Patterns of Police Work in Late Chosŏn Korea
Patterns of Police Work in Late Chosŏn Korea
Abstract and Keywords
This chapter examines patterns found in later processes of imperial encroachment within the evolution of the Japanese consular police in preannexation Korea and their relation to developments on the home islands. It first considers the reasons for the initial establishment of consular police forces in the port cities opened by Japan's unequal treaties with Korea during the early 1880s, along with the general characteristics of the police force and the nature of their activities. It then describes the rapid increase in consular police personnel after the Sino-Japanese War of 1894–1895 and goes on to discuss the expansion of consular police infrastructure during the Russo-Japanese War era. It also explores the role of the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs in paving the way for the annexation of Korea. The chapter suggests that the pattern of consular police expansion followed by colonial conquest was a prelude to Japan's imperial project in China and Manchuria.
As Japan’s first modern colonial acquisition, Taiwan served as a critical testing ground for many early formations of Japanese colonial policy. Undoubtedly, the lessons learned through successes and failures during the first ten years of colonial rule there proved valuable in facilitating Japan’s subsequent colonial annexation of Korea between 1905 and 1910. It would be logical to expect, for example, that Japan’s colonial police institutions in Korea were closely derived from the experience of colonial police in Taiwan.1 However, what historians have long neglected to recognize is that there had been quasi-colonial Japanese police in Korea since 1880, fifteen years before the acquisition of Taiwan in 1895. Therefore, when Japan’s ruling elite made Korea a protectorate after the Russo-Japanese War in 1905, beginning the eventual process of outright annexation, Japanese police had been operating in Korea for a quarter of a century. These were the consular police forces attached to and maintained by Japan’s Foreign Ministry offices throughout the Korean peninsula.2
This chapter will first explore both the reasons for the initial establishment of consular police forces in the port cities opened by Japan’s unequal treaties with Korea during the early 1880s, and the general characteristics of the police force and the nature of their activities. After describing the rapid increase in consular police personnel after the Sino-Japanese War of 1894–1895, I will then focus on the expansion of consular police infrastructure from 1902 to 1905, which greatly facilitated the establishment of an official colonial police organization during the protectorate period. This first stage in the history of the Japanese consular police demonstrates three key points: first, the Japanese Foreign Ministry played an active, if unwitting, role in paving the way for the colonial acquisition of Korea; second, the demands of common Japanese resident communities were instrumental in motivating the Foreign Ministry to expand its police presence in Korea; and, third, the pattern of consular police expansion followed by colonial conquest set a precedent for Japan’s imperial project in Manchuria and China proper years later. The overarching aim is to explain why the Foreign Ministry created a consular police corps to play the role of protectors of civil (p.14) order, and how in the process those police became handmaidens of colonial conquest. That this semicolonial mission to bring civil stability under a central authority in treaty port Korea took shape just as the nascent Meiji regime in Tokyo was trying to accomplish the same goal in Japan itself is also a matter of critical significance in appreciating the interrelated political and social dynamics at work in this early stage of modern Japanese expansionism.
Treaty Port Origins and Activities
The Kanghwa commercial treaty of 1876 marks the starting point in the history of what one might call “modern” Korean-Japanese relations. The ruling elites of both societies had maintained official diplomatic contacts throughout the Tokugawa period, but circumstances of the mid-nineteenth century dictated a realignment of inter–East Asian relations. Just as the United States, followed by other Western powers, had done to Japan in the early 1850s, the Japanese in turn imposed an unequal treaty relationship upon the Korean court before its own fledgling Meiji state had even reached its tenth birthday. The southern Korean city of Pusan was the first to be “opened” by this treaty system, and the Meiji government soon sent a small staff of official representatives to the city. In addition, Japanese civilian merchants and settlers quickly arrived in modest numbers, and this mix of government bureaucrats and common citizens made up the burgeoning Japanese treaty port community.3
During the late 1870s, the treaty port environment in Pusan was a rough-and-tumble one. Poverty was high, as was the petty crime rate, with burglary, gambling, prostitution, and drug trafficking standing out as the most common urban security problems. Without any initial support from their government, the Japanese resident community attempted to establish a volunteer community security force to deal with these concerns. In response to the demands of his local constituents, Kondō Masaki, the official Japanese representative in Pusan, soon asked for budgetary assistance from his home government to support a group of six patrolmen to walk the beat in the concession neighborhood after hours, recommending that the costs be spilt evenly between Tokyo and the local resident association.4 By 1880, an official Japanese consulate office had been opened in Pusan and Kondō became its first appointed consul. While his earlier request had been granted, the resident Japanese population had continued to grow during the first few years after the opening of the concession, leading Kondō to believe that a more permanent police force was necessary. Arguing in March 1880 that not only the Japanese community but also the broader port population had risen greatly since 1876, bringing with it more crime and other urban (p.15) social problems, Kondō made a request to the Foreign Ministry in Tokyo for a small consulate police force of eleven men; one at the rank of inspector (keibu), and the other ten as patrolmen (junsa).5 Arriving in Pusan a few weeks later, these eleven men were the first Japanese consular police officers in continental East Asia.
