Promise of Representative Government—Political Parties—Renewed
Unrest—Local Outbreaks.
The decree announcing the Imperial decision to establish a Parliament in
1890 was issued on the 12th October, 1881. In this decree the Emperor
refers to his intention from the first to establish gradually a
constitutional form of government, evidence of which had already been
furnished by the creation of a Senate (_Genrō-in_) in 1875, and the
drafting, three years later, of the laws concerning local
government-measures designed, it is explained, to serve as a foundation
for the further reforms contemplated. Conscious, His Majesty proceeds to
observe, of his responsibility in the discharge of his duties as
Sovereign to the Imperial ancestors, whose spirits were watching his
actions, he declares his determination to proceed with the work of
reform, and charges his Ministers to make preparations for the
establishment of a Parliament at the time appointed; reserving to
himself the task of deciding, later on, the questions of the limitations
to be imposed on the Imperial prerogative, and the character of the
Parliament to be created. The decree dwells on the undesirability of
sudden and startling changes in administration, and concludes with a
warning to the people, under pain of the Imperial displeasure, not to
disturb the public peace by pressing for innovations of this nature.
Although the granting of a Constitution was not expressly mentioned in
the decree, the reference in it to the limitations to be imposed on the
Imperial prerogative clearly implied that the creation of a Parliament,
and the granting of a Constitution, would go together. That the latter,
when promulgated, would be a written Constitution was also clear both
from the circumstances of the time and from the methods already followed
by the Government in carrying out its policy of legislative reforms.
No time was lost in beginning the preparations mentioned in the Imperial
announcement. In March of the following year, as we read in the
reminiscences contributed by him to _Fifty Years of New Japan_, the late
Prince (then Mr.) Itō was ordered by the Emperor to prepare a draft of a
Constitution, and on the fifteenth of the same month he set out, he
tells us, on “an extended journey in different constitutional countries
to make as thorough a study as possible of the actual workings of
different systems of constitutional government, of their various
provisions, as well as of theories and opinions actually entertained by
influential persons on the actual stage itself of constitutional life.”
In the prosecution of this enquiry into constitutional matters, which
occupied his attention for eighteen months, Prince Itō was assisted by a
numerous staff of assistants.
By the definite promise of a Parliament, to be accompanied by a
Constitution, the position of the agitators was changed. With the
disappearance of their chief grievance the ground had been cut from
under their feet. It was no longer a question of whether there should be
a Parliament or not, but what sort of Parliament the one to be
established in 1890 should be. Neither on this point, however, nor on
the framing of the Constitution, was there any intention of consulting
the nation. The decree had expressly stated that these questions would
be reserved for the Imperial decision later on. While the Government,
therefore, proceeded with its preparations for the establishment of
representative institutions, it was incumbent on the leaders of the
opposition party to prepare on their side for the time when
constitutional government of a kind would be an accomplished fact, and
complete their organization in readiness for the Parliament, whose
opening would furnish them with the desired field for their activities.
Thus, the effect of the Imperial decree was to hasten the development of
political parties. For these, when formed, there was little to do until
representative institutions came actually into operation; and their
restricted sphere of utility was still further reduced by the increasing
severity of the repressive measures adopted by the Government.
Nevertheless, the same things which had previously assisted the progress
of the agitation for popular reforms now encouraged the development of
political parties. These were: the magic of the expressions “public
discussion” and “public opinion,” first heard at the time of the
Restoration, which had captivated the public ear all the more, perhaps,
from their being imperfectly understood; and the novelty, always
attractive to the Japanese people, of the methods adopted by the
advanced reformers in the shape of public meetings and public addresses
which were a new phenomenon in the history of the country.
Political associations had, as we have seen, been formed before, in
connection with the agitation for popular reforms, both in the Capital
and in the provinces. Owing their creation chiefly to the leader of the
Tosa party and his lieutenants, most of them had led a rather precarious
existence, flourishing or dying down in response to the degree of
severity characterizing the measures of control taken by the
authorities. Neither in point of organization, nor in definiteness of
aim, could they be regarded quite as political parties. The latest and
most important of these associations had been the Union for the
establishment of a Parliament, formed in 1880, which, as already
mentioned, represented between twenty and thirty societies in various
parts of the country. Out of this unwieldy body the first political
party grew, taking the place of the parent society which was dissolved.
This was the _Jiyūtō_, or Liberal Party, established by Itagaki in
October, 1881, a few days only after the issue of the Imperial decree.
