Joint Study of the Sino-Japanese War: Minutes from June 2002 Conference

Panel 9: Mongolia and Taiwan
Professor Minghuang Shao
“The Out-of-Tune ‘Flowers on the Rainy Nights’: Some Observational Aspects of Taiwan at Wartime”

Professor Shao argued that Taiwan was an important dimension of the Sino-Japanese War; although far from the center of the battle, Taiwan had been a Japanese colony for 42 years by the start of the War and deserves attention on several fronts, notably the situation during Taiwan’s final eight years of colonization and relations between Taiwan and the mainland.

Shao began his talk by explaining that the title of his paper drew from a popular song from Taiwan’s colonial period. After treating the audience to the chorus of the song, he explained that the song alluded to the sufferings of the Taiwanese under the Japanese. However, the sentimental love song changed under wartime conditions, gaining a martial overtone and encouraging young Taiwanese to answer the call of the Japanese government to serve.

Shao then moved to outlining the key points of his paper about wartime Taiwan. First, the Japanese government intensified their attempts to “imperialize” (huangminhua) the Taiwanese. Imperialization, or brainwashing the people to remove a Chinese identity and change them into subjects of the Japanese Emperor, had been Japan’s goal from the outset of colonizing Taiwan. They went about this intensified imperialization in several ways: by pushing the use of the Japanese language, urging Taiwanese to use Japanese names, spreading the Shinto religion, and destroying Taiwanese culture and Chinese national consciousness. Particularly after the outbreak of the Pacific War the government established large organizations to mobilize the people.

Second, Shao’s paper examines what the Taiwanese did for the Japanese war effort. Many were pressed into service as conscript laborers serving the army. In Shanghai, for example, they performed menial jobs, serving as porters and bearers. Many also were recruited to perform jobs for the military, serving as military doctors or translators. It was not until the Pacific War that Taiwanese were allowed to become members of the Imperial Army. During the eight years of the War about 200,000 Taiwanese answered these calls, a quite enthusiastic response. The soldiers met different fates; some soldiers were sent to the mainland, some to Southeast Asia; some were killed or captured. Similarly, women suffered under the wartime conditions, being tricked into becoming comfort women. Even before the outbreak of the Pacific War there were about 1,000 Taiwanese comfort women.

Third, Shao describes those Taiwanese who went to the Mainland before the War began. Some went to study, some to work, and some to Manzhouguo or regions controlled by Wang Jingwei’s regime. Thus, clearly some were opposed to the GMD in Chongqing. There was a Taiwan Volunteer Corps which tried to unify Taiwanese to help China and resist Japan; however, the corps was beset by internal divisions.

Commentator

Professor Lyman Miller outlined two camps in the highly contested historiography of Taiwan’s colonial and wartime periods and then situating Shao’s paper within this schematic. He reflected on how ambiguous Taiwan’s wartime experience was; by certain logics it might be more proper to include Taiwan in a conference on wartime Japan.

The two lines of interpretation of Taiwan’s history alive today could be called the traditional and the revisionist interpretations. The traditional interpretation goes as follows: Taiwan’s colonization by Japan is another dark chapter in China’s history of exploitation by foreign powers. The exploitation was not only economic but also psychological; Japan suppressed the inhabitants of Taiwan’s patriotism for the zuguo, the ancestral country, as well as resistance and the hope of reunification. The revisionist interpretation is as follows: The Japanese period was the first step in Taiwan’s modernization and movement towards independence. Surely, there was exploitation, but it played a constructive role in economic and even political development. Taiwan’s once-fragmented and diverse population came to develop a Taiwan consciousness, a Taiwan yishi. This was the period when Taiwan’s culture and consciousness became less China-centered.

Miller argued that both interpretations are politically motivated. The traditional interpretation justifies the GMD line of reunification into Chinese motherland and is promoted in GMD accounts of ROC history which has become traditional since the early post-war years. Broadly speaking, the PRC has emphasized this “One China” line of reasoning, disputing only who the legitimate representative of China is. On the other hand, the revisionist interpretation, which emerged in the post-War period but only became public in the 1980s, reflects a new political constituency in Taiwan, their separate identity from China, and their agenda of bentuhua, which could be alternatively translated as ‘nativization’ or ‘de-Sinification.’

