Part 1/2

It’s definitely an apparent contradiction. Popular memory (to the extent it exists on these topic) tell us that the Kōdōha (皇道派) or Imperial Way Faction was a radical group within the Imperial Japanese Army, before it was purged by the more conservative Tōseiha (統制派) or Control Faction in the aftermath of the February 26 Incident. Yet, it was under control of the Control Faction that Japan escalated a skirmish near Beijing into a full scale war with China that ultimately spiralled into the wider Pacific War, as Japanese leadership sought an “end” to its seemingly unending China Incident. Regardless, the dissonance demands an explanation.

The Imperial Way: Ideological and Doctrinal Disputes Within the Imperial Japanese Army

First, and perhaps most importantly, was must establish what these two factions were. In that respect, we need to establish that the Tōseiha was a purely reactionary movement that was bound together by a shared opposition to the Kōdōha rather than a shared ideology of its own. Indeed, the very name “Control Faction” was not a name that officers belonging to this Army clique adopted for themselves, but rather a pejorative term used against these officers by officers aligned with the Kōdōha. Indeed, with the ultimate defeat of the Kōdōha in the aftermath of the February 26 Incident, the Tōseiha effectively ceased to exist as a faction, as the clique’s raison d'être had vanished with the Kōdōha.

Having established that, the necessary follow up question is thus: what were the beliefs of the Imperial Way faction? There, we run into an issue that seems rather common when it came to ideology in Imperial Japan, in that the language used to express these ideologies was usually quite vague. Similarly, ideological leaders tended to avoid detailed explanations of their ideology, leaving a great deal of vagueness (and plausible deniability for those leaders) available for lower ranked officers to make the necessary leaps from ideology to action. The name “Imperial Way” derived from War Minister General Araki Sadao, who had a tendency to describe many things with the term ‘imperial’. Araki’s policy within the War Ministry was focused around preparing Japan for war with the Soviet Union soon (with Araki and his allies asserting that a crisis would emerge by 1936), and so the army had to focus on methods that would prepare Japan for war against a major power within the decade, emphasising increasing the number of available divisions and manpower within those divisions.. Similarly, Araki was a strong proponent of the “morale” school of warfare, emphasising reliance on superior morale of Japanese infantryman to overcome material superiority, in opposition to other officers who wished for a decade to modernise the army and further expand and develop the Japanese industrial base in preparation for a future war. Interestingly, as part of this focus on preparation for war with the Soviet Union, Araki and many of his Imperial Way allies were in turn proponents of a conciliatory policy towards China, arguing that China was needed more as an ally and partner against the Soviets than a target to be exploited for its resources, at least in the short term.

What made Araki’s position as a “leader” of the Imperial Way faction was also his criticism of capitalism (and the zaibatsu) along with strong opposition to communism. In this respect, Araki and his allies in the high command were adopted as thought leaders by the many young, radical officers within the Imperial Japanese Army. Many of these officers hailed from poor families in rural Japan, and were disgusted by the wealth gained by the zaibatsu industrial groups. In general, these young officers lacked a true unifying ideology, but were rather motivated by the simple belief that there was something rotten in Japan, and that these corrupt influences were destroying the nation. These ideas are sometimes brought together as the so-called “Shōwa Restoration”, where the corrupt influences would be purged from society, and true power would be restored to the Emperor who--no longer misled by his wicked and corrupt advisors--would naturally lead Japan into a utopian future. While these officers generally shared these ideals, their planning left much to be desired. Many of the episodes of violence directed at senior Japanese political leaders--including the February 26 Incident--by these junior officers lacked much in the way of follow-through, with almost a simple assumption that once the evil advisors had been eliminated, the Shōwa Restoration would naturally follow.

From this point we have to reiterate something: that while Araki was seen as a leader by these young, radical, officers, this did not mean that they were personally loyal to Araki or could be controlled by him. Had he turned against their beliefs, it would be just as likely that the young officers would be quick to dispose of him and decry him as another of the corrupting officers who would have to be purged in turn. Araki’s position as a leader for the young officers was more to do with his tendency for aggressive claims and ideological statements that allowed for these young radicals to fill in what they wanted to read in order to imagine they had an ally at the highest level of command in the army who shared their vision of overturning the current status quo. To that end, Araki and his leaders in the upper levels of the Imperial Japanese brass were in a delicate position, where they would have to continue to seem to be carrying out the desires of the radical young officers, and implementing the Shōwa Restoration from the top, rather than violent coup while, simultaneously, playing the necessary game of politics at the upper levels of Japanese politics.

