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Continue readingThe U.S. State Department: 1937 until Spring 1939

After the Marco Polo Bridge Incident (July 1937) the United States took measured but meaningful actions in support of China, while still stopping well short of alliance or military intervention. The pattern is best described as moral, diplomatic, and limited material support, shaped and heavily limited by existing U.S. neutrality laws and the general sense of isolationism among the American people and Congress.
Given the mood and legal constraints facing the Roosevelt administration there was little to be done if the goal was to avoid military actions. What actions were taken are best described as nonrecognition and positioning. To that end the U.S. refused to recognize Japanese territorial gains in China, continued to uphold and advocate the Open Door Policy regarding commercial trade with China, and treated China as the legitimate sovereign power throughout the conflict.
This stance mattered because it denied Japan international legitimacy as virtually all nations followed the U.S. lead in this matter. It also gave China an enhanced standing in international diplomatic forums. The actions, limited as they were, did signal U.S. sympathy without military commitment. While Secretary Cordell Hull worked the diplomatic world, striking a balance that applied limited international pressure in a moral sense to Japan, he also had to temper calls from Britain for concrete economic sanctions. Britain was at the threshold of war in Europe (which began September 1939) and was concerned with Japanese aggression in the Asia Pacific area against British colonies and interests.
A Divided Asian Policy
In the post “American Diplomacy in 1937” we considered some of the key figures in determining the U.S. diplomatic response to Japanese aggression in China: President Franklin D. Roosevelt; Cordell Hull, Secretary of State; Stanley Hornbeck who headed the Far East Department; Nelson Johnson, Ambassador to China; Joseph Drew, Ambassador to Japan; and key advisors to Hull – J. Pierpoint Moffat and Hugh Wilson. Moffat was the son-in-law of Joseph Drew. Wilson had served in Japan in the mid-1920s.
Roosevelt, Hornbeck and Johnson can be viewed as members of an “activist camp” although in varying degrees. Hull, Grew, Moffat and Wilson would be viewed as members of a “don’t aggravate Japan” camp who wanted to confine U.S. responses to diplomatic channels while avoiding economic sanctions of any form as well as military action. At this point “military action” primarily meant action by naval and marines forces stationed in Shanghai as protection of U.S. citizens and interest in Shanghai’s International Settlement as well as citizens and interests upstream on the Yangtze River.
Hull’s position was to do nothing to antagonize Japan but nothing to assist them either. President Roosevelt did not like Hull’s Asian policy. While he accepted them as prudent the President was frustrated by a policy that let Japan get away with blatant aggression. Roosevelt was known to keep his own counsel and on occasion “go his own way.” In October 1937 he gave what came to be known as the Quarantine Speech that implicitly condemned Japan’s aggression (alongside Italy and Germany). In the speech he framed Japan as a disturber of international order but deliberately avoided naming Japan to prevent escalation. But his meaning was clear: “The present reign of terror and international lawlessness… [means that] the very foundations of civilization are seriously threatened…international anarchy destroys every foundation of peace…This situation is of universal concern.” Roosevelt went on to compare the terror and lawlessness to a contagion becoming an epidemic and note that the only reaction to an epidemic is quarantine. “War is a contagion, whether it be declared or undeclared…There must be positive endeavors to preserve peace.”
The speech did everything that Hull was trying to avoid. First, it exacerbated diplomatic relations with Japan. Although Roosevelt never named Japan, Japanese leaders and the press immediately understood that Japan was one of the principal targets. From Tokyo’s perspective, the speech signaled that the United States was morally siding with China, Japan was being described as a threat to international order, not merely a regional power pursuing interests, U.S. neutrality was becoming conditional rather than detached, and this signaled a shift from U.S. disapproval to U.S. warning.
The Japanese Foreign Ministry responded with measured, non-confrontational statements. This restraint reflected a desire to avoid provoking sanctions, an awareness that Japan still depended heavily on U.S. trade, and a hope that American isolationism would reassert itself. In the Cabinet it was viewed as a trial balloon for later economic sanctions. Within the military it added to the view that the U.S. viewed them as a second-rate nation. The Japanese Army dismissed it as moralizing. Within the Navy the speech confirmed fears that American opinion was shifting and that the current moral pressure could evolve into economic or naval measures – but still considered armed conflict years away.
Hull was also concerned that the speech would have the western signatories to the Nine Power Treaty call for an international conference (which it did) and that the U.S. would be thrust into the leadership role. Within domestic politics/policy it marked the beginning of a division within the nation’s foreign policy with Roosevelt pushing for something more dynamic and assertive – and yet not giving any concrete substance to the notion – while at the same time Hull was trying to maintain the established policy.
This difference would prove to be somewhat problematic as Roosevelt tended to think in broad, sweeping terms while avoiding detailed plans. Hull tended to think in categories of fundamental goals without incremental steps towards that end.
Proposals and Next Steps
Among the activists, Hornbeck shared Hull’s conviction that diplomatically Japan was not an honest dialogue partner, but also understood Japan’s foundational interests: economic and political security in her area of interest. While much of the U.S. Department of State believed Japan had “taken on more than it could chew,” Hornbeck understood that with every bite, Japan’s appetite increased, but that there were very different levels of “appetites” between the nationalist/militarists in Japan and their moderate counterparts in civil governance and diplomacy. Hornbeck wanted to actively approach Japan with the “carrot” that would give them the security they desired, but needed a “stick” to forestall further Japanese aggression in China. In this he was aligned with President Roosevelt, but the President in 1937 did not believe he had the support of either Congress or the public for any form of “carrot.”
While the U.S. internal debates continued and Japan aggressively moved in China, an element of the Japanese government initiated “feelers” from offices in Tokyo, Washington DC, and Paris. They wanted to see if the U.S. would help present Japan’s terms for peace and moderate Sino-Japanese talks. Unfortunately, Japan’s offer matched their history of vague diplomacy, asking for specific current actions from China while pinning their commitments to future events that might or might not happen. Ambassador Grew in Japan, in general more positive about Japan than others, acknowledged that his analysis of the terms to China were really full capitulation couched in ambiguous language. Grew attempted to get Japan to commit to “details” consistent with the Nine Nations Treaty of which Japan was a signatory. Eventually the initiative “died on the vine.”
By December 1937, Treasury Secretary Morgenthau, of a like mind with Roosevlet and Hull, raised the possibility of beginning to seize Japanese assets held in the U.S. as a first step. Roosevelt was initially keen on the idea, but by late January 1938 that initiative “died on the vine.”
There were other initiatives but in the end all suffered the same fate. The U.S. was not able to field a policy for Japan other than Hull’s “don’t aggravate, just wait.” Some of the division and lack of action was certainly tied to U.S. politics with the American people largely isolationists, still suffering from effects of the Great Depression, and mid-term elections being close by. But a good deal was connected to the divisions with the State Department. Ambassador Grew, long serving in Japan, had a belief in the moderates of the party – people he had known since the 1920s. Historians agree that he placed too much emphasis on the standings of the moderates, who by the 1930s were largely sidelined. With Washington DC, the Far East Department (FED) firmly believed that the nationalists and military elements held key control of Japan’s policies. FED believed that Japan had not only regional but global aspirations and foresaw in the spring of 1938 that Japan would formally partner with Germany and Italy – which they did in the September 1940 Tripartite Treaty.
