Season 13, Episode 8: The Meiji Constitution
The assassination of Okubo Toshimichi in 1878 resulted in a significant power vacuum in the upper echelon of the Meiji government. Toshimichi was a very driven man who tended to steamroll those who offered resistance to his vision of a modernized Japan and, as we discussed in the previous episode, he had accumulated significant personal power throughout the 1870s. Although it had generally been agreed that the nation would draft and adopt a western-style constitution - an imperial proclamation from 1876 ordered this task to be accomplished - there remained significant disagreements among the remaining Meiji elite regarding what that constitution should actually say.
Agitators like the Freedom and People’s Rights Party largely understood the government’s relentless dithering and stalling of the actual drafting process as the latest rendition of an age-old Japanese political tactic of endless delay. There was some truth to this claim as it regards specific sectors of the Daijo-kan, especially the “Kunaisho,” the “Ministry of the Emperor’s Household.” The Kunaisho were, seemingly by default, a very conservative bureau who demanded that the government should be absolutely subject to the Emperor’s direct rule and, as such, they were suspicious of vesting political power into a permanent document. However, the truth was that most of the Meiji leaders, by the late 1870s, saw the drafting of a constitution as an inevitability but disagreed among one another regarding that constitution’s parameters.
As they had done frequently throughout the process of modernization, they turned chiefly to so-called “western” powers for inspiration. They studied constitutions from many nations, especially four major world powers: the United States, France, Britain, and Prussia. Which of these nations Japan ought to attempt constitutional emulation was a matter of ferocious debate within the Meiji government, and parties soon formed advocating for Japan’s new constitutional system to resemble certain nations.
The economic turmoil caused by the Satsuma Rebellion only added fuel to the flames of grassroots constitutional advocates. There was anger in the streets, and this led to no small amount of conflict and turnover within the halls of power. The Hokkaido Development Committee, for example, found itself under severe criticism for selling many of the factories it had built with taxpayer money to private sector industrialists for far less than those facilities were worth. The government’s censorship efforts seemed to be ineffective at keeping such scandals out of the public arena.
Iwakura Tomomi, the leader of the Iwakura mission, emerged as arguably the most powerful of the Meiji leaders in the wake of Okubo Toshimichi’s untimely departure. He partnered with Ito Hirobumi in trying to move the constitutional conversation into an actual drafting process. Tomomi and Hirobumi both favored a constitution that roughly resembled Prussia and when a conflict arose with the party that favored something similar to England, Tomomi arranged for the dismissal of Okuma Shigenobu, one of the leaders of that rival faction. Shigenobu had been in charge of the Finance Ministry and had faced criticism already for his handling of revenue after the Satsuma Rebellion. When he attempted to secretly influence the emperor toward adopting a British-style constitution - and to do it very rapidly - Tomomi had him sacked. He did this in a very dramatic way that was sure to win support from the conservatives - he claimed that a British-style constitution would strip power away from the sovereign and that if such a thing were even considered, Tomomi himself would resign in protest. Shigenobu was pressured into resigning instead. However, this will not be the last we hear of Okuma Shigenobu.
There was another dynamic at play amid all of this power-shuffling. Okuma Shigenobu was originally from Saga Domain, while most of the other higher leaders of the Meiji government were from either Satsuma or Choshu. While the old Satcho Alliance was technically dissolved along with their respective domains, concentrated political power throughout the early decades of the Meiji Period would largely remain in Satcho hands. This was in part because of the bond that members of those former domains felt with one another, as well as a healthy dose of regional patronage.
Assisting in the constitutional process were several Oyatoi Gaikokujin, or Foreign Advisors. Hailing from Britain, France, Prussia and the United States, these advisors consulted with the Meiji government on a variety of issues and many of them had backgrounds in law or economics. One in particular, Herman Roesler, possessed a working background in both.
In 1878, Roesler was facing a personal crisis as his recent conversion to the Roman Catholic faith threatened his political ambitions in his Protestant home region of Mecklenburg. When he was offered a job advising the Meiji government on legal and economic matters, he leapt at the chance. He was consulted with an exhausting frequency on all relevant matters and by the early 1880s was considered indispensable by the Meiji leadership. He would play a major role in the drafting of the Japanese constitution, though not all of his ideas would be adopted for the final document. His rather liberal concept of monarchy, for example, would be discarded in favor of upholding the Emperor’s divinity.