Miller observed that these two interpretations have played out in events such as the one hundredth anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of Shimonoseki in 1995. Some celebrated the treaty as the beginning of Taiwan’s independence, while others mourned the treaty as a symbol of national humiliation. We can see a similar debate about historical figures such as Zheng Chenggong (Koxinga).

As Miller sees it, Shao fits comfortably into the first interpretation. His paper was elegantly written, but very much traditional.

Asking which interpretation is right, Miller was quick to answer that neither is satisfactory. Both are too focused and too clear; both sacrifice the inherent ambiguity of the subject.

Taking Shao’s treatment of Lin Xiantang as an example, Miller revealed the disguised ambiguity. Lin Xiantang was born during the Qing and died in 1955. Shao cites him as example of Taiwanese resistance; Lin refused to speak Japanese, preferred writing in classical Chinese, refused to wear Japanese clothing, and tried to help transition back to GMD rule after the War. But Shao did not mention the other sides of Lin that are not so clear: Lin worked for Taiwanese autonomy within the Japanese Empire and agitated for a Taiwanese parliament. In the last year of the war, Lin accepted a post in the Japanese Diet; in 1947 he moved to Japan where he died in 1955. Miller concluded by saying that in his opinion this period is not well served by either narrative: “As an historian, I like ambiguity and distrust clarity; if I wanted that I would’ve become a political scientist.”

Professor Lu Minghui , “The Japanese Occupation of Inner Mongolia and the Establishment of the Puppet United Autonomous Government”

Professor Lu first discussed his sources and differences between the governments of Manzhouguo and of Mengjiang (Mongolia-Xinjiang). He gave some bitter personal recollections from his youth in Mengjiang under the puppet government.

Lu began studying the Mengjiang government in 1958. His sources included the Nanjing archives and published materials from Japan. He also interviewed officials who had formerly served in the Mengjiang government; with some of them, he read their memoirs as they were writing them.

Lu then turned to his childhood. He grew up in Mengjiang in the village next to Prince De’s [De Wang] village. Whenever Prince De went to Zhangjiakou he would pass through Lu’s village, and Lu recalled seeing Prince De as he passed through. The government’s collapse made a deep impression on Lu, and when Prince De was released from prison, Lu approached him and asked to read his memoirs.

Addressing the view that the Mengjiang government was a bogus regime like Manzhouguo, Lu made several points. In comparison to Pu Yi, who obeyed the Japanese, De was a very traditional Mongolian ruler. Before he started the autonomous government, De influenced a large number of intellectuals, claiming that he was in a long line of Mongolian rulers and the only one who could unify Mongolia. He listened to the Japanese, but at the same time he resisted. For example, when he met the Japanese emperor, he refused to be called the head of the “Mengjiang” government; he said that the term had been invented by Zhang Zuolin. But he could not rule Inner Mongolia without the Japanese.

Lu concluded his talk with a discussion of Japanese methods of control in Mengjiang. One long-term strategy for control was replacing Chinese culture with Japanese culture. The Japanese thought, “If you had to remove the nation you had to remove the culture.” When Lu was six he entered school, where he was taught in Japanese for eight hours per day. At the time he saw Japanese as a language imposed on slaves. Thus, later when Lu visited Japan he confessed that his Japanese was bad because he was resentful when he was young. In retrospect, learning Japanese would have been good for communication. Lu also recalled seeing Japanese beating people with belts if they did not bow to the statue of the emperor when they entered the city gates. He himself was beaten for this reason. According to Lu, his impression of Japanese people has changed, but at the time it was quite negative.

Commentator

Professor Jonathan Spence began his remarks by saying that Lu’s paper was an impossible act to follow. It was simply overflowing with valuable information. He had expected that the Mengjiang case would be isolated and different from the other cases, but he was surprised to find that it fits well with the themes of the conference. Spence then used his time to outline how Mengjiang fits in with these themes.

First, Spence mentioned the parallel between Manzhouguo and the role of the Kwantung Army there and the dramatic conflicts between Prince De and the Japanese officers in Mengjiang.

Next, Spence brought up a parallel with Professor Ajioka’s paper on the GMD’s attempts to change the scale of institutional organization. Mengjiang is an extraordinary example of such a change: the creation of a new kind of structure, which brought four provinces into a profoundly new configuration. Spence was fascinated by how one could link this new arrangement to the memory of what had been called Inner Mongolia. It reminded him of the problem in Chinese history of geographical identity – whether this kind of identity is changeable, permanent, whether it can be changed by an act of will or governance.