By the Spring of 1938, China was holding its own…to some degree. Hull concluded that Japan was overextended, lacked the resources to capture China, much less control China, and concluded that Japan would never win the war. And that they might even lose the war over time. This “betwixt-and-between” view was supported by General Joseph Stillwell, US Army, an advisor to Chiang Kai-shek. The next effect was to further convince Hull that his policy of waiting while not aggravating Japan was the right course of action.
As a result, a routine was established: Japan took some action which required Ambassador Grew to protest. Japan offered conciliatory words with no concrete actions apart from a renewed request for the U.S. to moderate peace talks (as before). In the end, with no actions forthcoming, the U.S. would formally protest. Japan did not respond. It was a cycle of rinse and repeat as each incident came along.
In May 1938, Japan initiated a campaign of strategic bombing of Chinese civilian populations. This campaign was extensively covered by U.S. news outlets and American missionaries. At the movies, new reels and reports of the campaign were seen by the American public. It is estimated that in 1938, in urban America, the average adult saw two movies in-theatre each week. It did not take long for a wave of public outcry to arise. From that came the calls for U.S. companies to stop their “blood trade” with Japan. The outcry forced Hull to initiate a “moral embargo” asking U.S. companies to voluntarily stop trade with Japan in aircraft, aviation maintenance items, aviation fuel, and key resources and tools needed for the production of war goods. Hull’s goal was to calm the U.S. public. At the same time Hornbeck and other departments in State wanted the U.S. to abrogate the 1911 U.S.-Japan Trade Agreement.
The war in China continued through the summer and into the autumn. The Chinese lost the city Xuzhou at the end of May but the battle proved the Chinese strategy of attrition that increasingly made Japan pay an ever increasing costs in terms of casualties and equipment. The Japanese were drawn into the Battle of Wuhan which involved over 1 million soldiers and great loss, but marked the end of Japan’s rapid advance and the beginning of a long-term strategic stalemate. This advance was also forestalled when Chinese forces breached the dikes of Yangtze River, creating a massive, man-made flood to block the Japanese advance.
In November 1938, the Prime Minister of Japan, Prince Konoe, gave what is called the “New Order” speech that made public what the Far East Department (FED) had long promoted – Japan’s ambitions were super regional and also global. This was the start of a coming change within the State Department, the Treasury Department and Congress to make loans to China and begin to discuss abrogating the 1911 U.S.-Japan trade agreement. Withdrawing from this agreement made later sanctions and embargoes possible.
Of interest is also at this time, Ambassador Grew was vacationing in the United States, and when asked the Charge of Affairs Doorman reported that the military and nationalists were in complete control of the governance of Japan. This March 1939.
Image credit: various photographs from Naval Aviation Museum, National World War II Museum, and US Navy Archive
Discipleship and the Law
19 Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do so will be called least in the kingdom of heaven. But whoever obeys and teaches these commandments will be called greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 20 I tell you, unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter into the kingdom of heaven
Like the previous two verses, v.19 warns the disciples against altering or setting aside any part of the law, however small. Although our translation uses “break,” the underlying Greek word is lyō which means “loose, untie or relax” (and is from the same root as abolish in v. 17) The word typically means to ‘set aside’ or ‘teach against’ a commandment, rather than to disobey it. It is the same ‘loose’ used in 16:19; 18:18 when describing the authority of Peter and the Church. To set aside or to relax the Law would show disrespect for the Old Testament and Jesus. The implication is that it would make a poor Christian.
“Least” is used chiefly for its rhetorical effect echoing the least commandment, though clearly within the kingdom of heaven there are those who are more or less consistent and effective in their discipleship; the thought is of quality of discipleship, not of ultimate rewards. The good disciple will obey and teach the commandments: he will go beyond lip-service, to be guided by them in his life and teaching. Does this mean literal observance of every regulation? Not if we may judge by vv. 21–48 and e.g. Jesus’ attitude to the laws of uncleanness. The question of interpretation and application remains open: it is the attitude of respect and obedience which is demanded, and to this no single commandment can be an exception.
Verse 20 dispels any suspicion of legalism which v. 19 might have raised. The scribes (professional students and teachers of the law) and Pharisees (members of a largely lay movement devoted to scrupulous observance both of the Old Testament law and of the still developing legal traditions), whose obedience to ‘the least of these commandments’ could not be faulted, do not thereby qualify for the kingdom of heaven (whereas the disciple who relaxes the commandments does belong to it, though as the ‘least’). What is required is a greater righteousness, a relationship of love and obedience to God which is more than a literal observance of regulations. It is such a ‘righteousness’ which fulfils the law and the prophets (v. 17), and which will be illustrated in vv. 21–48 (in contrast with the legalism of the scribes) and in 6:1–18 (in contrast with the superficial ‘piety’ of the Pharisees).
An Interim Summary
R.T. France (1989, p.116) offers a paraphrase to make the point clear: “‘17I have not come to set aside the Old Testament, but to bring the fulfillment to which it pointed. 18For no part of it can ever be set aside, but all must be fulfilled (as it is now being fulfilled in my ministry and teaching). 19So a Christian who repudiates any part of the Old Testament is an inferior Christian; the consistent Christian will be guided by the Old Testament, and will teach others accordingly. 20But a truly Christian attitude is not the legalism of the scribes and Pharisees, but a deeper commitment to do the will of God, as vv. 21ff. will illustrate.”
Matthew 5:17-20 does not say that every Old Testament regulation is eternally valid. This view is not found anywhere in the New Testament, which consistently sees Jesus as introducing a new situation, for which the law prepared (Gal. 3:24), but which now fulfills it. The focus will be on Jesus and his teaching, and in this light the validity of any particular Old Testament rule must now be examined. Some will be found to have fulfilled their role and be no longer applicable (see especially Hebrews on the ritual laws, and Jesus’ teaching on uncleanness, Mark 7:19), others will be reinterpreted. Matthew 5:21ff. will be dealing with this reinterpretation, and vv. 17–20 can only truly be understood as an introduction to vv. 21ff. To assert, as these verses do, that every detail of the Old Testament is God-given and unalterable, is not to preempt the question of its proper application. If the law pointed forward to a new situation which has now arrived, that question of application arises with new urgency, and vv. 21-22 and following will go on to indicate some answers to it (“You have heard that it was said to your ancestors…But I say to you). Their answers will be the opposite of legalism (the literal and unchanging application of the law as regulations) but will reveal the deeper meaning of covenant.
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch | Museum of National History | Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
Impression or Conversion
In the gospel Jesus tells the crowd that what truly defiles a person is not what comes from the outside, but what comes from within. What comes out is likely an indicator of the conversion happening within. Take someone’s intentions, attitudes, choices, words – what do they reveal? Holiness? Evil? Either can be rooted in one’s heart.
At the same time Jesus challenges the crowd’s comfortable assumptions about the purity and holiness rituals and laws. They are the external acts that are meant to call people to holiness, to keep them clean and acceptable. But Jesus pushes them beyond that familiarity and says: holiness is not about what goes on outside of you. It is about what is going on inside your heart and are you willing to make that journey of conversion.
The first reading presents a striking image: the Queen of Sheba traveling a great distance to see Solomon. She is drawn by what she has heard: reports of wisdom, order, and blessing. When she arrives, she is overwhelmed. The splendor of the court, the clarity of Solomon’s answers, the abundance of his kingdom and more. Scripture tells us it quite literally takes her breath away. She is impressed.
