Georgia State University
ScholarWorks @ Georgia State University
History Theses Department of History
5-11-2018
A Transpacific Peace Movement: Encounters Between American and Japanese Peace Advocates 1889-1919
Wendy Giere-Frye
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Recommended Citation
Giere-Frye, Wendy, "A Transpacific Peace Movement: Encounters Between American and Japanese Peace Advocates 1889-1919." Thesis, Georgia State University, 2018. https://scholarworks.gsu.edu/history_theses/118
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A TRANSPACIFIC PEACE MOVEMENT:
ENCOUNTERS BETWEEN AMERICAN AND JAPANESE PEACE ADVOCATES,
1889-1919
by WENDY L. GIERE-FRYE
Under the Direction of Ian Christopher Fletcher, PhD
ABSTRACT
This thesis explores the making of a transpacific peace movement linking peace advocates in Japan and the United States in the early twentieth century. It is based on research in the peace history collections in the archives of Haverford College and Swarthmore College as well as the
American Peace Society’s Advocate of Peace and other published primary sources. After tracing the development of a transatlantic peace movement in the nineteenth century and noting signs of a broadening of the pacifist outlook in such texts as Benjamin F. Trueblood’s The Federation of the World (1899), the thesis examines the work of American peace missionaries John Hyde
DeForest and Gilbert Bowles in Japan in the early twentieth century. DeForest and Bowles supported the organization of peace advocates in Japan and opposed the agitation of anti-Japanese xenophobes in the U.S. Finally, the thesis reconstructs the life and advocacy of Seichi Emerson Ikemoto, a Japanese student and orator living in the U.S. He traveled and spoke widely in favor of peace and understanding between Japan and the U.S. as well as corresponded regularly with the American Peace Society secretary Benjamin F. Trueblood. In highlighting the cross-cultural exchange between these peace advocates and the challenge they offered to rising U.S.-Japan rivalry, the thesis contributes to a more global account of peace history before the First World War.
INDEX WORDS: Pacifism, peace movements, cross-cultural exchange, U.S.-Japan relations, transpacific history
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A TRANSPACIFIC PEACE MOVEMENT:
ENCOUNTERS BETWEEN AMERICAN AND JAPANESE PEACE ADVOCATES,
1889-1919
by WENDY L. GIERE-FRYE
A Thesis Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Masters of Arts
in the College of Arts and Sciences
Georgia State University
2018
Copyright by
Wendy L. Giere-Frye
2018
A TRANSPACIFIC PEACE MOVEMENT:
ENCOUNTERS BETWEEN AMERICAN AND JAPANESE PEACE ADVOCATES,
1889-1919
by
WENDY L. GIERE-FRYE
Committee Chair: Ian Christopher Fletcher
Committee: Masako N. Racel
Electronic Version Approved:
Office of Graduate Studies
College of Arts and Sciences
Georgia State University
May 2018
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DEDICATION
First, I would like to dedicate this thesis to the memory of the historic organization of the American Peace Society, the Advocate of Peace, and Seichi Emerson Ikemoto for having the foresight to leave behind a written account of advocacy and engagement. The archives that retain their records are a rich and vibrant resource that offer the potential to provide innumerable opportunities with which to conduct research for generations of historians. My commitment to giving voice to the men and women who were such an integral part of this historic organization has fueled my desire to continue this path of research for years to come. I look forward to the carrying the legacy of the American Peace Society forward into the twenty-first century.
Most importantly, I dedicate this thesis to my husband Lawrence and my children Kirsten, Kyle, Spencyr and Kendall who have tolerated my scholarly activities for more years than I care to acknowledge. Even at times when questioned my ability to do justice to the task before me, they never lost faith in me. Lawrence, my best friend and partner for twenty-five years, as a fellow historian he shared his intellectual insights which helped me navigate through the sometimesoverwhelming minutiae of discourse that often had my dyslexic brain doing cartwheels. He is the perfect translator and incubator with which I can deposit my confusion and ideas and always manages to feed the information back to me in a way pleasing to my brain. Endlessly patient and long-suffering, it is remarkable that through all of this he wants me to keep moving forward with my research.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many people have impacted me in very significant ways during this constructing this thesis, and without whose help this research would not be possible, but to the following I am deeply indebted:
First and foremost, Dr. Ian Christopher Fletcher who graciously consented to be my mentor and adviser from my first semester at Georgia State University. He has provided invaluable assistance. His gift with words inspires me, and I can only hope that I live long enough to become as accomplished. Perhaps my favorite times spent involved our book discussions and our conversations on the peace movement, the Pacific world, Japanese-American interactions, as well as modern Japan. From the very beginning he was wholly supportive of my desire to investigate the American Peace Society, its official organ The Advocate of Peace, and the ideology behind peace and pacifism in the relationship to transpacific exchange between America and Japan in the nineteenth and twentieth century. He provided countless hours of help, least of which were the two courses I took with him on modern Britain and global social movements, a direct reading, and four panels for conferences. He was the calm and reassuring presence who helped me when loss caused me to momentarily reconsider my thesis dreams. Secondly, I owe tremendous gratitude to Dr. Masako Nohara Racel of Kennesaw State University for being unhesitatingly receptive to serving on my committee after Gainty’s passing. She was the perfect choice, and discovering a shared passion for research on early twentieth century peace advocates was the greatest pleasure. She engaged fully with my research, asking pointed questions that forced me to think critically about my research. While I could not always answer her questions, they provided me with a platform with which to continue and expand my research. Not many people write about U.S.Japanese peace advocates, and to find someone with whom you can talk about shared research is one of the most valuable aspects of the graduate experience. My only regret is that I did not have the occasion to engage with her more fully earlier in the process. It is by no means a small hope that I will have an opportunity to work more closely with her in future. Which brings me to the Dr. Denis Gainty who served on my thesis and exam committee, and his passing mere months before completion of this thesis impacted me greatly. He was not only a mentor, he was a friend. It was his recommendation that stimulated my enthusiasm to participate twice in study abroad in Japan. The experience of being a student sojourner, as it were, and the ability to draw upon those memories as I wrote this thesis was an experience beyond measure. His spirit and enthusiasm in his love and admiration for the people of Japan never left me. I never imagined that it would not be until I returned from Japan and later delved into the writings of the American and Japanese advocates that I really began to appreciate the depth of the experience of traveling to Japan. This provided rich context and perspective, giving me an opportunity to consider how DeForest, Bowles and Ikemoto must have felt traveling to a strange land with its different languages and unique cultures. While he was unable to provide his input on this final product, I never forgot his advice and recommendations at any point as I wrote this paper. I hope that in some small way I could infuse this research with the same spirit of admiration and love that I developed not only through my all too brief travels to Japan and my interactions with its peoples and that were only made possible because of Dr. Gainty. Dr. Wendy Hammond Venet was the professor that mentored me on first research project on the American peace movement, subsequent to the class she graciously agreed to serve on my examination committee. She offered refreshing insights into Civil War era history that were inspiring, and it renewed my passion for this aspect of historical discourse. While I do not regret the path I chose, I often think about what my scholarship might have looked like had I followed my original passion and expanded on my examination of the efficacy of language by delving deeper into the gifted rhetoric of Thaddeus Stevens and his efforts to advocate for equal rights and the abolishment of slavery.
In my second study abroad in Japan, I had the great good fortune to meet with Dr. Taeko Shibahara of Ryukoku and Dōshisha Universities in Kyoto, Japan. Even before my travels I had an opportunity to read her book Japanese Women and the Transnational Feminist Movement before World War II, and could not believe my good fortune when she graciously agreed to meet with me while in Kyoto. She provided valuable information and insight about peace advocates and
Japanese women’s activism, and went so far as to find primary source documents for me that might assist in my research back home—even offering a place for me to stay when I return to Japan.
In June, I spent ten days in Pennsylvania scouring the archives at Haverford and
Swarthmore Colleges. Mary A. Crauderueff, Curator of Quaker Collections and Sarah M.
Horowitz, Curator of Rare Books and Manuscripts, and Head of Quaker and Special Collections.
Dr. Wendy E. Chmielewski, Curator, Swarthmore College Peace Collection, and Mary Beth Sigado, Technical Services Specialist, kept me focused, and were very patient when they had to remind me of closing time. They offered great recommendations and suggestions for my research, and suggested other avenues that I might explore looking toward a dissertation. I look forward with great pleasure to a time that I may return to re-engage with these collections.
Much of my research was spent in conversation both by email and phone and so I want to acknowledge the valuable assistance of Michael L. Taylor, Special Collections Public Services Librarian, University of New Mexico Libraries; Carolyn Elwess, Archivist Park University, Parkville, MO; Jennifer S. Comins, Archivist, Carnegie Collections Rare Book & Manuscript Library, Butler Library, Columbia University, New York, NY; Megan McMillan, Intern, Greater
Albuquerque Chamber of Commerce, Albuquerque, NM; Angela Morris, Associate Director E.
M. White Library, Louisville Seminary, Louisville, KY; Lesley Schoenfeld, Public Services & Visual Collections Administrator Historical & Special Collections, Harvard Law School Library, Cambridge, MA.
Dr. Erica Johnson, of Francis Marion University in Florence, SC, my professor while I was an undergraduate and Gordon State College in Barnesville, GA she was dogged in her persistence to get me to apply to graduate school. A great scholar and educator, I have the tremendous good fortune of calling her friend. Louise Milone was my study partner through three years of intense course work and a confidante in all things “non-traditional.” We kept each other focused and encouraged, and I could not have done this without her. To Sharon Lazarus, Jennifer Wilks, and my mother-in-law Ernestine Grier Frye who provided me with many days of free room and board while I worked on this project.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ............................................................................................ V
PREFACE 1
1 INTRODUCTION 3
1.1 Topic and Background 3
1.2 Scholarship 4
1.3 Sources and Method 6
1.4 Narrative and Argument 7
2 THE TRANSATLANTIC ORIGINS OF THE PEACE MOVEMENT 11
2.1 David Low Dodge and the New York Peace Society 12
2.2 Noah Worcester and the Massachusetts Peace Society 13
2.3 William Allen and the London Peace Society 15
2.4 William Ladd and the American Peace Society 16
2.5 William Lloyd Garrison and the New England Non-Resistant Society 18
2.6 The Reshaping of the Transatlantic Peace Movement in the 19th Century 19
2.7 Benjamin F. Trueblood and Cosmopolitan Pacifism 22
3 THE MAKING OF A TRANSPACIFIC PEACE MOVEMENT: ANGLO-
AMERICAN PEACE MISSIONARIES IN JAPAN 26
3.1 Introduction 26
3.2 Japan in the Pages of the Advocate of Peace 28
3.3 Japan Peace Advocacy before the Sino-Japanese War 35
3.4 John Hyde DeForest – From Student of Japan to Advocate of Peace with Japan 40
3.5 Gilbert Bowles and the Building of Peace Societies in Japan after the Russo-Japanese War 46
3.6 Trueblood, Bowles, DeForest and Transpacific Peace Advocacy 51
3.7 Conclusion 57
4 SEICHI EMERSON IKEMOTO – TRANSPACIFIC ADVOCATE OF PEACE
AND UNDERSTANDING 59
4.1 Introduction 59
4.2 Inspiration – The Making of a Cosmopolitan Scholar 61
4.3 Determination – The Career of an Advocate for Peace 70
4.4 Investigation – When Identity Confounds Sympathy 78
4.5 Resignation – “It’s Always the Living Who Suffer” 84
5 CONCLUSION 88
BIBLIOGRAPHY 92
PREFACE
I have been a pacifist since I was eight years old. My pacifism came about not from any material instruction, but from something deeply ingrained in my soul. In choosing to become a historian, I knew peace studies would fuel my research interests. As an undergraduate I wrote a paper on the “the efficacy of aspirational language as a methodology toward peace.” While
working on it, I came to the realization that “perpetual and universal peace” was a utopian fantasy.
However, I concluded that it was not “peace” itself that was efficacious, but the aspirations of
individuals in thought, action and language who held the power to advance the peace cause.
Broadly speaking, by writing this thesis I wanted to expand on what I began as an undergraduate, and finding the rich resources of the American Peace Society and its official organ
The Advocate of Peace, I could hear the voices of peace’s past. I became fascinated at this virtually untapped resource and the infinite possibilities they posed to add to the historical discourse. Admittedly, I fell into the category of scholars who assumed a cut and dry belief about the Eurocentric dynamics of the peace movement. When I discovered an article about the 1906 establishment of a peace society in Japan, and learned another society had formed in 1889, my paradigm shifted. I knew then I wanted to focus on the transpacific aspect of the peace movement between America and Japan, the cross-cultural connections, and Japan’s part in it. But, I did not want to expand on the already well chronicled history after the Second World War, I was interested in what happened in the period between Commodore Perry’s 1854 opening of Japan and the First World War in 1914.
My other goal involved demonstrating the reciprocity of exchange. I knew Americans went to Japan and advocated for peace, and even joined their organizations, but I hoped to find Japanese who came to America and did the same. Did the American Peace Society exclude the Japanese living in America from becoming members? Acquiring that information came about in the last year, on the last day of my research trip, and in the last folder I opened. Finding the letters of Seichi
Emerson Ikemoto significantly enhanced the dynamics of my research, and affected me personally. Though he has been gone for nearly a century, through the hundreds of hours I have logged trying to find anything I could about him, I have become totally vested in telling his complete history.
There are still many questions unanswered and documents I have yet to find, but I will find them.
That said, if by reading this thesis, the reader begins to engage with the text and ask thoughtful questions, finding areas of discussion that could be expanded upon, I have done my job. This research is not meant to be definitive. Rather, I hope it will serve as an introduction, and that in some small way I have “opened the door” to further research on a peace history that is unbounded by transatlantic boundaries. Mine is a “transpacific” peace history, and by specifically focusing on cross-cultural engagements of American and Japanese peace advocates, by giving voice to their memories, I want to have added my voice to the annals of historical discourse. Museums are filled with the remnants of war, but one of the most valuable assets of twenty-first century scholarship can be found not the remains of destruction, but the relics of memory. These can be found in the tens of thousands of letters, diaries, journals and articles held in archival repositories. Furthermore, by engaging with these voices we can not only add to the historical discourse, we can develop new methods with which to engage in the study of history.
1 INTRODUCTION
1.1 Topic and Background
At time of Commodore Perry’s more or less peaceful opening of Japan to Western trade in 1854, the United States had existed as a nation for a mere seventy-five years. The Pacific, on the other hand, has been a “conduit” that connected a world to make commercial and cultural
interaction possible for more than twenty-five hundred years. This thesis offers a new lens through which to examine the well-chronicled history of U.S.-Japan diplomatic relations in an age of global expansion. Broadly speaking this research chronicles the expansion of the peace movement and its evolution from one oriented along transatlantic lines, to one that incorporates the Pacific realm.
Grassroots peace advocacy emerged in Europe and the United States in the nineteenth century. Americans who recognized their responsibility to engage with the greater world in effect helped facilitate U.S. foreign relations. Known as “citizen diplomats,” these peace advocates were ordinary citizens consisting of teachers, students, business people, and humanitarians committed to creating meaningful relationships and better understanding between states and peoples. They had intellectual and cosmopolitan sensibilities. Thus, in the later nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, they came to include Japanese and other people of the Asia- Pacific in their worldview. Both America and Japan struggled through internal strife in the 1860s and 1870s and after their national reconstructions sought to adapt to a rapidly changing and interconnected world. At this point of intersection, American peace advocates became interested in engaging in cross-cultural relations with Japan—first as perceiving themselves as “civilizers” bringing progress and Christianity to Japan and later as equal partners in promoting better understanding between their countries. These shifts in the early twentieth century led to a shared cosmopolitan project as American advocates in Japan and Japanese advocates in America called for peace and cooperation between what threatened to become two antagonistic empires in the Pacific world.
It is generally accepted that “civilization” is a process in which the supposedly progressive societies set the standard for the rest. For a long time, this notion of “civilization” has been approached from the perspective of the West and progress measured against Western standards. In considering the broader issue of war and peace while examining the work of peace advocates in America and Japan, this thesis strives to answer the following questions: What does it mean to be civilized? Who determines the criteria by which an individual, a people, a state, or a religious faith is civilized? To what extent does the material and moral progress of civilization depend on understanding, peace, and cooperation between different peoples and states and on the formation of a larger civilized world? Is violence or war ever civilized, or do they reveal that the civilized are not fully civilized? The men and women of the peace movement struggled with these ethical and philosophical questions, which not only shaped their worldview but also informed their ambitious actions to build a peaceful and lawful Pacific world.
1.2 Scholarship
No serious inquiry exists in recent historical scholarship focused on the American Peace Society (APS) and the transpacific peace movement between America and Japan. Thus, several bodies of scholarship serve as the foundation on which my research will build. I see this research as centered on five elements: peace, pacifism, expansion, culture, and identity.
The standard account of the APS, Edson L. Whitney’s The American Peace Society: A Centennial History, became my bible. Written in 1928, it gives me a sense of the people and times
I discuss. In engaging with the ideas and actions of these advocates through a vast array of primary sources, my research grew deeply personal. Whitney’s history helped me keep the stories of fascinating characters in perspective. Peter Brock’s work offers the most comprehensive global understanding of the peace movement and pacifism. For my purposes, Freedom from War: Nonsectarian Pacifism 1814-1914 has been the most useful of his books. In recounting the early organizing principles and ideas of the various peace organizations that formed first century pacifism, he focuses on the shift from ideology to practice. In the English-language academic literature, he is one of the few scholars to address the pacifistic movement in Japan in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries and is perhaps the only scholar to include a chapter on Japan in a global context.