Pusan was not the only port opened by the requirements of the unequal treaty system. In the early spring of 1880, the coastal town of Wŏnsan was also being prepared for treaty-port status, and even before the port was officially opened in May the Gaimushō representative there, Inoue Kaoru, took the cue from Kondō in Pusan and made a request of his own for a small police contingent to be attached to the Wŏnsan consulate upon its establishment.6 For reasons that are not entirely clear, Inoue asked for a much larger force than what had been sent to Pusan: two inspectors and twenty-nine patrolmen. Nonetheless, his request was granted, and those thirty-two consular police arrived in Wŏnsan by late April. The port at Inch’ŏn, where a consulate was set up in 1882, had a police staff similar to the one in Pusan by July of that year, but the capital at Seoul was a somewhat different case. In November 1880 a Japanese embassy was established in the city complete with a police contingent of eleven officers, but that force was then bolstered with an additional seventeen patrolmen during and after 1882.7
This was in response to two serious episodes of urban violence in Seoul that took place during the first few years of consular police deployment on the peninsula, which undoubtedly served to further Japanese claims that their security forces in Korean cities were needed to maintain public order. The first was the so-called Imo Mutiny of 1882 during which Korean soldiers in Seoul attacked officials of the Min court and local Japanese diplomatic authorities. The Min court had recently succeeded in forcing the ultraconservative regent known as the Taewŏn’gun into the sidelines of Korean foreign-policy making and adopted a more conciliatory approach to the Japanese. Korean soldiers embittered by the presence of Japanese military officers in the capital forced Ambassador Hanabusa Yoshimoto to flee the city under the protection of military and police personnel.8 Only two years later a second outbreak of chaos in the capital erupted during an attempted coup d’état by the Japan-friendly reformer Kim Ok-kyun and his supporters in 1884. When Queen Min’s security forces crushed the movement, sending many of its leaders to exile in Japan or a death sentence at home, the Japanese consulate in Seoul was attacked by riotous mobs, resulting in the death of several police officers. Much of this violence reflected, of course, the larger factional struggles both within the ruling Korean elite and between the governments of China and Japan. The Sino-Japanese treaty at Tientsin in 1885, however, temporarily cooled the rivalry between (p.16) the two empires over influence in Korea, and the Japanese consular system on the peninsula stabilized for the next decade or so.9
By 1885, then, the overall strength of the Japanese consular police in Korea was roughly fifty men in the three treaty ports of Pusan, Wŏnsan, and Inch’ŏn, as well as the capital city of Seoul, and this total number did not change dramatically until a steep and rapid increase during and after the Sino-Japanese war of 1894–1895. Fifty men may seem like a force too small to be of any real significance, but it is in the nature of their activities, as well as the police infrastructure they began to create, that one can begin to see their true importance.