Spence then outlined several suggestions for future research. First is the idea of an “Inner Mongol nationalism,” and what this means. Professor Lu set his paper in the context of the alleged (and disputed) Tanaka Memorandum of 1927. Whether or not that was the case, the memorandum was a jumping off ground for greater Japanese involvement in China; regardless of how it happened, it did happen. Spence pondered the question: if there is an Inner Mongolian nationalism, how does that affect our view of Prince De? He was a man of great complexity. What do we call him? Does it help to call him a puppet, or a fake, or treacherous? He had a Chinese education, but Mongolian royal heritage. In retrospect, Spence cautions, we can see he made the wrong guesses, but it is important to understand his perspective. Spence said that Prince De’s vision of a unified Inner Mongolia is a very interesting point that Lu has brought to light.

Second, Spence suggested that Lu consider Mengjiang’s relation to Tibet and Tibetan Lamaism. Tibetan Lamaism would have been known to any Qing ruler, so what was Prince De’s relation to Tibetan Lamaism? The seventh Panchen Lama was in exile there after 1927 and even stayed in Prince De’s palace in the 1930s. Furthermore, Spence wondered how this aspect of Mengjiang intersected with world politics and what strategic implications it had for this polity?

Third, Spence urged Lu to link Japanese involvement in Mengjiang with Chinese warlordism. Collaborationist or occupation governments were very similar to warlord governments. “It’s not as if Japanese came into a unified China,” said Spence. “China was murderously fragmented.” Furthermore, Mengjiang had many links with Manchukuo and Zhang Zuolin. Spence did not see in the paper any mention of Yan Xishan in Shanxi, or the traditional warlord bosses of Gansu, or of the ways in which these polities were redrawn.

Fourth, Spence highlighted the communication factor. A large, oddly shaped, sprawling area, Mengjiang was crucially held together by one stretch of railway. Railway politics gave the region its unity. Spence pointed out that Lu did not mention air power, adding that the Japanese wooed Prince De by giving him airplanes. Spence had no specific information about how they were financed, fueled, or piloted, but it must have been costly during a period of war.

Fifth, Spence lauded Lu’s paper “dazzlingly erudite” for its terrific amount of data about financial institutions and natural and mineral resources. Spence asked for an idea of the scale of these institutions and organizations. Was the money in these banks, for example, controlled on a daily basis by the Japanese?

Finally, Mengjiang was an astonishing area in area and geography. The paper conveys the sheer complexity of these turf wars; there was truly a sea of endlessly intersecting minor wars over territory and demarcation lines. Spence concluded by saying that with regard to Professor Wakeman’s call for a “mega-history,” this paper by Lu shows how enormously difficult that would be.

Discussion

A Japanese scholar praised both papers and the remarks delivered by the discussants. He related several aspects of his own experience. On Lu’s mention of the Japanese Army’s failed attack on Mongolia in 1939, he cautioned that Lu should convey the complexity of Japan’s position on the attack. Before the attack, staff officers in Tokyo advised that the idea was reckless and should not proceed. Kanji Ishihara himself went to Manzhouguo, gathered the staff and Itagaki, and asked them to stop the planned operation. The leaders of the Kwantung army stood by their argument that they would have to go to Inner Mongolia. Japan’s policymaking was quite complex, and historians have to explore this.

Next, he responded to Professor Shao’s comments about the comfort women mobilization in Taiwan. According to him, Japan was a country based on a legal framework, and the same applied to Taiwan. Shao maintained that the women were all of the sudden forced to be comfort women by the police. However, there was no example of such a policy. Even in Korea there was one example only of a women being forced to be a comfort woman in that way. The situation for the recruitment of nurses was entirely different. In Taiwan, nurses who worked for the army still visit the Yasukuni shrine in Tokyo to pay homage to them. To sum up, he said that at the end of the War Taiwan was governed by law, and the people who were pursuing the nationalizing of Taiwan were the teachers who were Japanese in the urban areas. Those people are still visiting Taiwan, invited by ex-students.

