Japan; the magazine reported that
Justice Minister Hanamura Shirō (1891–1963) had warned against the rising in-
fluence of the reactionary far right in his country (“Japan,” 1956). On a number
of occasions in the 1970s, DER SPIEGEL covered related themes, such as the
very public suicide in November 1970 of the writer Mishima Yukio (1925–1970)
and tendencies of the Japanese right wing to cooperate with the Japanese Self-
Defense Force. All of these articles led to a general trend to doubt Japan’s abil-
ity to “overcome its past” (“Wie Kanarienvögel,” 1970; “Blut fürs Vaterland,” 1974;
“Japans Armee: ‘Reden vom Staatsstreich’,” 1979).6
One of the most critical articles in this vein was the December 1972 article
“Mission erfüllt” (Mission Complete) that highlighted the fate of Japanese sol-
diers who had been left behind in Asia after the war’s end and had held out,
without surrendering, until the 1970s. The article then indicated that this issue
countered the Japanese government’s claim after the 1972 normalization of
diplomatic relations with China that “the post-war is over” (mohaya sengo wa
owatta). Rather, it elucidated, the discovery of soldiers left behind had made
people realize that “the wartime past has not yet fully been overcome, and that
they had simply been led to believe that the war was ‘over.’ ” At the same time, it
was also reported that highly denunciatory views of Japan’s wartime past were
spreading in Japanese society. The article remarked that “critics of the ruling
government party have a greater sense of guilt and are urging people to seek an
apology.” The summary at the beginning of the issue also stated that Japanese
intellectuals were leading the way in calling for a more substantial discussion
of Japan’s wartime past.
From the late 1970s, however, there was a shift to the stance that the gen-
eral trend in Japan was to avoid confronting the past. One article from 1979,
titled “Ein Loch” (A Lack [of Consciousness]), noted the unresolved issue
of the Japanese Imperial Army Unit 731, which had conducted experiments
with chemical and biological weapons on prisoners of war and civilians in

6 Translator’s note: The Japanese phrase employed is kako no kokufuku, which means “over-
coming the past.” However, I have translated it as both “overcoming the past” and “coming to
terms with the past,” depending on the particular contexts of the passage.
376 Kawakita

Northeast China, the suppression of the memory of the invasion of China and
the Nanjing Massacre, atrocities in Southeast Asia, and the torture of British
prisoners of war in Singapore. It stated that “the terror of the age of militarism
under the Japanese Empire has been suppressed.” The article further reported
that “there is no criticism of these developments,” pointing to veteran’s asso-
ciation meetings and the numerous former war criminals who had held impor-
tant posts after the war (“Ein Loch,” 1979).
The background to these changes were a series of events in the 1970s and
1980s that generated international attention regarding the problems of histori-
cal memory in Asia. At this time Japan was becoming increasingly aware of the
international scale surrounding the problem of its coming to terms with the
past due to anti-Japanese demonstrations in Southeast Asia in the mid-1970s.
However, it was the history textbook controversy in 1982 that became a deci-
sive turning point. The trend to refer to the Japanese army’s invasion of China
euphemistically as an “advance” in history textbooks drew particular criticism
from Asian countries. An August 1982 article in DER SPIEGEL reported of the
criticism leveled by Asian countries that “the new textbooks beautify Japan’s
war of imperialism and distort history” (“Sünden der Väter,” 1982).
Two months later, in October 1982, the article “Unterdrückte Wahrheit”
(Suppressed Truth) highlighted a joint Japanese-Chinese produced film, Mikan
no taikyoku (Unfinished Match). This first Sino-Japanese co-production was
created to commemorate the tenth anniversary of the normalization of diplo-
matic relations between Japan and the People’s Republic of China. However,
the film was prevented from being shown in Japan. Against this background,
Japanese Prime Minister Suzuki Zenkō’s (1911–2004) celebratory anniversary
visit to China became a pilgrimage of apology. “The majority of Japanese have
not accepted Japan’s past defeat,” the article stated. “Rather,” it continued, “the
Japanese Empire is praised in books and movies, and war criminals are consid-
ered to be heroes.” The article further noted that this was “the Japanese way of
coming to terms with the past,” and that there was a “tendency in Japan to por-
tray historical injustices as a mere accident, thus distorting history.” The article
also introduced the 1982 film Dai Nihon teikoku (The Great Japanese Empire) as
being in sync with the drift to the right among the Japanese. In fact, this film’s
reception was divided. The right condemned it because of its critical portrayal
of the Japanese emperor; the left condemned it because it was seen as a beau-
tification of pre-war Japan.
Nevertheless, until the mid-1980s, DER SPIEGEL also highlighted the fact
that Japan had completed reparation payments to U.S. prisoners of war for
forced labor (“Unerträgliche Leiden,” 1984) and also introduced the Ienaga
Images Of Japan In Post-war German Media 377

Saburō (1913–2002)7 court trials concerning history textbook approval and

censorship and their relationship to pursuing the emperor’s war responsibil-
ity (“Der Kaiser und seine Generale,” 1986). Historians had discussed Japan’s
wartime past to a considerable degree by that time; yet, after the mid-1980s the
image of Japan as a nation that had failed to adequately tackle its past and re-
flect on war responsibility had firmly taken firm. It was within this context that
the photograph of a Japanese solder decapitating a captured civilian prisoner
of war with a saber was frequently used as a visual representation of Japanese
atrocities in Asia. The photo (fig. 15.1) appeared, for example, in the 1982 article
“Sünden der Väter” (Sins of Our Fathers) that reported on the textbook con-
troversy and in the later 1985 article “Wir haben nicht nur für Japan gekämpft”
(We Have Not Only Fought for Japan). A similar photo was also used in a 1994
article, “Schlußstrich ziehen” (Coming to a Close). The photograph has been
used consistently to criticize how Japan has addressed its past.
In a piece from 1987, the Italian journalist Tiziano Terzani (1938–2004) wrote
that the Japanese Minister of Education in the third Cabinet of Nakasone
Yasuhiro (b. 1918), Fujio Masayuki (1917–2006), was replaced shortly after tak-
ing office in 1986 because he referred to the Tokyo War Crimes Trials (1946/47)
as having been arbitrary “victor’s justice” and claimed that dropping atomic
bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki was “worse than Japanese massacres in
Asia.”8 Terzani commented that most Japanese had similar opinions and that
the only surprising fact was that it was a minister in office who had made these
remarks. Until the early 1990s, an average of two to three articles appeared an-
nually in DER SPIEGEL that criticized offensive, offhand remarks made by
Japanese ministers (“Alter Mann,” 1988), as well as the general tendencies of
Japan and the Japanese to fail to tackle their past. One catalyst for the publica-
tion of a number of Japan-related articles was the death of the Shōwa emperor
in 1989 (“Ich möchte sein wie ein König der Dänen,” 1989; “Dunkle Tage,” 1989).
Articles at this time included criticisms of the slow pace or failure to com-
pensate A-bomb victims (“Späte Hilfe für A-Bomben-Opfer,” 1990; “Vergebliche
Klagen,” 2002) and of Japan’s inability to fix strained relationships with Asian
countries (“Streit um Massaker,” 1994; “Das Ende der Harmonie,” 2005).

7 The historian and history school teacher Ienaga Saburō wrote a textbook that was rejected
during the examination process in the Ministry of Education. As a result, Ienaga sued the
Japanese state in a case that lasted for decades.
8 From the early 1970s to the mid-1990s, Terzani was a correspondent of DER SPIEGEL in
Singapore, Hong Kong, Beijing, Tokyo, Bangkok, and Delhi.
378 Kawakita

Figure 15.1 Image of Japanese soldier allegedly about to behead a Chinese. The image
appeared in the article “Sünden der Väter,” DER SPIEGEL no. 32, August 9, 1982.
Image source: https://www.23yy.com/2350000/2344425.shtml.
Images Of Japan In Post-war German Media 379

There was a general decline in German interest in Japan after the 1990s,
and this included articles on Japan’s attempts to cope with its wartime past.
However, those articles that did report on the issue took a critical stance (i.e.,
that Japan’s efforts at handling its wartime past have been insufficient), and for
the most part this style of writing has continued into the 2000s.9

Images of Self and Other: “Overcoming the Past” in Japan and

Germany

The change in the tone of articles since the 1970s reflects a substantial shift
in how Japan and (West) Germany dealt with their wartime pasts.10 This
relates primarily to the onset of the idea of “overcoming the past” (Ger.
Vergangenheitsbewältigung; Jp. kako no kokufuku) as an official standard in
(West) Germany and the effects this had on Germany’s self-image and its im-
ages of other countries.
Methods of “overcoming the past,” such as holding victimizers accountable,
compensating victims, and passing on war memories to the next generation
took hold at different times in different problem areas in (West) Germany. It
is therefore difficult to make blanket statements about the onset of the phrase
(see Ishida 2002; Reichel 2001). Yet, as Graph 3 shows, the use of the term
“overcoming the past” in DER SPIEGEL articles gradually increased from the
1970s. At the same time, this increase did not necessarily mean that there was

9 In 1998, DER SPIEGEL reviewed the movie Puraido: unmei no toki (Pride: The Moment
of Fate), which was produced to mark the fiftieth anniversary of the verdicts of the
International Military Tribunal for the Far East (Tokyo Trials). While the article also in-
cluded the views voiced by critics, such as the historian Fujiwara Akira (1922–2003), it
concluded that “critical voices such as Fujiwara’s are the minority in Japan” (“Stolz der
Nation,” 1998). Then, a 2005 article on the strained Sino-Japanese relations reported that
“Japan expresses no feelings of remorse for its war atrocities. This is true in the case of
the Rape of Nanking... Still, sixty years after the war’s end, Japan is a long way from truly
confronting and making amends for this issue” (“Das Ende der Harmonie,” 2005).
10 There are a number of comparative studies that have dealt with the German and Japanese
processes of confronting the past. Many of these studies, however, have only scratched
the surface. In terms of considering the development of both countries in a compara-
tive approach, Awaya (1994) is a particularly thought-provoking study. Frei (1996), Reichel
(2001), and Ishida (2002) have published important studies on trends of “overcoming the
past” in Germany. Frei (2006) is an important study dealing with the prosecution of vic-
timizers and Frei et al. (2009), Hockerts et al. (2006) and Goschler (2005) are important
studies of German compensation for the victims.
380 Kawakita

59

30

12

1 2
0 0
1947‒49 1950‒59 1960‒69 1970‒79 1980‒89 1990‒99 2000‒09

Graph 15.3 Number of DER SPIEGEL articles on “Overcoming the Past”.

Source: Author’s analysis of DER SPIEGEL online archive.

82

12 10
8 9 8
2
1947‒49 1950‒59 1960‒69 1970‒79 1980‒89 1990‒99 2000‒09
Graph 15.4 Number of DER SPIEGEL articles on “Nazism”.
Source: Author’s analysis of DER SPIEGEL online archive.
Images Of Japan In Post-war German Media 381

712

201 194
149
126

17 25
1947‒49 1950‒59 1960‒69 1970‒79 1980‒89 1990‒99 2000‒09
Graph 15.5 Number of DER SPIEGEL articles on “Hitler”.
Source: Author’s analysis of DER SPIEGEL online archive.

a simultaneous increase in interest in Germany’s Nazi past. Graphs 4 and 5 in-

dicate that articles in DER SPIEGEL containing the words “Nazi” and “Hitler”
did increase, but they did so at slightly various times and followed somewhat
alternate trajectories.
In any case, it was within this context that DER SPIEGEL articles began to
contrast how Germany and Japan confronted their wartime pasts. An early ex-
ample was a 1950 article on the Japanese Police Reserve Force that maintained
that although remilitarization was unthinkable in West Germany, it went
unquestioned in Japan (“Sofort Tritt fassen,” 1950). Then, in the 1970s, critical
views toward Japan became even more common. The aforementioned article
“Mission erfüllt,” for instance, which dealt with left-behind Japanese soldiers,
cited a Yomiuri shinbun article in which certain Japanese intellectuals lament-
ed that there were no Japanese politicians willing to make the kind of political
decision that West German Prime Minister Willy Brandt (1913–1992) had made
when he knelt before the Warsaw Ghetto Monument (“Mission erfüllt,” 1972)
on December 7, 1970. What is evident here is the formation of the idea that
Japan was enviously referring to West Germany and that this was proof of West
German superiority in tackling the past. This can also be seen as the origin of
the notion that West Germany’s method of “overcoming the past” should be
accepted as the preferred model for other countries.
382 Kawakita

As the above-mentioned 1979 DER SPIEGEL article “Ein Loch” demonstrates,

the idea of West Germany being better at confronting its past than Japan took
greater hold at the end of the 1970s. The article, which criticized the suppres-
sion of the past in Japan, also noted the reaction in Japan to the controversy
over the broadcast in West Germany of the American television miniseries
“Holocaust.” Following its four-consecutive-day broadcast beginning on April
16, 1978, “Holocaust” was shown in Japan on TV Asahi from October 5–8. On the
first day of its broadcast in Japan, the Yomiuri shinbun introduced the series
simply from the perspective of “love between a family” in the “Preview” sec-
tion of its TV column, and the Asahi shinbun gave only a short summary of the
first episode. When “Holocaust” was broadcast in West Germany from January
22–26, 1979, it faced strong opposition from the right wing. Nevertheless, the
West German Broadcasting Association (Westdeutscher Rundfunk; hereafter
cited as WDR) was determined to proceed with airing the series. Contrary to
the scant coverage the Japanese media gave the series when it appeared in
Japan, the Mainichi shinbun reported on the WDR’s decision to broadcast the
series in the “Society” page of its October 22nd evening edition (“ ‘Minzoku no
kako, chokushi o.’ ‘Horokōsuto’ Seidoku jōei e. Uyoku bōgai no naka, byōyomi,”
1979). In its October 24th Sunday morning paper, the Asahi shinbun also chron-
icled the enormous shock that the series caused in West Germany following its
broadcast (“Seidoku, ikari naki kangaeta ‘horokōsuto’ kaigenka no hōei,” 1979).
“Ein Loch” included a critical account of the Japanese newspapers’ reactions,
stating that “they entirely fail to grasp the meaning of the ‘Holocaust’ series in
Germany. Even though Tokyo newspapers devoted front-page articles [to the
‘Holocaust’ broadcast in Germany], they showed no indication of attempt-
ing to understand the series in relation to their own past.” The same article
also cited the reaction of a Japanese student during the Japanese broadcast of
“Holocaust.” The article quoted the student as saying: “Even though thirty years
have passed, why can’t Germans leave the past of Hitler and the Nazis alone?
Why are Germans trying to make themselves suffer?” The article concluded:
“Although many Germans have suffered from the sense of guilt at atrocities
committed by the Third Reich, the Japanese have only done their best to feel
ashamed of the past. And feeling ashamed of the past is nearly the same as
suppressing it.” (“Ein Loch,” 1979).
The 1985 article “Wir haben nicht nur für Japan gekämpft” (We Have Not
Only Fought For Japan) dealt with the apologetic thesis of the “Affirmation
of the Greater East Asian War” in Japan and the August 15, 1985 National War
Dead Memorial Ceremony held at the Nippon Budōkan. It also touched on
Prime Minister Nakasone Yasuhiro’s official visit to Yasukuni Shrine on the
same day. “In Germany,” the article reported, “it has been customary to mourn
Images Of Japan In Post-war German Media 383

first the victims of the Third Reich and only after that mourn German victims.”
Although the article admits that German Chancellor Helmut Kohl’s (b. 1930)
“visit to the Bitburg Air Base and cemetery reversed this trend,”11 it also pointed
out that “in Japan, it has always been thus” (“Wir haben nicht nur für Japan
gekämpft,” 1985).
Strictly speaking, the 1985 article was not entirely correct on this point.
While Germany does not have the problem of Class-A war criminals being en-
shrined or worshipped as deities as they are in Japan, there are institutions
and especially ceremonies for the commemoration of the war dead that have
existed since the Weimar Republic.12 In addition, compensation to German
war victims and bereaved families based on the existing legal system was paid
much earlier than compensation to the victims of Nazi crimes. Yet, it is precise-
ly because these details were overlooked that by this time the image of German
“superiority” in terms of coming to terms with the past had already been es-
tablished in the Japanese-German comparison. The Japanese way of “coming
to terms with the past” was generally discussed in this stereotypical frame-
work of comparison—and always with the same conclusion—thus leading to
a strengthening of the stereotype of a Japan reluctant to deal with its past.

The Idea of Germany as Model Takes Hold in Japan

The practice of negatively contrasting Japan and Germany as relates to the two
countries’ respective processes of “overcoming” their pasts also eventually took
hold in Japan. The “Mission erfüllt” article introduced the voices of Japanese ac-
ademics who praised Brandt’s visit to the Warsaw Ghetto Monument (fig. 15.2)
and compared it to the situation in Japan (“Mission erfüllt,” 1972). The article
states that it is possible that the comparisons made by Japanese academics to
West Germany were already being employed to shed light on the insufficiency
of Japan’s confrontation with its past.

11 Shortly before the fortieth anniversary of the end of World War II, then U.S. President
Ronald Reagan (1911–2004) and West German Chancellor Helmut Kohl paid respects at
the Bitburg Cemetery for fallen soldiers of war during Reagan’s visit to Germany on the
occasion of the Bonn Summit. Both common soldiers and members of the Nazi special SS
units are interred here. For this reason, the visit by the two leaders drew harsh criticism
within West Germany and elsewhere. See Hartmann 1986.
12 Although it receives little attention, a day in late November is designated as “National
Commemoration Day” for the war dead (Volkstrauertag). See Saaler 2008: 7.
384 Kawakita

Figure 15.2 German Chancellor Willy Brandt kneeling before the monument to the 1943
Warsaw Ghetto Uprising on December 7, 1970.
Courtesy of Ullstein Bild.