February 26: Fall of the Kōdōha

The needs of politics, of course, and opposition at the highest levels ultimately brought about the end of the Kōdōha faction within the Imperial Japanese Army. As part of his efforts to enforce his reform ideas for the Imperial Japanese Army, Araki had acted very aggressively with his appointments. He had pushed out many officers to be replaced with his own allies, and did so very brazenly, without much concern for the delicate political considerations that had influenced such appointments in the past. This brazeness is what ultimately led to the formation of the Tōseiha out of officers who had been pushed out of key positions by Araki’s efforts to put his own friends in their positions over their disagreements over military policy with Araki. Araki would ultimately resign from his position as War Minister in 1934, after having failed to convince the cabinet to adopt his demands for higher military funding and preparing for war against the Soviet Union in 1936. Many of the young officers would in turn blame Araki’s ouster on conspiracy by members of the Tōseiha. Later disputes within the army over the ‘Emperor-as-Organ Theory’ (which argued for interpreting the Emperor as an organ of the state, rather than a divine agent) led to the ouster of some of Araki’s remaining allies, which the young officers in turn saw as a purge of Kōdōha officers by their Tōseiha enemies. Without remaining allies at the top, the young officers opted for a coup attempt to sweep away their enemies, and bring about the Shōwa Restoration. This would be the genesis of the February 26 Incident.

I will touch on the events of the February 26 Incident and its aftermath in passing, but it is an important part to consider when discussing the two factions. However, in short, while the young officers succeeded in assassinating some key civilian officials, and isolating the Imperial Palace, their actions had finally gone too far by involving enlisted soldiers in their plots and attacking the Emperor’s closest advisors, and the Emperor took action against the young officers, demanding that the army put down the ‘rebellion’. In the aftermath of the February 26 Incident, Araki and many of his allies were pushed out of the military, while many young officers directly involved in the Incident were harshly punished--a sharp contrast to previous coup attempts, where the conspirators had received only light punishments. Similarly, much of the current leadership--who had taken office after Araki had stepped down from War Minister--were also forced to resign. With the leadership of the Kōdōha and their successors removed,the Tōseiha were effectively the only leaders left within the Army to take over the resultant vacuum.

Many thanks to u/Lubyak for the excellent deep-dive on the ideological divergences (or curious lack thereof) between the Tōseiha and Kōdōha factions. This post, aside from engaging with what has already been iterated in great detail, will focus more on the origins of army factionalism within Japan, and why the Tōseiha and Kōdōha groups were hardly aberrations in the sociopolitical history of the Imperial Japanese Army (IJA). This exploration takes place, perhaps unsurprisingly, in the era of ‘Taisho democracy’, when the army’s deep-seated divisions began to take hold.

‘See what has become of our beloved country.’: The IJA during the Tumultuous Taisho Period

The seeds of army factionalism - and indeed the factions themselves - can be traced back to the so-called ‘Young Officer’s Movement’ (Seinen shoko undo); the product of an increasingly disjointed and fractured cadet corps. Despite its experiences in the Russo-Japanese War and the First World War, the IJA was far from the cohesive and modernised military arm that its battlefield prowess and rapid rise suggested. Socially, the army still carried the divisions from the Meiji reforms, with clan-based biases permeating the highest echelons of the military. Between 1880 and 1924, this regional politicization of the army, the so called hanbatsu (domain clique) produced clear results. The War Ministry during this period was mainly staffed by persons from the Chōshū Domain, whilst the General Staff and officer corps was dominated by those from the Satsuma Domain.

Yet from the middle of the Taisho period, these domain-based cliques began to give way to newer ones, characterising the diversification of the trainees. An example of this can be found within the officer corps. The first class of 158 officers from the Military Academy in 1877 only had three graduates of non-samurai descent, but by 1931 just 15 percent of graduates were descendants of samurai. Instead, the internal army divisions of the late Taisho period were based on their career paths.