Its birth was signalized by collision with the authorities, a misfortune
which might not incorrectly have been interpreted as an omen of a stormy
career. The party managers had, it seems, omitted to give notice to the
police of gatherings of the party, thereby infringing the Law of Public
Meetings. For their omission to do so the managers were fined, and a
further result of the infringement was that, though actually founded on
the date above mentioned, the party did not receive official recognition
until July of the following year. Itagaki was elected President of the
party, and one of the four Vice-Presidents was Gotō Shōjirō, whose
connection with the resignation of the last of the Shōguns will be
remembered.
The programme of the Liberal Party was comprehensive, if rather vague.
Its intentions, as announced in the manifesto issued, were “to endeavour
to extend the liberties of the people, maintain their rights, promote
their happiness and improve their social condition.” The manifesto also
expressed the party’s desire “to establish a constitutional government
of the best type,” and its readiness to co-operate with all who were
inspired by similar aims. Its President, Itagaki Taisuké, had from the
first been the prime mover in the agitation for popular reforms, which
without his inspiration and guidance would never have attained the
dimensions it did; both in and out of season he had pressed upon the
attention of the Government and the country the desirability of
broadening whenever and wherever possible the basis of administration;
and he shared with Ōkuma the distinction of being a pioneer in the
organization of political parties in preparation for the Parliament to
be established and a successful party leader after representative
institutions had come into operation. Lacking the versatility of his
Hizen contemporary and colleague, he was nevertheless a leading figure
in political circles, where his sincerity and tenacity of purpose
commanded much respect. The public indignation excited by the
unsuccessful attempt on his life made in the spring of 1882 was a
tribute to his popularity, and the words he is said to have uttered when
stabbed, “Itagaki may die, but not liberty,” are still quoted. Had he,
like other politicians of his time, lived more in Tōkiō and less in his
native province, he might have been better known outside of Japan.
In the spring of 1882 two other political parties came into existence.
One of these was the “_Rikken-Kaishintō_,” or Constitutional Reform
Party, which was established by Ōkuma with the co-operation of a number
of well-known men who had followed him into retirement when he left the
Ministry in the previous year. Prominent among these ex-officials were
Shimada Saburō, a distinguished writer, who afterwards became President
of the House of Representatives; Yano Fumiō, another distinguished
writer, who later on filled the post of Japanese Minister to China; and
Ozaki Yukiō, who was afterwards Minister of Education, as well as Mayor
of Tōkiō, and now occupies a foremost position as speaker, writer and
parliamentarian. The programme of the _Kaishintō_ was more definite than
that of the Liberal Party. Besides the usual stock phrases as to
upholding the dignity of the Throne and promoting the happiness of the
people, it dwelt on the necessity of internal progress as a preliminary
step to “the extension of national rights and prestige,” and advocated
the development of local self-government, the gradual extension of the
franchise _pari passu_ with the progress of the nation, the
encouragement of foreign trade, and financial reform.
The points of difference between the Liberal Party and the _Kaishintō_,
or Moderate Liberals, as we may call them, were of the kind that
distinguished the two party leaders from each other. The greater culture
and refinement, as well as the moderation, of the Hizen statesman were
reflected in the more sober views of his party, which appealed to a more
educated section of the people than the cruder and more radical
doctrines and methods of the _Jiyūtō_.
The third party established at this time was the _Rikken Teisei-to_, or
Constitutional Imperialist Party. Fukuchi, editor of the _Nichi Nichi
Shimbun_, which was then a semi-official organ, took an active part in
its formation. Its _raison d’être_ was support of the Government, which
the other two parties opposed. It was, therefore, usually known as the
Government party. Some of the items of its elaborate programme were in
themselves a sufficient indication of its official sympathies. Approval
was expressed of the date (1890) fixed for the establishment of a
parliament; of whatever form of Constitution might be decided upon by
the Government with the Imperial sanction; of there being two Chambers;
of the necessity of qualifications for members; and of the final
decision in all matters resting with the Emperor. But other points in
the programme suggested some independence of opinion. The party favoured
the separation of the army and navy from politics; the independence of
judges; freedom of public meetings in so far as was consonant with
national tranquillity; as well as freedom of public speech, of
publication and of the Press within legal limits, and financial reform.
The same spirit which led to the formation of these three political
parties in the Capital inspired the birth of many more in the provinces.