When the first Japanese consular police took up their duties in Pusan and elsewhere during the 1880s, the modern police apparatus of the Meiji state throughout the home islands was itself still quite young. Japan’s new leadership after the Restoration created a civilian police force that would work to maintain public security, health, and social order, as well as help enforce the political will of the new regime.10 The consular police in Korea were simultaneously charged with similar responsibilities. One of their earliest and perhaps most mundane duties was simple administrative record keeping. The consular office and its police staff kept track of local births and deaths among the resident Japanese community, and also the registration of newcomers from the metropole.11 As many scholars have noted, the first wave of Japanese settlers in Korea often included variously disreputable social deviants and petty criminals as well as honest merchants and shopkeepers.12 So the consular police, just like their domestic counterparts back home, made a serious effort to maintain a clear picture of exactly who was living in the concession community at any given time. To that end, travel within Korea, especially when it involved moving deeper into the interior of the country, was also closely monitored by the consular police, as those wishing to make such a journey had first to obtain official permission from the consulate.13
Responsibility for the management of public health and sanitation in the concession also fell upon the resident consul and his police staff. For example, the police often organized and supervised vaccination programs that were implemented to prevent outbreaks of cholera and similar conditions related to poor sanitation infrastructure.14 As preventative measures against such diseases, the consular police also maintained street cleaning and sewage disposal facilities, and to protect the general health of residents they routinely conducted health inspections of local bars and restaurants, as well as issuing regulations for the drinking-water supply, public bathing facilities, and milk and meat processing.15 Public health also often embraced matters of public security, and in this respect the consular police devoted considerable attention to controlling the number of privately owned weapons in the concession. In most cases, the consular (p.17) police completely banned firearms within the concession area, and there were also numerous issuances prohibiting the brandishing of swords and knives. It was possible, however, for those residents who wanted to hunt for small game beyond concession borders to register their weapons with the consular police and obtain a special permit.16
One issue that often combined problems of health, social order, and crime was prostitution. In Korea, as was the case in most early Japanese settler communities along the northeast Asian coast during the late nineteenth century, young Japanese prostitutes comprised a considerably large percentage of the local Japanese civilian population. In fact, consular police regulations concerning prostitution are the most common items to be found in the source materials. Many regulations were drafted to establish basic standards for the living and working conditions of the women involved in the business; however, the potential for outbreaks of sexually transmitted diseases such as syphilis was perhaps the major concern of the police. Initially, local Japanese consular authorities sought to control the public health impact of the sex trade by managing a system of licensed prostitution in treaty ports. After 1881, for example, brothels could obtain legal permission to operate in the Japanese concessions of Pusan and Wŏnsan, and consequently the prostitute population in those cities grew dramatically during the next few years. However, Japanese authorities reversed their policy on this matter when they began to examine how other foreign powers in Korea ran their concession properties, in most cases making prostitution officially illegal. Japanese consulates soon thereafter abandoned the former practices, therein creating, of course, the new problem of how to best “manage” the unlicensed sex trade.17
In time an elaborate system of punishments—fines, expulsion, and imprisonment—took shape to discourage both practitioners and patrons of the brothel network. But there was more to this policy shift than simple matters of local public health. In 1883, Consul Kobayashi at Inch’ŏn explained that nations engaged in the business of bringing “civilization” to as yet “uncivilized” societies, such as what he viewed Japan bringing to Korea, should not be involved in the official supervision of the flesh trade. Ten years later Foreign Minister Enomoto Takeaki directed all consuls in Korea on a similar theme. In explaining new measures to be taken to stem the tide of unrestricted emigration of Japanese women to Korea, Enomoto argued that the population explosion of Japanese prostitutes in the treaty ports was damaging the reputation of the entire Japanese overseas resident community, as well as sullying the honor of the Japanese empire as a whole. Some women made the trip in order to work hard and earn an honest living, according to Enomoto, but those involved in the sex trade gave them all a bad name. Significantly, Enomoto also argued that the empire’s grand scheme of extending its influence across Asia was being compromised (p.18) by the public relations mess created by Japanese women entering the sex industry wherever they went.18