Transpacific peace advocates acted in a world of empires. Akira Iriye’s Pacific Estrangement: Japanese and American Expansion 1897-1911 and Walter LaFeber’s The Clash: U.S.-Japanese Diplomatic Relations throughout History provide the broad historical context for my thesis. Overall, the U.S. and Japan became rivals for dominion in the early twentieth-century Pacific world. Several other studies are important for understanding culture and identity in the encounter between American and Japanese peace advocates. Michael R. Auslin’s Pacific Cosmopolitans: A Cultural History of U. S.-Japan Relations explores the cosmopolitan nature of organizations that undertook cultural exchange between America and Japan. He argues that the Japanese took inspiration from many of the most advanced policies of the West that were complementary to Japan and its modernizing aims. Eichiro Azuma’s Between Two Empires:
Race, History, and Transnationalism in Japanese America highlights the experience of Japanese sojourners and settlers in the U.S. Finally, Jon Thares Davidann’s seminal work, A World in Crisis and Progress: The American YMCA in Japan, 1890-1930, provides a basis for comparison for my own investigation of missionaries in Japan. Founded on Japanese—as well as English-language sources—his research has been critical for my understanding of the cultural challenges confronting the missionaries and peace advocates seeking to support a peace movement in Japan.
1.3 Sources and Method
This project draws almost exclusively from archives located in Haverford and Swarthmore, Pennsylvania. The Haverford College archives preserves the papers of Gilbert Bowles (18691960), a Quaker missionary in Japan, and records of the American Peace Society in Japan (APSJ) and the Japan Peace Society (JPS). The Swarthmore College Peace Collection, a treasure house of
U.S. peace history, includes the records of the APS and its secretary Benjamin Franklin Trueblood
(1847-1916). These collections include correspondence with a variety of American, British, and
Japanese peace advocates. I also use the APS’s official organ, the Advocate of Peace, as well as press accounts in a range of U.S. newspapers available in digital and online formats. In terms of method, I seek to contextualize and closely and comparatively read my primary sources to reconstruct what happened in the transpacific encounters. Together, these primary sources allow me to appreciate the outlooks and activities of several participants in this transpacific exchange and gain insight into their belief in the possibility of peace and understanding between the U.S. and Japan.
1.4 Narrative and Argument
In exploring American and Japanese expansion through the lens of peace activism—peace advocates as intermediaries and conduits for change—I have come to see U.S.-Japan relations, at least metaphorically, as a case of “sibling rivalry” between two imperial states before the First World War. During the years of 1874-1904, they were “sisters” in engagement, and was a period marked by a spirit of cooperation and exchange— the prevailing feeling was one of developing friendship despite the Sino-Japanese War in 1894-95. The Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905 resulted in new fears over “Yellow Peril” and the concerns over an increasing number Japanese immigrants flocking to the United States after its annexation of Hawaii. This led to new fears and anxieties resulting in new attitudes of animosity and suspicion as Japan sought equal opportunity as a rising empire triumphant over China and Russia. Compounding the tension was the school segregation crisis in 1906 and Japan’s increasing frustration at the efforts of American official to exclude Japanese school children in San Francisco schools. Peace advocates in both Japan and the U.S. sought to prevent conflict and promote accord between two powerful empires. By examining the evolution of cross-cultural exchange in the peace movement, my thesis interrogates an understanding of transpacific civilization no longer bound by notions fitted to the older relationship between America and Europe. The history of pacifism may have begun in America and Europe, but Commodore Perry’s opening of Japan in 1854 set the stage for a crucial phase in the globalization of peace advocacy in the early twentieth century. Broadly speaking, I want to suggest that ideas concerning the moral as well as material advancement of human life—civilization— traveled not just West to East but East to West. Quite simply, missionaries and peace advocates may have thought they were bringing “civilization” to Japan, but had to face the contradictions of their nation’s less than civilized nature. The realization of a peace ideal required consensus and not contention.
Flowing from the introductory first chapter, the second chapter traces the rise of the peace movement in nineteenth-century America and Europe. The first peace societies formed at the end of the Napoleonic wars in 1815. At first regional, these U.S. peace societies gained momentum in the Antebellum era when they formed a new unified national society—The American Peace Society (APS). This organization partnered with the British pacifists who founded the Society for the Promotion of Permanent and Universal Peace (The London Peace Society) in 1816. The slavery question and American Civil War created an identity crisis for American pacifists: a split among its members forced the national society to question its specific purpose and develop a clear understanding about its aims—ultimately determining a focus on the promotion of world peace rather than the resolution of internal national conflicts. Thus defined, the American peace movement moved into a truly global era, with the American Peace Society becoming the face of an outward rather than inward looking American peace movement.
The third chapter charts the source and course of a peace movement in Japan, beginning in the wake of an active foreign missionary movement in the reform minded Meiji era of 1868-1912. While British peace advocates were the first to encourage Japanese pacifism, Americans influenced the formation of Japan’s first national society. This chapter examines the efforts of British and American missionaries George Braithwaite, John Hyde DeForest, and Gilbert Bowles, as they sought to “Christianize” Japan. Amid escalating tensions between the American and Japanese over migrant sojourners and settlers to California following in the Russo-Japanese War in 1905, missionaries in Japan became advocates for the Japanese and campaigned to correct misconceptions and create understanding. This crisis led to their efforts to form a peace society in Japan, which caused them to question their identity in faith and citizenship.
The fourth chapter tells the unknown story of Seichi Emerson Ikemoto, a Japanese student who traveled from Yamaguchi, Japan to the United States in 1904. It narrates his life and examines his struggles with identity, which I have thematized in terms of inspiration, determination, investigation, and resignation. A Japanese Christian, he was inspired to come to the U.S. and became a student of the civilized West. He was motivated to learn what he could about Christianity and modern Western ways, and struggled to find connection in an identity that encompassed his dual status as both a native of Japan and a citizen of the world.
A concluding fifth chapter sums up my findings and reflects on their significance. Broadly speaking, by looking at expansion, peace, pacifism, identity, and culture this thesis examines the progress of civilization, and illuminates that exchange between America and Japan was a two-way encounter. With successive victories over China and Russia, Japan became a power to be reckoned with by Europe and the U.S. In the early twentieth century, the U.S. began to worry over the potential for Japan to usurp America’s position on the world stage, not simply within the Pacific region, but also as a global leader. As LaFeber argues, this led to a clash between two empires as sisters in progress simultaneously expanded. It led to rivalry as America and Japan each had their own ideas about who had claim over the Pacific realm. As the United States sought to advance its imperial aims and demonstrate its Anglo-Saxon superiority, it required a modification in the notion about what constituted a progressive “civilized” nation. The peace advocates in the U.S. and Japan sought to foster friendship as one based on the principles of equality and justice. For Japan, it was a race for equality, for America it was about a hierarchy of races. It was through these contentious times in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries that the peace advocates sought to navigate and mediate.
While the U.S. and Japan did not eliminate the danger of war between the two countries, which ultimately came in 1941, the work of American and Japanese peace advocates indicates other historical possibilities. The stories that unfold in my examination of the lives of the missionaries Braithwaite, Bowles and DeForest in Japan, and Ikemoto in America demonstrate that while they may have come from different worlds, they shared parallel goals and took part in similar struggles. Their success as advocates was evinced through shared principles and practice. Though never touching, nevertheless, their lives intersected. Their Christian faith and national identities provided continuity between the foreign and native. By engaging in the exchange of ideas and culture, relationships developed and fostered an organic respect and friendship. No longer cerebral, peace activities connected the hearts and souls of at least some portions of the American and Japanese peoples in the early twentieth century.
This research reveals that the effective realization of a peace ideal was not simply the product of diplomacy between sovereign states, but also the actions of individual citizen diplomats and their interactions as purveyors of national and cosmopolitan advancement. They were essential contributors to the story of progress. Individually and collectively, they endeavored to navigate the “ship of state amid the conflicting currents of human activity on the full tide of the rivalries and ambitions of the powers,” with the sole purpose of binding together the nations of Japan and America in “indestructible friendship and peace…to secure true liberty and prosperity for the people of the United States and Japan.” For these Christian peace advocates, when the world was united in its “eternal allegiance to the Prince of Peace” could society be brought into the universal
brotherhood of man?9
Expansion manifested in ways that were both peaceful and aggressive, hopeful and disheartening, but by drawing on the rich sources in the records of the American Peace Society, its official organ the Advocate of Peace, and the papers of some of its leading figures, this thesis illustrates the profound and continuing value of unofficial and disinterested efforts by citizen diplomats in an increasingly globally-integrated world.
2 THE TRANSATLANTIC ORIGINS OF THE PEACE MOVEMENT
While my thesis explores the development of a transpacific network of American and Japanese peace advocates in the early twentieth century, it is necessary to begin on the other side of the world almost a century earlier. As with the movements of abolitionism, feminism and women’s rights, radical republicanism, and socialism, the peace movement of the nineteenth century was largely a transatlantic movement linking Europe and the United States. Indeed, historical scholarship has largely centered on the European and American dimensions of modern peace advocacy and antiwar activism. With exceptions such as the study of peace and nonviolence in Asian religious and spiritual traditions, research on pacifism beyond “the West” is a relatively new trend in scholarship. Of course, given the rise of mass opposition to nuclear weapons and testing and the continuing threat of nuclear war in Asia Pacific since the U.S. atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945 and the long war in Southeast Asia, our knowledge is much more advanced for the second half of the twentieth century. Yet the collaboration between U.S. and Japanese peace advocates after 1900 would not have occurred but for an American pivot to Asia beginning at least half a century earlier. The impact of this pivot requires an understanding of the transatlantic orientation of early American peace advocacy. This chapter recounts the American peace movement’s founding decades between the War of 1812 and the Civil War and the beginnings of its new orientation as the U.S. expanded into the Pacific world.
2.1 David Low Dodge and the New York Peace Society
The end of the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars, essentially a generation of war on a global scale, precipitated the emergence of a transatlantic peace movement. In 1815-16, three peace societies formed in the U.S. and one peace society formed in Britain. Around 1804, the Presbyterian merchant David Low Dodge came to accept the ideals of peace and nonviolence following an incident at an inn. Hearing of a string of robberies in the towns that Dodge was traveling to, some of his Christian friends recommended he carry a weapon. Having never contemplated the moral dilemma, Dodge complied. After he nearly shot his landlord, whom he mistook for a burglar, he grew deeply introspective and began to question his moral beliefs. For three years, he studied the Bible seeking discernment of the scriptural soundness of “armed defense and the prosecution of war.”12 In 1808, under the guise of “an enquirer,” Dodge published a pamphlet The Mediator’s Kingdom Not of This World: But Spiritual and committed to the ideal of complete nonresistance and the belief “that all kinds of war, revenge, and fighting were utterly prohibited under the gospel.” Though his concept of nonresistance was fundamentally religious, Dodge appealed to the humanitarian, political, and economic considerations of war. As well as exacting economic destruction to the property of the well to do classes, war inflicted untold hardship on the poor and working classes. Taking stock of the biological consequences of warfare, he argued that the killing of the young undermined the goal of war, which was to “protect against attack and personal liberty.” Far from creating lasting peace, war in fact hardened hearts and only served to increase the capacity for war, which resulted in an “arms race.” Dodge embodied the full spirit of pacifism, going beyond concern over the physical destruction of violence to the positive power of morality by maintaining an always “courteous and charitable” attitude with those who criticized him, refusing to answer critics in a sarcastic [or] ironic tone.” In 1810, Dodge met with others who supported his views, publishing his tract “War Inconsistent with the Religion of Jesus Christ.” However, it was not until 26 August 1815 that he was able to gain the support of twenty fellow supporters to organize the New York Peace Society, and was thus the first of the four peace societies to appear in 1815-16. Although members had to commit to full nonresistance to serve on executive committees, the society welcomed anyone interested in the promotion of peace and good will. Most were middle-class men. Perhaps inspired by the notion that the pursuits of commerce and peace were interdependent, those who were not clergymen were
Wall Street brokers and merchants.
2.2 Noah Worcester and the Massachusetts Peace Society
Inspired by the Congregationalist minister Samuel Hopkins, Noah Worcester adopted the
“theory of disinterested benevolence” when he organized the Massachusetts Peace Society at the end of 1815. A Unitarian minister, Worcester came to a gradual resolve to the war question, believing the best method to convince others to embrace a nonresistant ideology was through “slow dissemination.” In 1814, Worcester penned a pamphlet A Solemn Review of the Custom of War. Unable to find a printer, he began publishing a quarterly journal The Friend of Peace. Worcester believed that not only war, but also preparations for war must be brought to “disrepute” and eventually eliminated.21 He maintained that a war of aggression’s greatest issue centered on the fact that opposing governments would never agree on where the aggression originated. 22 Moreover, the presence of both the innocent and the guilty made war “ineffective as a moral agent,” since the “evil doers” usually went “scot-free” while those who did nothing generally suffered and died. It should be noted here that a few weeks before Worcester organized his society, the Quakers of Warren County in Ohio formed the Society for Promoting Peace after reading his A Solemn Review of the Custom of War. However, it was not always easy to sway others to the peace cause. Worcester invited two former presidents, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams, to join his society. Both declined. Adams refused, expressing his belief that perpetual peace was nothing more than “everlasting passive obedience and nonresistance,” which in his estimation “the human flock would soon be fleeced and butchered by one or a few.” Jefferson
initially declined as well, although expressing his heartfelt appreciation and a hope that the society’s “writings may be effective in lessening this greatest of human evils.” Two years later Jefferson had a change of heart, stating that he would welcome an honorary membership because he favored the abolition of war, even if he doubted this could be accomplished soon.
2.3 William Allen and the London Peace Society
British Quaker William Allen organized the Society for the Promotion of Permanent and Universal Peace, better known as the London Peace Society, in the summer of 1816. In Europe, like their American counterparts, British peace advocates acted from religious convictions but envisioned an ecumenical and to some extent secular movement that would recruit middle-class Anglicans, Dissenters, and evangelical Christians generally who favored moral reform at home and Christian missions abroad. Spreading tracts on methods for advancing and preserving peace, the London Peace Society adopted the position that war was “inconsistent with the spirit of Christianity, and the true interest of mankind.” From the beginning, the society condemned even
defensive war.
It is worth pointing out that the journey of Allen and his American counterparts toward attaining their pacifistic ideals began before the Napoleonic Wars, but met with little success.
However, as Brock observes, the “conclusion of the Napoleonic Wars in 1815 nonsectarian pacifism found organizational expression in England and the United States.” War weariness served as the catalyst that attracted larger numbers of men and women willing to work together to form peace societies and support a broader peace movement—if at times it was not always easy.
The American and British peace societies did not develop in isolation from each other. Springing from a shared religious culture, strong reciprocal influences flowed across the Atlantic and watered this network of Anglo-American peace advocates. Historian Christina Phelps highlights the role of Worcester in this transatlantic movement. His pamphlet A Solemn Review of the Custom of War was the first American tract to be published in the London Peace Society’s official organ the Herald of Peace. Historian Sandi E. Cooper calls this opening period of the transatlantic peace movement, from 1815 to 1850, the “Anglo-American peace crusade.”
2.4 William Ladd and the American Peace Society
The prospects for peace advocacy looked encouraging in New England in the 1820s and
1830s, with auxiliary societies added in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Connecticut. The South saw the founding of a peace society in Georgia, and the Midwest saw one in Indiana. However, except for Warren County, Ohio, most local societies were short lived. In 1828, Harvard graduate and merchant seaman William Ladd took up Worcester’s idea of creating a national peace society. Living in Maine and involved in his Congregational church, Ladd became concerned with humanitarian issues. After reading Worcester’s pamphlet, peace “impressed the subject on his mind” and he became convinced that war was an “evil that must be banished from civilized society.” His faith and commitment to God led to his belief that it was everyone’s duty to “lend a helping hand” to advance the ideal of peace and seek the abolition of war. In 1828, he and three hundred supporters formally chartered the American Peace Society (APS) and the peace societies of Massachusetts and New York joined the new association. Even so, not all peace advocates adhered to the APS. For example, many Quakers declined to join what they deemed to be a secular society.
The early members of the APS were united organizationally but divided ideologically. Some embraced an absolutist form of nonresistance promoted by Dodge, while others followed a relatively more moderate version associated with Worcester. These groupings in the APS cooperated with each other in the beginning, but the question of slavery in the U.S. became increasingly contentious and sparked dissension in their ranks. The issue was not slavery itself; almost all peace advocates were abolitionists and some antislavery advocates believed abolitionism was the epitome of pacifism. For example, abolitionist and women’s rights advocate
Lydia Maria Child once wrote “abolition principles and non-resistance seem to me identical…the former is a mere unit of the latter.” Nevertheless, abolitionism touched on real differences. For Dodge and his followers, the holding of a human being in bondage violated the principle of absolute pacifism. For Worcester and his supporters, the advocacy of peace did not require of everyone involved in the cause to hold a radically pacifistic position. Dodge criticized Worcester for his “lax doctrines,” believing his stance “decreased the zeal” of advocates. Worcester countered by arguing that the interests of society were best served by establishing “principles so broad, as to embrace the friends of peace who differ on this as well as other subjects.”37 Ladd’s APS was hard
pressed to create a synthesis in early American peace advocacy.