The day after Brandt’s visit to the Warsaw Ghetto Monument was the an-
niversary of the beginning of the war between Japan and the United States
in 1941 (December 8). On that day, the three major Japanese newspapers re-
ported the signing of the Warsaw Treaty between Germany and Poland on the
front page.13 Moreover, in their morning editions, the Yomiuri shinbun and the
Mainichi shinbun featured a photograph of the kneeling Brandt on the third
page, while the Asahi shinbun had the photograph on the front page of its
evening edition.14
Of these, the Yomiuri shinbun article, featured under the headline “Ōshū
kinchō kanwa no ‘moderu’ ” (A ‘Model’ for Resolving the Tension in Europe),

13 The Treaty of Warsaw (not to be confused with the Warsaw Pact) was signed by West
German Chancellor Willy Brandt and Polish Prime Minister Józef Cyrankiewicz in
December 1970 and ratified by the German Bundestag on May 17, 1972. It marked the nor-
malization of relations between West Germany and Poland after World War II.
14 The photographs in these newspapers were slightly different from the one reproduced
here.
Images Of Japan In Post-war German Media 385

was cited in the DER SPIEGEL piece “Mission erfüllt.” The Yomiuri shinbun
praised the Warsaw Treaty between Germany and Poland, writing that “it in-
dicated a ‘model’ for settling post World War II disputes, including national
boundary problems, and therefore played an extremely important role in re-
solving the tension in Europe.” The article continued to say that the treaty had
brought the normalization of diplomatic relations and positioned it as an “his-
toric agreement, which marked an end to the hostile relations [between West
Germany and Poland] that had lasted nearly a quarter of a century after the
war.” Another article in the Mainichi shinbun included Brandt’s words that “the
treaty was a bridge between the states and peoples of both nations and indicat-
ed the end of the ordeals and sacrifices of a terrible past.” This type of report-
ing suggests that the Japanese media paid much attention to West Germany’s
decision to set out on the path toward the normalization of diplomatic rela-
tions between two former warring countries by acknowledging the status quo
of national borders. However, despite their praise for West Germany’s decision
to contribute toward the relief of tensions in Europe, the Japanese media did
not directly apply this to the situation in Japan and East Asia.
During the coverage of the 1978 broadcast of the series “Holocaust” in West
Germany, the Mainichi shinbun reported that “it must be pointed out that
Germans are not afraid to look directly at their past.” While the Mainichi shin-
bun elucidated the stance of the WDR, it also noted the efforts of the radical
right wing to prevent the series from being shown. Similarly, the Asahi shinbun
gave accounts of both sides of the argument regarding the series. At this time,
the idea that West Germany’s model of confronting the past was superior had
not yet fully taken hold in Japan. Moreover, as DER SPIEGEL indicated, there
was still no indication that the Japanese media contrasted the German situa-
tion with the problems of Japan.
Even into the 1980s, Germany was not used as a “contrasting” model in the
discourse in Japan about its confrontation with the past. During the 1982 text-
book controversy, the Asahi shinbun printed the opinions of its editorial board
members on its front page. This encouraged the Ministry of Education’s (MEXT)
Textbook Advisory Committee to take Germany’s textbook discussions with
France and Poland as an example and to hold consultation with scholars and
educators from China and Korea (“ ‘Hirakareta kyōkasho’ o shingikōkai, kak-
koku tomo kyōgi,” 1982).15 However, at this time there was still no debate about
whether to use West Germany as a model for dealing with the past. Rather, the

15 Nishikawa et al. (1992), p. 277 touches on the issue of Japanese media coverage at the
time of the history textbook controversy in East Asia (1982). For further information on
the international textbook discussions between (West) Germany and France, and (West)
Germany and Poland, see Kondō 1993, 1998, and Kawakita 2011.
386 Kawakita

Japanese media reported on the failed 1985 demonstration of reconciliation

between the United States and West Germany, when leaders of both countries
visited the Bitburg Cemetery. The overriding tone of this reportage was that as
countries facing similar problems both Japan and West Germany should exer-
cise more self-restraint.16
It was not until West German President Richard von Weizsäcker’s speech
(Weizsäcker 1986) shortly after the Bitburg affair in 1985 that the idea of West
Germany as a model for dealing with the past took hold in Japan.17 While the
same, non-contrasting view of referencing Germany continued for some time
thereafter, the speech proved to be a decisive event. Eventually, the Japanese
media began to portray Germany as having surpassed Japan in its confronta-
tion of the past.18 Moreover, it was also in the 1990s that the phrase “overcoming
the past” (kako no kokufuku) came into wider use. This phrase was employed
with the implicit understanding that it was based on the German model of
handling the past and that it involved a comparative evaluation. Along with
reporting on the extent to which a unified Germany was attempting to inherit
West Germany’s model of “overcoming the past,” the aim of the articles was to
suggest the extent that this same model could be realized in East Asia.19

Conclusion

Images only take root after references are made to a certain issue, and referenc-
es are only made when an interest in an issue or a country exists. Consequently,

16 “Doitsu ga ou ‘sensō no kioku,’ ” Asahi shinbun, May 8, 1985; “Samitto zengo—bōkyaku wa

yurusarenai,” Asahi shinbun, May 9, 1985; “Media vs daitōryō. Seidoku bochi hōmon yoron
hikiwake,” Yomiuri shinbun, May 26, 1985.
17 Weizsäcker’s speech was introduced in Japan as “Areno no 40 nen vaitsuzekkā daitōryō
enzetsu” (translated by Nagai Kiyohiko).
18 This change is especially apparent in the Asahi shinbun articles “ ‘Hanzai’ o mizu ni na-
gasanu fūdo,” June 10, 1986 and “Futsu, Seidoku yūkō,” February 9, 1988. Although slightly
more difficult to pinpoint, it was also during this time that articles in the Yomiuri shinbun
began to evaluate West Germany’s confrontation of the past as the desirable method.
See, for example, “Isuraeru daitōryō, kyō muika hatsu no Seidoku hōmon ‘nachi hanzai’
saikakunin,” April 6, 1987 and “Yudaya hakugai no tsumi mitomeru, tōdoku shushō,”
February 9, 1990.
19 For examples of its early use, see “Kako no kokufuku tesaguri no tō ō gekidō kara ichinen:
kyūhigashi doitsu,” Asahi shinbun November 27, 1990; “ ‘Kako no kokufuku’ ni torikumu
toki,” Asahi shinbun, July 8, 1992; “Honekkā moto gichō no kikoku, taiho shōnenba ‘higashi
no kako’ tsuikyū,” Yomiuri shinbun, August 6, 1992.
Images Of Japan In Post-war German Media 387

images of another country reflect the areas of interest in one’s own country. In
other words, the image of the other is a reflection of the interests of the self.
As this chapter has shown, post-war Germany and Japan contrasted the ways
in which they challenge the past. This comparison became one focal point for
the construction of mutual images in both countries. Until the mid-1950s, West
Germany’s interest in Japan was grounded in its own practical interest in is-
sues of wartime legacies. In the 1970s, the focus then shifted toward economic
issues. At the same time, what was once a substantial matter of national inter-
est in dealing with wartime legacies became one that centered on the idea of
“overcoming the past” and served the role of reinforcing (West) German iden-
tity. That Japan’s economic advancement coincided with the formation of a
more critical rhetoric toward its confrontation of the past is a topic that still
requires further detailed analysis.
It was not my intent in this chapter to suggest that the approach of com-
paring Japanese-German methods of handling the past was simply a German
creation. Although the focus here is on the transformation of the image of
Germany in Japan based on a selection of news articles, the idea of “learning
from the West” has been common throughout Japan’s modern era. The prob-
lem of Japan and Germany “coming to terms with their pasts” can also be seen
within this framework. However, there are a number of related issues still un-
examined. For instance, what mutual effects can be observed in the process of
shaping mutual images? How has the affirmation or denial of the image of a
“progressive Germany” versus a “backwards Japan”—eventually a notion com-
monly shared in both countries—been used in Japan to justify its own political
agenda? And, how did this idea enter into the discourse in other Asian coun-
tries? Such questions must await future investigation.

(Translated by Justin Aukema)

References

Articles in DER SPIEGEL

“Alter Mann,” in no. 21, May 23, 1988.
“Bewerbung mit Blut,” in no. 4, January 24, 1951.
“Blut fürs Vaterland,” in no. 24, June 10, 1974.
“Das Ende der Harmonie,” in no. 11, March 14, 2005.
“Den Japanern,” in no. 29, July 19, 1947.
“Der Kaiser und seine Generale,” in no. 19, May 5, 1986.
“Der unheimliche Archipel,” in no. 16, April 15, 1991.
388 Kawakita

“Der Weg zurück,” in no. 12, March 17, 1954.

“Die Adenauer-Formel,” in no. 37, September 12, 1956.
“Dunkle Tage,” in no. 8, February 20, 1989.
“Ein Loch,” in no. 7, February 12, 1979.
“Eine Falle,” in no. 8, February 15, 1971.
“Finten um Fische und Frieden,” in no. 37, September 12, 1956.
“Gibt Moskau die Kurilen zurück?,” in no. 27, July 2, 1990.
“Gromyko an Bord,” in no. 36, September 5, 1951.
“Größter Traum,” in no. 52, December 22, 1975.
“Ich möchte sein wie ein König der Dänen,” in no. 3, January 16, 1989.
“Irgendwie Japan,” in no. 46, November 8, 1971.
“Italien am toten Punkt. De Gasperi kam wieder,” in no. 4, January 25, 1947.
“Japan, in no. 2, January 11, 1956.
“Japan darf später,” in no. 12, March 23, 1950.
“Japans Armee: ‘Reden vom Staatsstreich’,” in no. 25, June 18, 1979.
“Japan will Inseln eintauschen,” in no. 51, December 19, 1988.
“John F. rückt näher,” in no. 26, June 27, 1951
“Mission erfüllt,” in no. 50, December 4, 1972.
“Nicht geschenkt,” in no. 5, January 17, 1986.
“Phantastische Zukunft,” in no. 7, February 7, 1972.
“Schlußstrich ziehen”, in no. 34, August 22, 1994.
“Sofort Tritt fassen,” in no. 35, August 31, 1950.
“Späte Hilfe für A-Bomben-Opfer,” in no. 17, April 21, 1990.
“Stolz der Nation,” in no. 23, June 1, 1998.
“Streit um Massaker,” in no. 20, May 16, 1994.
“Sünden der Väter,” in no. 32, August 9, 1982.
“Und Japan?,” in no. 41, October 11, 1947.
“Unerträgliche Leiden,” in no. 29, July 16, 1984.
“Unterdrückte Wahrheit,” in no. 40, October 4, 1982.
“Vergebliche Klagen,” in no. 36, September 2, 2002.
“Verkauft Gorbi die Kurilen?,” in no. 6, February 4, 1991.
“Wahre Freunde,” in no. 36, September 3, 1984.
“Wieder voll und ganz,” in no. 4, January 19, 1970.
“Wie Kanarienvögel,” in no. 50, December 7, 1970.
“Wir haben nicht nur für Japan gekämpft,” in no. 35, August 26, 1985.
DER SPIEGEL in Zahlen, December 8, 2012.

Articles in the Asahi shinbun

“Doitsu ga ou ‘sensō no kioku’,” May 8, 1985.
“Futsu, Seidoku no yūkō,” February 9, 1988.
Images Of Japan In Post-war German Media 389

“ ‘Genjitsu shōnin ni yūki.’ Seidoku, Pōrando jōyaku chōin. Buranto Seidoku shushō
kokkyō shōnin de kataru,” December 8, 1970.
“ ‘Hirakareta kyōkasho’ o. Shingi kōkai kakkoku tomo kyōgi,” August 27, 1982.
“Kako no kokufuku. Tesaguri no tō ō. gekidō kara ichinen: kyū higashi Doitsu,”
November 27, 1990.
“ ‘Kako’ no kokufuku ni torikumu toki,” July 8, 1992.
“Samitto zengo—bōkyaku wa yurusarenai,” May 9, 1985.
“Seidoku, ikari naki kangaeta. ‘Horokōsuto’ kaigenka no hōei,” January 24, 1979.
“Seidoku to Pōrando. Seijyōka jōyaku ni chōin. Ōderu Naise kokkyōsen o kakunin,”
December 8, 1970.
“ ‘Senpan’ o mizu ni nagasanu fūdo,” June 10, 1986.

Articles in the Mainichi shinbun

“Seidoku no ‘tōhō gaikō’ ashibumi? Tai Pōrando jōyaku o yama ni. ‘Berurin’ ga kabe ni.
Nishigawa sangoku ‘dengeki wakai’ kensei,” December 8, 1970.
“Seidoku Pōrando jōyaku chōin. ‘Ōderu Naise’ mitomeru,” December 8, 1970.
“Sensō giseisha no kyūsai,” March 28, 1951.
“ ‘Minzoku no kako, chokushi o.’ ‘Horokōsuto’ Seidoku jōei e. Uyoku bōgai no naka,
byōyomi,” January 22, 1979.

Articles in the Tōkyō shinbun

“Sensō giseisha no fujo o isoge,” March 31, 1951.

Articles in the Yomiuri shinbun

“Isuraeru daitouryō, kyō muika hatsu no Seidoku hōmon. ‘Nachi hanzai’ saikakunin,”
April 6, 1987.
“Seidoku, Pōrando ‘wakai.’ Seijyōka jōyaku ni chōin,” ōshū kinchō kanwa no ‘moderu.’
Seidoku Pōrando jyōyaku chōin. ‘Genjyō’ shōnin zentei ni. taisen kōishō o seijyōka
e,” December 8, 1970.
“Honekkā moto gichō no kikoku, taiho. Shōnenba ‘higashi no kako’ tsuikyū,” August
6, 1992.
“Horokōsuto. ‘Kazokuai’ kangaesaserareru,” October 5, 1978.
“Media vs daitōryō. Seidoku bochi hōmon yoron hikiwake,” May 26, 1985.
“Yudaya hakugai no tsumi mitomeru/tōdoku shushō,” February 9, 1990.

Books and Academic Articles

Awaya Kentarou, Tanaka Hiroshi, Mishima Ken’ichi, Hirowatari Seigo, Mochida Yukio,
and Yamaguchi Yasushi (1994): Sensō sekinin, sengo sekinin. Nihon to Doitsu wa dō
chigau ka. Tokyo: Asahi Shinbunsha.
Fisch, Jörg (1992): Reparationen nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg. Munich: C.H. Beck.
390 Kawakita

Frei, Norbert (1996): Vergangenheitspolitik. Die Anfänge der Bundesrepublik und die
NS-Vergangenheit. Munich: C.H. Beck.
Frei, Norbert (ed.) (2006): Transnationale Vergangenheitspolitik. Der Umgang mit
deutschen Kriegsverbrechen in Europa nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg. Göttingen:
Wallstein Verlag.
Frei, Norbert, José Brunner, and Constantin Goschler (2009): Die Praxis der
Wiedergutmachung: Geschichte, Erfahrung und Wirkung in Deutschland und Israel.
Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag.
Goschler, Constantin (2005): Schuld und Schulden: die Politik der Wiedergutmachung
für NS-Verfolgte seit 1945. Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag.
Hartmann, Geoffrey H. (ed.) (1986): Bitburg in Moral and Political Perspective.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Hockerts, Hans Günter, Claudia Moisel, and Tobias Winstel (eds.) (2006): Grenzen der
Wiedergutmachung. Die Entschädigung für NS-Verfolgte in West- und Osteuropa
1945–2000. Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag.
Ishida Yūji (2002): Kako no kokufuku. Hitorā go no Doitsu. Tokyo: Hakusuisha.
Kawakita Atsuko (2011): “Yōroppa ni okeru kokusai rekishi kyōkasho taiwa no gen-
zai. Doitsu-Furansu kyōtsū kyōkasho kara Doitsu-Pōrando kyōtsū kyōkasho e,”
Seiyōshigaku 241, pp. 70–81.
Kondō Takahiro (1993): Doitsu gendaishi to kokusai kyōkasho kaizen. Posuto kokumin
kokka no rekishi ishiki. Nagoya: Nagoya Daigaku Shuppankai.
Kondō Takahiro (1998): Kokusai rekishi kyōkasho taiwa. yōroppa ni okeru ‘kako’ no sai-
hen. Tokyo: Chūō Kōronsha.
Kudō Akira and Tajima Nobuo (eds.) (2008): Nichidoku kankeishi 1890–1945, 3 vols.
Tokyo: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai.
Kudō Akira and Tajima Nobuo (eds.) (2014): Sengo Nichidoku kankeishi. Tokyo: Tōkyō
Daigaku Shuppankai.
Nishikawa Masao (ed.) (1992): Jikokushi o koeta rekishi kyōiku. Tokyo: Sanseidō.
Reichel, Peter (2001): Vergangenheitsbewältigung in Deutschland. Die Auseinander­
setzung mit der NS-Diktatur von 1945 bis heute. Munich: C.H. Beck.
Saaler, Sven (2008): “Doitsu to Nihon ni okeru ‘shūsen,’ ‘haisen,’ ‘kaihō’ no kioku,”
Yōroppa kenkyū 7, pp. 5–27.
Ueno Masumi (2004): “Senryōka Nihon no saigunbi hantairon to shōi gunjin mondai.
Saha seitō kikanshi ni miru hakui no shōi gunjin,” Ōhara Shakai Mondai Kenkyūjo
zasshi 550/551, pp. 1–16.
Weizsäcker, Richard Karl Freiherr von (1986) (translated into Japanese by Nagai
Kiyohiko): Areno no 40 nen. Vaitsuzekkā daitōryō enzetsu. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten.
 CHAPTER 16

The Consumption of Nazi Images in Post-war

Japanese Popular Culture

Satō Takumi

In 2000, I edited a collection of articles for the book Hitorā no jubaku (Under
Hitler’s Spell). This publication explored the consumption, mainly through
mass media, of Nazism in Japanese popular culture, re-defining it as a type of
subculture labeled “Nazi-Cul(ture)” (Nachikaru) (fig. 16.1). It was at this time
that I shifted my research focus from German history to Japanese cultural stud-
ies.1 As an historian, it demanded a fair degree of courage to examine such
popular culture “rubbish,” especially since my intent for doing so ran the risk of
being misinterpreted by readers. Yet, as a university professor lecturing in mod-
ern German History, I felt compelled to do this since the image of Germany
held by many of my students was influenced by such Nazi subculture.
Over fifteen years have passed since the publication of Under Hitler’s Spell.
Events that have occurred during that period, including the September 11, 2001
World Trade Center attacks and the introduction of the Euro currency in 2002,
have led to a general feeling among many that the curtain has closed on the
twentieth century and the “Age of Hitler.” At the same time, images of Adolf
Hitler (1889–1945) and Nazism continue to occupy a significant place in con-
temporary Japanese popular culture. For example, most bookstores in Japan
stock Rokuhira Jūji’s Zusetsu akunin jiten (Illustrated Dictionary of Villains), the
Production Committee of Nazi Readers’ Moe, moe nachisu dokuhon (Moe, Moe:
A Nazi Reader), and Himaruya Hidekazu’s Axis Powers—Hetaria 2 (figs. 16.2–4).