But at the core of these readings is the challenge we face to understand the difference between what impresses us vs. what converts us.
What matters most is not that the Queen is impressed, but that she is willing to leave what is familiar in order to seek what is true. She risks the journey. She asks hard questions. And in the end, her admiration leads her beyond Solomon himself to praise the Lord who is at work through him. What begins as amazement becomes recognition of God.
That movement from being impressed to being converted is exactly where Jesus leads us in the Gospel. Our encounter with this life is meant to be transformative.
Let’s be honest, we are easily impressed. We are impressed by appearances, by success, eloquence, beauty, efficiency, even by religious performance. We can be impressed by the look of faith without allowing faith to change our hearts.
Conversion, however, works quietly. It does not always look dramatic. It happens when pride gives way to humility, when resentment gives way to mercy, when self-protection gives way to trust. Conversion shows itself not in what we display, but in what flows out of us. Especially when no one is watching.
External practices are easier to manage. They can be seen, measured, and admired. Interior conversion is harder. It requires honesty. It asks us to confront our intentions, our resentments, our fears, and the ways we protect ourselves.
The danger Jesus points to is subtle but real: we can remain impressed by faith without ever allowing it to change us. We can admire holiness from a safe distance while avoiding the inner work of conversion.
The Queen of Sheba models something different. She does not stay where she is comfortable. She does not rely on secondhand knowledge. She seeks God beyond what is familiar, and because she does, her encounter leads to praise and transformation, not just admiration.
Faith always asks us to move, to travel beyond ease, beyond routine, beyond the exterior practice of religion. What impresses us may catch our attention. But only what converts us reshapes the heart.
Image credit: Salomon recevant la reine de Saba | Jacques Stella, 1650 | Museum of Fine Arts of Lyon, France | PD
The Second Sino-Japanese War

So far in this series we have worked our way up to 1937. From the summer of 1937 until Pearl Harbor the conflict in mainland China is the dominant factor that drives and animates Japan’s relationships (or lack thereof) with China, the United States, Britain, the Netherlands, and all the nations of the Asia-Pacific region. The ebb and flow of this conflict known as the Second Sino-Japanese War is really the beginning of the Asia Pacific War that will become World War II upon the 1939 outbreak of war on the European continent and the entry of the United States into the war after the attack on Pearly Harbor in December 1941.
The Second Sino-Japanese War began not as a formally declared conflict but as a local military clash that escalated beyond political control, reflecting the structural weaknesses of both Chinese sovereignty and Japanese civilian authority over the Imperial Japanese Army (IJA). From the Marco Polo Bridge Incident in July 1937 to the summer of 1941, the war evolved from a short punitive campaign into a protracted, brutal struggle that reshaped East Asia and set Japan on an increasingly irreversible path toward wider war.
The Marco Polo Bridge Incident and the Slide into War
Since 1905 and the Boxer Revolt in China, foreign nations, including Japan, had the right to station troops to protect their nationals and legations. For the Japanese this included guarding key railway lines connecting Beijing to the port of Tianjin. The Marco Polo Bridge spanned the Yongding River and sat on the main rail and road routes linking Beijing and Tianjin. As such it was of high strategic importance to Japan and a tactical chokepoint. Because of this Japanese units frequently patrolled and trained nearby. Night exercises were common and technically permitted under treaty arrangements.
On July 7th, Japanese troops were conducting a night training exercise near the bridge when one soldier failed to return, Japanese officers suspected detention by Chinese forces and demanded entry into a local city to search for their comrade; the Chinese refused. Shots were exchanged, and the situation escalated.
Similar incidents had occurred before and had been defused diplomatically. What made 1937 different was not the presence of troops, but the political climate surrounding the incident.
By 1937 Chiang Kai-shek’s coalition of northern and central warlords was deemed to be weakening in the view of the Japanese. This gave the Japanese field commanders (junior officers) the opportunity to aggressively respond as was their inclination. As discussed previously, by this time the field commanders knew that the civilian leaders in Tokyo were reluctant to restrain the Kwantung Army and so they pressed ahead. But they had misread the resolve of the Chinese leaders. So to speak, this time the incident was a bridge too far. The system that once contained incidents had broken down. Neither side was willing or able to step back once violence occurred. Mutual distrust, heightened nationalism, and the absence of firm political restraint allowed the confrontation to spiral.
Neither Tokyo nor Nanjing initially sought full-scale war. Japanese civilian leaders hoped to localize the conflict, while Chiang Kai-shek remained cautious, wary of Japan’s military superiority. Yet Japanese field commanders continued to press forward, and political leaders in Tokyo, fearful of appearing weak and constrained by past precedents of insubordination, ratified military escalation rather than restraining it.
By late July, Japanese forces had seized Beijing and Tianjin. What might once have ended in diplomatic compromise instead became a test of national will.
Shanghai and the Expansion of the War
The conflict escalated dramatically with the Battle of Shanghai (August–November 1937) a key seaport and source of income to the Chinese government. The Marco Polo Bridge incident ignited the conflict; Shanghai made it irreversible. Before August 1937, both governments still claimed to want containment and find a “local solution.” But locally, the Japanese approach into the region was a punitive campaign initiated by local field commanders and Shanghai was the goal.
Shanghai was China’s economic and financial center. It was a major port for foreign trade and it controlled the Yangtze River which was the “highway” into Central China. By 1937, Japan had a large civilian population and commercial interests in Shanghai including banking and shipping. As well, Japan had naval facilities and marines stationed in their part of the International Settlement. Any fighting in or near Shanghai could be framed as protecting Japanese nationals and treaty rights giving them a legally defensible pretext for military involvement. The hope was to draw Chiang Kai-shek into battle, force him to negotiate resulting in a collapse of Chinese Nationalist morale, and bring the war to a quick end. This reflected a persistent Japanese belief that China would not endure sustained pressure. That working theory had not proved true in Manchuria which Japan still struggled to control. It would not provide true now nor would it prove true at any point over the next 8 years.
Chiang Kai-shek understood the Japanese intent and chose to commit his best German-trained divisions in China’s most international city. His aim was to demonstrate Chinese resistance to the international community with its large contingent of foreign press and media. While the Marco Polo Bridge was “out of sight”, Shanghai would force Japan to fight in full view of the world. Video of the fighting became a staple in US movie theatres in the news trailers that preceded the feature film. Chiang hoped the result would be foreign mediation and that they might intervene diplomatically.
Japan responded with overwhelming force, deploying naval, air, and ground units. Once fighting began, Japanese prestige and military logic demanded escalation rather than withdrawal. The battle became one of the largest and bloodiest urban engagements of the interwar period. Although Japan ultimately captured Shanghai, the cost in casualties, time, and resources dashed Japanese assumptions of a quick victory. But it did not extinguish the IJA’s optimism about the glory or destiny of the war.
The Shanghai campaign marked a turning point as the war became total in scope, involving mass mobilization on both sides. At home as the Japanese press reported success while not reporting the tremendous losses, Japanese public opinion increasingly supported the war and the Army, making it even more difficult as diplomatic compromise became increasingly untenable. The intentional strategic bombing of civilian areas as a means of breaking morale exacerbated the breakdown.