2.5 William Lloyd Garrison and the New England Non-Resistant Society
The controversial American abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison joined the APS, but went on to struggle with Ladd’s flexible and inclusive style in terms similar to Dodge’s critique of Worcester’s approach. Garrison and his fellow nonresistant abolitionists grew increasingly disturbed by what they perceived as Ladd’s “moderate” tone. For Garrison, there could be “no peace without purity.” He belonged to a radical current in transatlantic pacifism in the 1830s and 1840s. He influenced the Irish Quaker Richard D. Webb and the British Unitarian James Haughton, and the London Peace Society grappled with some of the same issues raised by absolutist or purist pacifism. In arguing for including the abolition of slavery in a broader platform of peace advocacy, Garrison took the view that Ladd’s willingness to compromise on the issue of emancipation as “radically defective.”
The right course of action was not so obvious or simple, according to Ladd. Referring to Garrison’s perfectionist views as “ultra beyond ultra,” Ladd argued that the moral truth that “all war is contrary to the spirit of the gospel” was difficult for peace advocates to apply to an issue like temperance or antislavery. If the broad goal of the APS was to “diffuse light respecting the evils of war” between states, then struggles within societies over individual self-defense and personal freedom were outside its mission. In 1838, ten years after the founding of the APS, Garrison and likeminded abolitionists withdrew from the society and formed the New England
Non-Resistant Society (NENRS).
The controversy ultimately concerned how to achieve the abolition of slavery. Indeed, the broader movement of abolitionism was divided over strategies to end slavery. The manumission of individual enslaved persons, emancipation of enslaved populations through legislative or judicial action, non-cooperation with the machinery of slavery and the return of fugitive slaves, even active assistance for self-emancipated people who fled states where slavery was still legal was one thing. Support for war-like measures to liberate slaves and put an end to slavery as an institution once and for all was another matter in the minds of some peace advocates. The stakes rose as the U.S. entered a period of political crisis in the 1850s and the prospect of civil war grew. Much turned on the degree to which peace and nonviolence were understood as a complete ethical way of life or as a norm for regulating relations between sovereign states. As we know, the abolition of slavery was realized in the course of a civil war inside the U.S. The historian Arthur C. F. Beales suggests that American abolition “triumphed over peace on the easy assumption that the conflict was a rebellion (not an international war) and outside the orbit of the Peace Society.”
2.6 The Reshaping of the Transatlantic Peace Movement in the 19th Century
As Americans’ interest in the wider world grew following the Civil War, so too did peace advocates’ commitment to peace as the cornerstone of relations between countries of the world. Ladd’s vision of a society focused on international peace became his legacy for the APS. Even before the coming of the American Civil War, the project of the transatlantic peace movement was beginning to change from a largely idealistic commitment to peace and nonviolence as a way of life to a practical effort to prevent war between states. This shift was already apparent in Britain, where the London Peace Society upheld an absolutist position against the use of force that conflicted with the views of other European partners, like France, who in 1821 formed Société de la Morale Chrétienne (Society of Christian Morality) to promote “inter alia” (the idea of peace). French peace advocates were not willing to repudiate the right to engage in defensive war. It was difficult to reach audiences and cultivate allies while insisting on absolutist positions.
In 1835, the London Peace Society gained the services of George Pilkington, an extremely effective speaker and organizer. As a matter of principle, he was supposed to categorically reject defensive war. However, he was unwilling to criticize Christians for enlisting in in the armed forces. Pilkington embodied a shift in the priorities of the society, which “transformed it from a ‘Quakerlike’ body to one in which internationalists—and for a time social radicals too—played a key role.” Although it did not officially relax its requirements on what representatives could and could not advocate, it nevertheless allowed members a range of views on questions like defensive war. British peace advocacy now began to center on international arbitration. In 1841, one year after the World Antislavery Convention in London, Joseph Sturge of the London Peace Society met with several American peace advocates in Boston and proposed a convention in which representatives from all peace societies could exchange ideas. The meeting in London in 1842 was the first of a series of International Peace Conferences held in various European cities in the 1840s and then once a decade in the 1850s, 1860s, 1870s, and 1880s. In an age of nationalism, the peace movement was beginning to breathe a new international spirit.
Brock distinguishes “two strands of anti-war sentiment,” the religious and the liberal internationalist. Adherents of both strands viewed peace as encompassing the elimination of violence in society as well as the abolition of war between states. Consequently, early Christianinspired peace advocates wholly rejected war, defensive as well as aggressive, and all forms of violence, but ultimately collaborated with those who made allowance for defensive war. Like the religious strand, the Enlightenment-inspired liberal internationalist strand found ways to accommodate the notion of “just war,” such as a war of liberation to free an oppressed people and establish a nation-state. Regardless of their differences, peace advocates agreed that reason should prevail in efforts to preserve peace and resolve conflicts.
In the last years of the nineteenth century, the peace movement began to flourish in the Atlantic world and grow beyond it. Commencing in Paris in 1889, a new series of Universal Peace
Congresses were held. In 1892, the establishment of the International Peace Bureau in Berne, Switzerland enabled continuity and coordination of the movement. Although lacking great financial resources, peace societies benefited from modern developments, for example making use of new communication technologies to spread their message more efficiently. When Tsar Nicholas of Russia called The Hague Peace Conference of 1899, peace advocates worked hard to influence the proceedings. Finally, in 1901, the French peace advocate Emile Arnaud coined the word “pacifism” to describe “those opposed to war” at the Universal Peace Congress in Glasgow,
Scotland. What began as a largely religious peace advocacy had now made way for a more “secular, humanitarian perspective.” As a result, the peace workers sought an identity that would reflect the “growing maturity and sophistication of the movement” throughout America and
Europe.” Arnaud, president of the Ligue international de la paix et de la liberté, (International
League for Peace and Liberty) devised a term that could convey peace advocacy in its broadest sense. Historian Peter Cortright expresses it best when he suggests that the Glasgow congress sought to develop:
[a] coherent body of thought and developed set of political beliefs and policies for preventing war and assuring peace. The term elevated the philosophy of peace into an official “ism.” It had international appeal and could be integrated easily into different languages. The term was officially adopted at the Glasgow conference . . . thereafter those who participated in the various peace organizations and societies around the world began to refer to themselves as ‘pacifists.’
In an age of imperialism as well as nationalism, pacifists could not limit their work to the (north) Atlantic world. What would be the shape of a cosmopolitan, not simply (European and American) international, pacifism?
2.7 Benjamin F. Trueblood and Cosmopolitan Pacifism
One way to begin to answer this question, at least as matters stood at the turn of the century, is to consider The Federation of the World, a notable pacifist text from 1899. Its author was an
American, Benjamin F. Trueblood. He was the secretary of the American Peace Society from 1892 to 1915 and, in this capacity, he also served as the editor of the Advocate of Peace, the official organ of the APS. Thus, he was the voice as well as face of the society, which sought to influence U.S. public opinion and government policy and interact with peace-minded foreigners. Trueblood was a Quaker, born and educated in the Midwest. Before managing the APS, he studied theology and pursued an academic career, eventually becoming the president of Wilmington College in Ohio and of Penn College in Iowa. His interest in international arbitration led to travel and residency in Europe before taking the position of APS secretary; later he advocated an international court of arbitration, which was taken up at The Hague Conference in 1899.
According to his friend and fellow peace advocate Charles E. Beals, those who met and worked with Trueblood came to “respect his knowledge and rely upon his judgement.” When he was called into the service of the APS, “a light seemed to flood his soul.” His work ethic embraced
“social service of the highest order.” He was “broad-minded,” without even a “particle of ‘spread-eagleism’” about him. Trueblood made the risky recommendation to move the APS headquarters from Boston to Washington, D.C., where he believed the APS could achieve real importance. He regularly visited the State Department and met with Presidents William McKinley, Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, and Woodrow Wilson.
Trueblood, an effective communicator of the pacifist message, Beals asserts, “was not a carpenter or a patchwork-maker [for] his articles and editorials were living, growing, unfolding messages, unified, homogenous, spontaneous.” Under his editorship, the Advocate of Peace received recognition as the “ablest peace periodical in the world…indispensable [for its] reliability and accuracy.” Given his interest in international arbitration, it is not surprising that Trueblood translated Kant’s Perpetual Peace into English in 1897. His own book, The Federation of the World, drew upon Kant’s ideas and can help us gauge how far the transatlantic peace movement, which had become international in the nineteenth century, could pivot to a transpacific movement and become increasingly cosmopolitan in the early twentieth century.
Trueblood penned The Federation of the World in February 1899, in preparation for the
First Hague Peace Conference. Called by Tsar Nicholas II of Russia, this meeting included representatives of the European powers, the U.S., China, Japan, the Ottoman empire, and other states. Its purpose was to discuss the conduct and prevention of war. It was an opportunity for peace advocates to interact with the diplomats in attendance. One of the conventions flowing from the conference established the Permanent Court of Arbitration. In Trueblood’s view, world peace could be realized in “federation and cooperation” when people and countries thought of themselves as being “members one of another.” He discussed the idea of a “United States of Europe,” a staple of advocacy on behalf of peace and arbitration since the International Peace Congresses of the
1840s, which was “desirable in the extreme as a fundamental social necessity.” Perhaps acknowledging the globalizing forces at work by the end of the nineteenth century, Trueblood envisioned federation as a political form that would eventually embrace humankind as a whole.
There was only one human race, as demonstrated by the fact that “the human body, of black or white, of red or yellow, is the same structure, in purpose and in needs the world over.”
Trueblood discussed the world beyond the West, although Europe seemed to set the norm or standard. He argued that states like Japan, under Western influence, had turned their “thoughts and their revenues to the creation of armies and fleets “rather than to the development of the arts of civil life.” Concerned about conflict in Asia, he worried that Japan and China were not
“climb[ing] to the war-level,” rather they were “descend[ing] to the war-level—of England, France, Germany and Russia.” He used the recent war between the U.S. and Spain in 1898 to point out the error of persisting in a policy of military and naval expansion. Sooner rather than later, the European world would need this “over-state”—or international government—to take “international law out of the chaotic and reproachful state…and bring it up to something like the level of municipal law in the civilized nations.” This would facilitate the relaxation of tensions before a disastrous “great war, or a series of great wars,” the terrible costs of which would inevitably lead to a uniting of nations to “never again permit militarism to take root and grow.” Trueblood favored arbitration as well as federation; rather than “cool and heartless,” it appealed to the “better instincts of people” as a means to realize “the true interests of the nations in their
relation to one another.”
Trueblood’s treatise is not without contradictions. While embracing the cosmopolitan ideal of one humanity and one race, he only offers the United States of Europe as a concrete embodiment of federation. Furthermore, he describes this federation in explicitly Christian terms as rooted in
“divinely ordained social processes.” While he holds out the possibility of federations uniting Asia or Africa, an interesting idea in itself, this is predicated on a transformation in which Asian and
African states were “renewed at last by Christian civilization.” One might ask if the societies of either continent became Christian or were reformed along its lines, what would be the reason for establishing separate federations for Asia and Africa unless cultural, racial, religious, or other differences meant that the world would continue to encompass multiple civilizations instead of a single universal (Western Christian?) civilization?
By 1899, Trueblood was leaning to a cosmopolitan rather than strictly Eurocentric view of the federation of the world. Thus, the advocates of the old international, transatlantic peace movements were beginning to take notice of the wider world and new powers like Japan. This reorientation was even more pronounced among the Anglo-American missionaries living and working in Japan. They came with the mission of saving and ‘civilizing’ the country, but instead became advocates of peace and understanding between Japan and the U.S. In the course of this shift, they were influenced by, as well as changed, by their engagement in Japan and with the Japanese. The result was collaboration in the making of a transpacific peace movement.
3 THE MAKING OF A TRANSPACIFIC PEACE MOVEMENT: ANGLO-AMERICAN
PEACE MISSIONARIES IN JAPAN
3.1 Introduction
The arrival of the Presbyterian medical missionary Dr. James Curtis Hepburn, M.D., LL.D.
in 1859 inaugurated an ambitious missionary movement in Japan. The Society of Friends, or Quakers, joined the missionaries from both Europe and America in 1874 and contributed to the effort to bring “civilization and progress” as well as the Christian faith to Japan.
American missionaries sought to advance a peace movement in Japan, and viewed Japanese conversion to Christianity as being instrumental to advancing peace ideals, and in this respect, there are parallels and contrasts that can be drawn from considering Jon Thares Davidann’s seminal work A World in Crisis and Progress: The American YMCA in Japan, 1890- 1930. As Davidann chronicles, missionary’s linked Protestantism and “nationalism” setting themselves up as the “chosen people” selected to bring Japan into the covenant of God.69 As Davidann observes, missionaries thought they had best intentions, but not all missionaries were well-intentioned.70 The American YMCA missionaries’ identity was tied to its conviction that an acceptance of the Christian faith could only be accomplished by understanding it the ‘western way.’ Davidann writes about this sense of “religious imperialism.” It was the tendency of Americans to want to dominate in their conversions, making conversion more about hegemony than the acceptance of a Christian faith. Hegemony, though not the objective, was the unintended consequence of their brand of religious exceptionalism, and they were caught up in “issues and problems that supported cultural imperialism.” Unwittingly, Orientalist attitudes influenced foreign mission ideals that were shaped by ideas of hegemony. However, he argues, “the fierce independence of Japanese Christians and their freedom of thought and action in the face of American attempts to maintain control of the YMCA there” did not, in the end, result in American hegemony over Japanese Christians. Progress met with crisis when the American missionary clashed with the Japanese who felt the expansion of Christianity into the greater regions of Japan could only be accomplished by the Japanese taking control for themselves. Thus, both countries sought to “impose their version of Christianity” on others.
This chapter is divided into three sections chronicling the initiatives of three missionaries— the British Quaker George Braithwaite, the American Congregationalist John Hyde DeForest, and the American Quaker Gilbert Bowles—were the foreign animators of a Japanese peace movement that began to take shape in 1889. This peace work brought a transpacific perspective to the worldwide peace movement in the early twentieth century. The first section on Braithwaite, at first glance, appears underdeveloped. A shortage of English language material notwithstanding, an extensive narrative of his involvement, while critically important to the broader discourse, is beyond the scope of this paper on U.S.-Japanese citizen diplomacy between missionary peace workers in Japan and America. The purpose for his inclusion is to foreground the later efforts of DeForest and Bowles. If Braithwaite’s letters are any indication, he is the father of the peace movement in Japan, and as such he deserves recognition and introduction.
DeForest and Bowles were key links between Japanese and American pacifists and, beyond the peace societies, the governments and people of Japan and the U.S. and occurring at a time when the Meiji project of combining Western ways with Eastern tradition met an anxious and arrogant anti-Asian attitude in the U.S. of the Gilded age and Progressive era. They brought different qualities to their work. DeForest, by immersing himself in the language and culture of Japan, encouraged Japanese efforts to chart their own Christian course and set an example to other missionaries to break with “extraterritorial Christianity.” Bowles, by collaborating with Japanese pacifists to build a Japanese peace movement, likewise struggled with what I refer to as “peace extraterritoriality,” a tendency for American and European peace advocates to control or direct the new peace movement in Japan.
3.2 Japan in the Pages of the Advocate of Peace
Long before American missionaries began to promote peace and understanding between
Japan and the U.S. after the turn of the twentieth century, the APS’s Advocate of Peace occasionally brought Japan and Asia more generally to its readers’ attention. The Advocate of
Peace was the country’s “preeminent peace periodical” for a century. First published as the Friend of Peace in 1815 and undergoing three title changes over the next twenty years, it got on a sound footing in 1837. This re-launch “signaled the revitalization of activism” that would sustain it for
many decades.
We can detect an alternative to Akira Iriye’s “pacific estrangement” and Walter LaFeber’s “clash” in this coverage, admittedly coming from a perspective critical of bellicose foreign policy.77 To be sure, coverage was intermittent. Commodore Perry’s 1854 “opening” of Japan did not elicit comment. The topic of Asia in general and Japan was a means initially to scold arrogant and war-like Western Christians who, in their encounters with other peoples and civilizations, replaced love with arrogance and peace with violence and consequently made few converts to their faith among the “pagans.” Such was the essence of a statement by the London Peace Society published in the Advocate of Peace in 1838. The Advocate of Peace made a similar appeal in 1850. The matter of “vast importance to the whole human race, second only to that of the world’s conversion,” concerned prejudice toward “other” nations and foreign people’s rejection to the “religion of peace.” It offered the words of a Chinese emperor who decades earlier expressed his general disdain for Christians addressing Japan’s prohibition of Christians from setting foot on its shores—“Christians whiten the soil with human bones”—the AOP reminding readers that Americans too had failed in its efforts to Christianize the “aborigines” as a result of the wrongs committed by “nominal” Christians.