1 Satō 2000. An enlarged two-volume paperback edition of the book was published by Chūō
Kōronsha in 2015, following the completion of this essay. The book comprises ten chapters
and is intended to give an overview of “Nazi-Cul” in contemporary Japan. Each chapter
focused on a particular form of mass media: newspapers (ch. 1); “Nazi adventure novels”
(ch. 2); the image of Nazism in film (ch. 3); “Hitler manga” (ch. 4); the reception of Nazism in
Japanese literature (ch. 5); Hitler’s influence on rock music (ch. 6); “Unbelievable Nazism,”
i.e., the world of the occult, from Jewish conspiracy theories to UFO theories (ch. 7); plas-
tic models, an indispensable item for “otaku” (ch. 8); the Heisei-era businessman culture of
fantasy-war history novels (ch. 9); and the spread of “cyber-Nazism” on the internet (ch. 10).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_018

392 Satō

Figure 16.1 Cover of Hitorā no jubaku (Under Hitler’s Spell). Tokyo: Asuka Shinsha,
2000.
The Consumption of Nazi Images 393

Figure 16.2 Himaruya Hidekazu. Cover of Axis Powers—Hetaria 2, depicting figures left to
right with flags belonging to Japan, Italy, and Germany, a historical reference to
the World War II Axis Powers. Tokyo: Gentōsha Komikkusu, 2008.
394 Satō

And notably, images related to Nazi Germany feature prominently on the cov-
ers of these publications.
One such example is seen on the cover of the Zusetsu akunin jiten, in which
Hitler is illustrated between the Chinese Empress Dowager Cixi (1861–1908)
and the Russian Grigori Rasputin (1869–1916) (see fig. 16.3). This hardly conveys
a message of Hitler as a transcendental symbol of “absolute” and incomparable
evil. Rather, this particular layout could be interpreted as relativizing the evil
of Hitler. The cover of Moe, moe nachisu dokuhon is done in an eye-catching
and classic “Nazi-Cul” style, yet the work is filled with dense otaku references
that in all likelihood greatly limit its readership (see fig. 16.4). Hetaria is much
better suited for a general study of the image of Germany in present-day Japan.
Published first as a web manga, as of 2011 this bestselling series had sold a total
of 1,900,000 copies and had been made into an animated television series and a
social network game (see fig. 16.2). It should be noted, however, that the depic-
tions in Hetaria tend to focus on images of the “Reichswehr” or “Prussianism”
rather than “Nazism” in general. In any case, the popularity of these three
manga illustrates the importance of “Nazi-Cul” in modern Japan, and during
the process of incorporation into otaku culture they serve to relativize and at-
tenuate the image of Nazism. Although the term “otaku” originated in Japan,
it is also used in English, French and German, and there is no longer anything
especially Japanese about the desire for otaku-like fetishism.

Nazism and “Nazi-Cul” Research in Japan

My motivation for launching into research on “Nazi-Cul” dates back to the end
of the twentieth century. Although today I refer to myself as a media scholar, in
the early 1990s I still saw myself as a scholar of German history. In August 1993,
I was shocked when I read an essay in the journal Mainichi guraphu (Everyday
Graphics) by Itō Teruhiko, a former Bonn correspondent for the newspaper
Mainichi shinbun. This was around the time of the establishment of Prime
Minister Hosokawa Morihiro’s cabinet (1993–1994) and of the collapse of
Japan’s post-war political system, the so-called “1955 System.”2 Itō wrote:

2 “1955” refers to the year in which the Liberal Democratic Party (Jiyū Minshutō, LDP) was
founded. From that time until 1993, the LDP dominated Japanese politics. This period came
to an end in 1993, however, when Hosokawa Morihiro founded the first government after 1955
without LDP participation.
The Consumption of Nazi Images 395

Figure 16.3 Rokuhira Jūji (author)/Irasuto Tomoe. Cover of Zusetsu akunin jiten (Illustrated
Dictionary of Villains). Tokyo: Gentōsha Komikkusu, 2010, depicting Grigori
Rasputin, Adolf Hitler, and the Chinese Empress Dowager Cixi.
396 Satō

Figure 16.4 The Production Committee of A Nazi Reader (Nachisu dokuhon Seisaku Iinkai)/
editor-in-chief Morise Ryō. Cover of Moe, moe nachisu dokuhon. Tokyo: Īguru
Paburisshingu, 2010.
The Consumption of Nazi Images 397

Japanese academics have produced some of the foremost scholarship

on Nazi Germany. From politics, economics, industry, and social dynam-
ics, to literature, philosophy, law, art, music, and popular entertainment
Japan has assembled academic specialists to investigate almost every as-
pect of the period under Hitler’s rule. Quite possibly the amount of re-
search being done even surpasses that being done in Germany. Nearly
every facet concerning the Nazis, no matter how big or small, is being
thoroughly researched. (Itō 1993: 34)

Itō’s statement greatly overestimated the state of affairs. Although it was prob-
ably true that the number of Japanese scholars researching Nazi Germany was
considerable,3 the focus of many of the “scholarly papers” produced by this
large number of researchers was often so narrow that it was unrelated to the
larger context of Nazism. The problem that struck me most, however, came
with the following statement:

My blunt German friend once asked me, “Nazi research in Japan is really
prospering, but is it really of any use?” He was a journalist and his words
reminded me of his frequent criticism of Japan in German newspapers—
that Japan had no intent of seriously addressing its past of aggression in
Asia.… In other words, although there was a great body of research on
Nazi history being done in Japan, it was not being used as an opportunity
to pursue Japan’s own history of aggression. (ibid.)

Criticism of Japan by German journalists is certainly nothing new (see ch. 15 in

this volume). But I hesitated somewhat over the logic of linking Nazi research
in Japan directly to the problem of Japan’s war responsibility. If I were to follow
this reasoning it could be suggested that the “boom” of Nazi research in Japan
was, in fact, serving to minimize and shelve Japan’s own war responsibility. My
hesitation was not because I thought this was the truth, but because I felt that
the centrality of German-related history research in post-war Japan had come
to an end.
Be it from the perspective of American-style democracy or Soviet-style so-
cialism, Japanese historians until this point could automatically guarantee their
“political correctness” by criticizing the common enemy that was German-style

3 Current German research in Japan no longer receives the attention it did a decade ago. Also,
the number of university students who select German as a second foreign language has been
on the decline.
398 Satō

fascism. In the paradigm of Japanese post-war history, modern German history

was equated to a criticism of the history of fascism, thus making the signifi-
cance of research self-evident. In my own experience as a student in the 1980s,
I was never once asked why I was researching modern German history. After
the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, I began to ask my seminar students this same
question. Moreover, when introducing the translation of George L. Mosse’s The
Nationalization of the Masses to my students in 1993, I began to think that those
who conduct research on German Nazism should work under the assumption
that everybody could become a Nazi, although this might seem a remote real-
ity for researchers. Mosse wrote a foreword for the Japanese translation of his
book, in which he summarized his underlying motivation:

The question of how to explain the success of Hitler is constantly being

thrown before us. Many historians have dealt with shedding light on
the various prerequisite social conditions for the Nazi Party’s complete
grasp of power. However, achieving victory over National Socialism, and
achieving a renewed awareness of “politics”—the influence of which
reaches even further today—has, generally speaking, only been passingly
made reference to. This study addresses the grasping of a concept of “pol-
itics” that can truly be called politics of self-expression. Many who have
experienced this generation speak with contempt for Nazi propaganda
and the emotional mobilization of the populace, but they are forgetting
the following fact. That is, the problem lies at the foundation of the idea
regarding the people’s sovereignty, which after Rousseau and the French
Revolution was a form of politics recognized as one of the central prob-
lems of the modern age. Accordingly, it is a problem of how much the
populace is assumed into the nation state, and to what extent they can be
given a sense of belonging. (Mosse 1994: 3)

The “political drama” regarding the participation of the masses did not end
with the Nazis, but has continued to be re-enacted and dressed up in various
new “appealing” forms throughout the ages of television and the internet. Even
bookstores overflow with Hitler-related books and military magazines, and
television specials about the Hitler and the Nazis attract a high percentage of
viewers. Only few historians pay attention to this kind of popular, or “low,” cul-
ture. Yet, in contrast to university publications, which are only read within ex-
tremely limited circles of mostly acquaintances and colleagues, a much larger
number of people consume representations of Nazism in television and the
internet.
The Consumption of Nazi Images 399

Nazism as portrayed on Japanese television is especially watered down. That

democracy privileges such simplification as a prerequisite for participation of
the people should not necessarily be criticized as a bad thing. In fact, televi-
sion documentaries have generally been critical of Nazism and often included
comments by “knowledgeable specialists.” At the same time, how viewers per-
ceived these visual products is an entirely different matter.
Of course, such a phenomenon is not unique to late twentieth-century
Japan. Richard Rubenstein (b. 1924) wrote that:

… People still continue to be fascinated by Hitler, Himmler, and the SS.

Books about the Nazis continue to appear. They are bought in large num-
bers by a curious public. The Nazi period also continues to be a subject of
great interest for the movies and television. (Rubenstein 1978: 1)

Alvin Rosenfeld also revealed that in America “the popular literature industry
seems to be able to sell almost any book with a swastika on its cover” (Rosenfeld
1985: 14). To a degree, these statements can be applied to the mass media of all
developed societies. But despite the obvious fact that it is not possible for intel-
lectuals to defeat a mass movement like Nazism with logical criticism alone,
few historians and sociologists have researched “Nazi-Cul” at the popular level.

Hitler’s Victory in the Culture War

The cultural stage on which Hitler has become the (only) symbol of “evil be-
yond comparison” can be called “Hitler’s victory in the culture war.” In this con-
text, one might think of Nicholas Bethell’s non-fictional depiction of the Polish
blitzkrieg that bore the slightly sci-fi-esque title The War Hitler Won (Bethell
1973). But a more important question was raised by Robert E. Herzstein’s
(1940–2015) research on Nazi propaganda (Herzstein 1977). He noted that if
Hitler’s true victory during the war was his use of Nazi propaganda—that is,
the propaganda war—then, his victory in the post-war era has been that of his
personal appeal and the deluge of Nazi images in mass popular culture.
In this regard, the example of the celebrated Japanese manga artist Tezuka
Osamu (1928–1989) is illuminating. He explained his intent behind creating
the manga Adorufu ni tsugu (Message to Adolf, 1983–1985): “I created Adorufu
ni tsugu out of a hope to record, while I was still alive, this dagger of state au-
thority that swung down upon the people in the name of ‘justice’ ” (Tezuka
1996: 48) (fig. 16.5). In the piece, however, he failed because he could not fully
400 Satō

Figure 16.5 Cover of Tezuka Osamu, Adorufu ni tsugu (1). Tokyo: Shōgakukan, 2008.
The Consumption of Nazi Images 401

portray that “evil.” Tezuka lamented the difficulty of portraying “evil” in a con-
versation with philosopher Tsurumi Shunsuke (1922–2015):

Manga has become incredibly difficult for me to draw at the moment. By

positioning a relativized villain alongside the hero, the villain becomes a
hero and ends up overtaking the main character. Rather, a detestable vil-
lain who pulls off audacious deeds is easier for the reader to sympathize
with. When that happens, the theme and motif that I originally intend-
ed to portray becomes obscured, and I lose focus of what I am writing.
(Tsurumi and Tezuka 1985: 27)

For the humanist Tezuka, it was the state that was the truly “evil” force that
gave rise to war and hatred, rather than individual human beings. In Tezuka’s
eyes, the greatest evil that humans were capable of was to produce a rational
and inhumane system, and this was sympathetically reflected as “human im-
perfection.” In response to Tezuka’s doubt over whether or not Hitler had acted
out of a self-awareness of the evil he was carrying out, Tsurumi stated that “by
my personal standards, I think that politics that knowingly carries out evil is
indeed high-level politics. In fact, I think it is the true embodiment of politics.
Japanese and Americans are lacking in this” (Tsurumi and Tezuka 1985: 19).
Naturally, Tezuka was not able to portray this “high-level politics,” nor was
he able to grasp thoroughly Hitler’s “evil.” Although Adorufu ni tsugu garnered
support from a great many readers, it was not able to give any kind of explana-
tion regarding the “evil” of Hitler’s politics. Moreover, Tezuka treated Hitler’s
politics not as “evil” but as nothing more than “fanatical.” It is this point that
renders vague the position of responsibility in regards to “crime” in Adorufu ni
tsugu. In other words, the message seems to be that even if an irrational, men-
tally disturbed leader in power carries out rational mass slaughter, they remain
in the world of the innocent.
There have been just a few examples at the popular culture level that con-
fronted Hitler in the same manner as Tezuka. Rather, the majority of manga
and anime have imaged Hitler as nothing more than a straightforward sym-
bol of “absolute evil that must be defeated.” In today’s manga and anime, only
Hitler has been elevated as an image of a villain that can reach the consensus
of all readers. However, the more realistically evil is portrayed the more it be-
comes relativized and for people living in the complex society of the present it
appears more attractive as a result. It is not necessarily the case that good/bad
and like/dislike are binary concepts.
402 Satō

This is where the danger of the abuse of Hitler as a symbol of “evil beyond
comparison” lies. When Hitler is made the symbol of absolute evil, he also be-
comes the criterion with which to measure current politics. In the Christian
world, the value of man’s actions was determined by their distance from the
epitome of absolute good and perfection—God. Yet, when Friedrich Nietzsche
(1844–1900) proclaimed the “death of God” in the nineteenth century, this stan-
dard by which to judge the righteousness of man’s actions was removed. In this
absence of the standard of absolute good, all that remained was the image of
absolute evil, and this soon came to be synonymous with Hitler. If this cannot
be called “Hitler’s victory,” then what else can it be?
As both writer and editor, I was concerned about how such an analysis of
“Nazi-Cul” in Under Hitler’s Spell would be read in Japanese society. After the
book came out in 2000, it received positive responses from educators involved
in peace education as well as in reviews from the Japanese Society for the
Study of Modern History. In her review of the book, Inoue Shigeko, a scholar
of modern German history, spoke of the harm of employing Nazism as the
standard for evil:

Increasingly in the scholarly world, it is becoming common knowledge

that we cannot say that Nazism is an “extreme evil” beyond comparison;
we have to insist that Nazi ideology shares commonalities with many
other systems of thought. Rather than a peculiar Nazi element, such
characteristics as its “ability to implement” and “systemized authenticity,”
are shared in common with other ideologies, movements, and systems.
However, instead of this awareness of historical research being utilized
in education—especially political education—teachers currently con-
tinue to portray the dark Nazi era as a historical lesson. This results in the
image of the Nazi era becoming detached from the real state of affairs,
damages the original meaning of “learning from history,” and runs the
risk of overlooking possible elements in Nazism in the present. This is
also the harm of Nazism becoming symbolized as “evil.” (Inoue 2002: 89)

A History of the Formation of “Nazi-Cul” in Post-war Japan

The problem of the “symbolization of evil” outlined above is not peculiar

to Japanese society. As an example of a particular phenomenon in post-war
Japanese society, however, it is instructive to point out the large quantity of fan-
tasy war histories dealing with a “final battle” between Japan and Germany that
have appeared since the 1980s. Works in this genre would include, for instance,
The Consumption of Nazi Images 403