Shanghai became a symbolic test of national honor. In China, the battle unified the Chinese factions in the common cause against Japan – even the Communists joined. In Japan, the narrative fed into the State Shinto program that the Army’s sacrifice demanded public support and sacrifice all the way to victory.
After months of brutal fighting any compromise would be perceived as betrayal as the war became morally and emotionally entrenched in the psyche of the nations. There were no diplomatic off-ramps. Japan rejected mediation efforts and were on the road to total victory. China could not accept terms without sovereignty remaining intact. Historians often note that before Shanghai, war was possible. After Shanghai, peace was politically unimaginable.
Nanjing and the Descent into Atrocity
Following the fall of Shanghai, Japanese forces advanced up the Yangtze River toward Nanjing, then the capital of the Nationalist government. The city fell in December 1937, after Chiang Kai-shek had withdrawn the government inland to Wuhan.
What followed, the Nanjing Massacre (also known as the Rape of Nanking) became one of the most infamous episodes of the war. Over several weeks, Japanese troops committed widespread atrocities, including mass killings, rape, and looting. Estimates of the dead range from tens of thousands to over two hundred thousand.
The significance of Nanjing extended beyond the immediate horror. It destroyed Japan’s international reputation, hardened Chinese resistance, made negotiated peace politically impossible for Chiang Kai-shek, and deepened Japan’s moral and diplomatic isolation. Within Japan, however, the massacre did not provoke accountability; rather, it was subsumed beneath censorship and nationalist narratives, reinforcing the pattern established after earlier acts of military excess.
Nanjing was the most visible atrocity of the Second Sino-Japanese War, but it was only one episode in a broader pattern of mass killing, terror, and repression that unfolded across China from 1937 to 1945. Most historians agree that atrocities were systemic, not accidental and that violence escalated as Japan failed to secure quick victory. The dehumanization of Chinese civilians became embedded in military practice and was demonstrated in the 1938 Wuhan Campaign and Yangtze Valley operations, the Sankō Sakusen (kill all, burn all, loot all) policy in Chinese Communist areas from 1940-1943, the 1943 Changjiao Massacre, and the list goes on.
Stalemate and the Failure of Decisive Victory
By early 1938, Japan controlled China’s major cities, ports, and railways but not China itself. The Nationalist government retreated first to Wuhan, then to Chongqing, deep in China’s interior. From there, Chiang adopted a strategy of protracted resistance and giving up territory to garner time while the Japanese were stretched even thinner. At the core, Chiang relied on China’s vast geography and population.
Japan faced a growing dilemma as military success did not translate into political control. The vastness of their conquest and occupation required ever-larger troop commitments. The IJA had been modeled on the Prussian system, and yet Japan failed to understand the noted war theorist, Hans Clausewitz who argued that merely occupying territory is not the same as defeating an enemy. If an occupier controls cities, roads, and fortresses but fails to destroy the enemy’s army, government, or will to resist, the population will turn to partisan guerrilla warfare. Such resistance can and will bleed the occupier over time, even when conventional victory seems complete. The fall of Wuhan in October 1938 failed to end the war. Instead, Japan found itself trapped in what many leaders privately acknowledged as a “China quagmire”, though publicly they insisted on eventual victory.
Ideology, Policy, and the Deepening War
As the war dragged on, Japan’s political and ideological posture hardened. In January 1938, Prime Minister Konoe declared that Japan would no longer deal with Chiang Kai-shek’s government, foreclosing diplomatic settlement. This decision, often cited by historians as a critical error, was driven by military pressure, nationalist public opinion, and the belief that China would eventually collapse internally. In practice, this policy eliminated Japan’s best chance for a negotiated exit.
Japan attempted instead to construct a “New Order in East Asia”, envisioning China as a subordinate partner under Japanese leadership. In reality, this meant expanded occupation, collaborationist regimes, and intensified repression.
Throughout this period, the United States remained formally neutral, but increasingly sympathetic to China. American responses included moral condemnation of Japanese aggression, loans and limited aid to the Chinese government, and growing public outrage after incidents such as the Panay Incident (1937) when the Japanese sank a U.S. gunboat involved in rescue operations of U.S. citizens along the Yangtze River. However, until 1940, U.S. actions remained cautious, constrained by isolationism and legal neutrality. Japanese leaders interpreted this restraint as reluctance to intervene militarily, reinforcing the belief that the China war could continue without provoking direct conflict with the United States.
The Road to Wider War, 1939–1941
By 1939–1940, the war in China had become institutionalized. Japan had mobilized society for long-term conflict. Military influence over government had deepened and political dissent was suppressed. The outbreak of war in Europe in 1939 altered Japan’s strategic calculations. With France defeated and Britain embattled, Japan turned increasingly toward southern expansion, while continuing the China war without resolution.
In 1940, Japan signed the Tripartite Pact with Germany and Italy, further alarming the United States. American responses escalated gradually to include export controls on aviation fuel and scrap metal, increased support for China, and increased strategic planning for potential conflict with Japan. In July 1941, Japan’s occupation of southern Indochina prompted the United States to impose a freeze on Japanese assets and an effective oil embargo. By this point, Japan was fighting an unwinnable war in China while facing mounting pressure from the world’s leading industrial power.
From the Marco Polo Bridge Incident to the summer of 1941, the Second Sino-Japanese War evolved from a local confrontation into a protracted, brutal, and strategically disastrous conflict. Japan’s inability to control its own military escalation, combined with nationalist ideology and structural flaws in governance, transformed early victories into long-term overextension. For China, the war became one of survival, unity forged through suffering. For Japan, it became the central trap from which all subsequent decisions would follow: southern expansion to the Southwest Pacific region, confrontation with the United States, and ultimately the full Asia Pacific War.
Image credit: various photographs from Naval Aviation Museum, National World War II Museum, and US Navy Archives.
Until Heaven And Earth Pass Away
18 Amen, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not the smallest letter or the smallest part of a letter will pass from the law, until all things have taken place.” It is notable that “the prophets” are not mentioned again in Matthew 5; the focus seems to now be on the law alone. The statement is striking and perhaps somewhat puzzling. It is clearly a statement of the permanence of the law. The preservation of every least mark of the pen is a vivid way to convey that no part of it can be dispensed with. But the saying is complicated by two “until” clauses. It is not clear how these two clauses relate to one another, or whether they are making the same or different points. “Until heaven and earth pass away” is the equivalent of our modern “until hell freezes over” – a colloquial way of saying “never.” The phrase about “heaven and earth” appears as a positive in Jeremiah (cf. Jer 31:35-36; 33:20-21, 25-26) and Job 14:12. The expression is also used positively in Ps 72:5, 7, 17. The repetition of the verb “pass away” (parerchomai) links the law to the earth/heavens as equally permanent. Note that in Mt 24:35 Jesus’ own words are stated to be more permanent than heaven and earth.
The puzzling part comes with the use of the second “until.” Some see the repetition as just that, a repetition for emphasis. But the second “until” is contextualized by something happening, whereas the first is in the context of something that will not happen. The majority of scholars see the phrase “until all things have taken place” as typical Matthean use of eschatological fulfillment (as he does later in 24:34). If this is correct then fulfilling the law and the prophets is in terms of a future situation to which the law pointed. Then the text could be saying that the smallest detail of the law would be valid until the fulfillment arrived – and only valid until then.