More than forty of these sprang up like mushrooms, and the confusion
naturally attending the sudden appearance of so many was increased by
the rule which made it necessary for each to be registered as a separate
organization, even when name and associations clearly indicated its
connection with the parent party in the Capital. Almost every prefecture
could boast of its own political party, usually affiliated to one of the
three chief parties in Tōkiō, whose example was generally followed in
the inclusion of the word “Constitutional” in the title, a fact which
shows what importance was attached to constitutional principles as a
basis of government. Occasionally, too, the dearth of fixed political
ideas was shown by the comprehensive vagueness of the name chosen. An
instance of this occurred in the case of the political party formed in
the province of Noto, which assumed the non-committal designation of the
_Jiyū-Kaishintō_, which was intended to mean the Party of Liberty and
Reform, but lent itself to the interpretation of being the Liberal and
Moderate Liberal Party. In this, as in many other instances, the name
was a mere label without much meaning.
In spite of the flourish of trumpets which accompanied the formation of
these three political parties, and their numerous branches—for such they
mostly were—in the provinces, the movement collapsed as suddenly as it
arose. Before eighteen months had passed one of the three, the
Imperialist Party, had decided to dissolve. A year later its example was
followed by the Liberal Party; while the third, the party of Moderate
Liberals, led by Ōkuma, though it escaped dissolution, was by the end of
1884 in a moribund condition, without either president or
vice-president.
For this sudden blighting of the hopes of the newly formed class of
politicians there were several reasons. In the first place, in pursuance
of what had been termed its settled policy of alternate conciliation and
repression, the Government, after the issue of the Imperial decree
promising a parliament, had embarked upon a course of further repressive
legislation. The law restricting the right of public meeting and speech,
which had been issued in 1880, was in 1882 revised and made much more
stringent. Under this revised law the powers of the police for
inquisitorial purposes were increased; political parties were bound to
furnish full particulars concerning the rules of association and lists
of members; no meeting could be held unless permission from the police
had been obtained three days before; it was forbidden to advertise the
subjects of political lectures and debates, or to invite attendance at a
meeting; political associations were not only debarred from having
branches in other places, but from holding communications, or carrying
on any kind of relations with other political parties—a provision which
was said to be inspired by fear of the amalgamation of parties opposed
to the Government; and, on the simple ground of its being necessary for
the preservation of the public peace, the police had power at any time
to close a public meeting. And yet, strange to say, the Government which
did these things, which left no stone unturned in its efforts to thwart
the designs of suspected politicians, was itself a Government of
reformers, and betrayed at moments no little sympathy with the popular
cause it was fighting.
The severity of the policy adopted by the Government extended to the
Press. In the spring of 1883 the Press law of 1875, the operation of
which had given rise to a special class of “prison editors,” was revised
in a spirit of increasing harshness. In cases falling under what was
known as the “Law of Libel,” not the editor of a paper only, as before,
but the proprietor and manager also, were held jointly responsible; the
law itself was construed so as to leave no loophole of escape for the
suspected offender; and the conditions imposed on journalistic
enterprise made it almost impossible to start a newspaper or to carry it
on when started.
The newly formed political parties were also at a disadvantage as
regards the place which was of necessity their centre of operations. We
have seen how before the reopening of Japan to foreign intercourse
Tōkiō, then called Yedo, had for nearly three centuries been the seat of
administration; how with the gradual decay of Tokugawa authority the
centre of political activity had shifted for a time to the former
capital, Kiōto; and how after the Restoration of 1868–9 Tōkiō, now
called by its changed name, had more than regained its position,
becoming as the new Capital the place where the new life of the nation
and its interests were focussed. Its position was now stronger than
ever, for the abolition of feudalism had put an end to all separatist
tendencies, and provincial towns had lost much of their former
importance. The change was not without its effect on the organization of
political parties. However great the local influence of the leaders
might be, it was in Tōkiō that the constitution of parties took place.
The provinces counted for little. They might supply the leaders, but the
Capital was the centre of operations. There, as being the seat of
administration, the Government was at its strongest, while the party
politicians on the other hand were at a disadvantage. Beyond the reach
of the local ties in clan or province, on which they depended for
support, they worked in strange and uncongenial surroundings. Moreover,
the enforcement of the rule forbidding the formation of provincial
branches and combination with other political bodies, condemned them to
a position of comparative isolation.
Another difficulty with which political parties had to contend was the
absence of any concrete and well-defined issues upon which politicians
could concentrate. As, in the early ministerial rupture of 1873, in
which political parties had their genesis, no broad question of
principle, so far as reforms were concerned, had divided the retiring
statesmen from their colleagues who remained at the head of affairs, so
it was with political parties at this time, and for many years
afterwards. No clear line of demarcation separated one from another. All
alike were in favour of progress and reform, all anxious, though not
altogether in equal measure, for the extension of the people’s rights.