Aramaki Yoshio’s Konpeki no kantai (Deep Blue Fleet; Tokuma Shoten, 1990–
1996), Hiyama Yoshiaki’s Daisenryaku nichidoku kessen (Grand Strategy for the
Decisive Battle between Japan and Germany; Kadokawa Shoten, 1992–1997),
and Sato Daisuke’s Reddo san, burakku kurosu (Red Sun, Black Cross; Tokuma
Shoten, since 1993). Dealing with such texts would be easy if they were reac-
tionary advocates of militarism; yet, the matter is not so simple. In the world
of fantasy war histories, Nazi Germany appears as a common enemy of Japan
and the United States or, more precisely, the hypothetical enemy of post-war
democracy. These works of entertainment provide a fantasy that fits well with
the narrative of Japanese post-war democracy, and the security treaty system
between Japan and the United States. In other words, while confirming values
similar to those of the Yalta and Potsdam Treaties, which regarded the con-
frontation in World War II as one between the democratic and fascist camps
and as the final battle between good and evil, they also tempt the reader with
the pleasing illusion that Japan really should have fought on the side of “good”
democracy against the “evil” Nazis. Moreover, a glance at the contents reveals
that the essence of their pro-war stories is nothing more than a variation on
the post-war worldview of “peace and democracy.” In this light, “Nazi-Cul” in
Japan is not a danger to democracy—it is perhaps even possible to say that
it is a symbol of peace. However, the popularity of such fantasy war histories
indicates that criticism of Hitler was a necessary test of loyalty when relating
the war in a “politically correct” way.
When I examined the particular characteristics of “Nazi-Cul” in Japan in
this way—as was done in Under Hitler’s Spell—I described the transformation
of the Nazi image within the framework of post-war popular culture and my
experiences in the media as someone born in 1960. What became clear as a
result of this research was that the changing image of Nazism together with
changing Japanese views of war. This is illustrated, for example, in the transfor-
mation of images of the “Battleship Yamato”—a representative symbol for the
war—in popular culture.4 There have been three main stages that have been
expressed in the changes made in the rendition of the battleship’s name: origi-
nally written in Chinese characters (Yamato 大和), in later products of popular
culture it was rendered in the katakana syllabary (Yamato ヤマト) and finally

4 The battleship Yamato, built 1937–1940, were the largest battleship ever constructed and thus
the pride not only of the pre-war Japanese military, but also Japan’s scientific community.
However, by the time the ship was completed, the age of the battleship had already ended
and during World War II, Yamato was used mainly as a transport ship until it was dispatched
on a suicide mission and sunk during the Battle of Okinawa in April 1945.
404 Satō

in the hiragana syllabary (Yamato やまと).5 Non-fiction tales, such as Yoshida

Mitsuryu’s Senkan Yamato (Battleship Yamato; Kadokawa Shoten, 1968), are
examples of the works consumed by the post-war generation born between
1945 and 1949. The generation born in the 1960s, and without the experience
of war, watched the sci-fi anime television series Uchū senkan Yamato (Space
Battleship Yamato; Nihon TV, 1974), and the second generation of baby-boom-
ers born after 1971 read manga such as Chinmoku no kantai (Silent Service;
Kōdansha, 1988–1996).
Up until the 1960s, a period when the scars from war damage were still ev-
ident, there were many non-fiction writings that depicted the war in Japan.
At the same time, the Nazi image in this period was mainly an import from
American Hollywood movies, and there was no “Nazi-Cul” particular to
Japanese society. This began to change in the 1970s when, due to the increas-
ing activity of peace education movements, non-fiction works dealing with
the war were replaced in magazines for young boys with accounts of victims’
experiences from the home front. As a reaction to this, stories portraying “war
set in outer space” became extremely popular. The best-known example of
this was the aforementioned series Uchū senkan Yamato (Space Battleship
Yamato). Notably, all of the villains had German-sounding names, beginning
with the ruler of the enemy world, Führer Desler (a combination of the loan
word “death,” pronounced desu デス and “ler” from “Hitler”), who was from the
planet Gamilas and who plotted the annihilation of the human race.
However, with each new episode, the villain Desler became more of an at-
tractive “rival.” The record-breaking 1978 anime Saraba uchūsenkan Yamato:
ai no senshitachi (Farewell to Space Battleship Yamato: Warriors of Love), for
instance, epitomized this evolution. It was as if the German Panzer Division
blitzkrieg had been projected into outer space, with military uniforms fash-
ioned after the Third Reich raised taking on a new form of aestheticism. The
figure of Desler would be used repeatedly as the model for the “aesthetic
Hitler-villains” in space operas such as the television anime series Kidō senshi
gandamu (Mobile Suit Gundam, since 1979) and the animated video Ginga eiyū
densetsu (Legend of the Galactic Heroes, 1988–2000). It would be no mistake
to say that the process of aestheticizing Hitler’s image can be observed in the

5 Three scripts are employed when writing Japanese: kanji (Chinese characters), hiragana,
and katakana. Although a general standard determining script use exists (see the Ministry
of Education’s 2012 Jōyō kanji hyō), selective use is often employed to reinforce a certain tone
or style, indicate an alternative meaning, or various other denotations. Hiragana is typically
used for domestic words, whereas katakana is used when writing foreign words such as plac-
es or people, for loan words, and/or for emphasis.
The Consumption of Nazi Images 405

establishment of the characters of Desler (Yamato), Gihren Zabi (Gundam),

and Reinhard von Lohengramm (Legend).
The golden age of this “Nazi-Cul” boom began in 1978 with the release
of Farewell to Space Battleship Yamato: Warriors of Love, which caused a so-
cial sensation. The then pop idol Sawada Kenji sang the theme song for the
film and was harshly criticized for taking the stage in Nazi attire replete with
a swastika armband. The furor created over this “swastika incident” indicat-
ed that Japanese society had become sensitive to the historic crimes of the
Nazis. The year 1978 also saw the loan word “Holocaust” (horokōsuto) enter
into common Japanese usage. In October 1978, Asahi TV broadcast the monu-
mental nine-and-a-half-hour series Holocaust (originally broadcast by NBC in
the United States) over four consecutive nights. In 1978, Anne Frank’s original
diary was also brought from the Netherlands to Japan where it went on display
in museums throughout the country. Still today, the general Japanese image of
the persecution of the Jews comprises the three key associations The Diary of
Anne Frank, Night and Fog, and Holocaust. In this sense, the year 1978 marked a
change in the popular Japanese image of wartime Germany.

The End of “Hitler as Absolute Evil” and the Beginning of the

Incorporation of Nazi Elements into Otaku Culture

The aforementioned images of the Holocaust eventually merged with beau-

tified images of Hitler as a “formidable opponent,” and solidified the idea of
him as a symbol of “absolute evil.” When atrocious crimes occurred in Japanese
society in the 1990s, the criminals were frequently suspected as being Hitler
admirers. During the 1995 Aum Shinrikyo incident, the cult’s religious founder
Asahara Shōkō (b. 1955), who masterminded the indiscriminate terrorist at-
tacks with sarin gas in Tokyo’s subways, was often likened to Hitler. In fact, that
Hitler was praised as a hero in Aum’s official magazine is unmistakable. This
reflected the worldview of Aum’s Tantric Vajrayana—a reversal of the balance
of “Good and Evil” and the belief that the jump to “absolute good” was made
possible precisely through “sacred evil.”
Each time a bizarre incident occurred thereafter, the mass media reported
that the criminal had been influenced by Hitler. It was widely reported that
the fourteen-year-old boy who went by the alias of Sakakibara Seito in the
1997 Kobe serial killings admired Hitler and that as an elementary student
he was impressed after watching episode four, “Hitler’s Ambition” (Hitorā
no yabō) of the NHK Documentary Eizō no seiki (The Century of Visual
Images). Furthermore, he begged his mother to buy him Hitler’s Mein Kampf
406 Satō

(My Struggle, first published in 1925/26). Tabloid magazines also reported that
Mein Kampf was found on the shelf of the culprit of the 2001 indiscriminate
murders at Ikeda Elementary School in Osaka. Although a cause-effect rela-
tionship was not necessarily clear in such heinous crimes, the image of Nazism
likely allowed people to gain some kind of understanding and relief in the face
of an incomprehensible event.
By 2010, however, it seems unlikely that explaining heinous crimes as hav-
ing been influenced by Hitler would be enough to convince the majority of
Japanese. This is because the very association of the image of Hitler with “abso-
lute evil” was losing significance in popular culture. This is not limited to Japan.
It is perhaps primarily due to the 2001 terrorist attacks on the World Trade
Center on September 11 that the “Age of Hitler” was now considered at an end.
After the German movie Der Untergang (Downfall, 2004), which portrayed the
last days in Hitler’s life, it is evident that the “humanization of Hitler” had also
evolved in the European and American films dealing with him. One of these
“humanistic Hitler films” was released in 2005 in Japan, on the sixtieth anniver-
sary of the end of the war. At this time, Kyodo News reported the criticism of
the film in the German daily Der Tagesspiegel, which stated that “the purpose
of portraying Hitler as a human is to achieve commercial success,” and they
also released an affirmative explanatory article titled “Taking A Calm, Steady
Look at Taboos.” In Japan as well, the appeal of Hitler, which existed precisely
because of such taboos, seems to have finally waned.
Today, in twenty-first century mass media, we no longer see the flood of Nazi
representations that existed at the end of the twentieth century. Rather, more
attention grabbing are the niche hobbies of “Nazi otaku” or “Nazi-Cul.” This
includes comics such as “Nachi yaoi” (Nazi Boys’ Love), the subject of which
is homosexual male romance, and “Nachi moe” (Nazi Burn), which is an amal-
gamation of military uniform fetish and Lolita fashion. Susan Sontag’s analy-
sis of the sexual appeal of Nazism as “a response to an oppressive freedom of
choice in sex (and in other matters), to an unbearable degree of individuality”
also applies as an explanation for “Nazi otaku” (Sontag 1980: 105). In addition
to that, the be-all and end-all to conspiracy theories about the complex state
of world affairs—the Jewish conspiracy theory—still represents one aspect of
this. However, this, too, is not unique to the Japanese.
This type of micro culture is a byproduct of the subdivision of culture in an
information society. Through speculatively selecting subcultures on the “stock
market of taste,” today’s youth seeks the construction of self-identity. As long
as a desire to compensate psychologically for the collapse of self-histories (ji-
bunshi) with the victory of virtual histories (fantasy war histories, kakū senki),
the demand for “Nazi-Cul” such as the “Japan-Germany Final Battle” will likely
The Consumption of Nazi Images 407

remain. Such “Nazi-Cul” is itself simply a fantasy to maintain everyday life and
is not entirely harmful. Yet, within this fantasy, it is necessary to guard against
aestheticized images of “Hitler as absolute evil.”
Would not Hitler, who was a NEET (Not in Education, Employment, or
Training) before gaining control over the Third Reich, be seen as a “god” in the
eyes of the contemporary “losers” (makegumi) of society who are suffocating
with abundant freedom and trying to subvert the value system? Only a small
number of the socially weak staunchly hold on to the idea of “Hitler as abso-
lute evil.” Nevertheless, there is no guarantee that a great increase of the forlorn
“loser group” will not emerge as a stratification of society deepens and the gaps
between rich and poor—“winners” (kachigumi) and “losers”—widen. In order
to avoid a “democratic emergence of Hitler” among the overwhelmingly large
number of “losers” that globalization inevitably produces, it is much more ef-
fective to humanize Hitler rather than demonize him. Denouncing Hitler as a
demon ultimately results in seeing him as a “super human” (Übermensch). The
history of “super-humans” is mythology, and it does not accurately reflect the
path of humans that is (and has been) full of inconsistencies.
This is also a problem of the manner in which history is narrated. When
historical accounts concerning Nazism are given, the disciplinary narrative is
one of “unforgivable” acts and of an ideology “that must be refuted.” It is true
that Nazi crimes are hard to forgive, and certainly we should never forget them.
However, was it not the fascist narrative in the first place that did not allow for
counterarguments? Narratives that invite dialogue—that is non-fascist nar-
ratives—are now more than ever necessary in historical accounts of fascism.
The study of history that is free from taboo and compulsion is the prerequisite
for mutual understanding. In that sense, it is not the making of simple moral
judgments about “Nazi-Cul” and its consumption that is needed, but rather an
informed mutual understanding of the issues at stake.

(Translated by Justin Aukema)

References

Bethell, Nicholas (1973): The War Hitler Won: The Fall of Poland, September 1939. New
York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston.
Herzstein, Robert Edwin (1977): The War that Hitler Won: The Most Infamous Propaganda
Campaign in History. New York: Putnam.
Inoue Shigeko (2002): “Shohyō: Hitorā no jubaku, ed. Satō Takumi,” Doitsu kenkyū 33/34,
pp. 87–91.
408 Satō

Itō Teruhiko (1993): “Doitsu wa Doitsu, Nihon wa…,” Rakkan Yobikō, no. 83, Mainichi
guraphu, September 1993.
Mosse, George L. (1994): Taishū no kokuminka: nachizumu ni itaru seiji shinboru to
taishū bunka. Tokyo: Kashiwa Shobō.
Rosenfeld, Alvin H. (1985): Imagining Hitler. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Rubenstein, Richard L. (1978): The Cunning of History: The Holocaust and the American
Future. New York: Harper Colophon Books.
Satō Takumi (ed.) (2000): Hitorā no jubaku. Tokyo: Asuka Shinsha.
Satō Takumi (2009): Hyūmaniti, rekishigaku. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten.
Satō Takumi (2015): Hitorā no jubaku. Nihon nachi • karuchā Kenkyūkai/Cultural
Studies of NAZISM in Japan. Tokyo: Chūō Kōronsha (paperback edition).
Sontag, Susan (1980): Under the Sign of Saturn. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux.
Tezuka Osamu (1996): Garasu no chikyū o sukue: nijūseki no kimitachi e. Tokyo:
Kōbunsha.
Tsurumi Shunsuke and Tezuka Osamu (1985): “Taiwa, manga to kigō, gendai no kotoba,”
Rekishi to shakai 6, pp. 12–20. Tokyo, December 2016
 CHAPTER 17

German and European Academic Images of Japan:

The “Group Model” and the “Cultural Importer
Model” from the 1970s to the 1990s
Iwasa Takurō

During the 1970s, Western Europe in general and West Germany in particu-
lar faced a number of serious economic, social and identity crises. As a result,
people looked to Japan, as a nation or culture with which they could compare
themselves or from which they could learn. This chapter will examine the
changing images of Japan in German and European academia, especially in the
disciplines of sociology, social anthropology, and Japanese studies. It will also
analyze pan-European images alongside German images of Japan. The scope
of this inquiry must be Europe-wide because the German academic debate
and images of Japan in the post-war period were formed within the context
of those in other European countries. Especially since the 1970s, German and
European scholars have discussed various common or recurrent themes across
academic disciplines in European conferences and workshops. The establish-
ment of the European Association for Japanese Studies (EAJS) in 1973 was one
of the symbolic events for the development of a network uniting European
researchers studying Japan. Many German and European scholars have also
edited or co-edited academic books and research papers. It is therefore appro-
priate to go beyond “German” images and to examine pan-European images of
Japan.1
It should be further noted that discussions on Japan have not been limited
to the pan-European level. European scholars also have exchanged their views
with scholars in Japan, America, and elsewhere. European images of Japan
developed alongside images that the Japanese themselves created and dis-
seminated. In such cases, Europeans took up images from the Japanese or used
them in part as an authority to legitimatize its own views (Breger 1990: 40).2
It is sometimes difficult to distinguish certain aspects of the discussions on
Japan taking place in Germany and Europe from those in the United States.

1 Europe is here narrowly defined as comprising the nations of “Western” Europe.

2 With regards to an historical overview and its classification of the controversial debate on
Japan within or outside of Japan in the post-war period up to the 1980s, see Aoki 1990.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���7 | doi ��.��63/9789004345423_019

410 Iwasa

However, while there is considerable transatlantic influence and commu-

nication, some distinct philosophical traditions exist in European social an-
thropology. European academics often have different theoretical approaches
and ask different questions, and the traditions are somewhat different from
those currently expounded in the United States (Hendry 1986: 3–4). Although
an in-depth study could also be done on the Japanese or American academic
influence on European images, this chapter will concentrate on German and
European academic images of Japan.

The Concept of “Image”

This chapter focuses on the concept of “image” and builds on the works of
German and European researchers who have studied Japan and the concept
of “image” in relation to Japan (Lehmann 1978, 1982, 1988; Wilkinson 1983,
1986; Breger 1990; Kreiner and Ölschleger 1996; Goodman 2001; Pascha 2001). It
might be instructive here to summarize the academic debate on the concept
of “image.”
Images are highly emotive and evaluative (Breger 1990: 260). As a result,
they are also controversial (Stråth 2000: 25). The study of images involves a
certain degree of subjectivity and selectivity (Lehmann 1982: 16). Furthermore,
the study of images between two societies involves a fairly high degree of
generalization and a corresponding lack of an easily defined empirical basis.
These handicaps preclude firm conclusions and require that one’s findings be
tentative at best. The subject is vast, nebulous, volatile, and often contradictory
(Lehmann 1982: 14).
Exhibiting a high degree of repetition, images share many common themes
despite being produced over considerable lengths of time. Images of Japan in
Europe are constructed using recurrent stereotypes (Breger 1990: 11–12).3 In
the collective European mind, a limited stock of images relating to Japan and
the Japanese has formed that is both positive and negative, and out of which
the relevant image can be recalled any number of times depending on the pre-
vailing mood (Wilkinson 1983: 19). Some of these recurrent themes have had
an impact on academic thinking as well and have influenced the construction
of images of Japan (Kreiner and Ölschleger 1996: 9).
Images are inextricably linked with international relations (Lehmann 1982: 15)
and images of societies reflect economic and political power (Goodman
2001: 186). Depending on particular macro politico-economic conditions, the

3 Breger (1990: 11–12) refers to the works of Lehmann 1978, 1986, and Wilkinson 1983, 1986.
German And European Academic Images Of Japan 411

respective presenters can portray these either positively or negatively (Breger

1990: 54). Moreover, the changing image of Japan is also a reflection of the in-
tellectual climate of the times (Goodman 2001: 182).4

The “Group Model” and the “Cultural Importer Model”

The following sections will examine the changes of German-European aca-

demic images and stereotypes of Japan since the 1970s, with a focus on the
major academic disciplines of sociology, social anthropology, and Japanese
studies. The main German-European frameworks for interpreting Japanese
society can be classified under several typical models. This chapter will ana-
lyze two representative models of Japanese society: the “Group Model” and the
“Cultural Importer Model.” These two can be discerned continuously during
the post-war period as representative Japanese models.