In the four cities where Japanese consulates maintained police forces, they also helped establish public hospitals open to all port residents, and these facilities were usually joint ventures, funded in roughly equal parts by the local Japanese Residents’ Association and the local consular office.19 Jurisdiction and managerial authority over the hospitals, however, rested entirely with the local consul and his police staff, while day-to-day operation of these clinics was left to the local Japanese resident community. In fact, consular authorities attempted to place the burden of maintaining such facilities on the shoulders of the resident community to the greatest degree possible, since fiscal restraints made it difficult for the Foreign Ministry to completely fund public health institutions in the concession neighborhoods.20 Even so, the fact that the editors of the Gaimushō keisatsushi chose to assemble a section of documents specifically related to hospitals clearly indicates a belief on the Japanese side that the maintenance of public health was an integral part of the consulate’s duties within the treaty port community. Motivations behind the establishment of medical clinics, however, also reflected more self-serving aims. Commenting on Japanese hospitals in Pusan during the summer of 1885, for example, Foreign Minister Inoue explained that an important benefit of setting up clinics was, of course, the greater ease with which the physical health of Japanese residents could be maintained. Beyond that, however, Inoue went on to argue that by exposing the local population to Japanese medical practices, even those “stubborn Koreans” could be made to see the great efficacy of modern Japanese medicine. As such, public health clinics in Korean treaty ports could provide Japanese authorities with a “shortcut” to opening up the country even more.21
To facilitate the execution of their duties in all these areas, local consuls made various efforts to imbue their police officers with local language skills.22 During the first decade of consular police operations in the treaty ports, patrolmen were strongly encouraged, if not required, to acquire at least a functional ability in conversational Korean. Officers in Seoul, for example, pursued a one-year language course complete with textbooks, from which they had to “graduate” in a timely manner, while those who were studying other languages such as English could temporarily postpone their Korean lessons.23 By the mid-1890s, language acquisition had been upgraded to an even higher priority. With greater numbers of Japanese civilians arriving in Seoul in 1894–1895, for example, Consul Uchida explained that the frequency of confrontations between Japanese, Korean, and Chinese residents was on the rise. While consular police could quickly respond to the scene when situations arose, not enough of them had adequate language skills to act as effective mediators. This had to be (p.19) remedied, in Uchida’s view, so that the Japanese consular police could effectively keep the peace among the city’s complex and multicultural community.24 In other cities, Masan in particular, Russian-language ability was also a valuable skill for more practical and political reasons. One report from Masan in 1901 suggests, for example, that because of the numerous Russian ships docking in that port, consular police there needed Russian-language skills in order to foil the efforts of Russian “spies” carrying out surveillance in the concession.25
Finally, it is worth noting that these numerous programs of consular police development were not always instigated solely through official government directives. As noted earlier, the Japanese resident community of Pusan played a key role in initiating the creation of a Japanese police force there during the late 1870s, and throughout the 1880s and early 1890s, Japanese civilian groups continued to pressure their consular representatives to improve security in their communities. In November 1892, for example, several leading members of a Japanese business organization in Seoul submitted petitions requesting an increase in Japanese police personnel, even offering to contribute financially to an expanded consular police budget if it would mean more officers on the streets of their neighborhoods.26 Both settler community activism and state-centered geopolitical ambition, then, provided an initial impulse for the expansion of these early Japanese security networks throughout the Korean treaty port system.
Why Consular Police?
Before we examine the dramatic expansion of consular police facilities in Korea that followed the Sino-Japanese War of 1894–1895, several questions concerning the reasoning that supported the establishment of Foreign Ministry security forces in Korea deserve consideration.
In a study of Japanese police forces in formal colonial territories, one historian argues that, because “in the Japanese view, management of colonial peoples resembled management of society in early Meiji … the colonial police came to play a role in the colonies very similar to that played by the Japanese police at home.”27 As this chapter has already begun to reveal, almost every facet of more well-known colonial and metropolitan police activity can be just as easily discerned in a survey of the Foreign Ministry’s police forces and their operations. Consular police history, however, poses a particular problem in that the consular police performed these duties in legally noncolonial but unquestionably extranational space. In other words, the consular police were colonial police in just about everything but name. It is with this paradox in mind then that the function of the consular police in Korea must be considered.
(p.20) The duties of the Japanese consular police in Korea during the 1880s and early 1890s incorporated a vast set of responsibilities, and these duties were not necessarily intended for the sole protection of resident Japanese civilians. In fact, the consular police defined their obligations in much broader terms characterized by an inclusive rhetorical commitment to “protect anyone in trouble, while making no distinction between Japanese and Koreans.”28 Despite this expression of high-minded nobility of purpose, average Korean residents likely viewed the activities of Japanese police in their communities with more than a little suspicion.