It is true that the programmes issued by the different parties at the
time of their formation, as well as the speeches of party leaders,
showed some divergencies, but the views therein expressed were pious
opinions, and nothing more. They dealt with things in the abstract, not
with practical issues, which had not yet arisen. It is not surprising,
therefore, that in the absence of more material concerns time should
have been wasted in vague and futile controversy on such abstract
subjects as sovereign rights and their exercise; the Liberals declaring
that sovereignty lay with the people, the Imperialists that it rested
with the Sovereign; while the party of Constitutional Reform contended
that it resided in something representing both, namely, a parliament,
which had as yet no existence. Under such circumstances popular
enthusiasm declined, and even serious politicians lost interest in the
welfare of their party.
Much mischief was, also, caused by disunion, the result of inexperience
and lack of discipline. This was aggravated in the case of the Liberal
Party by the departure on a tour of observation in Europe and America of
its president, Itagaki, and Gotō, one of its vice-presidents. The
Government was accused of arranging this tour with the double object of
weakening the _Jiyūtō_ by depriving it of the services of its ablest
politicians, and of creating discord between the Liberals and the Party
of Constitutional Reform. If this was its plan, it certainly succeeded.
Not only was the _Jiyūtō_ weakened by internal dissensions, but the
relations of the two parties became at once estranged. The one accused
the other of receiving bribes from the Government, and when they both
practically disappeared from the scene, the feud was bequeathed to their
successors.
One reason alone, however, in the absence of any others, would probably
have sufficed to render futile this first experiment at party making for
parliamentary purposes. There was no parliament, and no one knew what
sort of parliament there would be. In these circumstances the
proceedings of political parties lacked reality, and gave the impression
of a stage performance.
The results of the political activity of the nation in the direction we
have described were certainly not encouraging. All that was left of the
three parties after two or three years of strenuous endeavour was a
shattered and leaderless remnant of one, the other two having melted
away altogether; and of their work nothing survived save a faint tracing
of lines along which the subsequent development of political parties
proceeded.
More than once in the preceding pages attention has been called to the
embarrassment and danger caused to the country by the large numbers of
ex-_samurai_ with little means and less occupation, whom the abolition
of the feudal system had left stranded, and who now lay like a blight
upon the land. For some of the better educated of these former members
of the military class the rapidly developing Press had furnished
employment. The restless energies of the remainder had found occupation
for a time in the movement for the formation of political parties. As
soon, however, as the first impulse of the movement had spent its force,
and before the actual dissolution of any of the parties, their attention
was diverted to other channels of political activity which promised more
immediate results; and the occurrence of several outbreaks and plots
following one another at short intervals, testified to the serious
mischief still to be apprehended from this unruly class.
The first of these to call for the intervention of the authorities was a
rising which took place in 1883 in a prefecture to the north of the
Capital. The cause of the trouble was a dispute between the officials
and the people of the district in regard to the construction of roads.
Into the question of road construction, as into that of all other public
works, entered the question of the _corvée_. This was an important
feature of rural administration, dating back to ancient times, and
consisted of personal service, or its commutation by a money payment. It
opened the door to many abuses, but, if imposed in the form of personal
service at seasons when there was little outdoor work to be done, it was
preferred by the peasant to other modes of taxation. In the case in
question there was no objection in principle to the _corvée_, but the
action of the authorities was resented on the ground that the roads it
was intended to construct were not required. Consequently, when the
governor called for labour on the roads, the people refused to work, and
the disturbances which ensued became so serious as to require the use of
troops for their suppression. In pre-Restoration days the trouble would
not have extended beyond the compass of a simple agrarian riot. What
made it more important, and gave it a political aspect, was the
admixture of the _shizoku_, or ex-_samurai_, element, which in feudal
times could never have occurred. One of the ringleaders in this rising,
who escaped with a term of imprisonment for an offence which a few years
before would have cost him his head, afterwards became President of the
House of Representatives. In this capacity he speedily earned fresh
notoriety by headstrong action leading to the immediate dissolution of
Parliament, and the extinction of his parliamentary career.
Other risings and plots which had no connection with local grievances,
but were the outcome of discontent and lawlessness, occurred in various
parts of the country. The most singular, as it was the last of the
series, was a fantastic attempt made in 1885 to stir up trouble in
Korea, in the hope that this might react on the political situation in
Japan, and hasten the establishment of representative government. Those
concerned in the plot were all of _samurai_ origin, and subsequently
took a prominent part in the proceedings of parliamentary parties.
The complicity of many members of the Liberal Party, both before and
after its dissolution, in these insurrectionary movements is admitted by
Japanese writers, who are disposed to attribute it mainly to the
excessive severity of the measures of repression taken by the
authorities.