The “Group Model”

One of the most influential academic images of Japanese society has been
the Group Model.5 Its significance was far-reaching in the 1970s and 1980s
and remained so after the 1990s, albeit with less positive associations. This
model is also variously described as the Group Consensus Model, Groupism,
or Collectivism. According to this theory, the basic social unit in Japan was
not the individual but the group; individuals realized themselves through so-
cial groups (Goodman 1993: 61). The Group Model assumed that Japanese pre-
ferred operating within the confines of a group, and felt responsible to and
were nurtured by it (Revell 1997: 53–54). Members of a group were expected
to conform and co-operate with one another and to avoid open conflict and
competition. Japanese were thought to subordinate individual interests to
group goals and to remain loyal to group causes (Moeran 1986: 63–64, referring
to Befu 1980: 170–71). Images associated with the Group Model were based on
assumptions of Japan’s cultural uniqueness as a vertical, honor-shame soci-
ety6 marked by intense, long-lasting group loyalties, with the nation being the
ultimate frame of reference for the individual. Group loyalties were held to-
gether by a philosophical and ethical system that emphasized harmony, peace,
and teamwork; it gave little regard to individual wants and needs (Breger 1990:

4 Goodman (2001: 182) refers to Kawanishi 1992: 7–8.

5 An early definition of the Group Model was presented by Benedict 1946.
6 The main idea of “vertical” society in the Group Model received its full articulation in Nakane
1970.
412 Iwasa

209–10). Harmony was one of the most important concepts under the Group
Model and was considered to be central to an understanding of Japanese so-
ciety (Goodman 1993: 61). Harmony embodied the idea that relations between
people should be based on a philosophy of peace and that conflict should be
avoided at all costs.
Rosemary Anne Breger (1990: 36) described Japanese society as bound to-
gether by harmonious family-like bonds at all levels. When applied to busi-
ness and economics, this image supported the ideas of paternal management
and “Japan Incorporated” (“Japan. Inc.”) or the idea of Japan being like one
giant corporation that also de-emphasized or ignored conflict. Franco Mazzei
(1998: 26) stressed that Japan represented itself as preferring group values to
those of the individual and as exalting social cohesion, national identity, and
ethnic homogeneity. Fosco Maraini (1975: 59–60) observed that one of the
most common elements of Japanese society was the limited group. The term
“limited” meant that it was not easy for all to join or leave on a purely con-
tractual basis; a strong emotional involvement and commitment was usually
expected.
The Group Model pointed to geo-ecological factors, such as wet-rice cul-
tivation, community-oriented village life, an emphasis on harmonious social
relationships, and a respect for nature, to explain other important features
of Japanese cultural, social and economic life, and national character (Bailey
1996: 155). Rice-growing agriculture was portrayed as the source of the unique
spirit of solidarity and co-operation among the Japanese people in modern
times (Waswo 1996: 135). This image presented Japan as a traditional society
based on rice-growing agriculture, which required co-operation among its
members. This was contrasted with Western societies, which were based on
hunter-gatherer communities and encouraged the development of individual-
ist mentalities.
The idea of a group-oriented Japan as opposed to an individual-oriented
West was one of the most common themes in Japan studies. The security
gained through membership of a group necessarily entailed a certain loss of
individual freedom. In a complex society, an individual had the ultimate op-
tion of moving away from a group that he or she found intolerable (Hendry
1986: 8–9). However, Joy Hendry noted that since the importance of belonging
to such a group was emphasized from an early age in Japan, leaving a group was
sometimes almost impossible (Hendry, 1986: 11). In the West, individual behav-
ior was regulated by feelings of guilt, an emotion peculiarly suited to Western
individualism. In Japan, however, it was shame that characterized behavior.
These two different feelings served a similar function in the respective cul-
tures. Since an individual’s loyalty was first to his group rather than to her- or
German And European Academic Images Of Japan 413

himself, the fear of shaming himself in the eyes of the group, or of inflicting
shame on his group members, regulated his actions (Revell 1997: 53–54).
From a historical perspective, Maraini (1975: 75) noted that the dissolution
of traditional groups such as the han (feudal clans) and the ie (the extended
family) had not changed the deep-seated Japanese desire to belong but only its
direction and scope. He argued that the Japanese were haunted by the horror
of not belonging. The feeling of insecurity of the isolated individual in mass
society increased the attraction of new groups, such as the kaisha (the compa-
ny or corporation). Josef Kreiner and Hans Dieter Ölschleger also emphasized
the familial (ie) character of Japanese society (Kreiner and Ölschleger 1996:
13). They contended that large social groups (e.g., the company or the nation)
were structural extensions of the family. Lynn Revell (1997: 53–54) also asserted
that ie society was applied as a pattern of civilization, culture, and personality.7
The interests of the group, be it a corporation, the nation, or a family, were
paramount.
Another principal image of the Group Model was based on the view that
Japanese values and thoughts have been dominated by three great religious-
philosophical traditions: Shinto, Buddhism, and Confucianism. These belief
systems possess common, mutually interlocking features that provide the
basis for a widely, and often unconsciously, accepted set of attitudes in the
Japanese population (Pauer 1996: 5–6). Prevailing images recognized that the
Group Model itself also had Japanese religious and philosophical influences.
Maraini (1988: 62) claimed that the Japanese spirit was prejudiced against indi-
vidualism because of its Shinto tradition of communal religion and Confucian
teachings of social philosophy.
The pervading influence of Shinto attitudes to life and to the world could
also be detected in those powerful forces that bind Japanese individuals to
groups. Maraini (1988: 58–59) argued that Shinto was a religion of the group
and that the immediate family, as well as the extended family, along with the
clan, village, district, or nation, came well before the individual. Nearly all
forms of worship and festivals (matsuri) were collective occasions; little space
and encouragement was left to the isolated believer. Confucianism also justi-
fied and confirmed the archaic, though fundamental, layer of spiritual forces
exalting the collective at the expense of the individual. Confucian teachings
stressed the importance of community values rather than individual claims,
and duties rather than rights. Confucian influence educated people to develop
an extraordinary sensitivity in social relations and a constant awareness of the

7 With regard to the analysis of familial (ie) society model as a Japanese civilization, see
Murakami, Kumon, and Satō 1973. For an English summary, see Murakami 1984: 281–363.
414 Iwasa

group, be it a minor one (the family), an intermediate one (the company), or a

major one (the nation, “Japan Inc.”) (Maraini 1988: 58–59).
In addition, the ethical value that Japanese Confucianism placed on so-
cial and political stability found ready use in the political discourse of the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries. It was especially useful to politicians
and employers because it described the duty of the subject/employee in the
public domain in terms of filial piety or, in other words, conflict-free obedi-
ence. This encouraged mutual responsibility instead of class conflict. Japanese
Confucianism also emphasized harmony, or implicit obedience and, within
the framework of the idealized family, this was also applied to the firm (Breger
1990: 45–46).
The predominant images and stereotypes of the Group Model depicted
Japanese society as group-oriented, harmonious, conflict-free, and privileging
long-term relationships. The Group Model was presented as an explanation
for social stability and cohesion. Images associated with the model widely pre-
vailed in the 1970s and the 1980s in the sociological and social anthropological
debate, and the Group Model remained, to some extent, one of the principal
models even after the 1990s. However, as the following section explains, after
the 1990s Group Model images were viewed with much more skepticism.

“Cultural Importer Model”

In the 1970s and 1980s, images in one of the other leading models perceived
Japan as an open society that was receptive to foreign cultural influences. This
propensity was explained as resulting from a series of geographical and histori-
cal coincidences. Japan had always positioned itself on the periphery of either
the Chinese sphere of influence, or the Buddhist worldview (Vande Walle 1989:
122). The introduction of Chinese learning, the quick spread of Buddhism,
and the adoption of Western learning and culture in the Meiji period (1868–
1912), illustrated Japan’s speed and thoroughness in adopting new influences
(Laitinen 1991: 45). In terms of receptivity to foreign ideas, techniques, and
goods, Japan could be described throughout many periods of its history, in-
cluding even the so-called relatively isolationist sakoku period as a remarkably
open society. Japan was an independent nation and could therefore decide and
select for itself whether to import Chinese and European systems (Lehmann
1982: 22–23).
Why were the Japanese so receptive to foreign cultural influences? Kauko
Laitinen attributed this to Japan’s lack of a defense mechanism against foreign
cultural influences (Laitinen 1991: 45–46). Unlike the peoples of the Eurasian
continent, the Japanese, who had long been isolated by the surrounding sea,
felt no particular need to cherish a national identity of their own, since an
German And European Academic Images Of Japan 415

external enemy, generally speaking, did not exist. A second important fac-
tor was the unhesitant and unprejudiced way foreign elements were readily
adapted and integrated into Japanese culture. In Japan, elements of the past
are often reorganized by combining the old and the new, the domestic and
the foreign. The development and structure of the Japanese language with its
three different writing systems—two Japanese kana syllabaries (hiragana and
katakana) and kanji (Chinese characters)—is a classic example of this. While
many Europeans tended to have dogmatic, culturally exclusive views as to what
foreign elements were acceptable for importation, the Japanese often favored
inclusiveness, striving for harmony between different elements. Small-scale
adaptations, when repeated continuously, ultimately resulted in considerable
change. This, in turn, might paradoxically be at the same time progressive and
conservative, new and old, and foreign and domestic—a combination of ex-
tremes blended into a harmonious synthesis (Laitinen 1991: 45–46).
On the one hand, European images positively assessed the Japanese recep-
tiveness to foreign culture. On the other, they criticized Japan for its cultural
borrowing. As Jean Pierre Lehmann (1982: 24) emphasized, Japan’s cultural
debt to Europe remained substantial. Western culture was omnipresent in
Japanese political thought, economics, philosophy, literature, language, cin-
ema, painting, sculpture, sport, music, architecture, food, and dress. While
Lehmann noted that European imports had been indigenized and that Japan
enjoyed a trade surplus with Europe, Wilkinson stressed that Japan suffered
from a cultural deficit. This was in Lehmann’s view an unhealthy relationship.
Traditionally, the Japanese were much more heavily involved in the importa-
tion of culture from outside rather than in the export of their own (Lehmann
1982: 27).

Main Images in the 1970s and the 1980s

In the 1970s and 1980s, both the Group Model and the Cultural Importer Model
were discussed and interpreted in a positive and favorable light within the
German and European academic debate. The models’ fundamental image
of Japan as a harmonious and conflict-free society was used to explain the
Japanese economics and business management models as striving to achieve
drawing on images of conflict-free social classes and peaceful labor-employer
relationships. The models interpreting Japanese society were not mutually ex-
clusive, but rather complimentary and overlapping. However, they were not
intended to provide a model for European business and economics to follow.
Rather ideas of the group vs. individualism, consensus vs. discussion, and
416 Iwasa

harmonious vs. conflict-ridden were contrasted with European social models

to learn from in the same sense as economics and business management mod-
els. They were rather represented as a model contrasting with the European
social models; the Group Model to individualism, consensus to dissension,
harmonious to conflict-ridden.

Changing Images After the 1990s

The images of social models have not totally disappeared since the 1990s.
Nevertheless, they are not supported in the German-European academic de-
bate to the same extent that they were previously. As images change, the Group
and Cultural Importer Models have been criticized as fictions or stereotypes,
and scholars began to revise them for their failure to explain many aspects of
Japanese society. Günther Distelrath (1996: 54), for example, criticized stereo-
types of Japan as being disconnected from empirically ascertainable reality.
The change in images may also reflect changes that began to take place dur-
ing the Japanese bubble economy in the 1980s. European images, for instance,
identified the appearance of a generational shift in life values and working
styles, which were regarded as incomprehensible by older generations of
Japanese. In response, older generations of Japanese referred to the younger
generation as shin jinrui, or “new species,” and negatively assessed their values.
Jacques Groothaert (1989: 3) noted that a new generation in Japan appeared to
be moving away from the single-minded pursuit of economic growth toward a
more diversified set of goals which placed more emphasis on the quality of life,
including its cultural, spiritual, and environmental dimensions. Mazzei (1998:
71) also attributed the change in values to the deep socio-economic transfor-
mations of recent decades in Japan. The young, who had grown up surrounded
by consumerist attitudes and abundance, particularly appeared to be distanc-
ing themselves from traditional morality, exhibited a less intense sense of loy-
alty to the group, and were more open to a “hedonistic lifestyle.”
To borrow a phrase from Ronald Dore, the Japanese were still Japanese,
but their “Japaneseness” was steadily evolving. In the modern world no soci-
ety remains static or unaffected by a myriad of changing influences, whether
local, national or international (Stockwin 2003: xi–xii). Individualism tends to
increase when wealth increases, and today with increased wealth Japanese are
undoubtedly more individualistic than the Japanese were in 1945 (Hofstede
1983: 164–65). Groothaert (1989: 3) depicted Japanese society as moving from
group consciousness to individualism, from homogeneity to heterogeneity.
However, Mazzei (1998: 71) argued that even the new generation, despite giving
German And European Academic Images Of Japan 417

outward signs of Western-type attitudes, had not actually adopted classical

Western values or Western-style individualism.
The new images portrayed Japanese society as being characterized not only
by conflict-free, harmonious aspects, but also by diversified and disputed as-
pects. This development of a movement from homogeneity to heterogeneity
is a part of the rhetoric of globalization, which places a greater focus on indi-
vidual responsibility due to the influence of neo-liberalist ideas.
The inclusion of sociological and anthropological perspectives has also in-
fluenced changing images of Japan since the 1990s. Studies done in these fields
present different images, and also focus on new topics. Since the mid-1980s,
European scholars trained in social anthropology have had a growing interest
in Japan. Hendry (1986: 3–4) explains that because of its previous emphasis
on the study of pre-literate, small-scale or pre-capitalist societies, social an-
thropology has not figured prominently in Japanese studies. Only recently
has social anthropology turned to an examination of industrialized societies.
While the examination of one’s own society runs the risk of taking for grant-
ed things that are culturally relative, the anthropologist may be able to take
a more dispassionate view as an outsider. Also, although many anthropolo-
gists come from industrialized societies and hold Eurocentric viewpoints, their
background could play out as a benefit in their particular field. Japan is also a
highly industrialized society, but at the same time it has a very different cul-
tural background. This makes it an apt case for comparison.
Within the social sciences, Hendry claimed that anthropologists can com-
plement the work of sociologists, economists, and political scientists by op-
erating at a grass-roots level based on fieldwork (Hendry 1986: 5–7). She also
argued that a comprehension of these microcosmic views of Japanese society
is ultimately the best way of understanding the macrocosmic view (ibid.: 3).
Goodman noted that a close examination of the questions being asked gives
anthropologists an opportunity to examine how images of Japan and Japanese
social systems are constructed both inside and outside the country (Goodman
2001: 179). This social-anthropological approach may not always be appropri-
ate for every case. However, anthropological studies have dealt with new top-
ics and issues, and have presented new images of Japanese society, especially
since the 1990s.