This is the point at which some insist that Jesus is that fulfillment and since Jesus is there in their midst, then the law passes away. But in the light of Jesus claiming not to abolish the law (v.17), his insistence that even the least of the commandments remains important (v.18) and that the community is to “obey and teach these commandments” (v.19) – that understanding seems improbable.
The double “until” is perhaps awkward but is paraphrased by RT France (2007, p.186) as: “The law, down to its smallest details, is as permanent as heaven and earth, and will never lose its significance; on the contrary, all that it points forward to will in fact become a reality.” The new reality is present in Jesus, but not fully present as the kingdom of heaven. Still the law (smallest detail and all) have to be seen in a new light, but they still cannot be discarded. Matthew will make clear in 5:21-47 how the law will function in a new situation where they are not halakah but are pointers to a greater righteousness (relationship) in the family kinship (covenant).
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch | Museum of National History | Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
Tension as old as Faith
The readings today place us inside a tension that is as old as faith itself: the tension between tradition and obedience, between familiar worship and a living relationship with God.
In the first reading, Solomon stands before the newly built Temple and prays with remarkable humility. He acknowledges something important: “The heavens cannot contain you; how much less this house I have built.” The Temple is sacred. It is a mark of permanence. Where God once traveled with the Exodus people and was present in the Tent of Meeting. Now God is present to them in Jerusalem Temple. Solomon knows it is not a way to contain God, but it is meant to be a place that draws the people’s hearts back to the covenant. A place where they can listen and then find repentance and mercy.
The Temple is sacred. The danger comes when sacred things become substitutes for conscious and active fidelity.
That danger is exactly what Jesus addresses in the Gospel. The Pharisees are not villains who dislike God. They are deeply religious people, devoted to tradition that they consider sacred in some sense.. But Jesus says something unsettling: it is possible to honor God with the lips while the heart remains far away. When tradition is treated as an end in itself, it can quietly replace the command of God rather than serve it.
The danger comes when traditions are assigned the aura of “sacred.” The Catholics only have one “Sacred Tradition.” The Catechism describes Sacred Tradition as the transmission of the Word of God, which has been entrusted to the Church (CCC 80). Catholics have lots of traditions (with a small “t”). Jesus is not rejecting tradition. He is rescuing the properly understood role of traditions. Traditions are meant to guide us to holiness, remind us of ways to right and true worship. We might find comfort in tradition, but that is not their purpose. They should lead us into deeper love of God and neighbor, not give us ways to avoid that love.
And this is where the risk of familiar worship enters. When prayer, ritual, and religious language become routine, they can lose their power to challenge us. We know the words. We know the gestures. We know what is expected. But familiarity can dull the sharp edge of the Gospel.
We may still be worshiping, but are we listening?
Solomon’s prayer reminds us that God cannot be contained by buildings, customs, or habits. God desires hearts that are open, teachable, and responsive. Jesus reminds us that faith becomes dangerous when it is used to protect ourselves rather than to convert us.
The question these readings place before us is not whether we are faithful to tradition, but whether tradition is keeping us faithful to God’s command—to love, to forgive, to act justly, to remain humble.
Familiar worship becomes holy again when it leads us back to obedience of the heart.
Image credit: G. Corrigan | Canva | CC-0
American Diplomacy in 1937

It would be a herculean task to consider all the elements and forces in the boiling pot that was the Asia Pacific region in the summer of 1937. And even then to understand the levers available to the U.S. to affect the military action in China and Manchuria that was initiated by Japan. Historians argue for or against financial leverage, military leverage, diplomatic leverage and a host of other factors. A book has been written that argues a coalition of merchant shipping companies could have been assembled that could have been effective in controlling Japan because of Japan’s dependence on foreign-flagged merchants to deliver even basic food items. Perhaps the most often discussed topic is that the United States missed a window of opportunity to broker peace between China and Japan that would have set in motion a chain of events so that the United States was never drawn into the war against Japan.
Background: US Foreign Policy
The priority of the President of the United States and the State Department was Europe and the rise of fascism in Italy and Germany, as well as the ongoing Spanish Civil War which was seen as a proxy for the coming conflict in Europe. It was also the priority for Britain and during this period they exerted diplomatic pressure to ensure the U.S. kept Europe as the priority. Nonetheless, the U.S. needed to pay attention to the Asia-Pacific region because of interests in China, the Philippines, Guam and elsewhere.
Some of the key players at the U.S. State Department were: Cordell Hull, Secretary of State; Stanley Hornbeck who headed the Far East Department; Nelson Johnson, Ambassador to China; Joseph Drew, Ambassador to Japan; and key advisors to Hull – J. Pierpoint Moffat and Hugh Wilson. Moffat was the son-in-law of Joseph Drew. Wilson had served in Japan in the mid-1920s.
Hull shared a view with Hornbeck: Japan was not trustworthy given their history of vague diplomacy, military aggression apart from civilian control, and a habit to ask specific current action of the U.S. while pinning their commitments to future events that might or might not happen. By the 1930s they were not considered to be forthright in their diplomacy. In the 1920s, when there was a strong current of liberal democracy, Japanese diplomats were effective – perhaps because the western nations (i.e., U.S. and Britain) achieved their goals. Meanwhile, at home, the military/nationalist parties considered the diplomats to have harmed Japan in strategy and in honor. By the 1930s, it was this latter group that dominated internal and external politics and policy, even as Japan’s diplomatic core retained career people from the 1920s.
It must be noted that even at this point in history (1937), the U.S. had already broken the Japanese diplomatic cables and traffic (not the military). The U.S. was often reading diplomatic correspondence before the intended Japanese recipient. The distrust was rooted, not only in experience with Japan’s diplomacy of the 1930s, but also with evidence of current intentions revealed in the diplomatic cables.
Perceptions within the State Department
While Hull and Hornbeck agreed it was appropriate to be very cautious in dealing with Japan, where they were not on the same page as regards to “the next steps.” Hull was very much a diplomat who was pragmatic but at the same time was more interested in a lasting settlement rather than incremental steps to such a settlement. His emphasis was always on fundamental principles. Hull’s experience with Japan was they negotiated to keep options open, were reluctant to commit to hard action, dates and consequences, and most often replied with vague ideas or contingent events whose outcome was rarely knowable. In addition, the principled but pragmatic Hull believed that the U.S. did not have adequate naval assets to project power to the western Pacific; did not have substantive national interests in China to warrant the threat of military action; understood that any action taken in the summer of 1937 had zero popular support; and that the U.S. did not possess sufficient financial leverage to entice/force Japan to modify its China program. Hull did note in correspondence that “Japan’s invasion of China was not desirable but not intolerable.”
Hornbeck and Johnson believed that Japan’s aggression would never be limited to China but would eventually expand to include the Southwest Pacific, especially the oil rich nations. Japan wanted diplomatic and trade action that would legitimize their expansive actions, both categories of which were turned down by Hull and President Roosevelt. Hull’s position was to do nothing to antagonize Japan but nothing to assist them either. Roosevelt’s position was harder to pin down. He would agree that the U.S. should do nothing to aggravate Japan, then he would make a very public speech, e.g. Chicago 1937, when we would openly criticize Japan’s aggression and seem to call for a “moral embargo” from U.S. citizens and companies to not buy Japanese goods. In any case, there was nothing concrete that was offered to mitigate Japan’s actions – and that was, in part, due to pressure from Britain and the Netherlands who had substantive interests and holding in the Southwest Pacific – the very target of Japan’s attention.