In 1881, Iwakura Tomomi gave Ito Hirobumi the special task of making a close study of western constitutions as part of the process of creating one for Japan. Hirobumi traveled to Europe early the next year so that he might have discussions with actual scholars of said nations and also see for himself how these constitutions worked in real life. When he returned to Japan he reported his conclusions. He found the United States Constitution to be far too liberal - by liberal here, I mean broadly “favoring individual liberty of its citizens.” The constitution of the Spanish Restoration - which had been recently drafted in 1874 after Bourbon rule was restored in Spain - was seen by Hirobumi as investing far too much power in the monarchy at the expense of citizens’ rights. His rough conclusion appears to have been that the ideal constitution - one which was suitably compatible with Japanese culture, history, and its future - was a mixture of the British Constitution and that of Prussia.
Ito Hirobumi returned to Japan in 1883 after almost eighteen months abroad. His return was spurred in large part by the death of Iwakura Tomomi, whose failing health led to a diagnosis of late-stage throat cancer. He had been working on refurbishing and repairing the former imperial palace in Kyoto when this diagnosis came about, and he died on July 20, 1883, at the age of 57. When Ito Hirobumi returned, he was essentially the most powerful member of the Meiji government. He moved quickly to act upon what he had learned in his most recent foray abroad.
In 1884, he established the more granular Kazoku peerage system which we discussed in the previous episode. In December of 1885, he finalized the impressively radical maneuver of dissolving the Daijo-kan and replacing it with the “Naikaku,” which means, “Cabinet.” The titles of the now-defunct council of state would continue to be used as ceremonial honors but would no longer carry any actual political power or responsibilities.
The cabinet, now remembered as “the first Ito Cabinet,” was composed of ministers of Foreign Affairs, Home Affairs, Finance, Justice, Education, Army, Navy, Communications, and a combined ministerial post of Agriculture and Commerce. There was also a Cabinet Secretary and, of course, a Prime Minister, which was Ito Hirobumi himself. Within a few months, the new ministries had each established their own internal governance structure. In March of 1886, the new cabinet established the Imperial University, which was meant to attract civic-minded scholars with political ambitions. While many of the Meiji innovations were adopted from practices of foreign powers, the establishment of an institution of higher learning from which the government might find talented individuals to serve the public good was definitely in keeping with Japanese tradition.
The “first Ito Cabinet” was composed not only of upper-crust politicians but hosted a significant number of military commanders as well. Around half of those who served on the cabinet - and keep in mind there was more than a little reshuffling throughout its tenure - were military commanders, either from the army or navy. Included among the navy men was none other than Enomoto Takeaki, the naval commander who fought for the shogunate to the very end of the Boshin War and also had served as the first president of the Republic of Ezo. He served for the duration of this cabinet as its Minister of Communications.
Although the new cabinet was not yet enshrined in a constitution - said constitution still didn’t exist - it was forged with the understanding that it would be more fully defined by the constitution yet to come. In 1888, Ito Hirobumi, the first Prime Minister of Japan, resigned from office. Hardly intent on retiring to a humble country estate, Hirobumi had already lined up another high-power political appointment: the president of the newly-established privy council.
This new council would primarily advise the emperor on all matters of state. They frequently assembled in secret meetings which typically did not include the emperor. The president of the council would direct the proceedings, in which they would debate various policies, crises, and other matters of state. Their first task was finalizing the constitution.
The process of bringing the constitution from theory to reality, from deliberations to an actual draft, had been proceeding since 1868 and had resulted in several drafts already. As the process intensified in the 1880s, the framers and their foreign advisors met in strict secrecy, a maneuver which was meant to avoid lengthy public debates. In April of 1888, just before the establishment of the Privy Council, the draft committee submitted their final version to the Emperor for his approval and eventual promulgation.
The Privy Council read, re-read, deliberated, debated, and argued over various provisions in the document until finally arriving at a final version early the next year. On February 11, 1889, the new constitution was officially promulgated by imperial decree. The date was chosen because it was the traditional date on which the imperial house of Japan was allegedly founded in 660 BCE by the mythical Emperor Jimmu.
The new constitution consisted of seven chapters. The first chapter established absolute sovereignty in the person of the emperor. The second described the rights and duties of his subjects. The third established the Imperial Diet, which would consist of two houses; the upper house of peers who were kazoku appointees and a lower house of elected representatives. The fourth described the Ministers of the Cabinet and the Privy Council. The fifth established the judiciary. The sixth dealt with taxation and finance. The seventh and final chapter was composed of supplementary rules.
In establishing the emperor’s absolute sovereignty, the first chapter of the Meiji Constitution quickly ran into a few contradictions. On the one hand, according to article three, the emperor was (quote) “Sacred and Inviolable” (endquote), which later conservatives would claim gave him the right to revoke the constitution or even ignore parts of it at his pleasure. However, the very next article declares that the sovereign must only act according to the provisions contained within the constitution.