Criticism of the Group Model

Since the middle of the 1980s and especially during the 1990s, the Group Model
increasingly became a target for criticism. Japan specialists across various
418 Iwasa

disciplines protested the group solidarity image of Japan and the idea of Japan
being one giant corporation—the “Japan Inc.” The Group Model failed to take
into account contradicting facets of Japanese society (Moeran 1986: 63–64).
In response to this, Kreiner and Ölschleger (1996: 13) referred to the multi-di-
mensional stratification model proposed by Mouer, Tsuboi, and Wearne as a
framework for questioning the old stereotype of Japan as a consensus-oriented
society with a predominantly collectivist ethic.
This harmonious national-family image was seized upon after World War II
in political and industrialist Euro-American (and also Japanese) discourses as
being extremely useful, and was disguised under the same self-serving ideol-
ogy of paternalism (Breger 1990: 46). Breger (1990: 35–37) criticized Mouer and
Sugimoto’s (1986) analysis of the Group Model for having been “influenced by
Said’s discussion of ‘Orientalism.’ ” She argued that the Group Model could “be
classified as a discourse,” because it created and perpetuated wishful think-
ing about idealized features, instead of examining the social reality. It was
propagated by non-Japanese as well as Japanese scholars and received author-
ity from the high standing of many of the academics who created and repro-
duced it through publications as well as personal networks. The discourse
attempted to substantiate this model by methods that did not conform to
internationally accepted academic standards. Breger also criticized the meth-
odology because sampling procedures were not representative. Findings ap-
plied to small groups, usually white-collar males, were then loosely applied to
the whole population. In addition, she maintained that it lacked case studies,
which reduced this method to anecdotes, arbitrarily chosen to prove a point
(Breger 1990: 35–37). Hendry (1986: 8–9) also referred to Mouer and Sugimoto
(1981), and refuted the idea that any one model can be used to explain a com-
plex society like that of Japan, with the implied assumption that there is a
single homogeneous group of people about whom generalized statements
can be made.
Although the image of Japan as a nation of obedient, passive, and exceed-
ingly polite citizens remains intact, this stability relies more on stereotype
than it does on a reflection of reality. In actuality, traditional work practices
and family structures have been breaking down. Referring to a description
in David Williams’s Japan and the Enemies of Open Political Science (1994: 5),
Revell (1997: 58–59) pinpointed a number of developments within Japan since
the 1990s such as the property boom and collapse, the integration of women
into the workforce, and the breakdown of consensus among the young, which
have undermined the image of a conflict-free society.
With these criticisms and revised views, the Group Model is now per-
ceived as a biased stereotype that emphasizes the stable, harmonious, and
German And European Academic Images Of Japan 419

conflict–free aspects of Japanese society. Critics insist that the Group Model
does not reflect the recent social reality in Japan. Japanese society is now mov-
ing from group consciousness to individualism, from consent to dissent, and
from conflict-free to conflict-ridden status.

From Cultural Importer to Cultural Exporter Model

In contrast to the German-European images in the 1970s and 1980s of Japan

as a receptive society and cultural importer or borrower, new images since
the 1990s have presented Japan as a cultural exporter and innovator. On
the one hand, Harumi Befu and Sylvie Guichard-Anguis (2001: xx) observed
that Japanese culture has increasingly penetrated everyday European life.
Europeans now come into contact with various Japanese cultural expressions,
as well as consumer products such as cars, electronic goods, and cameras. In
part due to the declining attention on Japan in the 1990s after the burst of the
bubble economy, there has been a divide in the way different generations of
Europeans encounter Japanese culture. Older generations of Europeans often
come in contact with Japanese culture via Japanese tea ceremony or flower
arrangement, through religious activities such as Zen, as well as by learning
martial arts such as Judo and Karate.
On the other hand, Werner Pascha noted that there is a tendency for young-
er generations of Europeans to encounter Japan through “cultural artifacts
such as electronic equipment (walkman), cuisine (sushi, tempura), the media
(comics, animation) or games (Pokemon, Mario)” (Pascha 2001: 27–28). This
global Japanese presence is infinitely more pervasive than a century ago, when
Japanese exports were by and large limited to art and antique goods including
“wood-cut prints (ukiyoe) and porcelain (Imari and Kutani),” and were enjoyed
by only a select few (Befu and Guichard-Anguis 2001: xix). In stark contrast,
today Japan has become part of the daily life of ordinary people, and people of
all ages are affected by the Japanese presence in one way or another.
Japanese studies has yet to fully react to this new environment and to the
new perceptions of Japan, and Pascha writes that “many scholars look with dis-
dain” on such topics as video games, manga, and anime (Pascha 2001: 27–28).
However, more recent works have studied these emerging Japanese cultural
phenomena. Japanese society is characterized by an overabundance of new
material, and European researchers have devoted themselves to the elements
of fun, leisure, play, and consumption (Hendry 2003: xvi). This led Pascha to
conclude that a more pro-active stance in studying newly emerging Japanese
cultural products and their influence on world culture, could help facilitate the
420 Iwasa

understanding that “the Japanese too can be innovative and will certainly have
to be reckoned with in the future” (Pascha 2001: 27–28).
It is difficult to compare the cultural influences imported by Japan with
those Japan is now exporting under the same analytical paradigm. However,
they share common ground in that the new Japanese cultural presence in
Germany and European countries has reached levels that cannot be ignored in
Japan studies. Within Japanese studies, the images relating to the new Japanese
sub-cultural phenomena are now moving from negative to rather positive, and
from limited to widespread images. However, they continue to be regarded
with partial suspicion.

Conclusion

In the 1970s and 1980s, German-European images largely idealized Japanese

society as group oriented and conflict-free. This contrasted the conflict-ridden
individualism within European society. The attribution of national or cultural
traits is related to the idea of Occidentalism and, as Goodman has observed,
tends to homogenize Western societies and ascribe to common characteristics
and values (Goodman 2001: 182–83). However, as the economies of the West
underwent decline in the 1970s and early 1980s, many values once assigned
to Western culture, such as individualism, independence, rationality, univer-
salism, logicality, insistence on rights, heterogeneity, equality, and contractual
relation were looked at with skepticism. Thus, Goodman asserted that posi-
tive Occidentalism became negative Occidentalism. Moreover, comparisons
between Europe and Japan involved images that counterpoised “individual-
ism to groupism, dissent to consensus, conflict to harmony, equality to hier-
archy, egoism to altruism” were called into question (Goodman 2001: 182–83).
Here the strong tendency of generalization, simplification, and stereotyping of
German-European images on Japanese society became apparent.
By contrast, images after the 1990s were constructed on claims that the es-
tablished models failed to observe the changing social reality in Japan. Mazzei
(1998: 19) stated that the use of broad generalizations and stereotyped mod-
els can lead to “oversimplified culturalistic interpretations” of realities that
are instead very complex, varied, and in many ways differentiated. As Breger
(1990: 4–5) argued, “in constructing, reproducing, and maintaining an image
of a society, by whatever means, there are certain processes that seem to have
general applicability.” Model building normally entails a process of simplifi-
cation, making clear that models of a society reduce complexities and act to
simplify:
German And European Academic Images Of Japan 421

This process often includes reduction of alternatives and diversity, lead-

ing to the construction of archetypes: stereotyping is a major modality
in collective image construction in general. The logical conclusion from
this is that the most effective form—but not the only form—of reduction
would be into simply two categories of binary opposites. (ibid.)

In the images of Japan that have prevailed in Japanese studies in Germany

and Europe since the 1990s, Japanese society has been described as more in-
dividualistic, conflict-ridden, complex, heterogeneous, and diversified. The
German-European images and stereotypes of the Group Model and the
Cultural Importer/Exporter Model have been clearly shifting from simplified,
monolithic, and homogeneous representations to pluralist, diversified, and
heterogeneous ones. These shifts in the images of Japan have reflected and
been influenced by changes that were taking place in Japan (Stockwin 2001:
xvii) and Europe, but also have likely been influenced by larger trends of glo-
balization and neoliberalism. Europe was once characterized by welfare states
but has now embraced globalization and a growing focus on individual re-
sponsibility that Beck (1986) and Giddens (1990) term “the risk society.” A shift
in ideology from social liberalism/social democracy to neoliberalism has also
happened in Europe. In Japan, the collapse of the bubble economy and a gen-
erational change in life values and working styles have occurred, among other
things. These shifts in society have influenced the evolving German-European
images and stereotypes of Japan. This chapter has argued that the change in
these images must also be analyzed alongside changes in society and academic
thinking.

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Index

150th Anniversary of Japanese-German Asahi Shinbun 239, 292, 295, 304, 307–310,
Relations (2010/2011) xi, 16, 54 382, 384-386
Abyssinia 272, 281 Asahi TV 382, 405
AEG 251 Ashina Yukie 125
aestheticism 404 Asia-Pacific-War (1931–1945) 3
Afghanistan 279–280 Association for German Studies (Doitsugaku
Africa 39, 273, 281, 355, 358 Kyōkai) 33, 183–184, 234
Agency for Racial Policy (Rassenpolitisches Attack on Pearl Harbor (1941) 320, 338
Amt, Germany) 354 Aum Shinrikyo Incident (1995) 405
Aichi World Exposition 2005 53 Austria / Austria-Hungary xx, xxii, xxiii, 26,
Ainu 90, 336 32, 70, 72, 73–82, 84–85, 89, 91–99, 102,
Aizu (feudal domain) 30, 114, 117–118, 121–123, 194–195, 202–206, 211–213, 227, 230, 269,
125-131 274, 350, 358
Alcock, Rutherford 70 Austro-Prussian War (1866) 115
Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung 1 authoritarian state (Obrigkeitsstaat) 154,
Al-Jazeera 7 337
Allen, Ann Taylor 153 autocracy 78, 164
Amano Teiyu 41 Axis Powers 316, 391, 393
Amaterasu (Sun Goddess) 158, 362
Americanization 21 Bälz, Erwin 31, 329
Amur River Society (Kokuryūkai) 273 Bandō (POW Camp) 39, 239
Ancestor Heritage Institute (Ahnenerbe Barth, Johannes 341
Institut) 332 Baruto no Rakuen (Ode an die Freude) 39
ancestor worship 332–333 Battle of Hakodate (1869) 110
Andō Nobumasa 71, 82, 86 Battle of Leyte Gulf (1944) 340
Anesaki Masaharu 37, 243 Battle of Port Arthur (1904) 192, 225
Anglo-Japanese Alliance (1902) 151, 164, 202, Battle of Stalingrad (1942) 321, 332
221, 224, 226, 228, 235–236, 277 Battle of Thermopylae (480 BCE) 330
anime x, 23, 401, 404, 419 Battle of Toba-Fushimi (1868) 110
Anne Frank 405 Battle of Tours (732) 331
Annexation of Austria (1938) 358 Battle of Ueno (1868) 126
Annexation of Korea (1910) 177 Battleship Yamato 403–405
Anti-Comintern Pact (1936) 11, 42, 267, 268, Bavaria 114, 177, 196, 210, 230, 323
316, 328, 355, 356 BBC 3, 7, 13
Aoki Shūzō 31, 141, 142, 143, 144, 184, 230, 234, Beck, Ludwig 357
244, 301 Beck, Ulrich 421
Arai Hakuseki 24 Becker, Bert 181
Arai Rikunosuke 128 Beethoven, Ludwig van 23, 39
Araki Sadao 308 Behncke, Paul 317, 354
Aramaki Yoshio 403 Belgium 37, 67, 70, 262
Arco, Anton 228 Berg, Albert 104
Argentina 74, 342 Berlin ix, xxi, xxiv, 17, 21, 23–26, 30, 41–42,
Arisugawa Takehito, Prince 238–240 50, 53, 101–102, 141–143, 145, 147,
Arte (TV channel) 7 154–156, 174, 183–184, 194, 198, 209, 211,
Aryan race 270, 334–335, 351, 352, 354–355 213–214, 221, 225–228, 230, 281, 291,
Asahara Shōkō 405 315–319, 323–325, 335, 353
426 Index

Berlin Exhibition of Traditional Japanese Art Civilization and Enlightenment (bunmei

(1939) 318 kaika) 369
Berlin Olympics (1936) 42, 291 Coming to terms with the past
Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra 53 (Vergangenheitsbewältigung, kako no
Berlin University 142–143 kokufuku) 52, 370, 375–376, 379–381, 383,
Berlin Wall 21, 23, 398 386–387
Berliner Tageblatt (daily newspaper) 155 Commission for the Investigation of Military
Berlin-Rom-Tokio (journal) 317–318 Affairs (Rinji Gunji Chōsa Iin) 251–258,
Bernhardi, Friedrich von 243 262–263
Bethell, Nicholas 399 communism 42, 317, 355
Bismarck, Otto von 29, 145, 151, 154, 230, 239, Communist International (Comintern) 42
241, 242, 352 Communist Party of China 276–277
Bitburg Affair (1985) 386 Confederation of the Rhine (Rheinbund)
Blitzkrieg 262, 264, 349, 399, 404 77, 92
Blomberg, Werner von 275 Confucianism 413–414
Boer War (1899–1902) 164 Congress of Vienna (1814–1815) 73, 75, 85
Bolshevism 317 conservatism 154
Bonn Summit (1985) 383 consumerism 324
Brandt, Maximilian August Scipio von 29, Cool Japan 24
99, 112–130, 132–135 Corazza, Heinz 11, 46
Brandt, Willy 381, 384 cultural foreign policy (Kulturaußenpolitik,
Brazil 72 bunka gaikō) 1
bubble economy 419, 421
Buddhism 321, 333, 335, 342, 413–414 Dahn, Felix 332
Bülow, Bernhard von 158, 160, 238, 268, 274 Daily Telegraph Affair (1908) 238
Bülow, Bernhard Wilhelm von 273 daimyo (feudal lord) 69, 102–104
Bundestag 73, 384 Dajōkan Nisshi (Gazette) 126, 132
Bunkyū Mission / Takenouchi Mission (1863) Das Schwarze Korps (The Black Corps) 11,
25, 89–90, 100–101, 102–103, 105–106 315–316
Bunten, Wilhelm 296 Daumier, Honoré 151
bureaucracy 139 De La Tour, Vittorio Sallier 115
Boston Museum of Fine Arts 193 Decker, Karl von 99
Dejima 90
capitalism 292 Demchugdongrub, Prince (De Wang) 273
caricature x, 13, 16, 51, 110–113, 115, 117–118, demobilization 255
132, 150–153, 155–158, 164–165, 167–168, democracy 8, 261, 317, 336, 397, 399, 403, 421
176, 205 Denmark 67, 70, 72, 77–78
cartoon 16, 29, 49, 51, 130, 151–155, 157–158, Dentsu 21, 53
162, 164–166, 168, 170, 172, 176, 202 Der Spiegel 3, 51–52, 370–382, 385, 387–388
Chiang Kai-Shek xviii, 267, 277, 358 Der Tagesspiegel 406
China 4, 7, 17, 23–24, 26, 69, 74–76, 84, 96, Deutsche Japan-Post (Nichidoku yūhō)
103, 105, 147, 150, 155, 161, 164–165, 200, 234–237, 244–245
206, 211, 222, 227–228, 236, 244, 262, Deutsche Welle (DW) 1, 7
267–274, 276–277, 279, 300, 313, 320, Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst
333, 355, 359–360, 363, 370–371, (DAAD) 1
374–376, 385 Deutschlandfunk 1
Chōshū (feudal domain) 125, 128, 137–141, Die Bewegung (newspaper) 356
143–145, 148, 189 Die Gartenlaube (journal) 314, 317
Index 427

Dirksen, Herbert von 291, 336 164–167, 172–173, 176, 183, 185–188,
discrimination 197, 362 192–193, 195–197, 199–203, 205, 207, 209,
Doenitz, Wilhelm 31 211, 213, 215–217, 224, 227, 242, 249–250,
Dokkyō University 33, 183, 234 253, 258, 261–262, 269–272, 274, 281,
Donat, Walter 11, 317, 320, 327, 341 296, 309, 313, 320, 324, 328, 331,
Dore, Ronald 416 332–336, 339–340, 349, 351, 354–361,
Dowager Cixi, Empress 394–395 384, 406, 409–411, 413–417, 419–422
Dower, John 15 extremism 244
Dürckheim-Montmartin, Karlfried Graf von Ezo—see Hokkaido
324, 337, 342
Dutch East India Company (VOC) 4, 25, 96 Falkenhayn, Erich von 256
Dutch News Reports (Oranda Fūsetsugaki) Fanck, Arnold 43, 337
24, 90–91, 93 February 26 Incident (1936) 338
Federal Republic of Germany
East Asia Common Culture Association (Tōa (Bundesrepublik Deutschland, West
Dōbunkai) 231, 238 Germany, BRD) xiii, xxii, xxiv, 50
Eckardt, Hans 341 feudal domains (see also Aizu, Chōshū,
Eckert, Franz 31 Satsuma) 24, 30, 114, 124–125, 127–128,
economic miracle 50 142–143, 189
Edison, Thomas 259 FIFA Soccer World Cup 54
Edo 26, 70, 79, 123 Finland 281
Edo period (1603-1868) / Tokugawa era 24, First Sino-Japanese War (1894–1895) 34, 168,
67–69, 74, 76, 78, 105, 110, 112, 185 172, 352
Edward VII 170 First World War 36, 46, 150, 168, 221, 228,
egoism 420 239, 242, 250, 253, 263, 276, 353, 372
Egypt 269, 342 Foreign Office (Germany) 30, 181, 223–224,
Einstein, Albert 41 226, 268, 271
Eisendecher, Karl von xxii, xxiii, 17, 30–31, Fourty-Seven Rōnin 318
60, 223, 247 France 28, 49, 54, 67, 77, 92, 96, 100–102, 112,
Emergency Association of German Science 120, 123–124, 141, 144–146, 181–183, 202,
(Notgemeinschaft der deutschen 224, 227, 230, 250–253, 261–262, 269,
Wissenschaft) 40 272, 274, 349–350, 352, 360, 370–371, 385
Emperor Mutsuhito—see Meiji tennō Franco-Prussian War (1870–1871) 141, 183
Ende & Boeckmann 31 Frederick II (the Great) 320
Ethiopia—see Abyssinia Frederick William I 25
ethnocentrism 50 Freitag, Adolf 180
Etzel, Günther von 228 French Revolution (1789) 182, 361, 398
Eulenburg mission to East Asia (1859–61) v, Freude und Arbeit (journal) 294, 299–305
xiv, 26–29, 68, 72, 89–90, 99–102, 104, Friedrich-Wilhelms-University—see Berlin
156, 223, 369 University
Eulenburg, Friedrich Albert zu 26, 68, 80, Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung (FES) xiii
83–84, 97, 99, 103 Fujio Masayuki 377
Euro 54 Fujisawa Chikao 17, 49, 305
eurocentrism xx Fukuchi Gen’ichirō 81
Europe x, xxi–xxv, 3, 4, 9, 15, 21, 24–25, 28, Fukuda Tokuzō 37, 41
33–36, 42, 51, 68, 73–78, 85, 89, 92–93, Fukuzawa Yukichi 25, 101, 106
95–96, 100–103, 105–106, 123, 140–141, Funakoshi Mitsunojō 221
145–146, 150, 155–156, 158–159, 162, Fushimi Hiroyasu, Prince 224
428 Index