A Canadian professor followed these comments about the comfort women issue. He did not want anyone to misunderstand them; in fact, comfort women did exist in Japan, Korea, and Taiwan. There was no law behind the forced recruitment, but it took place. For him, the problem is semantic: What is “forced?” On the far end, the book by Toshida on his slave raids in Korea has been repudiated. Nonetheless, women were recruited by deceit. Women in Korea or Taiwan, whether recruited by native Koreans or Taiwanese, were told that they would have good work and pay; they did not learn until they arrived that they were serving at a comfort station.

A Japanese professor shared his experience on a bi-national policy group he participates in between China and Japan. Although the group tried to treat the issue objectively, without regard to each side’s national policy, the group split down the middle when it came to Taiwan. The Chinese side reverted to their country’s nationalistic stance. However, there was progress at the next meeting dealing with Taiwan: one Chinese woman said that the Taiwan problem is not the most important problem for China. “This impressed us, and we were able to come to a more common understanding”.

He went on to say that this topic is more historical but also a very sad history, and something the Japanese feel very sorry about, because it impeded China from moving forward. He urged the Japanese to reflect on it and feel sorry for it. But he also urged objective historical analysis of issues such as whether Manchuria was a puppet government or not. The Chinese side also has to think about how to be objectively historical. Recalling the example of Germany and Poland in dealing with historical questions, he said that the only way they could move forward was from objective historical data. He concluded that the presence of the United States is very important in achieving objectivity.

An American professor added that the value of both these papers is their ability to break down the categories of “Chinese” and “Japanese,” a task which is crucial to understanding the period. “We have to understand that there are Taiwanese and Mongolian perspectives,” he said. “We have to avoid the tendency to read back and assume that Mongolia would be subsumed into China.” Regarding the theme of nostalgia from an earlier panel, he noted that he had heard a lot of nostalgia in the comments on these papers. He heard a lot of nostalgia when he visited Taiwan and visited with people who had been part of the educated or elite during the period. He urged that we recognize the limits of that nostalgia; that we remember the protests by Taiwanese comfort women and their sense of betrayal; that we remember the denial of benefits to soldiers, including the Taiwanese aboriginals who were among the most active volunteers. The same issue of betrayal is in Okinawa, where at the end of the War so many volunteers were forced into a compulsory group suicide in the caves. He concluded by saying that “nostalgia is a useful category, but so is its opposite.”

Professor Shao thanked all the participants for their comments. He admitted that he did not feel any nostalgia, being born after the War. But his father in law was forced into the army in late phase of the War; that was a period of great confusion, when life and security were not clear. He recalled the betrayal that one Taiwanese soldier who was sent to the international tribunal expressed in his memoirs. President Lee Teng-hui was “imperialized” and felt great nostalgia for that period. Shao, however, wanted to clarify that he wanted to write not about these notables but about the ordinary folks, who included his parents.

In response to Professor Miller’s comments, Shao said that he did not consciously approach his paper from either of the two perspectives on historiography. He did not think of himself as a traditionalist, having researched Wang Jingwei.

Finally, Shao said that with respect to the POWs and to the comfort women, he did not claim that all were forced; they all had different motives, some of which included money or glory.

Finally, Lu responded to the comments. Regarding Prince De and his nationalism, he referred anyone interested to the books he published in 1980 and 1998, which discussed much about his personality. He repeated that Prince De was different from Pu Yi; De was always a Pan-Mongolianist, saw himself as a successor of Ghengis Khan, and he wanted to revive the Mongolian empire. He was different from Li Shouxing; although he was Mongolian and became the commander in chief, he was not as tough as Prince De. Li was content as long as you gave him opium to smoke and young women to play with. Prince De, on the other hand, would not do anything he did not agree with. He never broke off his ties with Chiang Kai-shek, Fu Zuoyi, and Zhang Xueliang. He had a complex web of relationships, because he wanted to use those connections to achieve his goal of autonomy for the Mongolians. He was perfectly happy to use the Japanese the right way. They used each other. That is the kind of person he was. Regarding Tibetan Lamaism, Lu mentioned that he brought a paper on this with him to the conference. Lastly, Prince De’s call for autonomy had to do with weakness of the central government in China. He observed that weakness and thought it was a good time to make a move. But the Japanese also wanted to take advantage of this split, so they tried to take advantage of Prince De.