The Neutrality Acts
The U.S. was also constrained by the Neutrality Acts. By 1937 the acts prohibited arms sales to all belligerents – in this case China and Japan. It was designed to keep the U.S. isolated. This initially gave Japan a freer hand in its aggression against China without fear of U.S. intervention. Following the outbreak of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, President Roosevelt did not invoke the Neutrality Acts, arguing that no formal declaration of war had been made. This allowed the U.S. to avoid hindering China’s defense, allowing for the shipment of arms to China, which frustrated Japan.
The 1937 Act introduced cash-and-carry, allowing the sale of non-lethal, and later other goods, if paid for upfront and transported by the buyer. While this technically allowed Japan to purchase supplies, Roosevelt selectively used this to enforce a moral embargo on aircraft sales to Japan. Revisionist historians (and what this often means is just the 2nd wave of historians) see this as escalating tensions, making diplomatic resolution difficult. Or as some argue, impossible, as it forced Japan to choose between abandoning its expansionist goals or initiating war to secure needed resources.
This latter line of reasoning continues as time moves into 1941 concluding that every action of the U.S. to limit Japan’s ability to buy scrap steel, key material resources, aviation fuel, freezing of U.S. held Japanese financial resources, and eventually a complete oil embargo – all “caused” Japan to start the war. In the several books with trajectories along this line (Utley’s Going to War with Japan 1937-1941 and Miller’s Bankrupting the Enemy) while interesting insights and historical details are offered, the analysis seems to miss that Japan had options. In 1937, military spending was 45% of Japan’s national budget and would grow to 65% by 1940; in the United States military spending was 3% (1937). There was more than enough budget for Japan to focus on becoming a commercial powerhouse (as it became post WW2). The currents of history led Japan to become a nation with an outlook on the world similar to Nazi Germany. There is also little to no mention of the rapidly growing death toll in China among civilians and the devastation of cities and economies.
Bankrupting the Enemy acknowledges that the Japanese leadership justified the war as self-defense against the United States, who was trying to strangulate and pauperize Japan and that this was the prevailing view among the majority of government/military leaders in Japan at that time who controlled the nation. Going to War with Japan 1937-1941 notes that Grew, Moffat and Wilson were in contact with the Japanese government who wanted the U.S. to approach Japan offering to moderate a peace settlement with China. True, but in reality they were only in dialogue with the moderate wing of Japanese politics who held no influence within the cabinet, the Diet, the military, and little if any with the Imperial household. The revisionist view seems to base their conclusions of causality on “if only we’d given the moderates a chance…” It is simply near impossible to hold that view if one understood the body politic of Japan from 1937-1941.
The Contingent Window
A missed opportunity? Was there a window to bring peace to the Asia-Pacific region and avoid the carnage and destruction that happened from 1937 to 1945? Most historians agree that by late 1937 the political, military, and ideological conditions in Japan made a negotiated peace exceedingly unlikely, extraordinarily difficult, though not theoretically impossible even then it was only for the briefest window of time.
There was indeed a moderate faction in the autumn of 1937 but it was fragile and divided. They included people associated with Prime Minister Konoe, a member of Japanese royalty, and considered by those connections to have access to the Prime Minister. As well there were diplomats in the Foreign Ministry, some officers in the Naval Staff worried about overextension and potential engagement with the U.S., and some Army Staff officers whose primary responsibility was logistics. All in all it was not a prestigious or influential group. It should also be noted that Konoe, as Prime Minister, was an animator for even more aggressive actions in China. As a group they were not cohesive in their aims, lacked control over field commanders, and would not act openly against the tide of nationalism.
Even at its strongest, the moderate camp faced structural barriers – first among them was the autonomy of the Army. Field commanders often acted independently and civilian leaders could not guarantee compliance. At the same time, the war already enjoyed genuine public support, especially after early successes. Arguments again the war risked accusations of betrayal in a milieu when assassinations were not unusual. And lastly, and most importantly, the war already had Imperial legitimacy. Once the Emperor sanctioned operations, reversal became politically perilous for all involved.
Even if Japan’s moderates could convince a larger element of their own government to be receptive, the U.S. lacked any real means of leverage without economic sanctions or military force, both of which were never policy options for the U.S. Two other factors the moderates did not consider were: there was no U.S. domestic support for assertive involvement and it was likely that even an offer of American mediation risked being dismissed as hostile interference.
Was there a window of opportunity for a negotiated settlement in 1937? Theoretically, yes. Realistically, no and what is really meant is “Sure, occasionally “Hail Mary” passes work in football…but…”
By early 1938, the opportunity, if it ever existed, had effectively vanished.
The “lost moment” assertion is not absolutely wrong, but it vastly overstates the cohesion and power of Japanese moderates and underestimates the force of nationalism, military autonomy, and momentum.
Image credit: various photographs from Naval Aviation Museum, National World War II Museum, and US Navy Archives. |
The Role of Jesus and the Law…. and the Prophets
“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” (Mt 5:17)
The opening passage of this Gospel is controversial. Is it a general statement of Jesus’ attitude to the Old Testament? Especially in its legal provisions, is it designed to introduce the detailed examples of Jesus’ teaching in relation to the Old Testament law in vv. 21–48 and other points throughout the Gospel? Do Jesus’ words affirm the permanent validity of the details of the Old Testament law as regulations, or do they express more generally the God-given authority of the Old Testament without specifying just how it is applicable in the new situation introduced by the coming of Jesus?
Too often the question becomes framed only with respect to the “Law” where the verse reads: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have come not to abolish but to fulfill” (5:17). The “law or the prophets” establishes a literary bracket with 7:12 (Do to others whatever you would have them do to you.This is the law and the prophets.”), setting off the verses/sections in between as the instructional core of the Sermon. The phrase itself technically refers to the Pentateuch, the Former Prophets (Joshua-Kings) and Latter Prophets (Isaiah-Malachi), but forms the functional equivalent of the whole of Scripture.
Remember that this is not an apologetic to those who had accused 1st-century Christians of rejecting the Law (or rather the rabbinic interpretation of the Law), but rather is for “internal use” by Christians who belong to a community that has made some fundamental changes to Torah observance (which is different that rejecting the Law). Jesus does not abolish the law, yet he does not affirm the status quo of the manner of observance. How are we to understand this “in-between” posture? Eugene Boring (186-87) offers some clear insights as he writes:
“(1) The whole Scripture (‘law and prophets’) testifies to God’s will and work in history. Matthew does not retreat from this affirmation. He does not play off the (abiding) ‘moral law’ against the (temporary) ‘ceremonial law.’
“(2) God’s work, testified to in the Scriptures, is not yet complete. The Law and Prophets point beyond themselves to the definitive act of God in the eschatological, messianic future.’
“(3) The advent of the messianic king’s proclaiming and representing the eschatological kingdom of God is the fulfillment of the Scriptures – the Law and Prophets. The Messiah has come. He embodies and teaches the definitive will of God. The Law and Prophets are to be obeyed not for what they are in themselves, but because they mediate the will of God. But in Matthew, Jesus declares that what he teaches is God’s will and the criterion of eschatological judgment (7:24, 26; cf. 7:21), so there can be no conflict between Jesus and the Torah, which he fulfills. This is a tremendous, albeit implicit, christological claim.