Gaikō jihō (Revue Diplomatique) 231, Land of the Rising Sun 18, 320
243–244 lovely 197
Ganz, Bruno 39 Madame Butterfly 18
Gärtner brothers 130 Mount Fuji 23, 29, 313, 317
Gasperi, Alcide de 372 pastoral 209
Gazelle (German warship) 29 paternalism 418
Gebauer, R. 186 peaceful / pacifism 96, 337, 415
Gelbe Gefahr—see Yellow Peril polite 19, 187, 352, 418
Genghis Khan 335 reliable 19
Genron NPO 2 sacrificial spirit 320, 328–329
German Association 1914 (Deutsche samurai supermen 46
Gesellschaft 1914) 251 serious 19
German Association of Doctors smiling 18, 338
(Reichsärztekammer) 43 spirit of heroism 314, 320, 327, 331
German Confederation (Deutscher Bund) Sushi 23
25, 73, 81 traditional xi, 22
German Customs Union (Deutscher traditional religion 313
Zollverein) 25, 74, 89, 223 ultraconservative 52
German Democratic Republic (Deutsche Westernization 18
Demokratische Republik, DDR, East Zen 18, 23, 419
Germany) ix, 50 German Institute for Japanese Studies
German East Asiatic Society (Deutsche (Deutsches Institut für Japanstudien, DIJ)
Gesellschaft für Natur und Völkerkunde 51
Ostasiens, OAG) xiii, 32, 187, 233, 341 German Labor Front (Deutsche Arbeitsfront,
German Embassy in Tokyo xiii, 21, 228, 289, DAF) 295, 299, 319
291, 296 German militarism 37, 39, 337
German empire xxiv, 24, 29, 75, 104, 153, 155, German model 32, 37, 103–104, 148, 180
183 German Research Foundation (Deutsche
German images of Japan Forschungsgemeinschaft, DFG) 40
backward 52, 293, 300, 305, 387 German resistance movement 350–351, 364
Bushido 172, 324, 328–329, 331 German Soviet Treaty of Non-Aggression
cherry blossom/s 18, 23, 209, 313 (1939) 267
child-like 197, 313 German thinking 158
collectivism 411 German-Chinese Commercial Treaty (1861)
cute 197 67–70, 80, 84–85
democratic 19, 237 Germanen 330, 339
diligent x, 19 Germanization 230
disciplined 19, 277 German-Japanese Cultural Agreement (1938)
dutiful 19 41–43, 295, 316, 355
Emperor 18 German-Japanese Societies 33
feminine 197 German-Japanese War (1914)—see Japanese-
fighting spirit 46, 49, 230 German War
free from greed 104 Germanophilia 242–243
friendly 313, 352 Germany in Japan Year (2005/2006) 21
geisha 18, 23 Giddens, Anthony 421
happy and fun-loving 19 Gisevius, Hans Bernd 358
hot spas 313 Global Triangle (Weltpolitisches Dreieck)
incomprehensible 52, 313 316, 318
intelligent 19 globalization xix, 12, 407, 417, 421
Index 429

Gneist, Rudolf von 32, 183–184, 230 Heeringen, Josias von 155
Gobineau, Joseph Arthur de 353 Heinz, Friedrich-Wilhelm 358–359
Godō Takuo 293 Hendry, Joy 412, 417–418
Goebbels, Josef 332–333, 338, 340–342 Herrigel, Eugen 324, 329
Goerdeler, Carl Friedrich 350–351, 356–360, Herzstein, Robert E. 399
362–363 Hesperia Incident 31
Goethe Institute (Goethe-Institut) xiii, 1 heterogeneity xx, 416–417, 420
Gohdes, Otto 297, 299–300 Higashikuni Naruhiko, Prince 239
Gonda Yasunosuke 306, 311 Higashikuze Michitomi 124
Göring, Hermann 268, 271, 282 Himmler, Heinrich 11, 315, 323, 328, 331–332,
Gotō Shinpei 40 334–335, 339, 341, 351, 399
Great Britain 28, 36, 74, 77, 100–101, 112, 120, Hindenburg, Paul von 239, 252–253
122–125, 132, 144–146, 211, 223, 227, 237, Hiranuma Kiichirō 244
261, 282, 333 Hirata Tōsuke 230
Greater East-Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere Hiroshima 13, 18, 377
297–298, 305, 307 Hishikari Takashi 275
Greece 269 history problem (rekishi mondai) 14
Greenpeace 13 Hitler, Adolf 42–43, 46, 49, 267–271,
Groothaert, Jacques 416, 422 274–276, 282, 295, 299, 313, 319–320,
Gross, Walter 354–355 328, 331–332, 335, 337, 339–341, 349, 351,
Grutschreiber, Alexander Freiherr von 31, 229 353–355, 359–360, 382, 391–392,
Guichard-Anguis, Sylvie 419 394–395, 397–399, 401–408
Gulbransson, Olaf 154, 176 Hitlerjugend (HJ) 45, 319
Gundert, Wilhelm 11, 327, 341 Hoffmann, E. T. 31
Günther, Hans F. K. 335 Hōgaku kyōkai zasshi (journal) 231
Guomindang (Chinese Nationalist Party) Hohenlohe-Schillingfürst, Chlodwig zu
277, 358–359 238
Gutschmid, Felix von 223 Hohenzollern, Karl Anton von 239
Hohenzollern, Prince Heinrich von 239
Haber, Fritz 41 Hokkaido 30, 62, 90, 130, 336
Haga Yaichi 9–10 Hollywood 404
Hagen, Margaret A. 152 Holocaust 20, 23, 382, 385, 405
Haile Selassie I 272 Holy Roman Empire (962–1806) 25, 91, 93
Hakenkreuz 23 Honda Kumatarō 221, 244
Hallstein Doctrine 50 Hong Kong 377
Hammerstein-Equord, Kurt Freiherr von Honma Tomosaburō 130
268, 275, 282 Hori Toshihiro 80–81, 86, 98
Hammitzsch, Horst 328, 341 Hoshi Hajime 40
Hanamura Shirō 375 Hoshino Naofumi 124, 126
Hani Gorō 41 Hosokawa Morihiro 394
Hantsch, Hugo 205 House, Edward H. 36
Harris, Townsend 69 Huene, Baron von 158–159
Harumi Befu 419 Hungary 42, 91, 227, 269
Hashimoto Sanai 76 Hunt, Tamara L. 152
Hassell, Ulrich von 357, 360
Hata Toyokichi 308 Ichō Mitsuhirō 256
Hatoyama Ichirō 373 Ienaga Saburō 376–377
Haushofer, Karl 230, 317–318, 324, 337, 341 Ii Naosuke 69
Hayashi Kiroku 241 Imperial Court (Japan) 68–70, 84, 97, 273
430 Index

Imperial Japanese Army (IJA) 37, 137, 139, Japan Promotion Week 20
228–229, 243, 275, 338, 376 Japan Punch (satirical journal) 7, 29,
Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN) 40, 118, 110–120, 130–132
224–225, 242, 249 Japan Society for the Promotion of Science
Imperial Naval Academy, Kiel 224 (JSPS) xiii, xix, xxii, xxiv, 2, 114
imperialism 123, 351, 353, 356, 364, 376 Japan Travel Bureau (JTB) 17
India 269, 281, 335, 349, 360 Japanese Cultural Institute Cologne
industrialization / industrial revolution 102, (Japanisches Kulturinstitut) 50
183, 359 Japanese Embassy in Germany 18, 340
inferiority complex 321, 339 Japanese images of Germany
inflation 40 brave 39
information society 406 calm 21
Inoue Kaoru 31, 143, 223, 230, 235 conservative 21
Inoue Kowashi 230 crude 37
Inoue Shigeko 402 daring 39
Inoue Tetsujirō 233 diligent 21
Institut für Demoskopie Allensbach (Ifd) 18 gentle 101, 332
Institute of Western Studies (Kaiseijo) 121 individualism 9, 337
International Court of Justice (ICJ) 14 mischievous 37
International Jewry 313, 361 obedient 93, 101
International Whaling Commission (IWC) obstinate 37
13–14, 373 opportunistic 37
International Wheat Agreement (1949) 373 practical 21
internationalism 317 professional 39
Inukai Tsuyoshi 139 scientific 142
Ise / Ise Shrine 362 scrupulous 37
Ishihara Kuraemon 125, 127–128, 131 vulgar 37
Ishii Takashi 113 Japanese Leisure Movement (kōsei undō)
Ishiwara Kanji 263 50, 289, 291–292, 294, 297–303, 305,
Islam 279, 331, 342 307–308, 311
Isomura Eiichi 291–292, 294 Japanese lifestyle 20, 52, 416
Isono Shūhei 40–41 Japanese militarism 3, 356, 376
Israel xxii, 342, 390 Japanese National Labor Front (Sangyō
Itagaki Taisuke 146 hōkoku) 302–303, 305, 311
Italiaander, Rolf 330–331, 341 Japanese Recreation Association (Nihon
Italy xx, 20, 42–43, 52, 54, 67, 113, 124–125, Kōsei Kyōkai, JRA) 289, 293–295, 307
227, 250–251, 261, 269, 271, 273, 281, 292, Japanese spirit / Yamato spirit 11, 46, 49–50,
296–299, 303, 308, 310–311, 316, 328, 339, 293–294, 300–301, 303–305, 314,
372, 393 328–329, 413
Itami Mansaku 43 Japanese uniqueness 11, 52, 319, 411
Itō Hirobumi 32, 143, 183, 189, 230 Japanese-American relations 14
Itō Teruhiko 394 Japanese-Chinese relations 414–415
Iwakura Mission (1871) 105–106, 145–146, 151 Japanese-German Center Berlin (Japanisch-
Deutsches Zentrum Berlin, JDZB) 50
Japan Foundation 1 Japanese-German Cultural Institute 41, 317
Japan Herald (daily newspaper) 115 Japanese-German Journal for Science and
Japan in Germany Year (1999/2000) 2, 20, 23 Technology 40–41
Japan Inc. 412, 414, 418 Japanese-German Medical Society of
Japan Institute (Germany) 41 Japan 43
Index 431

Japanese-German mutual images Kingu (journal) 234

commonalities 10–11, 49 Kishida Ginkō 128, 131–132
spiritual kinship 11, 41–43 Kita Reikichi 41
common destiny 12 Kita Sōichirō 309
Japanese-German Research Institutes (in Kitashirakawa Yoshihisa, Prince 238
Berlin, Tokyo, and Kyoto) xi, xxi, 41, 313 Kitayama Jun’yu 291, 323
Japanese-German Society (Nichidoku Kyōkai) Kladderadatsch (satirical journal) 150–151,
234 153–161, 164–178
Japanese-German War (1914) 37, 150–151 Knackfuss painting 34–35, 173
Japanese-Korean Relations 14 Knackfuss, Hermann 34–35, 173–174
Japanology / Japanese Studies 11, 33, 51, 189, Koch, Ludwig 205, 208
327, 409, 417, 419–420 Koellreutter, Otto 336–337, 341
Japonism 154 Kohl, Helmut 383
Jesuits 33 Köhler, Horst 53
Jhering, Rudolf von 184 Koiso Kuniaki 275
jujitsu 331, 334 Kokka gakkai zasshi (journal) 231
Jōi Movement (“Movement to Expel the Kokugaku (School of National Learning) 9,
Barbarians”) 97 55
Juchheim (company) 39 Kokuhonsha 244
judo 23, 334, 419 Kokutai 50, 334, 363
Junker, Prussia 154 Konoe Fumimaro 299
Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung (KAS) 2
Kabuki 297 Kordt, Erich 271
Kachō (Kwachō) Hiroyasu, Prince 224 Korea xvi, xviii, 14, 23, 42, 90, 138, 146, 161,
Kaempfer, Engelbert 4, 25, 27, 90, 96, 103–104 166, 177, 206, 277, 370–371, 373–374, 385
Kaikōsha kiji (journal) 250, 255–256, 261, Kōzuki Yoshio 256, 264
263–266 Kraft durch Freude (KdF) 289, 291–297, 299,
Kaiserin Elisabeth (Austrian warship) 211, 301, 303–311
213 Krien, Ferdinand 186
Kajiwara Heima 125 Kristallnacht (1938) 357
Kamikaze—see Special Attack Forces Kuki Shūzō 41
Kanokogi Kazunobu 11, 49 Kume Kunisada 12, 59
Kant, Immanuel 233 Kuni Kuniyoshi, Prince 234, 239
karate 23, 419 Kuril Islands 374
Kashii Kōhei 257, 264 Kuroda Hiroshi 272
Katō Hiroyuki 230, 233 Kuroda Kiyotaka 189
Katsura Tarō 32, 137–149, 225, 234 Kurokawa Sachū 99
Kawai Tsuginosuke 125 Kuwaki Gen’yoku 233
Kawaji Toshiakira 76 Kwantung Army 273, 275–277, 279
Kazunomiya, Princess 84 Kyōto hōgaku-kai zasshi (journal) 231
Kellog-Briand Pact (1928) 278
Kempermann, Peter 186 League of Nations 278
kendo 334 Lebensraum 272–273, 282, 317
Kiaochow (Kiautschou, Jiaozhou) 36, Leers, Johann von 335–337, 342
150–151, 221, 231, 236, 238, 249 Leipziger Illustrirte Zeitung 7, 28–29, 156, 201
Kido Takayoshi 32, 137, 139, 141–142, 144–145, Ley, Robert 295, 299
147 Liaodong (Liaotung) peninsula 224, 238, 273
Kigoshi Yasutsuna 139 Liberal Democratic Party (Jiyū Minshutō)
kimono 18, 168, 170, 172, 197, 209, 212–213, 215 394
432 Index

liberalism 153–154, 336–337, 421 Metternich, Pauline 209

lithograph xxiii, 7, 16, 56–57, 106–107, 246 Mexico 74
Lohmeyer (company) 39 Mibu Motoosa 128
Lolita fashion 406 Michaelis, Georg 180–181, 184––189
London Debt Agreement (1953) 372 Miki Kiyoshi 41
Lönholm, Wilhelm Hermann 180, 185 Milch, Erhard 340
Ludendorff, Erich x, xvi, 249–264 Militarism—see Japanese militarism /
German militarism
Made in Germany 353 Mill, John Stuart 233
Mainichi guraphu (journal) 394 Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and
Mainichi Shinbun 44, 279, 297, 308, 372, Fisheries (Japan) 13
384–385, 389 Ministry of Defense (Germany) 268, 275–276
Makino Nobuaki 209 Ministry of Education (Japan) xxiv, 377, 385
Manchukuo / Manchuria 36, 224, 272–275, Ministry of Finance (Japan) 143
277–279, 300, 356 Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Japan) 53, 231,
Manchurian Incident (1931) 263, 275–276, 273–274, 282, 372
278–279, 282 Ministry of Public Works (Japan) 143
manga x, 23, 394, 399, 401, 404, 419 Ministry of War (Germany) 192, 251
Maron, Hermann 103 Mishima Yukio 375
martial arts 334, 419 Mitsukuri Genpo 76–77, 102
marxism, marxist theories 233 Mitsukuri Shōgo 74, 77, 91, 94
mass media 5–7, 13, 25, 36, 54, 96, 234, 244, Mitsukuri Shūhei 102–103
310, 391, 405–406 Miura Gorō 145–146
master race (Herrenrasse) 351 Mochizuki Kotarō 245
materialism 42, 356 modernity / modernization 28, 30, 34, 36,
Matsudaira Katamori 118 110, 168, 176, 213, 222, 236, 278, 301–302,
Matsudaira Ken 39 313–314, 352, 361, 421–422
Matsukata Masayoshi 139 Mohl, Ottmar von 31
Matsuki Kōan 102–103 Moltke, Helmuth Karl Bernhard von 145
Matsumoto Jun’ichirō 310 Mongolia / Mongolian People’s Republic
Matsumuro Takayoshi 276, 279, 284 272–273, 277, 279, 335
Matsuoka Yōsuke 299, 302 morality 194, 356–358, 362–364, 416
matsuri (festival) 413 Mori Ōgai 31, 34
Mazzei, Franco 412, 416, 420 Morocco Crises (1908, 1911) 236, 242
Meckel, Klemens 31, 228–229 Mosse, Albert Isaac 31, 181, 184–189, 231, 235,
Mecklenburg-Schwerin 27, 89 244
Mecklenburg-Strelitz 27, 89 Mosse, George L. 398
media studies 16 Müller, Leopold 31
Mehl, Heinrich 158 Munich Beer Hall Putsch (1923) 271
Meiji Constitution 32, 157, 188 Muragaki Norimasa 82–84, 86, 98–99
Meiji era (1868–1912) 30, 31–33, 42, 47, 133, Mutsu Munemitsu 230
137, 139, 148, 158, 172, 180, 183, 192, 223, mutual image, mutual perception xi, xiii, 1, 3,
233–234, 267, 239, 301, 352, 361, 414 8, 12, 15–17, 23–24, 43, 54, 96, 320, 370, 387
Meiji government 105, 114–115, 117, 120, 124, mystification 325
126–133, 137, 142–143, 184 mythology xxv, 336, 339, 407
Meiji Restoration (1868) 103, 105, 110, 114–117,
120, 122–129, 137–139, 148, 151, 157, 189 Nagai Matsuzō 275
Meiji tennō xxv, 225, 330 Nagai Ryutarō 239
Meissner, Kurt 328, 332, 335, 341 Nagaoka Harukazu 42
Index 433