It is necessary to digress for a moment here to understand the structure of officer training within Japan during the 1920’s and 30’s. A cadet’s formal education began at the age of 14, when they were entered into one of six regional military preparatory schools. This was followed by a period at the central preparatory school in Tokyo, with active service in the ranks as part of the curriculum. To actually become an officer, one had to then graduate from the Military Academy at Ichigaya, but even then, there were different routes. A cadet’s position in class at graduation, as well as his overall performance, would not only determine which arm of the service he was destined for, but also his prospects for future promotions. Cadets who had been selected from the Academy by the specialised branches - air, artillery and engineering, cavalry, medicine, communications, intelligence, and kempeitai (military police) - were then sent off to schools for those services. By far however, the most coveted destination after graduation from the Academy was the Staff College, the Imperial Army’s equivalent of an elite university. James Crowley elaborates:

‘Admission to the War College [another name for the Staff College] was contingent on a superior record at the academy, the recommendations of commanding officers, and passing a stiff entrance examination. Although the competition was keen, the rewards were golden. Graduates of the college were virtually assured eventual promotion to a divisional command; a sterling record at the college paved the way for assignment in central headquarters. Indeed, the general staff and the war ministry maintained separate personnel divisions which, each year, selected a limited number of graduates from the War College for immediate or subsequent assignment to their headquarters.’

With such a splintered and competition-heavy education path, resentment amongst cadets was common. Even more pertinent however was the rise of ideological divides, itself a product of the training programmes at the academy. As Lubyak notes, the ‘morale’ school of warfare remained popular amongst the elites in the army; despite growing calls for Japan to modernise and prepare for ‘total-war’. General Mazaki Jinzaburo, who was head of the Military Academy from 1923-27, was a staunch proponent of the morale school. Under his guidance the curriculum at the Academy, already saturated with patriotism - took on ultranationalist elements. Cadets were often instructed to attend lectures at the Institute for Social Research (or Daigakuryo), where notable intellectuals such as Okawa Shumei (of Pan-Asianist fame) and Yasuoka Masaatsu discussed the nation’s identity and place in the world (even after the institute closed down in 1925, Mazaki often invited Okawa to lecture at the Academy proper). One cadet in particular took those lectures to heart: Nishida Mitsugi. An outstanding graduate of the class of 1922, his diary entries showed a concern with the ongoing ‘liberalisation’ of Japan during the Taisho era:

‘Look around! See what has become of our beloved country… The genro (political advisor elites) have usurped the powers of the Emperor. The ministers behave in a shameful way. Look at the Diet. Are these the men responsible for the affairs of state? Are these our leaders? Look at the parties which claim that they defend the Constitution! See the so-called educators, businessmen, and artists, and look at the misguided students and the distressed masses… The ruling clique makes the same mistakes in foreign affairs, internal policies, the economy, education, and in military affairs… Party government may be a good idea, but the way it is conducted by our parties is so disgraceful that it has brought Japan to the brink of disaster.’

After his graduation, Nishida would go on to form the Young Officers’ Movement, formed of fellow cadets who shared similar worries about the direction of Japan’s development. They would discuss the ideas of ‘national reorganisation’, espousing the writings of intellectual Kita Ikki in his book Outline Plan for the Reorganisation of Japan (Nihon kaizo hoan taiko) - indeed Nishda and Kita were close friends until their joint death in 1937.

Of course, simply referring to the Young Officers’ Movement belies the sheer variety and number of similar groups which were coming into being at roughly the same time. It would not be worth spending too much space on this, but such groups (the word ‘faction’ remains deceiving in this case) included the Sakurakai (Cherry Blossom Society), Futabakai (after the French restaurant where its members met), Issekikai (One Evening Society), and Seiyokai (Stars and Ocean Society - interestingly the navy’s equivalent of the Sakurakai).

Although they differed in their opinions about what was afflicting Japan and how to fix those illnesses, these societies all shared the same foundational belief: that something was plaguing the nation’s prestige and path to glory. Those groups which were able to put pen to paper and draft statements on the matter were particularly hostile to the party politics of the Taisho era; as this document from the Sakurakai illustrates:

‘[The political leaders] have forgotten basic principles, lack the courage to carry out state policies, and completely neglect the spiritual values that are essential for the ascendancy of the Yamato people. They are wholly preoccupied with their selfish pursuit of political power and material wealth. Above, they veil the sacred light, and below, they deceive the people. The torrent of political corruption has reached its crest… Now, the poisonous sword of the thoroughly degenerate party politicians is being pointed at the military. This was clearly demonstrated in the controversy over the London treaties… It is obvious that the party politicians’ sword, which was used against the navy, will soon be used to reduce the size of the army. Hence, we who constitute the mainstay of the army [officers] must… arouse ourselves and wash out the bowels of the completely decadent politicians.’

Note: This section has been awash with descriptions of the Taisho period and references to the apparent transformations in Japan’s socio political and economic systems which took place during the reign of the Taisho Emperor (1912-1926). For more on those changes, see this Saturday Showcase post.

Part 1 of 4