“(4) The messianic fulfillment does not nullify or make obsolete the Law and the Prophets, but confirms them. The incorporation of the Law in the more comprehensive history of salvation centered is the Christ-event which is an affirmation of the Law, not its rejection.
“(5) But his affirmation, by being fulfilled by Christ, does not always mean a mere repetition or continuation of the original Law. Fulfillment may mean transcendence as well (cf. 12:1-14). The Matthean Jesus elsewhere enunciates the critical principle that mercy, justice, love, and covenant loyalty are the weightier matters of the Law by which the rest of must be judged (see 9:13; 12:7, both of which quote that his own life and teaching are the definite revelation of the will of God; cf. 11:25-27; 28:12-20) does indeed mean that neither the written Torah nor its interpretation in the oral tradition…is the final authority.”
At this point one needs to be careful lest one is drawn into a purely “Law” question and begins to focus on the legal portion of the Mosaic covenant to the exclusion of the remainder of that covenant, as well as the other covenants that make up the whole of the relationship of the people with God. Remember that this passage follows upon an earlier passage wherein Jesus is teaching the disciples about discipleship in the kingdom of heaven (5:1-2) – something that is here and yet not fully here.
Image credit: Sermon on the Mount (1877) by Carl Heinrich Bloch | Museum of National History | Frederiksborg Castle, Public Domain
The Showa Emperor – Hirohito

We have slowly been working our way through the early 20th century in Japan in search of key currents and views that were shaping Japan leading up to the 1937 start of the Asia-Pacific War. The 1860s movement from the Shogunate era to the Meiji Restoration was not a move to a constitutional republic that we know and accept in the United States. It is a complex topic best described by dedicated historians. To be clear, historians do not fully agree on the role Hirohito was playing and would play in the path to the Asia Pacific War. Nonetheless, some coverage is needed to understand how events have and will play out in 1930s Japan.
The Role of the Emperor
It is fair to say that a central goal of the Meiji Restoration was to reestablish the Emperor as a center of leadership, especially moral and symbolic leadership – but it needs to be said with qualifications.
One of the Restoration’s core aims was to overturn Tokugawa Shogunate rule, which governed in the Emperor’s name but marginalized him in practice. It was a critical aspect of the Restoration to reassert the Emperor as the legitimate source of authority for the state. This was essential for national unity during rapid modernization and would serve to legitimize institution and structural changes that would be needed for Japan to take its place in the world order. These changes included military conscription, taxation, education, state and foreign policy, and more. In this sense, the Emperor was intended as the moral and symbolic center of the new order.
But that was not to say the architects of the Restoration intended the Emperor to be involved in day-to-day operation of the State. Many of the Restoration leaders were themselves daimyō (regional rulers) in the Shogunate era. While they did not want a Shogun, neither did they intend the Emperor to govern directly. Influenced by Chinese and Western polity, they designed the ruling structures so that real power rested with the cabinet, bureaucracy, and the genrō – the elder statesmen of the era as it happens, themselves). The result was that the Emperor’s role was to sanction and embody decisions, not originate policy. This aligns with the idea of moral leadership rather than active governance.
Yet he served an important political function. The Emperor’s restored status provided continuity with Japan’s past, neutralized factionalism by placing authority above politics, and helped suppress dissent by framing opposition as disloyalty. The emperor-centered ideology was a means to an end, not an end in itself.
By elevating the Emperor as sacred, inviolable and the source of sovereignty, the Meiji system created structural ambiguity. Policies could be justified as “the Emperor’s will” while at the same time the Emperor was shielded from responsibility. While this is a broad statement, 1931 saw military leaders act in the Emperor’s name without his consent, control or authority. He is the Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces, yet his Kwantung Army in Manchuria felt free to do what it wanted, not expecting and not receiving punishment for their actions. Emperor Hirohito’s response to the events of 1931 was to “fire” the Prime Minister and form a new government, but did not take any action within Army ranks. Most historians believe it was a choice for national stability; control could come at a later time.
That did not seem to be the response of an absolute monarch yet neither was it a role of a powerless figurehead of State.
Prior to ascending the throne in 1926, Hirohito had taken a trip that included extended time in Britain. Among his interests was to understand the nuance and complexity of the King of England within the Constitutional Monarchy – which at the time seemed to be the closest configuration of what the Meiji founders had in mind. The historian Herbert Bix offers that King George of England shared with then Crown Prince Hirohito that the role of the monarch was also to influence the levers of power and on rare occasions to press with force. Hirohito never revealed his understanding of the role of emperor, not even after the end of the war in 1945 or later. It has left historians to research and draw their own conclusions. Historian Stephen Large offers an idea of “self-induced neutrality” – knowing he has the power but choosing not to act. Peter Wetzler believes that the Emperor knew how to put his thumb on the scale but at the same time did not believe himself to be responsible for the result. In the end his was only to approve policy, not to create it.
Whatever his actual views, his posture as Emperor from 1926 until 1937 fit into the Meiji system’s likely intent. By elevating the Emperor as divine, inviolable and the source of the nation’s sovereignty, the Meiji system created structural ambiguity wherein policies could be justified as “the Emperor’s will” and yet the Emperor was shielded from responsibility.
Sacred Duty
The education and formation ministries amplified this view of the Emperor with The Development of Sacred Duty. This was an essential idea that Japan needed to take its place among the powerful nations of the world, not only as an economic necessity but as a moral imperative rooted in its self-understanding through the eyes of Shinto religion. The argument was that if the emperor’s will was divine, then Japan’s policies (whether modernization, annexation, or war) could be framed as the fulfillment of a sacred mission. For example, in annexing Korea, Japanese officials and ideologues claimed they were “bringing civilization and order” under the emperor’s benevolent guidance.
This Shinto-based ideology taught that Japan was the land of the gods (shinkoku), uniquely pure and chosen. This translated into foreign policy as a belief that Japan had a moral right and duty to lead other Asian peoples (Korea, Taiwan, eventually China) — even if this meant dominating them. Unlike Western colonial powers, which often justified empire through Christianity or “civilizing missions,” Japan used State Shinto and emperor-centered nationalism to claim it was liberating Asia from Chinese decay or Western imperialism.
This view underpinned Japan’s expansion which was more than military force projection, it included economic and trade justifications – all connected to Japan’s need for markets, raw materials, labor, and trade routes. State Shinto teachings linked these economic aims to national survival and divine destiny. Securing resources in Korea, Taiwan, and later Manchuria wasn’t framed as “colonization,” but as fulfilling the emperor’s sacred mandate to protect and enrich his people. Thus, trade dominance and annexation were sacralized as part of a divine mission, not just pragmatic policy.
The cornerstone that held the structure together was the Emperor – or at least the idea of the Emperor.
This ideology formed the idea of The Eight Corners of the World in which the Emperor of Japan extended divine order first across East Asia then across the globe. In Korea, Manchuria and later in other conquered lands, Shinto shrines were built to enforce the symbolic inclusion of that country under Japan’s sacred imperial rule. This is the underlying foundation behind the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere in which Asian countries should come together under Japan’s leadership to be free from Western colonial powers. On paper, it sounded like a partnership — “Asians helping Asians.” Japan said it would bring prosperity, unity, and independence to Asia. In reality, though, it mostly meant that Japan would dominate the region, control its economies, and use its resources for Japan’s benefit. So instead of being true cooperation, it was more akin to Japan empire building with kinder and gentler language and imagery.