In 1864, the Advocate of Peace provided a history of the encounter between Japanese and Europeans as background to its account of a British naval bombardment of Kagoshima in retaliation for the murder of a British diplomat—“an adventurer for gain” who when he arrived on Japanese shores, “insolently trampled [underfoot] the laws of Japan.” At the same time, the journal made no mention of the 1858 Harris Treaty (unequal treaty) signed between the U.S. and
Japan. Rather it asserted the “war policy of Christendom” had alienated potential converts. In the sixteenth century, the Japanese had received Portuguese missionaries with “open arms” and showing not the “slightest opposition” to foreign religions or trade. Japan on the verge of
“becoming a professedly Christian nation,” but “pride, avarice, and overbearing arrogance of the priests” and “extensive political intrigues” threatened to disregard the sovereignty of the ruling sovereign and place the country “under the supremacy of the Pope.” In moving to restore order, the authorities expelled the Portuguese and proclaimed that “so long as the sun shall warm the earth, let no Christian be so bold as to come to Japan.” Far from blaming the “pagans” for closing Japan, the journal blamed “so-called Christians” for upending a country that for centuries found “peace and union” among them. Nevertheless, as springing from Europe, Americans were not blameless; “Europeans in every part of the world too often carry with them a contemptuous dislike of the aboriginal natives and demean themselves with [their] air of [being] a superior and conquering race.” Advocates within the organization were not all anti-expansionist, but they were anti-imperialist and their position was implicated when they argued that good Christians everywhere needed to unlearn their “pride of conquest and arrogant assumption of superiority of race” in order to reflect a genuine interest of leading by example the spirit and actions of the religion of Jesus Christ. At a time when regime change in Japan led to the Meiji Restoration (1868), the Advocate of Peace reiterated these points. The greatest hindrance to the spread of
Christianity remained the decidedly “unchristian” behaviors and actions of the Christians. For the APS, arbitration rather than war was the only way for Christians to conduct themselves.
The Advocate of Peace subsequently showed considerable interest in treaty-making between Japan and the U.S. and other Western powers, especially revisions that recognized
Japanese sovereignty and equality in the state system. The situation was favorable to peace. According to LaFeber and Iriye, the focus on internal economic and infrastructural development in both Japan and the U.S. in the last decades of the nineteenth century limited friction between the two countries in the Pacific world, even as the Japanese sought to “copy—not become subject to—the West.”85 In 1871-1873, the Japanese government sent officials, scholars, and students to the United States and Europe. Known as the Iwakara Mission, this Japanese diplomatic mission was heralded in the Advocate of Peace. The journal reported in 1872 of its enthusiasm that Japan in “commercial intercourse, by the education of a number of children of its ruling families in this country, and by the liberal character of the Mikado—has become impregnated with many modern
[ideas]…the Japanese themselves are discussing the prospective treaties in an intelligent and candid way.” The Japanese had embraced the path of progress.
As part of its coverage of the Iwakara mission tour of the U.S., the Advocate of Peace celebrated a banquet for Americans and Japanese in Boston, proclaiming a new day in international relations had arrived when sister nations would recognize that its own honor and prosperity was hampered by efforts that sought to “injure or obstruct” the advancement of any other member of the “family of nations.”87 The journal predictably asserted its confidence that before another Christmas passed, Japan would “be brought entirely into the family of civilized nations so as far as its dealings with foreign countries are concerned.” The banquet hailed as a success illustrated the foundation of lasting friendship between two great nations. By American and Japanese sharing a platform the “ancient symbol of separation” would no longer obstruct the realization of a universal brotherhood among men. Japan’s progress as among the civilized nations through the “the plentitude of physical and intellectual vigor” revealed she move out from the shadow of “gray antiquity” into promise and progress. The Japanese diplomatic mission to the U.S. showed the
“reciprocal response to the friendly advances ... of our own government.” The Japanese diplomat
K. Soogiwoora certainly expressed admiration and gratitude in his banquet remarks, thanking the
U.S. for opening its shores to the “external world” and “taking steps to elevate and instruct our people when otherwise we might have remained in ignorance of the actual condition of the world we live in.” However, his carefully chosen words describing Japan as “old in years, [but] now merging with all the freshness and ardor of youth,” suggest a modern blending of Western and Eastern ways that could sustain rather than weaken Japanese culture and identity.91 Japan was not emerging from gray antiquity, rather it was merging its Eastern traditions with the conventions of western society—deciding its own path.
Two decades later, the Advocate of Peace, now edited by the new APS secretary Benjamin F. Trueblood, in his role as sole editor of the journal, began to respond to friction between Japan and the U.S. The Americans and the Japanese began to run up against each other as the two countries sought to expand in economic and strategic terms in East Asia. The Sino-Japanese War in 1894-95 drew criticism of the Advocate of Peace of both Japan and China for their moves into Korea.93
Treating war as a pointless exercise of military power, the journal condemned the hostilities. It claimed that when President Grant had traveled to the East in 1879, he had successfully intervened and averted war between the two countries, but this did little to ease tensions, according to the journal, as the two nations seemed “sorry they did not fight at that time.”94 From the Advocate of Peace’s point of view, the two empires “have entirely lost their selfcontrol…to unreasoning hatred and passion.” 95 Japan, “progressive and restless…her material progress not being accompanied by a corresponding moral and religious development… has become ambitious to show her hand beyond her island domain.”96 But the journal seemed to point the finger back on the West for establishing the example. Despite Japan and China’s claims to be “peacefully disposed” and of possessing a “number of admirable qualities,” it painted a graphic portrayal of blame arguing that it was any wonder they should “blow each other’s brains out and drown each other as fast as possible.”97 British and American missionaries in Japan had given minimal schooling in peace methods, leaving Japan to take their cue from the military and naval build-ups of “professedly Christianized nations of the West.” China and Japan were not following their “heathen instincts” but rather the Christian example.98
Peace for the last quarter century [1892 to 1915]. A record of his work is there, but it is almost all impersonally recorded. His articles and editorials were…living, growing, unfolding messages, unified, homogenous, and spontaneous.” Charles E. Beals, “Benjamin F. Trueblood: Prophet of Peace, 1847-1916,” Advocate of Peace, 78, no. 11 (1916): 326-329.
93 “Events of the Month,” Advocate of Peace, 56, no. 7 (1894): 161.
94 “The War in Corea,” Advocate of Peace, 56, no. 9 (1894): 204. 95 Ibid.
96 Ibid.
97 Ibid.
98 Ibid.
At the same time, the journal expressed sympathy with Japan on other issues. Unequal treaties imposed on Japan by the U.S. and other powers affected questions of trade and migration between the two countries. While Japanese travelers, sojourners, and settlers were not subject to anything like the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, the racialized American law of white citizenship and naturalization developed in the 1790s and modified after the Civil War to include African
Americans prevented Japanese immigrants from becoming naturalized U.S. citizens. In 1894, an Trueblood’s editorial rendered a blistering attack on a court decision confirming the ineligibility of Japanese subjects for citizenship. He argued that the decision was legal but not legitimate. It was a “shame to our professions of freedom and doctrine of equal rights that a cultivated Japanese, or Chinaman, who has lived in this country fifteen years and is in every way capable of exercising intelligently the rights of a citizen should be barred of the privilege simple because his is not
‘white’ or ’black!’”
The articles that appeared in the pages of the Advocate of Peace would have had an impact on the missionary peace advocates who were members of organized societies in American and Europe. Among them, George Braithwaite, Gilbert Bowles, and John Hyde DeForest, sought to raise peace consciousness as part of their work, but anti-Japanese attitudes and agitation in the U.S. that began in earnest in the first years of the twentieth century did not help them. Not surprisingly, missionaries and peace advocates in both America and Japan feared the consequences of war between China and Japan would “inevitably embarrass and retard the progress of all Christian Work.” The Russo-Japanese War of 1904-05, which saw an Asian state militarily defeat a European state for the first time in modern history, would only raise the stakes higher for those working for peace and understanding between the U.S. and Japan.
3.3 Japan Peace Advocacy before the Sino-Japanese War
The early peace movement in Japan was led almost exclusively by the Society of Friends.
Led by Quaker missionaries who began arriving in Japan from Britain and America in the 1880’s they began to engage with Japanese Christians about forming a peace society in 1889. While not all peace advocates were Quakers, all Quakers were advocates for peace. Even as the peace movement became more diverse in membership and views, the Quakers remained a significant force within pacifism. The Quakers were one of the peace churches that emerged from the Protestant Reformation and whose unconditional pacifism challenged Catholic notions of “just war.” The Quakers held that each believer could go directly to God in prayer to receive divine guidance and act according to one’s conscience regarding matters like war. This was part of what
Quaker missionaries brought with them when they headed to Japan.
The British Quaker missionary George Braithwaite is important to this narrative on U.S.Japan relations in the peace movement because of his role as being the first to assist in the organization of Japan’s first peace society. At the same time, he had help from other American Quakers and Japanese Friends. In this respect, the following pages are not meant to give an exhaustive account of Braithwaite’s history, but rather to give a background of the movement prior to the Sino-Japanese War.
Braithwaite arrived in Japan in 1886 and his letters reveal not only his invitation to William Jones, the President of the London Peace Society, to come to Japan to promote the cause of peace, but also his work with Japanese allies. One of these was Kitamura Tōkoku whom Braithwaite described as quite interested in a peace society in Japan. Peace advocacy between Japanese and Western collaborators involved cultural translation. Religious studies scholar Robert Kisala situates Japanese pacifism within Japanese culture: The Japanese “pacifist” seeks a “refined moral state of being,” with the concept of peace understood in terms of “moral self-cultivation.” Pacifism can only be accomplished through the “internal change of heart of each individual human being.” The Japanese term Heiwashugi, while not a direct translation for “pacifism” or “pacifist,” is often used to express a rejection of force rather than an absolute denunciation of its use. Thus
Kitamura may have decided to work within the Quaker community without necessarily replacing Japanese beliefs about peace and pacifism with Quaker notions. When Jones—already on a world tour to promote peace, at the time campaigning in China—came to Japan, he delivered a sermon that left an indelible mark on Kitamura. Braithwaite worked with Kitamura to form a local peace society; the establishment of a national society followed shortly. Kitamura and his friend Katō Kazuharu [also Kato Manji] announced this new peace society in the Kirisutokyō Shimbun [Christian News] on 29 November 1889:
William Jones, a member of the British Peace Society came to Japan and made speeches on the goals of his organization…Since then, there have emerged in Tokyo volunteers who are endeavoring to reach the same goals. Thus, we have decided to establish a society and appeal to those of like mind to join us.
They called the society Nihon heiwa-kai. It was a joint endeavor between Japanese Christians and foreign Friends in Japan. Braithwaite served as its first secretary.
Braithwaite was hopeful in the longer run that the “Japanese [who] have been so terribly
fond of fighting in the past…[will] learn the beauty and glow of Peace.” Within a few months his other responsibilities obliged him to resign the secretaryship to focus on his work traveling throughout Japan as Bible Colporteur. The Friends missionary board in Philadelphia had sent seed money for the journal, but the “slow moving” Japanese and Braithwaite’s inability to get them
“stirred up” to begin publication was discouraging. He left the peace society in the hands of Joseph Cosand and the journal “almost entirely in the hands of the Japanese,” writing in 1893 that it would be best to let it die a “natural death” because the Japanese were more interested in
“temperance and social purity” than in peace. Even though Braithwaite was disheartened, Kitamura and Kato carried on the publication of the magazine. As editor, Kitamura assumed responsibility for its content. In one of the earliest issues, 15 March 1892, Heiwa proclaimed that
“Peace is our ultimate ideal…We believe it our responsibility to become animators of [world-wide peace movements] and to stir up conscientious people throughout the world.” In its first year, it produced twelve issues. Kitamura’s sense of purpose is clear. While the word “peace” is still “novel…even more so to non-Christian population,” he believed that “to establish ‘Peace’ must be our most fundamental and lofty aspiration.” While Kitamura’s pacifist thought had “strong Christian overtones,” we can see also the influences of Buddhism and Confucianism. He did not believe the Japanese needed to be “so narrow or exclusive…Why don’t we joyfully ally with
Buddha or Confucius or anybody who preached morality and esteemed conscience?” He made a comparison to Christ in his assertion that the Buddha showed “profound compassion” for an “injured ant” and asked, in relation to Buddha, Confucius, and Christ, “which one didn’t prohibit men from fighting and destroying one another?” Although Kitamura drew inspiration from his friendship with Braithwaite, he embraced pacifism whose sources were broader than Christian religion.
Unfortunately, Kitamura’s suicide and the outbreak of the Sino-Japanese War in 1894 struck severe blows to Japan’s fledgling peace movement. The war marked a turn away from the initial interest in pacifism and the beginning of the end for the Nihon heiwa-kai. Nevertheless, Braithwaite felt encouraged by the curious fact that the Japanese authorities permitted the circulation of scriptures to soldiers and sailors, the government and the military doing “everything in their power to facilitate its distribution.” In his estimation, this circulation stemmed from the belief that the “motives for the atrocities which the Chinese have committed…[were] found in the weakness of the Chinese philosophy” and from the “exemplary conduct” of patriotic Japanese Christian soldiers.
The war caused missionary and peace workers to question their future in Japan. Many Quaker mission houses closed. The Japanese did not seem able to reconcile Quaker principles and nationalist identity. Gurney Binford, an American Quaker missionary working with Braithwaite, took a broad view of the war, believing it was Japan’s desire to “punish the Chinese for their unjust disrespect for Japan’s rights in international relations” who thus deemed the conflict a “righteous war.” In his eyes, Japanese Christians were not yet able to think through the implications of
Quaker principles. Given the circumstances, Binford and other missionaries passed a resolution that proposed Japanese members should be free to support the government in the prosecution of war. By turning in their “written resignation from membership in the meeting, the Americans gave the Japanese autonomy to act in accordance with their own convictions, and leave them as missionaries, and in a way guests in the nation, free from the responsibility for the decision of the meeting.” Even though Binford and the other young members struggled over the wisdom of this decision, they recognized that in the end it worked to their benefit aiding them in “getting onto a better base” for the establishment of the Friends meetings. Inviting former Japanese members, they created Dendo Iinkai (Friends Mission Committee) a new committee for Friends in Japan.116 Showing an awareness of cultural difference within the worldwide Society of Friends, the
Quakers did not judge the Japanese, but recognized instead their right to chart their own course. Although their own beliefs did not allow for any exception for a supposedly “just war,” they did not condemn the Japanese for supporting their country’s side in the war.
Indeed, the Japanese members of Nihon heiwa-kai took part in public collections of money to pay for the war. Although unclear what if any role he may have played in this change, Braithwaite later wrote home of his joy when the Japanese changed their plan and applied the funds to care for the sick and wounded and the families of soldiers. At the same time, the war undoubtedly undermined the peace movement. While the Nihon heiwa-kai boasted a membership of three hundred in 1894, it lost all but a few within the next year. Braithwaite reached out to former members, but all of them declined to return. The eventual revival of the peace movement in Japan would require more favorable circumstances, not just in the country but in the wider transpacific space.
3.4 John Hyde DeForest – From Student of Japan to Advocate of Peace with Japan
Born on a small farm in Westbrook, Connecticut on 25 June 1844, John Kinne Hyde was the fifth of eight children in the family of Congregationalist pastor Albert Hyde and Martha Sackett. Originally intending to teach at the Phillips Academy, he instead enlisted for service in the Civil War. He confided to his Aunt White that his contact with danger, his resolution to stand against temptations within the camp, and his quiet meditation while on “picket duty” strengthened his growing sense of conviction about his call to the Christian ministry and of becoming a missionary. Honorably discharged from service in 1863, he received a scholarship from the DeForest Fund to attend Yale Divinity School. A condition of the award required recipients to take the name of DeForest. With the consent of his parents, he legally changed his name to John Hyde DeForest upon ordination and conference of his degree from Yale in 1871. The death of his first wife and child the following year resulted in a “very critical spiritual crisis.” DeForest struck down with a recurrence of his malarial fever, escaped to Maine. The weeks he spent in seclusion “tramping and trouting in the woods… brought balm to his sorrow and renewed the iron of courage in his blood.” The renewal of his faith and love of God led to a deep seeded conviction that he was meant to carry his mission for Christ “outside our Gospel ridden country.” After discussing this belief with his friend and professor from Yale, he was advised to “go to a people that has a history.” With that instruction, the American Board appointed him and his new wife to its new mission initiatives in Japan. In November 1874, on the steamship Colorado, DeForest and his fellow passenger Joseph Hardy Neesima (aka Niijima Jō), the future founder of Dōshisha University, struck out for Japan.
His first impression on reaching Japan was of a people with a “most twisted language,” and his subsequent visit to the Asakusa Temple in Edo (Tokyo) offered no better impression. He thought their way of giving tribute to the god quite inexplicable, although he sensed a strange beauty in the prayer practices he observed. Despite the alien experiences, DeForest soon felt an affinity with Japan and found the Japanese a “marvelously polite people.” He wrote of Japan’s national progress, observing that “one only must see how united, quiet, safe the country now is: the sword laid aside, manufactures encouraged, schools multiplied, education exalted and persecution abandoned; and he will see the word ‘progressive’ belongs to Japan as it does to no
other nation on earth.” The spirit of progress has “led her to introduce steamboats, railroads, telegraphs…because she desires to accept as rapidly as practicable the customs and the laws, as well as the wonderful inventions of the most civilized nations” of the western world. Indeed, he was captivated by much of what he saw, the beauty of Japan’s hills and valleys, the deep green of its fields, and the “deep soulful tone of the temple bells,” leading him to urge his friends back home to “never think of us as ‘poor missionaries’—the land is beautiful, a lovely land.” Over the years, a mutual admiration and respect developed between DeForest and the people with whom he grew to identify so closely; his Japanese friends came to view him as a native of Japan like themselves. There was an organic evolution in his attitudes to the Japanese, and an increasing naturalness about his “sympathy” in discerning the good rather than flawed qualities of those around him.