Nagasaki 13, 69, 90–91, 123, 377 national and racial awareness 316
Nagata Tetsuzan 250, 257–258, 264 national rebirth 315
Nakae Chōmin 233 national solidarity 315
Nakamura Masanao 233 organizational talent 12
Nakasone Yasuhiro 377, 382 spirit of sacrifice 11, 305, 314, 320, 329, 331
Nanjing Massacre / Nanjing Incident (1937) national identity xxv, 49, 115, 178, 412, 414
376 national mobilization (kokka sōdōin) 249–
Napoleon I 75, 92, 242, 262 250, 253, 258–261, 307
Napoleon III 141 National Party (Kokumintō) 139
Naruhito, Crown Prince of Japan 53 national socialism xxi, 323–324, 327, 337,
Nashimoto Morimasa, Prince 239 346, 398
Nasser, Gamal Abdel 342 National Spiritual Mobilization Movement
nation state 1, 8, 12, 30, 245, 270 (kokumin seishin sōdōin undō) 307
national character (Volkscharakter, nationalism 9, 42, 244, 273, 277, 332, 337, 359
kokuminsei) 9, 37 Naumann, Heinrich 31, 34
national character of Germany, perceived neoliberalism 421
facets of the Netherlands xxii, 28, 49, 67, 74, 77–78, 91,
diligence 12 100–101, 114–115, 123, 127, 181, 405
discipline 12, 243 Netto, Curt 31
individualism 9 Neurath, Konstantin von 268, 274–275, 282
order x, 90, 243 Neuschwanstein Castle 23
patriotic 213 New World Order 297, 303
rationalism 9 NHK International / NHK World 1, 7
tenacity 9, 315 Nibelungenlied 331
national character of Japan, perceived facets Nicholas II, Tsar of Russia 157, 167, 281
of the Nietzsche, Friedrich 402
aesthetic 352 Nihonjinron 10, 12
cleanliness 10 Nippold, Otfried 180
cultured 352 Nishi Amane 185, 233
curious 352 Nishitani Keiji 41
diligent 19 Nitobe Inazo 172, 331
fighting spirit 46, 49, 300, 327 Nogi Maresuke 192, 225, 226f, 229, 329
good manners 10 Nomonhan Incident (1936) 273
lack of originality 352 Nordic religion 333
love for flowers and nature 10 North German Confederation (Norddeutscher
love for the fatherland 10 Bund) 28, 84, 113
loyalty to the emperor 10 Northern Alliance (of Japanese feudal
patriotism 300 domains) 113–115, 118, 120, 122–133
perseverance 300 Nuremberg Laws 355
respect for ancestors 315
self-discipline 300 Okada Tetsuzō 255
see also Japanese spirit Okamoto Takezō 280
national character of Japan and Germany, Ōkubo Toshimichi 143, 186
perceived facets of similarities in the Ōkuma Shigenobu 143, 183, 239
diligence 12, 19, 22 Oranda Fūsetsugaki—see Dutch News Reports
discipline 12 Ōmura Arichika 256
exactness 12 Ōmura Jintarō 194
loyalty 11, 46, 49 Ōmura Masujirō 139–140, 143
military virtues 168, 176, 315, 341 Opening of Japan (1853/1854) 150–151, 156, 180
434 Index

Opitz, Fritz 21, 24 176, 181, 183–184, 222–223, 228, 230–231,

Opium War (1839–1842) 75, 90, 96 239, 243, 245–246, 249, 251, 256, 313, 315,
Orientalism 418 320, 327, 351–352, 394
Ōshima Hiroshi 281, 323, 350 Prussian Army 36, 102, 251
Ostasiatischer Lloyd 235 Prussian Constitution 32, 146, 184, 230
Oster, Hans 358 Prussian Officer Corps 12, 315
Otaku 391, 394, 405–406 Prussian-ness 315
Ōtsu Incident (1891) xv, 157 Prussians of East Asia / Germans of East Asia
Ott, Eugen 268, 275, 276, 295 36, 228, 313
Ottoman Empire 74, 121 Prusso-Japanese Treaty of Amity and
Outrey, Maximilien-Ange G. 112, 117–118 Commerce (Ger. Freundschafts- und
overcoming the past—see coming to terms Handelsvertrag zwischen Preußen und
with the past Japan; Jp. Nippon-koku Puroshia-koku
Ōyama Iwao 176 Shūkō Tsūshō Jōyaku 日本国普魯士国
oyatoi gaikokujin (foreigners employed by the 修好通商条約) 28, 67–72, 81–84, 86,
Japanese government or Japanese 89, 100, 113, 223, 369
companies) 31, 181 Psalmanazar, George 24, 58
Ozaki Yukio 139 public diplomacy 1, 2, 7, 14, 237, 299

Paris Peace Conference (1947) 372 racism, racial ideology, racial prejudice 34,
Parkes, Harry Smith 112–113, 115, 117–118, 120, 42–43, 47–49, 171, 267, 270, 334, 351
132 radio 1, 6–7, 317, 339
patriotism 9, 300 Rasputin, Grigori 394–395
Paul, Bruno 154, 162 Rathenau, Walter x, xvi, 249–261, 263–264
Perkins, D. N. 152 Reagan, Ronald 383
Perregaux, Francois 114 Realpolitik 362–363
Perry, Matthew C. 156 Recreation Congress for Asian Development
Persia 74, 279–280 (Kōa Kōsei Taikai, 1940) 289–290, 295,
Pew Research Center 3, 18 297–298
pictorial turn 7, 238 recycling 21
Plato 335 Red Army (Soviet Union) 281
Poland 46, 227, 269, 320, 351, 360, 374, Red Army Faction (RAF, Germany) 53
384–385, 407 Reichsjugend 319
Police Reserve Force (Japan) 373, 381 Reichsstudentenführung 319
Polo, Marco 25, 95 Reitsch, Hanna 340–341
Polsbroek, Dirk de Graeff van 117, 129–130 Remilitarization 373, 381
popular culture x, 1, 23, 36, 318–319, 355, 391, renewable energy 21
399, 401, 403, 406 reparations 370–373
porcelain 25, 419 Reuters 7, 237
Portugal 28, 56, 67, 70, 74, 122, 181 Revell, Lynn 413, 418
postcard 7, 15–16, 37, 46, 60, 138, 142, 179, Rex, Arthur von 234
192–217 Ribbentrop, Joachim von 268, 271, 282, 317
propaganda 15, 36, 39, 43, 49, 114, 126, 132, Rich Country, Strong Army ( fukoku kyōhei)
152, 164, 214, 217, 224, 238, 258, 281, 323, 369
325, 327, 332, 338–341, 352–353, 356, Riess, Ludwig 31
398, 399, 407 Rikken Seiyūkai (Constitutional Association
Prussia xx, xxiii, 4, 12, 24–32, 36, 39, 55–58, of Political Friends) 139
67–77, 79–107, 110–115, 117, 119–127, ritual suicide (seppuku, harakiri) 98,
129–133, 141, 143–146, 151, 156, 158, 168, 158–159, 225, 329
Index 435

Rivers, K. T. 153 Security Service (Sicherheitsdienst, Germany)

Robert-Bosch-Stiftung 2 321, 325
Roches, Léon 112–113, 117–118, 120 Seikanron Debate (1877) 146
Roesler, Hermann 31, 185, 230 Seiyūkai—see Rikken Seiyūkai
Roosevelt, Theodore 168, 171–173 Self-Defense Forces (Jieitai, SDF) 375
Rosenberg, Alfred 268, 271–273, 281–282, 316 self-determination 358
Rosenfeld, Alvin 399 Shanghai Incident (1932) 277
Rousseau, Jean-Jaques 233, 398 Shidehara Kijūrō 244
Rubenstein, Richard 399 Shinagawa Yajirō 141, 144
Russia 7, 67, 75, 100, 121, 145, 157, 159, Shinto xxv, 49, 316, 321, 331–333, 362–363, 413
164–165, 181, 192, 202, 204, 208, 224, Shirayama Genzaburō 297–298
226–229, 250–251, 258, 269–270, Shizuma Kōnosuke 141, 144
272–282, 333, 357, 375, 394 shogunate / Tokugawa shogunate 24, 27–28,
Russo-Japanese War (1904/05) 33–34, 36, 67–72, 74, 77–81, 83–85, 89–90, 97–100,
159, 172, 176, 192, 200, 202–204, 226, 228, 102–106, 112–113, 115–118, 120–121,
239, 277, 329 123–124, 126, 131–132, 140
Ryukyu Kingdom 90 Shōwa Emperor 234, 377
Siam 26, 74, 84, 96, 103, 105, 107, 109, 222
Sado Island 125 Siberia / Siberian Intervention (1918–1922)
Said, Edward 418 39, 277, 297
Saigō Takamori 146 Siebold, Phillip Franz von 25, 27, 96
Saionji Kinmochi 139 Siemens 17, 225, 251
samurai (shizoku) 11–12, 23, 43, 46, 76, 112, Simplicissimus (satirical journal) 150–151,
114, 118, 126, 131, 137, 143, 147, 159, 172, 153–155, 158–159, 162–165, 167–170,
314–316, 318, 320–321, 324–325, 327–333, 172–174, 176–178
335–337, 339, 356, 362 Singapore 215, 339–340, 376–377
Sata Aihiko 40 Sino-Japanese War—see First Sino-Japanese
satirical journals (Witzblätter) 153, 155 War, Second Sino-Japanese War
Satow, Ernest Mason 111 social democracy 421
Satsuma (feudal domain) 90, 112, 125, 128, social environment 416, 419
137, 139, 143, 146, 189 social security 19
Schleicher, Kurt von 275 socialism xxi, 237, 315, 323–324, 327, 337, 398
Schnell, Eduard (Edward) 114, 124, 126–127, sociology xxv, 409, 411
129, 130–131, 133 soft power 1, 3, 54, 59
Schnell, Heinrich (Henry) 114, 118, 120, 126, Solf, Wilhelm 40–42, 221, 246, 353
129–130, 131 solidarity 315, 323, 412, 418
Schnell-Perregaux (trading firm) 114 Son Kitei 42
School for German Studies (Doitsugaku Sonderkommando Elbe Unit 341
Kyōkai Gakkō) 234 Sontag, Susan 6, 406
Schopenhauer, Arthur 243 Sophia University xiii, xix, xxiii, xxv, 33
Schwalbe, Hans 3, 18 South Africa 39
Schweitzer, Albert 23 South America 74, 98
Schwind, Martin 328, 341 Southeast Asia 262, 376
Scriba, Julius 31–32 sovereignty 74, 78, 104, 181, 373, 398
SDF—see Self-Defense Forces Soviet Union 42, 267, 269, 272, 279, 340, 351,
Second Sino-Japanese War (1937–1945) 267, 360, 372, 374
293, 302 Spain 42, 56, 72, 122, 269
Second World War (1939–1945) xxi, xxii, 17, Special Attack Forces (tokkōtai, kamikaze)
46, 52-53 327, 330, 340
436 Index

Spencer, Herbert 233 The Japan Herald 115

SS (Schutzstaffel) xix, 49, 315–316, 328, The Japan Times xix, 115, 221, 317
332–333, 335, 339, 350–351, 360, 363–364 The New York Times 7, 35, 49, 55, 57
Stab-In-The-Back-Legend 39 The North China Herald 118
Stauffenberg, Claus Schenk Graf von 350 Taiyō (journal) 35, 238, 242
Stein, Lorenz von 32, 147, 183, 230 The Times 7
stereotypes ix–xiii, 3, 7–8, 18, 22, 152, 217, Thunberg, Carl Peter 103
334, 352, 354, 410–411, 414, 416, 421 Thuringia 260
Stern (weekly journal) 19 Tibet 279, 333, 335
Stülpnagel, Carl-Heinrich von 268, 276, Tirpitz, Alfred von 256
278–282 Tōhoku Earthquake 2011 xi
subjectivity 410 Tōjō Hideki 299
Suehiro Izutarō 298 Tokugawa Iemochi 81, 84
Suita Incident 31 Tokugawa Tsunayoshi 96
Suiyuan Campaign (1936) 273 Tokutomi Sohō 233, 234
sumo 23, 334 Tokyo x, xiii, xviii–xxv, 9–10, 17, 21–22,
superiority 37, 158, 189, 257, 334, 355, 381, 32–33, 36, 38–39, 41, 51, 71, 98, 100, 106,
383 143, 146, 182, 184, 186, 194, 209, 225–226,
surrender 46, 116–117, 126, 130, 141, 213, 228–229, 231, 233–234, 239, 268, 289,
257–258, 262, 375 291, 293–296, 298, 299, 308–309, 317,
Suzuki Tadakazu 121 319, 330, 336, 341, 353, 382, 405
Suzuki Zenkō 376 Tokyo University Historiographical Institute
swastika 23, 335, 399, 405 xix–xx, 71, 98, 106, 129
Sweden / Sweden-Norway 19, 70, 72 Tokyo War Crimes Trials (1946–1948) 377
Switzerland xxv, 19, 67, 70, 73, 91, 114, 127, 227 total war 39, 46, 249–250, 253–254, 261, 264
symbolism 112 totalitarianism 42, 304
Trautmann, Oskar 268, 274, 355
Taisei Yokusankai 309 Trautz, Friedrich M. 330, 341
Taishō era (1912–1926), Taishō democracy Treaty of Shimonoseki (1895) 224, 238
9, 137, 148, 261, 336 Tripartite Pact (1940) xiv, 15, 43–46, 267,
Taiwan 24, 147, 277, 374 296–297, 299–300, 304, 352, 355, 356
Tanabe Hajime 41 Triple Intervention (1895) 36, 224, 236, 271
Tanabe Ta’ichi 82 Tsar 34, 157, 167, 192, 202, 204, 229, 281
Tanaka Gi’ichi 138, 243 Turkey 91, 272, 280
Tanaka Ippei 279
Techow, Eduard Hermann Robert 184–185 Uchida Yasuya 40
Terashima Munenori 102, 130 Ueda Masao 280
Terauchi Masatake 138 Uesugi Narinori 129
Terzani, Tiziano 377 Ugaki Kazushige 257
Teutonic values 329 Ukraine 281
Tezuka Osamu 399–400, 401, 408 unequal treaties (1858) 28, 97, 130, 181–183,
The Black Corps (Das Schwarze Korps) xvi, 223, 235
11, 315–316 United Nations 2
The Daughter of the Samurai (1937 movie) United States xxiv, 1–2, 15, 18–19, 28, 36, 46,
43, 318 67, 69, 72, 74, 77–78, 81–83, 85, 89, 96–98,
The Illustrated London News 110 100, 102, 113, 123–124, 130, 146, 170, 177,
The Illustrated Nippon (Nippon Gahō) 181–182, 223, 250, 261, 270, 274, 311, 339,
239–240 349–350, 352, 359, 361, 363, 369–370,
The Japan Gazette 115, 118 372–373, 384, 386, 403, 405, 409–410
Index
Urach, Albrecht Fürst von 46, 317, 321, 323,
328–329, 330, 331, 337, 342
Uruguay 74
Valhalla 330
Valkenburgh, Robert B. van 118
Versailles Treaty (1919) 41
video games 419
Vienna 24, 73, 75, 85, 92, 184, 199, 202,
205–209, 212
Vikings 336
visual media 1, 5–7, 15–16
visual turn 7
Völkischer Beobachter 317–318, 323, 342
Wagener, Gottfried 31
Waldersee, Alfred Graf von 238
war responsibility 370, 377, 397
War Victims Relief Law 372
Warsaw Ghetto Monument 381, 383
Warsaw Treaty (1970) 384–385
Weegmann, Carl von 337, 341
Wei Yuan 76
Weimar Republic (1918–1933) 336, 383
Weizsäcker, Richard von 386
Westdeutscher Rundfunk (WDR) 382, 385
Westernization 222
Wildenbruch, Erich von 31, 229
Wild-Kawara, Yuriko 114
437
Wilhelm I 81, 141, 145, 226
Wilhelm II xvi, 34, 36, 49, 157, 174, 192,
224–225, 238–239, 241, 253, 352
Wirgman, Charles 29, 110–112, 115, 117, 120,
132
Wollschläger, Alfred 341
woodblock prints xiv, 7, 16, 25, 27, 29, 31
World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) 13
Wüst, Walther 332–333, 335, 341, 348–351,
360–364
Yamagata Aritomo 137–139, 141, 225, 228
Yamamoto Gonbei 139
Yamashina Kikumaro, Prince 224
Yamato – see Battleship Yamato
Yamato spirit (Yamato-damashii) – see
Japanese spirit
Yasukuni shrine xxiii, 52, 330, 382
Yellow Peril (Gelbe Gefahr) 172, 174, 270, 352
Yokomichi Fukuo 242–243
Yomiuri Shinbun 292, 296, 311, 381–382,
384–386
Yoshida Mitsuryu 404
Yoshida Shōin 76
Yoshino Sakuzō 9, 37
Yoshizaka Shunzō 293–294, 303
Zita of Bourbon-Parma, Princess 209
Zündnadelgewehr 101