Wednesday, July 17, 2013

HARA-KIRI IN TOKYO, 1970

Wednesday, November 25th began like any other day at the Headquarters of the Ground Self-Defense Forces at Ichigaya, Tokyo. This is where I went each Wednesday for research in Japanese military history during World War II. What happened that Wednesday, however, was far from ordinary, and created a sensation that is still discussed in Japan.

As I sat in the War History Library just before noon, I heard helicopters flying overhead and a commotion in the compound in front of the administration building. As the noise grew louder, I decided to go out and see what was happening. Soldiers were milling around in front of the building, and I asked one of them what was going on, why people were crowding the compound. He told me that the well-known novelist Yukio Mishima was inside the building. Soon an officer with a megaphone asked the soldiers to gather around in front of the building. Soon I saw why.

Out on the balcony of the building appeared Mishima and four of his followers dressed in Meiji-era uniforms, hachimaki around their foreheads. They stepped forward and hung a huge banner over the balcony. Mishima began his harangue, saying that Japan needed a real army and a new constitution (since the US occupation had imposed a no-war clause in the new constituion). He exhorted the assembled soldiers to rise up and act as he directed. His tirade lasted exactly seven minutes, with Mishima glancing at his watch from time to time.
I felt uneasy as a tall foreign woman directly in his line of vision, and I moved to one side.

As I listened, I was incredulous as the military words from the 1930's echoed through the throng. The soldiers, similarly astonished, made remarks like, "Go take a cold shower." After seven minutes Mishima raised his arms and shouted, "Tenno heika, banzai," "Hail to the Emperor." A few faint voices replied in kind, but most stood dumbfounded. Mishima and his followers then retreated into the office of the Commanding General behind the balcony doors. Without knowing what was to come, I was nevertheless incredulous that I stood there hearing a historic speech. It was as if five soldiers went into the Pentagon and held the General and his staff hostage as they staged the act.

I went back into the library, and it wasn't long before we heard police cars leaving the area. What I heard a few minutes later was incredible: Mishima and one of his soldiers had committed hara-kiri, or seppuku, before General Mashita, whom they had tied in his chair. Mishima's second was to lop off his head as soon as he d isemboweled himself, as tradition dictated, but he missed and hit Mishima's back. A third soldier
then performed this duty, whereupon the second's head was lopped off by another of the men. Police cars took away the surviving soldiers, one in each car.

I hesitated to leave the area, as I knew the whole compound would be surrounded by right-wing Mishima sympathizers. I finally left after 4:00 and returned via subway to International House, where I was staying.
That night I was unable to sleep. I had gone into the I House library and taken out Mishima's book Sun and Steel, which contained his ideas about an ideal death, combining art and life in a final act. The word 'death' appeared on nearly every page.When I finished the book I still was unable to sleep, so I wrote down my impressions of the extraordinary events of the day.

The next day my Australian friend Perpetua stopped by my room, and I told her that I had been at Ichigaya the day before and showed her what I had written. She said that we should go and offer my words to the press. As it happened, the New York Times published my eyewitness acount, as also did the Maichichi Shimbun. In fact it was the main topic of conversation in Tokyo for weeks, and each monthly magazine and weekly issued special editions on the subject.
 
 Mishima had planned his last act for over two years, during which he recruited and trained his volunteer force in the training areas used by the Ground Self-Defense Forces, which had given him permission.
On the fatal day he and his soldiers had permission to carry their samurai swords into military headquarters, where he had an appointment with General Mashita. The general resingned his office, taking responsibility for failing to prevent this catastrophe. Mishima was demonstrably extremely eccentric, having held an exhibit in a major department store of nude photos of himself in various poses featuring swords and other macabre props. He hated the thought of growing old, with a sagging body, and wanted to die with the results of his body-building on full display for the world. Mishima's last act electrified Japan and was featured in headlines around the world.

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