By 1876, after more than two years living in Japan, DeForest recognized two fundamental processes as being necessary before full work of a missionary could be entered upon: acclimation and learning the language. His conversation with his Japanese language teacher about the
Christian doctrine of God’s creation of humankind served as a humble lesson. The elder told him for the Japanese to understand this concept DeForest first needed to understand the way of Japanese thought and reframe his approach by asking his pupils how it is, that if God did not make all of humankind, “some rich merchants never have any children, while the poor farmer who hates them has any number of them; and then again, some people have only girls, and if they try with all their might they can’t make a boy.” DeForest experienced a paradigm shift and perhaps for the first time understood what it meant when western ways met eastern tradition. It caused him to approach his call to mission much differently. To his family and colleagues with the American
Board that year, he wrote, “You cannot run before you can walk…the whole work of the mission…does not depend at all on any more feverish efforts, but on a thorough study of the language…I wish to be regarded hereafter as a student rather than as a missionary.” He put off preaching his first sermon and instead devoted himself for the next four years to studying Japanese language and culture.
This new approach required that he become in essence a translator for Japanese Christianity. He now realized that the Japanese could not understand Christianity from a western perspective because they had not experienced western culture and learned its language. When Japanese pastors came to DeForest for help, he was empathetic. For example, a Japanese pastor was only able to collect a paltry twenty-eight cents collection and could not attend a meeting because he “should have no face, only shame.” Even though it was in his heart to give him money, doing so would mean the church operated on a “falsehood.” Instead, demonstrating a deep appreciation for Japanese culture, DeForest told the Japanese Christian to take it to the congregation and “when they see your shame, they too will feel it.” The next day the happy pastor returned with four dollars. DeForest, telling the man that because “reputation was no longer at stake,” added three dollars.
DeForest had come to understand that an empathetic approach was the only method by which the Japanese would embrace Christianity. Their hearts could only by “won” by love. He acknowledged his error in being extremely critical of the Japanese and seeing “very little good in them.” Most foreigners focused on “irritating things,” but on reflection DeForest came to see himself as a stranger in a strange land whose irritability was the result of his own mind’s inability to process so many new cultural values and experiences in such a limited amount of time. By taking the time to learn the nuances of Japanese language and culture, DeForest developed an appreciation and respect for the Japanese that perhaps few other missionaries acquired.
DeForest’s open approach was controversial among missionaries and with the mission board in America. He pushed back against what he called “religious extraterritoriality,” the notion that American or European missionaries should dictate the meaning and practice of Christianity in
Japan:
We are not content with the wretchedly slow manner in which individuals are converted or brought into the churches. We want to see a religious movement that shall sweep over the nation, commanding the respect and willing sacrifices of tens of thousands, until the whole people feel the new spiritual fire. It is impossible on the old lines…I do not think the day for missionaries in Japan has gone by; but unless their methods are rapidly changing to fit a nation that stands among the few foremost nations of the earth, their day is rapidly going by…It is now a question of extraterritoriality in mission methods, and the possibility of abolishing it.134
This was a progressive vision for a modern Christianity in Japan, and DeForest encouraged
Japanese independence. He came to this realization on one of his sabbatical leaves to America.
There he met a member of the Brahmo Samaj, a Hindu reform society, at a speaking engagement. They bonded and later the Indian wrote to DeForest a note wishing him continued success in Japan but suggesting an “undenominational” conception of religion in which faith could be found inside and outside all denominations.
He put this new philosophy to practice when he returned to Japan, advising a Christian convert who asked about the difference between Protestant and Catholic noting there were “differences in Christian nations, but Japan ought not to inherit them, rather should be one from the start, as Christ urged…all Christians should be one.” He took this message to his fellow American missionaries, arguing that “we foreigners are only the tail of the comet” following wherever the “nucleus leads.” Forcing a “denomination” on the Japanese Christian would be to “excite suspicion.” In an open letter to professor Masakazu Toyoma of the Imperial University of Tokyo in the Japan Daily Mail, DeForest criticized missionary endeavors that stir prejudice and reiterated his belief that every non-Christian land had the “right to say freely how they would like to have missionaries work.” Wise people did not “waste their strength in working on lines that create prejudice against themselves or their religion.” DeForest resisted this pressure, and
pushed back against it.
This marked the beginning of DeForest’s public advocacy on behalf of the Japanese people and against rising anti-Japanese sentiment in the U.S. There is no indication that he had any interest in peace advocacy before he met Benjamin F. Trueblood of the American Peace Society and fellow Quaker missionary and peace advocate Gilbert Bowles. But when he decided to take a stand against discrimination and for equality, his outspokenness won him respect and admiration not only among his missionary and peace advocate colleagues in America, but of Japan and the Japanese people as well. In 1908, the Japanese government awarded DeForest the Fourth Order of the Rising Sun, the highest civilian honor given to a foreigner, and in June the same year, he received official recognition with the APS as one of its vice presidents. These acknowledgements were a sign that the prospects of the transpacific peace movement were improving.
3.5 Gilbert Bowles and the Building of Peace Societies in Japan after the Russo-Japanese War.
Born in 1873 and raised in rural Kansas, Quaker Gilbert Bowles grew up with a “reverence for God and man.” He attended Northbranch Friends Academy and Penn College, a Quaker institution in Oskaloosa, Iowa. It was while at Northbranch Academy that he first began to hear of a missionary movement through Minnie M. Pickett, a friend who was teaching at Tokyo Friends Girls’ School, established in 1887, and would later become his wife. Reinforcing his interest in mission work was his familiarity with the mission work of Joseph and Sarah Ann Cosand of the Philadelphia Friends. They were among the first Quaker missionaries to travel to Japan in the late nineteenth century. Through reading their meeting letters, hearing their furlough reports, and talking with them, the Cosands helped Bowles recognize his call to missionary work.143 Bowles’s interest in the peace cause began around the same time. His parents taught him a reverence for
“God and man,” but while at college he began to hear various peace messages. Delivered by none other than Benjamin F. Trueblood, the former president of Penn College who had recently become the secretary of the American Peace Society, stirred his heart when he gave a lecture on “The Military Situation in Europe” at Northbranch Academy. In 1898, by this time a student of Penn
College himself, gave the valedictory address, only this time he shared the stage with Trueblood who had come to Penn to give the baccalaureate address.
In the fall of 1901, Bowles, his wife, and their newborn son made the trip from San
Francisco to Japan to begin their life’s work as missionaries and advocates for peace. In later years, Bowles credited his friendship with Trueblood and that “more than to any other single influence, I owe the continued reading of the Advocate of Peace …to take the initiative in the organization of a peace movement in Japan.” He was destined to play several key roles in this movement. He served on the board of directors of the Japan Peace Society (JPS), organized in 1906, as the secretary of the American Peace Society of Japan (APSJ), organized in 1910, and as the editor of the joint publications of the JPS and APSJ. He was wholly committed to peace advocacy for forty years, from the time he began this work in 1904 until he retired to Hawaii in 1941. It all began when, in full consultation with the APS, Bowles helped organize the Council of the Friends of Peace and Arbitration in Japan during the final months of the Russo-Japanese War in 1905.146 This initial informal organization consisted of a small group of American and British missionaries, chaired by the Canadian Methodist missionary Benjamin Chappell. Japanese embitterment following the peace negotiations mediated by American President Theodore
Roosevelt and a subsequent visit by American statesman William Jennings Bryan’s visit to Japan, turned “thoughts of the people to peace and world cooperation.”
The birth of the JPS came when, in collaboration with Japanese friends, Bowles obtained the signatures of thirty-six supporters—prominent Japanese Christian leaders—for a statement declaring, “the time has come for the formation in Japan of a peace organization, the undersigned hereby express their purpose to be present at a group conference to be held…to consider the organization of a peace and arbitration society suited to the needs of the times.” All the original signatories were Christians and all but three were Japanese nationals. Only two of the men whom
Bowles approached declined, both Japanese. One of these was Dr. K. Ibuka, President of Meiji Gakuin (Presbyterian College and Seminary, Tokyo), who somewhat ironically, attended and chaired the meeting. The other was Uchimura Kanzō. known as one “who did not cooperate with others,” he was nevertheless a noted militant Christian pacifist. Bowles included a declaration of the Executive Committee, written in Japanese, recognizing “the blessing and beauty of peace” and its desire to see the “principles of peace and arbitration made known more widely.” Bowles as Secretary of the Council had spent “ten days . . . interviewing reliable Christian men,” to whom
“the spirit of the movement was carefully and personally explained.”
Bowles then wrote to Trueblood, urging him to appeal for funds to help support a “most extraordinary opening for the planting and strong organization of the peace movement among the Japanese.” The Advocate of Peace was one of the few journals to report the inauguration of the
Japan Peace Society in Tokyo on 31 May 1906, which was internationally recognized as “Peace Day.” Though it is unclear if this was a part of any formal governmental policy, Bowles tells readers the date was chosen to commemorate the First Hague Peace Conference in 1899, and the event in Japan selected as the ideal moment for Japan to announce its formal commitment to peace and friendship. Most Americans outside the ranks of the APS never heard about Japan’s diplomatic initiatives. Rather, Americans were focused on the immigration crisis dominating the headlines of the popular press at the time.
As millions of people came across the Atlantic and, in much smaller numbers, the Pacific to settle in the U.S. in the early twentieth century, immigration became an increasingly contentious issue in politics. For white Americans, especially on the Pacific coast, focusing on Asian immigrants was easy. An anti-Asian exclusion movement had been active since the 1870s and had succeeded in pushing through the Chinese Exclusion Act at the federal level in 1882. Soon after the stunning victory of Japan over Russia in 1905, a new opportunity to target Japanese immigrants arose with the San Francisco earthquake of 1906. The temblor and fire destroyed many of the city’s schools. The anti-Asian exclusionists demanded the segregation of the public schools. The controversy not only alarmed Asian residents, Asian American citizens, and their allies, but also disturbed the Japanese government, which was concerned for the security and dignity of Japanese subjects abroad. One such ally, Reverend Charles Fletcher Dole, railed in the pages of the Advocate of Peace against the “bogy of a ‘Yellow Terror’” and suggested that Japan had joined the “civilized powers.” He argued that the Japanese who had come to America and attended American colleges never once demonstrated “any inclination of hostility toward the people of the
United States.” In fact, he argued the Japanese were unlikely to “retrace their steps to barbarism and to set forth on a crusade to conquer the world,” but had the desire and ability to adapt to modern conditions in every aspect.
The convergence of several events could either worsen or ease U.S.-Japan relations in 1906. First, a large earthquake struck Meishan Taiwan, which had been incorporated into the
Japanese empire since 1895. The American Red Cross sent $250,000 to assist relief efforts. Amid environmental tragedy, adverse conditions threated famine for millions in the Japanese home islands. Confounding issues an equally tragic earthquake struck along the Pacific coast of San Francisco. It was reported that Japanese aid sent to help the victims of the San Francisco quake was being withheld from Japanese residents of the city. For American peace advocates, this convergence created an opportunity for a gesture of peace from the U.S. government. In an open letter, Reverend Dole urged President Roosevelt to work with Congress to “pass a self-denying ordinance in the name of humanity.” Specifically, Dole wanted the government to take money appropriated for a new American warship and donate it instead to help people in distress in Japan.
He expressed the conviction that “nothing short of rank injustice and abuse on our part” would ever induce Japan to go to war against America and more should be done to strengthen ties between the two countries.
While the Advocate of Peace did not record a positive response from the Roosevelt administration, it is significant that figures like Dole felt that an act of citizen diplomacy was worthwhile. Likewise, Bowles’s bid to call attention to Japan’s peace initiatives was met with silence in the American press. The idea of Japan as an economic competitor in Asia, a military and naval threat in the Pacific, and even a racial danger in North America, due to a relative handful of Japanese immigrants, was too inconvenient for politicians and public alike. Even if the APS’s reasoned views were respected in some educated circles interested in international affairs, the Advocate of Peace had a very limited circulation and its articles were not regularly reprinted in larger publications. Changing American opinion and policy would require a sustained effort.
3.6 Trueblood, Bowles, DeForest and Transpacific Peace Advocacy
With many matters unresolved in U.S.-Japan relations, from American fears over Japanese intentions in Asia to Japanese indignation over anti-Japanese exclusionism in the U.S., peace advocates continued to probe the possibilities for a rapprochement between the two countries. In November 1906, six months after the founding of the JPS, the noted Japanese Christian educator and JPS president Soroku Ebara expressed to Bowles and the APS his “hope that the present problems of the Japanese school children in San Francisco may be settled according to the principles of peace.” Not unlike his American counterparts, he seemed to believe the APS could use its influence to ease tensions. Ebara’s letter was not published until five months later, in March 1907. It is not clear what delayed publication, but when it appeared in the Advocate of Peace it was accompanied by assurances that the APS would do its best to “bring about, along pacific lines, a solution to the question raised by the San Francisco school authorities, such as will be just and at the same time strengthen the bonds of friendship” between the two nations. Following through on the APS’s promise, the Advocate of Peace regularly commented on the San Francisco school segregation crisis. In particular, it editorialized sorrowfully as well as critically about the American public’s inhumane treatment of the Japanese. The Japanese had “shown such extraordinary capacity of progress in nearly every modern line,” and “[w]hether justly or unjustly, [the American] national reputation for race prejudice has been strengthened.” The organ elucidated its concern about the global consequences of the antics of California’s white supremacists. The Advocate of Peace cautioned against making “pigment the criterion,” taking note of foreign press criticism of the antics of California’s white supremacists and anti-immigrant exclusionists, worried that Americans “will one day have to bear the consequences of [promoting] this intellectual inferiority.”
Although President Roosevelt had called for “full and frank equality” of Japanese immigrants in the U.S. and suggested the government might step in to protect them, the
Gentleman’s Agreement limiting further immigration negotiated between the U.S. and Japanese governments in 1907 discouraged both American and Japanese peace advocates. Hope turned to cynicism as the editorial in the Advocate of Peace criticized the “true purpose” of American’s exclusionary efforts and condemned the arrangement for branding “marks of inferiority” on Japanese immigrants.160 The stakes were high, far beyond the discrimination lowly immigrants faced. The arrangement threatened to cause irreparable harm to friendly relations between the U.S. and Japan, for it would only embolden the “war-howlers to seduce the nation further into the ways of militarism and naval expansion” of America.
In these new circumstances, DeForest, Bowles, and Trueblood served as key links in a transpacific peace advocacy network. With limited resources, they nevertheless attempted to counter anti-American feeling in Japan and even worse anti-Japanese feeling in the U.S. Thus, the Advocate of Peace gave a platform for Japanese pacifist perspectives. In 1907, for example, it published the open letter of Count Taisuke Itagaki submitted to the Second Hague Peace Conference which addressed anti-Japanese exclusion efforts in the U.S. and the way such action undercut world peace. Itagaki identified three causes for war: first, “taking possession of foreign land by force, for the purpose of territorial expansion”; second, “refusing other nationalities the privileges of commerce”; and third, “the exclusion of other races.” Despite his assurances of Japan’s genuine interest in securing peace, Itagaki’s speech did little to quell the talk of war when at least two of the potential causes of war were there for everyone to see in American policy. It will be remembered, of course, that in the Taft-Katsura Agreement of 1905 the U.S. and Japan reached an understanding that the U.S. would respect Japan’s takeover of Korea and Japan would respect the U.S. takeover of the Philippines.
While the full story of DeForest’s and Bowles’s peace work during these years is beyond the scope of this thesis, two fascinating episodes are worth recounting. One was DeForest’s very public bid in 1908 to challenge anti-Japanese agitation in the U.S. The other was Bowles’s behind-
the-scenes work in 1912 to sustain the new transpacific peace movement, an essentially intercultural or cosmopolitan effort that ran up against the inherited international assumptions held by Americans and Europeans active in the transatlantic peace movement.
DeForest was a citizen of the world. From his home base of Sendai, he tried to resist the rising tide of anti-Japanese prejudice in America by contributing articles to the Advocate of Peace. His letters to Trueblood frequently acknowledged his help in publicizing the cause.163 On furlough in 1908, DeForest came face to face with the vitriol he had only read about when he attended a function at the YMCA in Hartford and heard an address given by Captain Richmond Pearson (aka R. P.) Hobson, newly elected Congressman with the U. S. House of Representatives for the state of Alabama. It so enraged him that within days he penned an open letter to the Hartford Courant in rebuke to Hobson’s charges. He took exception to Dobson’s suggestion that the Japanese had inherited the “war habit for more than eight hundred years.” Having lived with the Japanese for more than thirty years, he stated definitively that “no other nation on earth could compare with Japan for the peace habit.” He pointed to the contrast between the American and Japanese national hymns, in which Japan’s was “absolutely without the war spirit.” Demonstrating his familiarity with Japanese culture, DeForest quoted Confucius as informing Japanese principles and the view that “nations as well as individuals settle their differences by appeals to right and justice.”168 He criticized Dobson for using the Christian platform to quote scripture aimed at poisoning the minds of the American people toward the Japanese. DeForest’s letter made such an impact that the Mayor of Hartford called a meeting well-attended by clergy from several different faith communities throughout the region. The meeting adopted resolutions assuring the
Meiji emperor and the Japanese people of their “profound respect for their courage, their enlightenment, and their progress.” The participants condemned the “widespread and systematic efforts…made by some journals and individuals to foment distrust and enmity” between the friendly nations.