The second chapter, which tackles the rights and duties of the subjects, lists two primary duties of the common populace: to serve in the armed forces if conscripted, and to pay taxes. The constitution’s preamble also vested the subjects of the emperor with upholding the constitution. The rights which are outlined in chapter two were probably better than groups like the Freedom Party expected. Japanese people could now officially enjoy freedom of movement, freedom from unwarranted search, privacy of any letter sent through the postal service, right to private property, and the rights of free speech, association, and assembly respectively. The second chapter also provided for the right to due process, right to trial, freedom of religion, and right to petition the government. All of these rights were prefaced with the phrase, “within the limits of the law.”
The third chapter established the upper house of the Diet, composed of members of the kazoku peerage and those specially appointed by the emperor, and the lower house, which was a representative body. Fearful of the consequences of allowing too large an electorate to gain political power, this chapter also narrowly defined suffrage. The right to elect representatives was limited to adult men who paid at least fifteen yen in annual taxes. This limited the electorate to a little over one percent of the population.
The fourth chapter is only two articles long and very bluntly establishes “Ministers of State” as well as “privy councilors” but does not actually describe the internal structure of either body, merely that they both provide advice to the emperor on relevant matters. Incidentally, this chapter also contains an interesting contradiction. Article 11 back in chapter 1 proclaims that the army and navy must absolutely obey the commands of the emperor, yet article 55 in chapter 2 declares that any imperial order of any kind must include the signature of a Cabinet Minister. No doubt the framers intended a sort of dynamic tension of checks and balances but the question of whether the emperor was supreme over the constitution or the constitution over the emperor would later lead the nation into some dark paths.
The fifth chapter described the judiciary and specifically stated that trials and judgments would be made in full public view. The judicial system laid out in this chapter was meant to be independent of the executive branch and its judgments not subject to imperial reversal, though the first chapter did grant the emperor the right of pardon.
The sixth chapter established the taxation system as well as the proper budgetary proceedings for the Imperial Diet. The lower house of the Diet would decide the annual budget, taking into account necessary fixed expenditures and variable revenues. Critically, this chapter ordered that a Reserve Fund be established to help with periodic shortfalls, something which in retrospect may have prevented or curtailed many national tragedies that had occurred during the Edo Period.
Chapter seven dealt with supplementary rules, specifically the procedure by which the constitution could be amended in the future. It also forbade constitutional amendments from being proposed while there was an imperial regency, which would come about during the minority of any subsequent emperors.
While some criticized the Meiji constitution for vesting too much power in the emperor and, more importantly, the cabinet and privy council, Ito Hirobumi actually defended the document as containing an adequate balance of power. In fact, during the drafting process Hirobumi himself had insisted on including the various limits to the emperor’s authority, like requiring the secondary signature of a Minister on any official orders. Power sharing with checks and balances was, in his mind, a necessary aspect of a constitutional nation.
However, I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge that the power sharing was still tilted sharply upward toward the person of the emperor. At this point, you might be thinking, hey! I thought you said that Emperor Meiji was essentially a powerless figurehead! To which I would reply that yes, I said that and it remained true even after the constitutional promulgation. While power was vested in the person of the Emperor, that did not mean that he was personally free to directly govern the nation. According to numerous traditions which were far older than even the shogunate, emperors were historically kept apart from the population at large, often concealed behind curtains even during meetings of the Daijo-daikan. Access to Emperor Meiji was not quite that dramatic during the era that bears his name, but it was still limited largely to the cabinet ministers and the privy council. The emperor heard what they wanted him to hear and his information on pressing political matters would have passed through a powerful filter to ensure that his highness is not hearing anything that would make his ministers, and thus himself, appear incompetent or corrupt.
Under the new constitutional system, no laws could be passed unless they were ratified by both the Imperial Diet and the Emperor. This seems a very clear check against the power of both the emperor and the congress but the balance was still shifted entirely toward the Tenno. The sovereign enjoyed the privilege of dissolving the lower house of the Imperial Diet at a whim, and likewise had the power of appointing his own ministers and members of the privy council. While he required the signature of a minister to ratify his edicts, if he really couldn’t find one to assent then he could, theoretically, dismiss the ministers and appoint new ones who would sign his proclamations.
However, a constitution is more than just words on paper. As the Meiji Period progressed it would be amended, clarified by judicial rulings, and ultimately act as the living document it was intended to be. The reaction among so-called “Western Powers” generally ranged from intensely skeptical to grotesquely cynical. The prevailing belief among these nations was that they alone possessed the necessary culture, history, and, let’s face it, sufficiently high level of quote-unquote civilization to establish their nations as legal entities through the writing of constitutions. An east Asian nation engaging in this activity was seen by some in the west as cute and others as an obviously empty gesture which would fundamentally change nothing about Japan’s political status quo.