In the Center
At the center of the puzzle is Showa Emperor Hirohito, the 124th descendant of the Sun Goddess, son of Emperor Taisho, the son raised from birth to take his father’s place on the throne. The one who inherited the root problem passed on by his father Emperor Taisho who had positioned the throne, for all practical purposes, as a Constitutional Monarch with no real powers – or at least Taisho did not exercise any power. Internal to Japan there were supporters of this dynamic as they desired for full democratic reforms. There were detractors that saw such reforming movements as an “infection” of western ideas. When Hirohito ascended the throne, he entered into an evolving system where the Cabinet and Diet establish policy and precedence internally and externally. Was this the intent of Meiji reforms? Was it an aberration? What was to be his role? Decision maker, Imperial “whisperer” whose position was only hinted at by the question asked, or, like his father, a symbol and endorser of already made decisions.
Historians generally describe Emperor Hirohito’s role between the Mukden Incident (1931) and the February 26 Incident (1936) as that of an engaged but constrained constitutional monarch whose authority was real yet structurally and politically limited and whose own choices increasingly favored management over confrontation. After this period, Hirohito became more engaged – how much more? But we know from this point forward Hirohito was not a passive figurehead. He received regular briefings from Army and Navy Chiefs of Staff, questioned military plans and timelines, and expressed concern about unauthorized actions, especially after Mukden. But Hirohito accepted the military’s assurances and fait accomplis rather than force a constitutional crisis. He was aware of this history of assassinations and divisions within the Army and strategically chose to avoid civil war or regicide. It was the latter in 1936 when Hirohito personally ordered the suppression of the coup. When the throne itself was directly threatened, he acted decisively. Hirohito could intervene, but usually chose not to unless imperial authority itself, not policy, was at stake.
1937 and Beyond
Perhaps getting ahead of ourselves, but continuing the thread, we continue to trace how Emperor Hirohito’s posture changed after 1937 when Japan’s actions initiated the Asia Pacific War with the outbreak of full-scale war against China that began with the Marco Polo Bridge Incident (July 1937)
Hirohito seems to accept the war as a reality to be managed. As Emperor he approved mobilization orders and war directives, accepting that conflict was now unavoidable. He shifted from questioning whether Japan should fight to how the war should be conducted as he focused on military feasibility, logistics, and timelines rather than political alternatives. Historians largely agree that Hirohito no longer saw the war as something he could stop without risking systemic collapse. Perhaps the one sentence description of how he viewed his role as Emperor would be: reluctant acceptance combined with managerial oversight.
As the war in China dragged on, Hirohito demanded more frequent briefings. During these briefings he often questioned generals on operational matters, including troop deployments and supply constraints. He continually expressed concern about two items. The first was overextension of the army. The IJA enjoyed continued success against Chinese forces, but that also meant longer logistic lines and a larger territory “behind the lines” for which they were now responsible. Second, there was no clear exit strategy or end-game that could be delineated. The Emperor made his presence increasingly known, but avoided direct confrontation.
And the war dragged on. Meanwhile on the home front, the Prime Minister who was a prime animating force for Japan’s continued aggression in China, Prince Konoe formed the Imperial Rule Assistance Association (IRAA). It was an attempt to unify Japan under a totalitarian, ultranationalist banner for total war, effectively dissolving all other political parties to eliminate factionalism and mobilize the nation for its expansionist goals in China, Mongolia and Siberia. While intended to consolidate power, it struggled with internal divisions and never fully achieved the monolithic control seen in Nazi Germany, facing resistance from established interests and failing to fully control the military.
In this period Hirohito voiced unease about war with the United States because of Japan’s industrial and naval limitations. At the same time he supported diplomatic efforts but seemed to keep them “on a short leash” so that they did not undermine imperial prestige. It was also in this period that he ultimately approved The Tripartite Pact with Italy and Germany. As well he approved the expansion to the southwest, occupying French Indochina. The Emperor seemed suspended between diplomacy and military momentum, wanting the former but unwilling to tamper down the latter.
In late 1941, despite misgivings, Hirohito approved the decision for detailed war planning against the United States and Britain and sanctioned pre-war operations while insisting that diplomacy continue until the last moment. But more on that in later posts.
After the Allies entered the Asia Pacific War and the tide soon turned, Hirohito asked increasingly pointed questions, privately expressed pessimism, but avoided direct intervention that might undermine military morale. He was informed, offered suggestions, but remained largely reactive but understood his was the final consent/approval of major actions and campaigns.
It was only in August 1945, when Japan was defeated but had not yet surrendered that Hirohito overrode military opposition to accept the Potsdam Declaration, intervened directly to solve a deadlocked cabinet, and ordered the end of the war. This moment starkly contrasted with his earlier restraint but he acted to preserve the nation and the Imperial House.
Historians often describe Hirohito’s post-1937 trajectory as moving from constitutional restraint to managerial involvement to reluctant authorization to a final decisive intervention. The paradox, the evolution if you will, is central to his legacy.
Earlier he possessed the authority to intervene but did not, seemingly out of fear of fracture, precedent, and the sacred status of the throne. He acted decisively only when national annihilation loomed
Image credit: various photographs from Naval Aviation Museum, National World War II Museum, and US Navy Archives
The Language of the Sermon
Here on the 6th Sunday of Ordinary Time, our gospel reading continues the “Sermon on the Mount” begun on the 4th Sunday. As mentioned elsewhere, the “Sermon” is the first of the Matthean discourses and perhaps the best known. Warren Carter (Matthew and the Margins) has these introductory comments about the entire sermon:
The focus of Jesus’ teaching concerns the “good news of God’s empire/reign” (4:17, 23; 5:3, 10, 19, 20; 6:10, 33; 7:21). The sermon is not, though, a comprehensive manual or rule book, not a step-by-step “how to” book. Rather it offers a series of illustrations, or “for examples,” or “case studies” of life in God’s empire, visions of the identity and way of life that result from encountering God’s present and future reign. (p.128)
For those who belong to the minority and marginal community of disciples of Jesus, the sermon continues the gospel’s formational and envisioning work. It shapes and strengthens the community’s identity and lifestyle as a small community in a dominant culture that does not share that culture’s fundamental convictions. The community is reminded that the interactions with God, with one another, and with the surrounding society are important aspects of their existence which embraces all of life, present and future. Mission to, love for, and tension with the surrounding society mark their participation in this society. Integrity or wholeness defines their relationships with one another. Prayer, accountability, and the active doing of God’s will are features of their relationship with God and experience of God’s empire. (p.129)
Carter’s insights about the “relationship” language and images present in the Sermon are so far present in the Beatitudes (5:1-12) and metaphors of salt and light (5:14-16) – in describing not the “terms and conditions” of the relationship with God and God’s people, or a halakah (rule of life) – but rather is meant to stimulate the imagination and personal responsibility of freely entering into the covenant relationship with God. But it also leaves the listener to wonder what exactly is meant by “covenant.” In modern language use in English, the term is often thought of in the same light as “contract.” Carter’s insight is that covenant can only be fully expressed when one considers the implied relationships, and thus one is led to ask, “What does it mean to truly be God’s people?”
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