Such interventions by American peace advocates took place in the context of a revived
Japanese peace movement. As Canadian peace advocate and Japanese educator Reverend Benjamin Chappell, on vacation in America at the time, informed the Advocate of Peace’s readers of the Japan and Oriental peace societies formed in Tokyo and Kyoto expanding its peace organizational efforts with its expressed purpose “to manifest to the West the peace-loving nature and ideals of the Japanese and to prevent war with the United States.” In 1907, President of Dōshisha University, Takashi Harada organized the Oriental Peace Society in Kyoto. Likewise, a branch of the Japan Peace Society organized in Osaka around the same time. In order to facilitate their efforts, all the while insuring the Japanese had dominion over their own organizations, Gilbert Bowles, in 1910, proposed a peace organization for American residents in Japan to facilitate a partnership of the two countries to work with each other, among other things, to deal with the issues stemming from anti-Japanese agitation on the Pacific Coast.172 This agitation showed no sign of abating, with a fresh initiative to pass legislation in California prohibiting land ownership by Japanese and other Asian farmers and merchants. The new American Peace Society of Japan (APSJ) made it clear it intended to cooperate with the JPS and, happily, Japanese peace advocates embraced the opportunity to work with the APSJ and the supportive foreign missionaries living in Japan.
A necessarily small organization, the APSJ lacked adequate financial resources to carry on an ambitious program of educating American opinion and changing American policy from the other side of the Pacific. One might think that such a project, amid the notable revival and growth of the Japanese peace movement, would excite sympathetic peace advocates in Europe as well as the U.S. But in a series of letters to Trueblood, Bowles told the frustrating story of his inability to obtain a grant from the newly-established Carnegie Endowment for International Peace that had been awarded to the APSJ a year earlier. Bowles was caught between Dr. Nicholas Murray Butler of the Carnegie Endowment (and President of Columbia University) and Dr. Charles Albert Gobat of the International Peace Bureau. Each referred Bowles to the other, baffling him in his attempt to claim the award. He was probably unaware of the tension surrounding Carnegie grants to the causes of peace and international arbitration at the time. Of interest to us is the sticking point that according to Gobat:
… is a misunderstanding that President Butler did direct yourself to the International Peace Bureau for financial assistance. It is true that the Bureau has from the Carnegie Endowment, an amount for the support of peace societies. The stipulation is as follows: ‘That amount shall be applied toward the maintenance of peace and arbitration societies in Europe.’ That amount is far to be sufficient for an effective support of the European peace movement. I take the liberty of advising you not to expect too much from the Carnegie
Endowment, the greater part of which is destined for other peace purposes as for societies.
Attempting a tone of reconciliation, Bowles asks Butler’s help to clarify the Carnegie Endowment’s terms writing that “the Bureau seems to be prevented by the wording of the conditions on which the money was received from aiding peace societies outside Europe. The thought is expressed that even though the Bureau were otherwise free to act, the needs of the European peace movement make this practically impossible.” While Bowles was hopeful that the inability to secure funds for an American society in Japan was a misunderstanding, he wanted to make clear the message of withholding funds conveyed. Copying in T. Miyaoka of the Japan society in the correspondence, he asserted to Butler his belief that it would be “most unfortunate” if the impression conveyed was that the International Peace Bureau was limited in its efforts to only those activities of American and European interests. He wrote of the “hard blow to thoughtful Japanese who had hoped to open educational arbitration campaign in Japan,” and the perception the Orient was not considered a “vital and essential” part of the international peace community.
It is easy to understand DeForest’s deep and abiding respect for Bowles, even though he was a relative newcomer to Japan. Before DeForest died in Japan in 1911, he wrote to Trueblood on two occasions asking to be removed from the list of vice presidents of the APS for which he had served for three years in order that Gilbert Bowles be given the recognition as he was the
“prime mover in the whole thing.” According to DeForest, Bowles, “a man who gives himself so generously [and] so Continuously and so successfully to the Peace Movement, [should] have the honors.” As far as he was concerned, Bowles was the man who brought the peace movement to Japan.
3.7 Conclusion
The experiences of Trueblood, Bowles, and DeForest—as well as other advocates not chronicled here—illuminate a transpacific peace movement originating in Meiji Japan that is little known in peace history. It arose in response to tensions between the expanding Japanese and
American empires and engaged peace advocates on both sides of the Pacific world. Unlike the YMCA missionaries studied by historian Jon Thares Davidann, the American missionary peace advocates were essentially anti-imperialist in outlook. While the YMCA missionaries that Davidann chronicles clashed with Japanese Christians, whose “fierce independence” led them to insist on their “freedom of thought and action in the face of American attempts to maintain control,” American peace advocates like Bowles and DeForest by and large celebrated Japanese
initiative and respected Japanese leadership of the movement. DeForest, by becoming a student of Japan, and Bowles, by becoming a friend of the Japanese, underwent a process of selftransformation in which they rejected the privileges of what they considered religious and peace extraterritoriality. Moreover, as partners in a transpacific peace movement linking Japan and the U.S., they refocused their efforts on challenging American racism and war-mongering. Their stories offer not only an alternative narrative to mainstream American missionary history in Japan but also a contrast to the familiar account of unchecked U.S.-Japan rivalry in the early twentieth century.
Historian Michael Auslin argues that among the many cross-cultural exchanges of modern times, “few have been as consequential and long-lasting as that between the United States and
Japan.” His approach complements Davidann’s model of East-West exchange, which
emphasizes the two-way nature of dialogue, “considering all sides, not as a monologue flowing in one direction from West to East.” Going beyond exchange as an informal or spontaneous process, Auslin highlights the “steady increase in the formalization of cultural relations, the growth of complex exchange organizations, and the delicate balancing of private versus public interests.” The interplay of the American Peace Society, the Japan Peace Society, and the American Peace Society of Japan is an example of this organized exchange. Shifting from Japan to the U.S., the next chapter sheds more light on the exchange at the heart of the emerging transpacific movement by chronicling the short but fascinating life and advocacy of Seichi
Emerson Ikemoto, a Japanese friend of Benjamin F. Trueblood and a member of the American Peace Society active in the U.S. at the height of U.S.-Japan tensions before the First World War.
4 SEICHI EMERSON IKEMOTO – TRANSPACIFIC ADVOCATE OF PEACE
AND UNDERSTANDING
4.1 Introduction
Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
This chapter focuses on Seichi Emerson Ikemoto, a remarkable but virtually unknown Japanese participant in the transpacific peace movement in the early twentieth century. Not much is known of his early life. He was born Seiichi Ikemoto in a period of reform and change on 4 December 1885 in Yamaguchi, Japan. He was raised in the Christian faith, perhaps attending a mission school where he gained his first exposure to Presbyterianism. He arrived at the port of San Francisco on a ship from Victoria, British Columbia in 1904 to pursue religious studies so that he might one day return to Japan as a Presbyterian minister. He graduated in 1912 from Park College
(now known as Park University) in Parkville, Missouri, having changed his name to Seichi Emerson Ikemoto. He attended three different seminaries from 1912 to 1915: Louisville Presbyterian Seminary in Kentucky and Union Theological Seminary and Columbia Theological
Seminary in New York. While a college student at Park, Ikemoto met the APS secretary and
Advocate of Peace editor Benjamin F. Trueblood who became his most trusted friend and mentor.
Trueblood’s guidance influenced the path his life would take, from joining the APS in 1908, organizing a Cosmopolitan Club in 1909, serving as a featured speaker on the Chautauqua lecture circuit between 1911 and 1915, to finally obtaining his lifelong goal of becoming a speaker for the
Peace Lecture Bureau of the American and New York Peace Societies in the crucial years of 191415, when the world war began. In 1916, Ikemoto contracted tuberculosis and quit lecturing to retire to a quiet life at Trudeau Sanitarium in New York. In late 1917, he sought a warmer climate in Albuquerque, New Mexico. He died at Methodist Sanatorium on 31 January 1919 and is interred at Fairview Memorial Park in Albuquerque.
As Akira Iriye observes in Cultural Internationalism and World Order, “thinkers, artists, and musicians from small countries have contributed decisively to the making of contemporary history.” Indeed, the “world is created and recreated as much by individuals from ‘lesser powers’ as by the great powers.”184 Ikemoto was one such individual, an unsung protagonist of the transpacific peace movement in the early twentieth century. Ikemoto is practically unknown, remembered only by his alma mater, Park University, which recognizes him as one of its first international students and the founder of the campus Cosmopolitan Club. Fortunately, many of his letters to Benjamin F. Trueblood are preserved in the Swarthmore College Peace Collection. This correspondence and the occasional stories in American newspapers allow us to reconstruct the life of a Japanese peace advocate who pursued a mission in the U.S. that paralleled the efforts of American missionary peace advocates in Japan at the same time. Ikemoto made a decision comparable to DeForest’s, becoming a student of the United States by learning its language and its culture before preaching his first sermon. Like Bowles, he became an advocate of peace in America, and along the way found his true calling preaching to the American people about Christianity, Japanese life and culture, and the importance of peace and understanding between the U.S. and Japan.
This chapter is organized in four main sections, which reflect themes of inspiration, determination, investigation, and resignation in tracing the course of Ikemoto’s life. The first section examines his early years as a student and the inspiration he derived from his love of God and country and theology of peace. The second section tracks his life as an orator on the Chautauqua and Lyceum circuit and then as a member of the APS Peace Lecture Bureau, during which time he showed great determination trying to change American minds on the question of relations between the U.S. and Japan. The third section considers his trip to California to see Japanese immigrants for himself in the spirit of investigation, when so many Americans were prepared to believe the worst about them. The fourth section covers Ikemoto’s declining health and the sense of resignation that came over him when a cure for his tuberculosis proved elusive and death became inevitable.
4.2 Inspiration – The Making of a Cosmopolitan Scholar
The secret of education lies in respecting the pupil. It is not for you to choose what he shall do. It is chosen and foreordained and he only holds the key to his own secret.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Ikemoto was one of many young Japanese men who traveled to the U.S. to further their education. The Japanese had “developed a liking for education and competence in the skills it taught” and responded positively to the Meiji government’s call to establish schools and colleges along Western lines. By going abroad, Japanese migrants sought to go directly to the source of modern education. According to Yuji Ichioka, some students were funded by the government while others were funded by family members or other supporters. The government-funded students often returned to Japan where they took up elite official and professional positions. The privately-funded students, known as hinsei or kugakusei, expected to take what they learned back to Japan and make a better life for themselves. Those who were known as dekasegi-shosei, or student laborers, planned to work to pay for their education and living expenses and were “prepared to endure hardships,” believing that with “dedication, diligence, thrift, and perseverance” they could realize their goals. Ikemoto belonged to the last cohort of migrants who arrived in the U.S. before the secret Gentlemen’s Agreement of 1907 under which the Japanese refused to issue passports for workers bound for the U.S. It appears he was privately funded initially, but the longer he remained in the U.S. the more his experience resembled that of the student laborers who were on their own. Ikemoto was a lifelong student. It may be that he retained his formal status as a student for years to avoid military service in Japan as well as to stay clear of U.S. immigration authorities. In any case, Ikemoto made his way through life inspired by the possibilities of education, Christianity, oratory, and cosmopolitanism.
No record shows that Ikemoto ever attended college in San Francisco. Instead, the 1910 U.S. Census notes his arrival at Park in 1905 and the Park College Bulletin shows his enrollment in the 1904-05 academic year. According to a 1915 newspaper interview reprinted in the Park Alumniad, Ikemoto “was induced to come to [America] to study for the ministry by a missionary in Japan, a cousin to Rev. McAfee.” Founded by Reverend John A. McAfee in 1875, Park College was affiliated with the Presbyterian Church and had been receiving international students since 1880. The first such student was Japanese. In light of these facts, it is possible that Ikemoto attended the Yamaguchi Presbyterian mission school in Japan. Given that he remained at Park for seven years, it is probable that he spent his first three years in Park’s college preparatory program to master the English language and American culture. Ikemoto began his freshman college year in 1908. Two incidents subsequently changed the course of his life. First, he came out of the shadows when reports of his gifts as an orator appeared in the press. Second, he began to correspond with the APS secretary Benjamin F. Trueblood on questions of peace. According to a letter to his widow Sarah Trueblood in 1917, Ikemoto first met his friend and mentor while a freshman. He recalled he was “bold enough to write first” and Trueblood was “good enough big enough, [and] kind enough to answer [his] letters.”
Ikemoto gained self-confidence during his freshman year, when he began to hone his oratorical skills in service to God, cosmopolitanism, and a better understanding between America and Japan. Christianity and oratory were his intimate companions. Not everyone in America welcomed the words of an outspoken foreigner, so Ikemoto used his Christian faith as a way into the hearts and minds of audiences interested in U.S.-Japan relations. Press releases for his first lectures, “What Christianity is Doing for Japan,” and “The Rise of Japan and its Relation to America,” described Ikemoto “as a highly respectable Christian young man.” The businessman Sam Boyd White became an early friend and patron. White was a principal stakeholder in the White Lyceum lecture circuit, which provided a venue for many international luminaries to address and educate audiences in middle America. More than likely, it was through White’s influence that Ikemoto later obtained his positions as featured speaker on the Chautauqua as well as Lyceum circuits. If White was his patron, it may be that Trueblood was his guide. He was well known for his exceptional oratorical abilities and a familiar figure at several venues for public speaking.
Ikemoto’s deep regard for the elder peace statesman became evident with his first letter. He sent a most treasured flower from his mother and entrusts it to Trueblood’s care. Later, in a letter to Mrs. Trueblood after the elder’s passing, Ikemoto recalls their first meeting. We can sense the smile jumping off the page as he remembers meeting him, a “big, tall, gray haired gentleman with a face overflowing with kindness” who reminded him of his own father, when he met him in the Sage Dormitory at Cornell University. He was honored on first shaking hands that Trueblood instructed Ikemoto to “Get up on the stairs so that I can look at you.” This auspicious beginning of their friendship and the elder’s “benign” influence gave him the confidence necessary to pursue
his course and mission to further a better understanding between nations. Trueblood’s gift with words was a constant inspiration to Ikemoto, and as he wrote in 1915 as Trueblood’s health declined, his letters were always “like a benediction to me.”
Ikemoto became very involved in the Cosmopolitan Club movement on campuses in the U.S. Trueblood was a major presence in the Association of Cosmopolitan Clubs (ACC). Another participant in the Cosmopolitan Club movement, Louis P. Lochner, asserted that a convention without Dr. Trueblood would be “unthinkable,” for he had the rare ability to be “one of the boys…the young men…always look forward with pleasure toward meeting him.” It was with Trueblood’s assistance that Ikemoto formed Park’s Cosmopolitan Club, which became a chapter of the ACC, in 1909 and served as its president the first year of its existence. It is possible that Ikemoto was already alive to the value of students taking an interest in world affairs and learning about other cultures through meeting and talking with students from other countries. He may have known students returning from the U.S. had formed clubs to recall and cherish their prestigious experience abroad, which set them apart as cosmopolitans from many of their compatriots. As early as 1896, for example, several Japanese formed an alumni club called the Brotherhood of Friends in America (Zaibei kyūyū shinboku kai). In 1902, a monument was erected by the American Friends Association (Beiyū kyōkai) in Kurihama, near Tokyo, dedicated to these organizations and commemorating “the first moments of organized cultural exchange between
Japan and the United States.”
The first Cosmopolitan Club, initially the International Club, was organized at the
University of Wisconsin in 1903. As Lochner put it later, the first meeting consisted of “sixteen foreign and two native students…together representing eleven nationalities, gathered in the modest little apartments of a young Japanese.” The Association of Cosmopolitan Clubs held its first annual convention in Madison four years later in 1907. The purpose of the association was to promote peace through the cosmopolitan fellowship made possible by growing numbers of foreign students on American campuses and the mutual interest of American and international students in getting to know each other. With its motto “above all nations is humanity,” the ACC invited the “best and most promising” college students from across the globe and from “every corner of the earth,” whether rich or poor, to further this cosmopolitan peace ideal. The third annual convention in 1910 was billed as a “miniature peace congress,” showcasing the growth of the association from eight to twenty-two chapters within three years. Each item on the agenda of the convention addressed an aspect of the peace movement. To further strengthen the advancement of cosmopolitanism and internationalism, the ACC partnered with the European International
Federation of Students, known as the Corda Fratres. The Advocate of Peace asserted the ACC’s “broad-minded” members would engage in study, identify themselves as peace advocates, and embody an “enlightened sentiment in favor of arbitration,” thus marking the beginning of a “world organization of students [united] under the white flag of peace.” Organizations such as these, were an outlet to, “insofar as was possible” in nonpolitical ways, advance the cause for mutual understanding between nations even as it advanced the cause for cosmopolitanism and
internationalism.