Japan in particular occupied an interesting place in the western imagination of the late 1800s. Adult citizens of western nations in 1889 likely would have remembered Japan as a strange, backward feudal nation in the savage region of east Asia. Many of them would have been children when the nation was forcibly re-opened to trade in 1853 and the main events which would have hit national news radars would have been the Boshin War and, more recently, the Satsuma Rebellion. Such a barbaric nation couldn’t possibly hope to so rapidly transform its national political character from feudal dictatorship to rule of law.
The reaction at the ground level of Japan itself was generally cautiously optimistic. Those who had campaigned for a legal declaration of human rights no doubt saw the constitution as a good start, though they probably already had a few amendments in mind. Now that they had, at least on paper, official permission to petition the government directly, they moved quickly to draft their first suggestions and start publicizing their proposals as well.
On the day of its promulgation, the constitution was an untested national document but that would soon change. Challenges would arise and the actions and reactions of government officials would inform the world, especially the skeptics in the west, whether this constitution would be enforced.
The first post-constitution election took place in July, 1890. You may recall that the first elections held on Japanese soil were hosted in the so-called Republic of Ezo back in 1870. Prefectures also began holding elections for prefectural assemblies in 1875 in a bid by the Meiji leaders to satisfy the demands of Itakagi Taisuke, the founder of the Freedom and People’s Rights Party. The election of 1890, however, was the first national election in Japanese history and it appears to have been a huge hit among those qualified to vote.
The 15-yen annual tax eligibility requirement was essentially a barrier to prevent the lower-income populace from meddling in government affairs. This was justified as a way of preventing radical demagogues from gaining political power by campaigning on class warfare. The majority of the populace were, in the minds of the Meiji elite, largely ignorant and especially vulnerable to such manipulation. Practically, this meant that the literally just-over-one-percent of the populace who were eligible to vote were mostly landlords, industrial magnates, or owned vast commercial ventures. Interestingly, wealth which was derived from stocks, bonds, and other securities was exempt from these calculations. These things were not considered property.
Across the nation, over a thousand candidates ran for office in the House of Representatives, which had only three hundred available seats. The electorate itself was composed of around 450,000 men, ninety-one percent of whom were commoners and the remaining nine percent being of samurai stock. It’s interesting to reflect on just how much had changed at this point in Japanese history, a mere twenty years after the Meiji Revolution. Regardless of the relatively small size of the electorate, less than one in ten were samurai. Ninety-five percent of those eligible participated in the election of 1890, a remarkable level of participation even among such a small group.
There was one major political party vying for representative seats in the election of 1890. The Rikken Kaishinto, or “Constitutional Reform Party,” had been active since 1882 when it was founded by Okuma Shigenobu, whom you may remember had been forced out of government by Ito Hirobumi. The Kaishinto called for an adoption of British-style political power, wherein the monarch was a symbolic figurehead who would not be directly involved in governance. The Kaishinto won forty-one of the three hundred seats, a minority by far, but they were very unified as a party and exercised good discipline in their ranks.
After the election ended, like-minded representatives began gathering and forming new political parties, often following the leads of important men like Okuma Shigenobu. Itagaki Taisuke gathered one hundred thirty elected representatives into the Rikken Jiyuto, or Constitutional Liberal Party. This made them the largest single group in the lower house, but soon a third contender would appear.
Another group of elected representatives, most of them former civil servants, formed the Taiseikai, or “Great Achievement Society.” They were largely in agreement with the policies of the existing Meiji oligarchy. There was also the Kokumin Jiyuto, or “National Liberal Party,” who were ultranationalists but they only commanded five votes in the lower house.
Of these political parties, only the Kaishinto and the Jiyuto, the parties founded by Okuma Shigenobu and Itagaki Taisuke respectively, would still exist during the election of 1892. The other two splintered and dissolved within the space of two years. None of these parties would exist by the end of the 1800s; the early political parties of Japan were quite fluid, not unlike early political parties of many constitutional nations. That being said, I’m sure that going forward I will neglect to mention some party that existed at a certain time, probably more than once. There are just too many to keep track of and doing so is beyond the scope of my humble podcast.
The election of 1890 was over, and Japan now had many political bodies which were similar to their western counterparts who continued to doubt that this constitution business would last. That did not mean, of course, that the way ahead would be smooth, nor that political violence would cease to be an occasional grim reality. Next time, we will turn our eyes west to observe the decline of the Joseon Kingdom, which was dealing with its own grim realities surrounding modernization.