Indeed, the problem of how to correctly define the identity of the Japanese consular police in the eyes of local Koreans and other foreign treaty port residents emerged as a matter of debate among Japanese officials early on. In particular, patrolman uniforms became a focus of concern. In an 1884 report, for example, Inch’ŏn Consul Kobayashi suggested that consular police in Korean treaty ports should have similar if not identical uniforms to those of police on the home islands. He reasoned that unique uniforms for consular police would distinguish them as some sort of extraordinary quasi-colonial security force, likely thus provoking criticism from other foreign residents in the concession.29 His Foreign Ministry superiors agreed, and early renderings of consular police attire thus look strikingly similar to that of Home Ministry police officers in 1880s Tokyo. The significant point here is that Kobayashi made a deliberate effort to deemphasize the distinction between foreign and domestic spheres, or gaichi and naichi in later colonial parlance. Ironically, they did this in an effort to deflect potential criticism of the Foreign Ministry police institution as a tool of Japanese imperial encroachment. In later years, the fact that Japanese consular police in Manchuria were largely indistinguishable from the police forces of the army and the Kwantung colonial government was a target of heated protest by local Chinese authorities. It is evident from even these earliest of years, however, that the consular police by their very nature blurred the borders of colonial authority even in the minds of their Japanese inventors.
Furthermore, some Japanese even had their doubts about the propriety of the new consular police institution itself. Despite the fact that the consular police in Korea during the 1880s were still quite small in total manpower, one official Japanese observer made an especially prescient comment in 1886 about the potentially problematic issue of legitimacy in terms of international law. Questioning the jurisdictional propriety of one person—namely a Japanese consul—possessing both judicial and investigative powers, Akabane Tomoharu argued that judges and police officers should not be the same people.30 The foundations of consular police legitimacy, then, seemed already to rest on rather shaky ground. Akabane’s point, however, was merely to draw attention to such possibly problematic (p.21) conflicts of interest, not to undermine the consular system itself. Still, that he would even raise the question reveals the existence of uncertainty, if not outright doubt, concerning consular police legality, opening the door for more forceful criticism to come when Gaimushō police would make their appearance in treaty-port China a decade later.
It is in the shadow of such doubts concerning legitimacy that one must begin to explore the logic behind the creation of the consular police system, and turning to the emergence of domestic security networks is the first step. The creation of a nationalized police system in Japan proper did not itself begin until after the establishment of the Home Ministry in 1874, and consequently the first officers to take up positions as consular policemen in treaty port Korea from 1880–1884 were drawn from a metropolitan police force still very much in its infancy. To transfer metropolitan police officers to serve in consular outposts would not have been unusual during the 1880s, because at that time the “diplomatic and consular officers were in no way different from the ordinary administrative officers in other departments” of the civilian bureaucracy. Not until 1893, in fact, were reforms put into place “whereby diplomatic and consular officers were confined to those who successfully passed examinations and the system of free transfers from the ordinary civil service to the diplomatic and consular service and vice versa was abolished.”31 Furthermore, the cost of maintaining domestic police posts during the first decade of Meiji was split evenly between the community and central government resources.32 Likewise, in the Japanese communities of Pusan, Inch’ŏn, and Seoul, fiscal burdens fell to a large extent on the residents themselves, and the same would be true in Chinese cities such as Tianjin and Nanjing after 1896. What all of this suggests is that a similar process of creating the institutional apparatus for the efficient and “modern” administration of localities unfolded along similar lines, and almost simultaneously, in both provincial Japan and throughout the nascent informal empire. In some sense, then, this process is one that transcends sharp distinctions between techniques of establishing and enforcing metropolitan and semicolonial sovereignty.