Inspired by the spirit of international and cosmopolitan ideals after attending his first ACC convention in 1910, Ikemoto proposed the establishment of a “Temple of Peace” at Park. The Advocate of Peace reported on Ikemoto’s lofty initiative. According to Trueblood, “we can scarcely conceive of anything more fitting, in an institution where there are young men from many countries than a Cosmopolitan Club Temple of Peace, where these young men might associate freely with each other and do the work for which such clubs are now being so numerously organized.”209 Ikemoto had come into his own, and by all accounts he found connection and community in his life there.
Perhaps it is not surprising, given his busy college life, Ikemoto did not write to Trueblood for the next two years. While in college, Ikemoto participated in seven oratorical contests, taking first place in nearly all. The Oriental Economic Review identified Ikemoto as a “Japanese Prohibition Orator.” At an intercollegiate oratorical contest, Ikemoto won “first paper” for his presentation of “America’s Moral Obligation,” which secured him a financial award of $20.00, a princely sum before the First World War, and the honor of representing his college at the
“interstate” contest in Red Wing, Minnesota the following year. His commitment to oratory is revealed in a 1912 letter to Trueblood, in which he declares he has “just one more to do myself honor” and apologizes for neglecting his venerable friend.
Ikemoto immersed himself as well in peace activities, many times making “peace speeches” on and off campus. He organized Peace Day activities at the college and in church. In 1911, his focus on bettering relations between America and Japan led to his commission of a song contest at Park. With the support of the school’s chaplain and another faculty member, he awarded a five-dollar prize for best song. The American student winner was P.M. Thompson, for a song with lyrics favoring international peace and interracial friendship played to the tune of America:
Great nations strong and brave! One ocean rolls its wave To wash thy shores.
One sea thy lands divide,
One sea bears far and wide
On progress’ moving tide Thy wealth and power.
Grant that the God above Hold fast in faith and love Thy destined weal.
In peace and liberty,
In glad prosperity,
Thy homes forever be Strong to endure.
Races of alien blood Linked by one mighty flood, Honor to thee!
Joined both in heart and hand,
Long may thy friendship stand,
As o’er the favored land Thy flags unfurl. Proud of this accomplishment, Ikemoto shared the song with Trueblood, writing that “we sing this song in chapel every occasionally” and observing that the students and faculty were getting to be
“quite cosmopolitan.” He felt honored leaving behind a legacy of friendship between Japanese and American students, confident that when he returned as an alumnus he would find that the song was still sung at Park.215
Ikemoto may have worked to promote cosmopolitanism and pacifism, but he retained a sense of Japanese cultural identity. This can be seen in the importance he attached to the concept of honor, which appears in numerous letters to Trueblood. Historian and sociologist Eiko Ikegami highlights “honor” in the cultural transformation of the samurai. The tensions between modern Japanese ideas of individuality and collectivism were rooted in samurai honor culture, which valued “reputation…and self-esteem” as well as “personal” and “social” dignity. Honor has “both an internal and an external dimension.” Thus the “community of honor was deeply interwoven.”216 Ikemoto’s letters reveal the significance of his commitment to the ideals of “honor” in his choice of words and actions.”217 He repeatedly refers to a “community of honor,” for example requesting that he be honored with a meeting, a letter, or consideration for a role as a speaker for the APS. In fourteen letters, the word “honor” appears sixteen times.218 He sought to achieve honor not only
view=1up;seq=672. P. M. Thompson may be Prescott Thompson who served as Vice President and Business Manager for the Park chapter of the Cosmopolitan Club the same year Ikemoto served as president.
215 Ikemoto to Benjamin F. Trueblood,” 15 June 1912, Box 6, Folder 13, American Peace Society Records (SCPC DG 003), Swarthmore College Peace Collection.
216 Eiko Ikegami, The Taming of the Samurai: Honorific Individualism and the Making of Modern Japan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995), 3, 6, 23.
217 Ikemoto to Benjamin Franklin Trueblood, 15 June 1912, Box 6, Folder 13, American Peace
Society Records (SCPC DG 003), Swarthmore College Peace Collection
218 A personal word about honor concerning Ikemoto because I do not make my assessment lightly. One of my mentors, Denis Gainty, who died before this thesis was written, told me once that I could not engage with an examination of the Japanese mind because I did not speak the language, and that
as an individual Japanese person living in America, but also in the collective initiatives he advanced to promote better understanding between America and Japan. That mandate did not end with graduation from Park in 1912, it simply brought new challenges.
4.3 Determination – The Career of an Advocate for Peace
To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
In the summer of 1912, Ikemoto began the next phase of his journey by lecturing on the
Midland Chautauqua and White Lyceum circuits. He would do this each summer for four years.
Chautauquas were popular in rural America in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Set up like religious revivals, they featured lectures, plays, and musical performances that delivered education and culture in a lively and entertaining format. Ikemoto embraced the opportunity to lecture for Midland Chautauqua because “I can be humble means of promoting
if I did, I would not be credible. As a result, I needed to rely on the writings of those who made use of the English language. In my assessment of Ikemoto, I had to use what I learned from scholarship and immersed myself in finding, learning and understanding everything I could about Ikemoto. I spent months pouring over his letters (until I have them practically memorized), the various newspaper clippings (of which many refer to his “Samurai heritage”), and every available resource online. The research is still ongoing, and the extent to which I would like to write about this man is beyond the scope of this thesis. But in addition to the discussion above, it is worth noting the following actions: from 1908 to 1916 he spoke throughout the Midwest and in New York educating the American public about Japan and the Japanese in the interest of better understanding between the two countries. He anguished, lamenting that he should be shot for a traitor because he would not return to Japan to serve in the Imperial Army. His life in America was spent in service to others. Even as he lay dying, his mind was focused on considering “high and noble things” and finding a way to make life better for tubercular patients. If honor was not important to him, I am not sure what else it could be. At the very least, Ikemoto was an honorable man.
better feeling between the two nations.” It was a steppingstone to becoming a speaker for the APS’s Peace Lecture Bureau, for which he was determined to be a warrior for the peace cause.
Nevertheless, Ikemoto’s first year out of college was turbulent as he waged a war with himself about whether to remain in America or return to Japan. He had to combat racist attitudes and cultural misconceptions. In Burlington, Kansas the press reported that “Ikemoto defended his native country from the things charged against it in the matter of religious persecutions, its relations to Korea, and other matters,” observing he could “easily be heard even outside the tent.” He confided to Trueblood about the “many incredible things said about Japan in papers and
magazines; but I could not say a word of criticism because I know little about things which happen on the other side of the world.” He knew what was happening in America, but was unsure about what was happening in Japan. In this letter, he recalled being introduced to a farmer who asked if he would return to Japan to teach the Japanese about America and what he had learned about here.
“Yes, Dr. Trueblood, I am going to tell my people all about America that they may love this country more, that they may realize that the people [here] are confronted with almost the same problems as they are.” For all the talk of cosmopolitanism and internationalism, he was perhaps a stranger in both America and Japan.
Ikemoto’s letters convey a sense of his inner torment. For all his growing love for America and the “great honors” he received in college, despite his friends who were “dearer than brothers and sisters,” he was “home sick…desperately homesick.” He questioned the value of friends and familiar surroundings while plagued by the desire for “Home, Sweet Home.”225 Even a scholarship to Yale Divinity School brought little satisfaction. He asked Trueblood’s advice, not sure whether to return to the comfort of home and family knowing he would have to join the army or to continue his studies at Yale. He even proposed to arrange with the consulate in Chicago to go home for a year and “make a thoro [sic] investigation in the lines of politics, commerce, society and morals of the people” so that he could return and “deliver my goods with authority” at the Chautauqua in the summer of 1913. He could speak as an expert after a year in Japan, if Trueblood would give him the “honor” of naming him a lecturer for the American Peace Society.
Ikemoto’s troubles were not of his own making. He was affected by ongoing tensions between the U.S. and Japan over situations on the West Coast as well in East Asia. The Advocate of Peace regularly reported on these tensions in hopes of promoting a settlement of differences. It published the thoughts of Japanese parliamentarian Saburo Shimada, who had made a study of conditions for the Japanese immigrants on the West Coast and wished that “jingo” provocations could be prevented from causing conflict between two countries that benefited so much from trade and other forms of exchange. It published a condemnation of American conduct by none other than Columbia University president and Carnegie Endowment official Nicholas Murray Butler. The people of the United States were the “chief offenders,” stirring up “ill feeling against Japan…by inventing a few facts and then adequately emphasizing them.” These were nothing more than “braggadocio and a bravado which ape true courage and genuine patriotism.”
In the end, Ikemoto decided to accept the Yale scholarship and remain a peace advocate in the U.S., concerned that “a few empty voices” could cause a war. He could not play such a role in Japan. This decision did not, however, resolve his inner conflicts about identity. He shared with
Trueblood his anguish over the “hard fight against [his] lowerself [sic] over the imps and devils of this world.”230 He lamented that, for all the great ideals he had acquired from the “Christian College” and the “peace principle” he had acquired from Trueblood and the APS, it was “quite another thing to realize the ideal.” He agonized over having “lowered myself to the rank of traitor—I should be shot for that. My country or my principle?” He was “despised for being a
Jap” to the point that he would want to “smite the fellow” in the name of his country, but his “reason and conscience” demanded that he comply with the command to “love thy enemy.” Not even Trueblood, he wrote, could understand the “desperate war [he was] waging.” He appealed for a chance to meet with Trueblood, yearning to once again “shake hand with you as I did at Sage Dormitory” and reinforced his pacifist commitment by closing with “I am ever yours for the cause of Peace.” He never got that meeting, for Trueblood suffered his first stroke and was forced to retire to his home in Massachusetts to recover.
Ikemoto went to New Haven, Connecticut, but later wrote that for “various reasons” he was unable to remain at Yale. Instead, he went to Presbyterian Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky.
He was unhappy there as well, unable to reconcile the inclusive principles of his Christian faith with the contradictions he witnessed at the “very very conservative seminary” in Louisville. Progressive and reform minded, he was perturbed by the “zealous foreign missionary spirit [which] neglects the poor and wretched in our midst.” He sought comfort by keeping himself in “close touch with my God, [having] little use for any kind of dogma or creed…God is love…what more do I need?” Sounding more like the broad-minded Quaker than the conservative Presbyterians surrounding him, he told Trueblood that “salvation” was baseless, suggesting that for all their talk he doubted they “understand what they mean by salvation” as Christ intended it. Ikemoto believed God alone could save human beings and “Religion alone when properly interpreted and put into use can solve all the individual social problems.” While Trueblood cautioned him about his “hastiness,” Ikemoto though thankful for wise counsel was intransigent that “church people” needed to “get out of the narrow confinement of spiritual luxury” in order to “better things for God and humanity.” Having spent seven years at Park College, where he gained self-confidence and strengthened his Christian faith, the wider American society was disillusioning. He struggled to find his bearings after graduation, changing seminaries four times in three years. Each summer he returned to his home at Park and to the pleasures as well as challenges of the Chautauqua circuit.
In June 1914, Ikemoto finally met with Trueblood for a “frank and fatherly” talk. The discussion centered on his desire to go to California to “investigate Japanese conditions there.” Amidst the growing tensions between America and Japan over the California situation, science and activism stirred in Ikemoto’s heart. Having completed a year at Louisville Presbyterian
Seminary, Ikemoto had begun his second year at Union Theological Seminary in New York.
Following his summer Chautauqua tour, Ikemoto wanted to join a church-sponsored commission of sociologists to “investigate Japanese conditions” in San Francisco. He applied to take part and became distressed when he sensed he was excluded from consideration. He asked Trueblood to write a letter on his behalf stressing the futility of a commission that did not include Japanese members who “are so fitted for that purpose.” Ikemoto asserted that his academic
accomplishments and his facility with English made him uniquely qualified.
The world war had not yet started in Europe and U.S.-Japan tensions remained high amid ongoing “yellow peril” rhetoric in the press. The Advocate of Peace carried urgent appeals from
Gilbert Bowles and other American missionaries for help with famine on the Japanese island of
Hokkaido, along with articles about the Japanese immigration question in the U.S., such as American missionary peace advocate Sidney Gulick’s work with President William Howard Taft and Secretary of State Elihu Root to “throw light” on the problem. Gulick, who had been living in Japan for more than a decade, proposed his own immigration policy to the Senate Committee on Immigration. Referring to the situation in California, Gulick asserted that overwhelming prejudice and ignorance prevented the adoption of a reasonable immigration policy. He claimed the “real yellow peril” grew out of “our attitude of exclusion and ill will, which, if persisted in, will alienate the two races and develop a corresponding spirit of distrust and dislike in the East.”239
Such was the atmosphere when Ikemoto stepped up to the Chautauqua platform. The newspaper publicity for his talks promoted his “samurai” heritage from which the “high officials of the state, army and navy have come,” and suggested it qualified him to address the “problems constantly arising from the clash of interests.” Ikemoto sought to promote understanding not by contrast but by commonality, describing Japan as the “most progressive nation of the east” and the U.S. as “the most progressive nation of the west.” It is easy to imagine Ikemoto’s inner turmoil as he fought against the racist policies of white Christians in the U.S., whose missionaries had taught him all those years ago in Japan that God’s mandate was to serve others and to love
“irrespective of creed and nationality.” He expressed his frustration to Trueblood, maintaining that “prejudice is due to ignorance…there is no excuse soever [sic] at all for anyone to be ignorant in this country at this time of year of our God. All of us need more of right kind of education, such as our Society affords…they are to be taught and not despised.” In a sense, Ikemoto had become
a missionary and America had become his mission field.
Ikemoto made his hundred and fifteenth speech for the Chautauqua in July 1914, and told Trueblood that he expected to have spoken two hundred and sixty times throughout the Midwest by the following spring. He found the people “very responsive” to his appeals:
[I] cannot be too much concerned with the unthinking masses who come to see me and hear me to satisfy their curiosity. To entertain people is not my purpose, nor is my desire to tell the facts to the world. I feel I have the “God-given message” to deliver. Let me give it out…It does not matter whether I be a Japanese, an American or a Chinese; I want to live and speak the life of a man. Yet it is hard to convince the people of the Truth unless I be affiliated with some organization whose aim and purpose are similar to those which I hold.
He again he appealed to Trueblood to appoint him as a speaker for the APS, inquiring “why would it be impossible for the peace society to give me a name that would give me prestige before the people just for the sake of expediency?” For Ikemoto, the right title could undercut the impression that he was simply an “Jap” on the speaker’s platform. If other white men would recognize him as the “super Japanese” that he was, he would be more credible.
Spending the rest of the summer on the Chautauqua, Ikemoto became angry as war broke out in Europe and felt bittersweet about the APS finally placing his name on its speakers’ list. The war in Europe made him “righteously indignant at the hypocricy [sic] and hatred of Christian nations among themselves. The present crisis is a great challenge to all of us, advocates of peace.” He was honored to be affiliated with the APS and determined to shun any endeavor that would look upon him as a “sort of Oriental Curio.” His intention was clear, to “represent the purpose and the plan of your peace organization.” He decided to forgo seminary and devote himself to public speaking for peace, believing there were too few “internationally minded” preachers and that he could serve the greater good by showing he was a man even though he was Japanese.
When it came in 1914, the war in Europe and the wider colonial world was a shock for supporters of peace in the U.S. Historian Michael Kazin argues that it initially paralyzed the established movement for international arbitration and world peace and stimulated peace-minded feminists, socialists, trade unionists, and other radicals. Perhaps this sense of flux affected Ikemoto, now a formally recognized figure in the old APS. As the months passed, his optimism about his new commission as peace advocate competed with disenchantment over repeated experiences with people who viewed the Japanese with fear and suspicion. He told Trueblood that
“enlightenment and cosmoplitanization [sic] of popular minds is of increasing importance” and he was giving his “whole life” for that mission.
Ikemoto may have thought his affiliation with the American Peace Society would grant him a certain prestige, but he became increasingly irritated by what he viewed as language that relegated him to an inferior status. Americans were the ones with “provincial ideals” and he was upset at the presumption that he was there to “entertain” them. Rather, he was there to educate according to his “self-imposed task” to speak on behalf of his own country, interpret “things
Oriental,” and prove himself as a “man, a Christian, a subject of the Mikado who believes in Humanity which is above all races and nations,” preaching from two to ten times a day the Gospel of love and brotherhood.
4.4 Investigation – When Identity Confounds Sympathy
The mind, once stretched by a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Ikemoto made a fateful turn in 1915. In January, he learned that Trueblood, extremely ill, was resigning from his longtime position in the American Peace Society. Ikemoto expressed his belief that the “world has been greatly blessed with your life and labor” and his thanks for the care and concern he had received over the years, for it had not been easy being a “foreigner” traveling and advocating for peace. By March, Ikemoto had decided to go to California. This trip to the West would take him away from the familiar world of the Midwest and bring him into contact with people quite unlike those he had made his life with in the Midwest for over a decade. He was no longer the same young man who first set foot in the U.S. in San Francisco in 1904.
What is striking is the difference in Ikemoto’s feeling for his American friends and his attitude to Japanese compatriots he encountered in his travels. The verbosity of his first letter three weeks after leaving Missouri is revealing. For the first time, perhaps, Ikemoto came face to face with compatriots from a different class and educational background. While living in the Midwest and Northeast, Ikemoto had talked to white farmers and laborers and did not necessarily connect with them in the same way as he connected with fellow college-educated people. His life as an intellectual prepared him to instruct and lead the popular classes. The rural communities of the Midwest could be forgiven their ignorance. They lacked the civilizing polish of education, and his work as lecturer and advocate would enlighten them with cosmopolitan and internationalist values and a better understanding of the greater world beyond them. For all his despair at their ignorance, he was patient because he believed in his ability to communicate and to uplift them. But when he arrived in California, he confronted farmers of a different kind, men from his own country who, like him, had come to America with dreams of a better life, but, unlike him, had to
make that life with their hands He did not demonstrate much sympathy for their plight in America and he even seemed to believe they were not bringing honor to Japan.
On his way westward, he wrote from Colorado and Utah that Americans were “cordially disposed to the Japanese, which in Denver is about five hundred.” However, he observed that some of them are “not good morally…[but] they do everything ‘within the law.’” He learned this by engaging with prominent American citizens, policemen, and “boys of the street.” Happily he identifies only “one bad Japanese” and even he was not as bad as people perceived. This “bad” Japanese immigrant had been convicted of murder, although probably innocent, and sentenced to imprisonment for life. This did not seem to be too upsetting to Ikemoto, who treated it as an anomaly. In general, the Japanese were behaving themselves and were “well-liked by the
Americans.”
About to reach his destination, Ikemoto thought about the Japanese he had come to study in California. He had preconceived ideas about the treatment of Japanese immigrants. He assumed it was the Americans who “were not treating the Japanese right,” but the Issei in him—that educated intellectual—suggests something quite to the contrary. If the Americans do not treat the Japanese right, it is their own fault. Invited to speak at Occidental College and attend a social event where he was the only Japanese “gentleman,” he was received “very favorably.”257 Pleased with this experience, he drew the conclusion that Americans in California were “good, openhearted, cordial, kind, frank, jolly people” and while there were “bad Americans” the same was true about the Japanese, “for all men were created a little lower than the angels and some of them
257
very much lower than others.” He conceded that if Americans would take the time to get to know the Japanese well, they would recognize “legislating against the entire Japanese population” was a mistake. Los Angeles proved to be vastly different to what he had become accustomed in the Midwest. He was invigorated by it and even recommended that Trueblood move to California, where he could be “great moral force [for] the heterogeneous community” residing there.
For all his claims about his unique qualifications to study conditions among the Japanese in California, his brief observations revealed few insights. What they revealed instead were
Ikemoto’s own prejudices:
Dr. Trueblood I have visited several Japanese farms in the vicinity of this city. The Japanese own and operate some of the prettiest and best nurseries and gardens, but their lodgings are filthy and neglected. What they need is not money though they say they do need money worse than any thing else [sic]. They need higher ideals. At present so many of the farmers are content with living like pigs and horses. This is not right. The Japanese preachers and teachers are doing their best to elevate the moral conditions among the Japanese Farmers.
The economic competition posed by, and the social marginality experienced by, Japanese immigrant laborers and farmers were intertwined aspects of a complex phenomenon that was shaped as well by the actions and attitudes of white workers, business owners, and landowners. Here was the principal source of misunderstanding that could be rectified, but Ikemoto was quick and dismissive in his analysis of the situation. By contrast, his meeting with U.S. Kaneko impressed him. Ikemoto observed that he had, “been in America for twenty-seven years and is a naturalized citizen. He is the only Japanese in [California] who is naturalized, so far as my investigation goes.” 260 Kaneko was “comfortably situated…in a very nice house in Holly
260
Wood.” Ikemoto was much more sympathetic to this man, who “would be a millionaire today if an eastern corporation did not rob him of his land several years ago,” than to the nameless farmers with insufficiently high ideals. He went on to remark that, although the “labour union…is weak…the Japanese and Americans are living harmoniously and profitably.” He ended his account with the Panglossian sentiment that “a better day is dawning.”
We need to consider the binary nature of Ikemoto’s identity as a Japanese person who had left the country at a young age and lived many formative years in the U.S., yet who experienced racism and was, in the widely circulated phrase during the anti-Japanese controversy in California, an “alien ineligible for citizenship.” The historian Eiichiro Azuma addresses the dilemma of
Japanese nationals living in America and “living across the purported East-West divide and related binaries.” They were trapped in the interstices between two nation states. Transnational thinking by the Issei was continuously “counterchecked by orthodoxy” as it related to “nationbuilding and the dominant racial politics.”265 Their sense of identity shifted “across and between the bounded meaning of binaries of race and nation that each regime imposed upon them, rejecting exclusive judgements by either.” Investigating his fellow Japanese migrants must have been challenging for Ikemoto, for he had lived apart from any Japanese or even Asian immigrant community and now was mingling with people he was no longer socially or culturally conversant with., Just as John Hyde DeForest had become a student of Japan and to some extent assimilated into its society and culture before he became a missionary, Ikemoto had become a student of
265
America and absorbed its ways before he too became a missionary of sorts. He learned its language, lived among its people, and traveled to at least some of its regions, and like DeForest, his identity became deeply interwoven with the life he lived in America. Both were bounded by the identity given by their passports, controlled by a state across the ocean and unable to be naturalized into citizenship in the land where they actually lived. The difference between them, however, was that Ikemoto used his identity as a Japanese in the U.S. to challenge discrimination and xenophobia inside the country while DeForest used his location as an American in Japan to offer an alternative narrative about Japan. One must think that Ikemoto’s critical impressions of Japanese immigrants, which would have served to reinforce xenophobic white American beliefs about the Japanese, coming after his own efforts to combat misconceptions and his own experiences with racism, must have been deeply disconcerting to such a sensitive and conscientious person.
Ikemoto wrote no more letters and returned to Missouri, presumably for some soul searching. He did not write to Trueblood for several months and then only to thank him for his
Christmas greetings and “warmest Christian love.” He never referred again to his California investigation. Even as Ikemoto penned his own benediction to Trueblood, writing “may God bless you richly your declining years with the pleasant memories of the past and with the full and felicitous hope of the life everlasting,” he was struggling with his own ill-health. He, had contracted pleurisy and then was diagnosed with tuberculosis. He tried to be optimistic, acknowledging his retirement from public life to one of “living a lazy life” so that he could be well enough to attend Union Theological Seminar in the fall of 1916 and once again see his good friend and mentor.
Ikemoto did not recover his health, and in March 1916 he wrote to Trueblood that the
“tubercular germs have invaded my lungs” and appealed to Trueblood for his prayers. Even still, he wrote of “lecture work” that was set to begin for him in New Mexico that June. This was the last letter that Trueblood would have read from Ikemoto. In January 1917, Ikemoto received word from Sarah Trueblood that her husband had died the previous October. There can be no doubt that Ikemoto grieved greatly for the loss of his friend and that the news could not have done anything to restore his good health. He shared none of this with Sarah. Instead he penned what can only be called a eulogy in tribute to the big bearded, gray haired man who meant so much to him. Enjoining both not to grieve too much, he reassured her that “your husband’s death is a benediction on those who work for the realization of the ideals of justice, righteousness and peace” and he was still among them in spirit.
We cannot know the nature of Trueblood’s feelings for Ikemoto as there are no letters of reply. Copied in this letter, however, we have one sentence from Trueblood’s final benediction to
Ikemoto: “I have thought of you many times and prayed God to help and bless you in every way.” For Ikemoto, this father figure, mentor, and friend was “one of America’s greatest men” and he loved him dearly. It must have grieved him that his ill health prevented him from attending the memorial. While Ikemoto had many friends, Trueblood was his anchor.
4.5 Resignation – “It’s Always the Living Who Suffer”
Death comes to all, but great achievements build a monument
which shall endure until the sun grows cold
Ralph Waldo Emerson
In October 1917, Ikemoto moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico in search of a mild climate for his delicate health. After his friend’s death, and dealing with his own debilitating disease, Ikemoto probably took less and less interest in the affairs that had so engaged him for years in college and Chautauqua. Chances are he was too ill to take on more than cursory endeavors. He no longer spoke about his commitment to advance peace and understanding between America and Japan. He was dying, and he came face to face with his own mortality. The honor of accomplishments no longer mattered. Suffering with his fellow “tuberculars” he became just a man.
He lived an active life for only few months after his arrival in New Mexico, but he left a trail. The Albuquerque Journal reported on “Dr. Ikemoto…a Japanese scholar who is making a study of the health and welfare condition in Albuquerque.” The newest resident of New Mexico proposed a “plan for providing light employment for convalescent tubercular” and was making an investigation “from a medical point of view…[the] soundness of the project.” The plan called for organizing a non-profit corporation that would establish a factory for health seekers looking for employment. Ikemoto was credited for his involvement of this new science of occupational therapy while he was in Saranac Lake, New York and by bringing this “new plan” to Albuquerque would give them a “big lead among western cities as a health center.” The local papers carried a number of articles about this new doctor from Japan and his desire to establish “a public institution to apply it for the benefit of the public, is in so far as known, original.” The plan was embraced, with “Dr. Ikemoto” being named as chairman.
This is where Ikemoto’s trail ends, in March 1918. His last known piece of writing is typed on the official letterhead of the “Albuquerque Chamber of Commerce Committee on Occupational Therapy.” Ikemoto’s name receives pride of placement at the top of the page— “chairman” in all caps. When confronting death, prestige and title mean nothing, and Ikemoto wrote as much in his last letter. It is only fitting that he left his last words to the world with the widow of his most trusted and beloved friend. It was his final benediction, a prayer to God and an entreaty to man about the value of life:
It is foolish for the sick to brood over their calamity. I do not even pray God to make me well. Is He not all-wise and all-present? Does He not know what is good for me? Should we not desire that His will may be done? God being all-powerful His will is being done whether we desire it or not. I am satisfied with my lot of which I am quite unmindful.
Philosophy does not bake bread, it is said, but if it makes me forget my bodily ills it does much more than baking bread for me. He is foolish who waits till he gets well to do something useful.
Does he know his health will be restored? Is it not more likely that he would die in bed doing nothing? To be sure one does better when his soul is free from the diseased body. Perhaps he can do more when he is with God after the so-called experience – death. As for me I am concerned only with the present.
There was a time when I thought a change of climate might help. Now I realize I wasted money by coming here. Likewise he who spends time and money in “chasing the cure” is as foolish as I was several months ago. I have no faith in the everchanging medical methods nor in the weak-kneed theological comfort. “A mighty Fortress is our god”. God alone is my refuge, my comfort and my strength. It is the kind of God which I do not find in the churches where are made too much of various noises about salvation.
On 31 January 1919, Ikemoto fades from life, in the solitude of Methodist Sanitorium. His remains are interred at Fairview Memorial Cemetery in Albuquerque, where his headstone reads, “A Japanese Trusted Beloved Erected by His American Friends.” He gained a wealth of education, traveled 60,000 miles, gave more than 450 addresses, made some remarkable friends, but died alone.
Ikemoto’s ideals and values seem to reflect the spirit of the man from whom he may have taken his middle name. Given what we have learned, it should not be surprising that he chose “Emerson.” Best known for leading the Transcendentalist movement in the middle of the nineteenth century, Emerson was a naturalist and pacifist finding union not so much with a higher being as with nature. At the same time, he once asserted, “I am more of a Quaker than anything else. I believe in the ‘still small voice,’ and that voice is Christ within us.” Ikemoto’s struggles over the noise of salvation, even in his final letter, show the Emersonian side of his nature. His life may be best summed up by Emerson’s instruction “do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” He indeed left a trail, and there can be no doubt there is more to learn, for Ikemoto touched many lives along the way. This thesis has only begun to tap the sources that may tell us more about Ikemoto. But had it not been for the preservation of his letters in Benjamin F. Trueblood’s papers, we would be so much poorer in our knowledge of not only this remarkable peace advocate but also the American side of the transpacific peace movement.
5 CONCLUSION
In 2012, the U.S. and Japan celebrated the centenary of the planting of Cherry Blossom trees from Japan along Washington, D.C.’s Tidal Basin. Each spring these beautiful flowering trees brighten the parkland near the Potomac River. The gift of the trees in 1912 was the result of a long effort by the traveler, writer, and photographer Eliza Ruhamah Scidmore, a great admirer of
Japanese culture, and the cooperation of the American First Lady Helen Herron Taft and the Japanese ambassador of the day. The Cherry Blossoms are a legacy of a time when Japan and the U.S. were expanding empires in the Asia Pacific yet realized the importance of relatively stable relations before the First World War.277 History shows as well that people who did not belong to the social and political elite also strove to promote peace and understanding between the two countries.
writer Muriel Strode (1875-1930). The first line of her poem “Wind Wafted Flowers” reads “I will not follow where the path may lead, but I will go where there is no path, and I will leave a trail.” Having added this footnote, I leave the text as is, as a footprint on my own trail completing this thesis. See Muriel Strode, “Wind Wafted Flowers,” The Open Court, 27, no. 1 (1903): 505. Accessed
5 January 2018, https://play.google.com/books/reader?id=duMeAQAAIAAJ& printsec=frontcover&output=reader&hl=en&pg=GBS.PR9.
277 Michael E. Ruane, “Cherry Blossoms’ champion, Eliza Scidmore, led a life of Adventure,” The Washington Post, March 13, 2012. https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/cherry-blossomschampion-eliza-scidmore-led-a-life-of-adventure/2012/02/22/gIQAAzHEAS_story.html; Grace
Ruch, “A Centennial Sakura Celebration: 100 Years of DC Cherry Blossoms,” Asia Matters for America, 27 March 2012, http://www.asiamattersforamerica.org/japan/a-centennial-sakuracelebration-100-years-of-dc-cherry-blossoms.
My thesis explores the making of a transpacific peace movement linking peace advocates in Japan and the United States in the early twentieth century. It is based on research in the peace history collections in the archives of Haverford College and Swarthmore College as well as the
American Peace Society’s Advocate of Peace and other published primary sources. Chapter Two traces the development of a transatlantic peace movement in the nineteenth century, showing that it was initiated by religious-minded American and British peace advocates and grew to include other Europeans interested in international law as well as religious values by the middle of the century. It became a truly international movement by the time of the Universal Peace Congresses and the 1899 First Hague Peace Conference, but it remained focused on the West. Still, as my analysis of Benjamin F. Trueblood’s The Federation of the World showed, peace advocates were beginning to recognize the importance of Asia for world peace.
Chapter Three examines the work of American peace missionaries John Hyde DeForest and Gilbert Bowles, as well as their forerunner the British missionary George Braithwaite, in Japan in the early twentieth century. Living in a society that was modernizing and globalizing along lines that did not simply follow the American model, they came face to face with the question of what it meant to be a citizen of the world and how to act accountably as a foreign missionary. DeForest and Bowles felt their way forward into this cosmopolitan situation by supporting the organization of peace advocates in Japan on Japanese rather than American or Western terms and by opposing the agitation of anti-Japanese xenophobes in the U.S.
Finally, Chapter Four reconstructs the life and advocacy of Seichi Emerson Ikemoto, a Japanese student and orator living in the U.S. He traveled and spoke widely in favor of peace and understanding between Japan and the U.S. His story underlines the fact that cross-cultural encounters in the network of transpacific peace advocates were not limited to Japan, but took place in the U.S. as well. Ikemoto’s correspondence with the American Peace Society secretary Benjamin F. Trueblood reveal some of the shifts and dilemmas of cultural identity felt over the years by an individual who was drawn to the potentially rewarding life of a public speaker traveling throughout the U.S. At the same time, Ikemoto’s often lonely experience shows that his status as an “other” made him subject to racial discrimination in the U.S. that differed from the relatively privileged position of the American peace missionaries in Japan.
In highlighting the cross-cultural exchange between these peace advocates and the challenge they offered to the rising U.S.-Japan rivalry, the findings of my thesis contribute to a more global account of peace history before the First World War. I believe that my thesis suggests some directions for further research in the history of pacifism and the peace movement in Japan and the U.S. in the early twentieth century and ongoing interactions between peace advocates and antiwar activists of the two countries over the course of the century since the First World War. For example, pacifism was in flux in the early twentieth century, as religious and spiritual values mixed with concerns over international law and arbitration and as the new social movements of the era, such as feminism and socialism, began to address war and violence and take part in the peace movement. In an age of colonial empire and white supremacy, some peace advocates opposed the color line while others accepted or accommodated racial inequality and the exclusion or restriction of immigrants. These topics deserve further study. The story of American and Japanese peace advocates I have told in this thesis is part of a longer story. For example, the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945 have been followed by a long campaign by pacifists, scientists, citizen diplomats, and some prominent political and diplomatic figures to eliminate nuclear weapons and prevent the catastrophe of nuclear war. Americans and Japanese have played major roles in this campaign. The Cold War in Asia, especially the American war in Southeast Asia, led to peace and solidarity movements, and Japanese and American antiwar activists cooperated in many ways in the 1960s and 1970s. These topics also merit additional research.
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