It is also possible, and perhaps critically important, then, to see that, while the Japanese state was laying the groundwork for not just social control but also political authority on the Korean peninsula, the same task was under way on the home islands. Indeed, as one scholar has noted, “Japan colonized Korea, but the Meiji government also colonized Japan from within.”33 On this point, recent scholarship has revealed that the Meiji government modeled its 1874 police force on British colonial models as much as, if not more than, the 1870s French model in Paris.34 Why was the colonial police model more appropriate than that of metropolitan France? The answer lies in the fact that the Meiji Restoration (p.22) was quite literally a conflict as a result of which the samurai elite of the southwestern Satsuma-Chōshū domain clique conquered and “colonized” their enemies and their territory.35 This fact is reflected dramatically in the makeup of the early Meiji police force, which consisted substantially of former samurai from Satsuma. Of course, army and navy officer ranks were also dominated by former samurai from the southwest, but the lower ranks in those groups were largely commoners conscripted from around the country. In the metropolitan police ranks, on the other hand, Satsuma samurai dominated all levels of personnel, giving the metropolitan police an insular and more militant character. They were, in a sense, colonial security forces watching over Tokyo.36 The logic behind the expansion and escalation of Japanese consular police in Korea, then, can be understood as a correlative process, not an end result, of the simultaneous construction of powerful security networks on the home islands.37
Some characteristics of the early metropolitan and consular police systems were nonetheless indicative of the influence that continental European models of police systems (largely French and German), rather than those of Great Britain or the United States, had on the formation of Meiji police institutions. As Elise Tipton has argued, “Meiji founders employed the term ‘police’ in the broad seventeenth and eighteenth century sense of all internal administration rather than the narrow sense of crime prevention and detection.”38 In the language of the Foreign Ministry, the duties of consular police in Korea were often summarized with the phrase hogo torishimari, translatable as “to protect and control,” and the term captures well the nature of Japanese police business both at home and overseas. In both locales, police served as a tool for facilitating social management and maintaining public security. This comprehensive social approach to police work was certainly evident in the evolution of consular police networks in treaty port Korea, and it would also be true in China and especially Manchuria during the early decades of the twentieth century.
If an appreciation of the domestic context of early Meiji-era police work can shed explanatory light on the perceived necessity for consular police in Korea, why was it that the ruling elite of Japan also believed that the creation of consular police was perfectly legitimate within the context of international law? Here the key can be found in considering Japan’s relationship with the Western powers at the same historical moment of the 1870s. Most of the major states of Europe and North America possessed small settlements in Japanese ports where they enjoyed extraterritorial rights and maintained their own modest police forces. After obtaining similar extraterritorial privileges in 1876, Japan began to do the same in Korea. For just over twenty years (1876–1899), then, the Japanese state was (p.23) both subjected to and exercised the prerogatives of unequal treaty relationships, and this duality poses a number of vexing problems.39
Looking at the foundation of the Tokyo metropolitan police, for example, the young Meiji government’s introduction of a new police force was driven in part by its recognition of Japan’s own semicolonial status, in that the inability of that Japanese state to prevent violence against foreigners and maintain civil order within their own cities undermined the desire of the Meiji regime to attain treaty revision with the Western powers.40 A modern nation was defined by its ability to maintain control over its citizenry, and thus Japanese demands for equality with the West would carry more persuasive power once Meiji government’s own domestic authority had been unquestionably secured. The irony, of course, is that while Japanese political elites were striving to attain treaty revision with the West in order to regain their own national sovereignty on the home islands, they simultaneously took successive steps to encroach upon the national sovereignty of Korea. This does shed important light, however, on the matter of why Japanese authorities insisted upon their right to maintain consular police forces. In their view, it was the inadequacy of “native” Korean police institutions that made Japanese consular police necessary. The Koreans would thus first be rquired to prove themselves capable of protecting the lives and property of foreign residents in the treaty ports before extraterritorial police power would be relinquished—an obviously self-serving logic that Japanese consular authorities would again employ in China after 1896. In short, just as recent scholarship has emphasized how Japan’s ruling elite carefully and deliberately constructed the rhetoric of Korean annexation in 1910 to give it an internationally recognized veneer of legal legitimacy, so as early as the 1880s Japanese consular authorities followed a similar strategy in order to justify the maintenance of its consular police force.41
Expansion during the Sino-Japanese War Era
During the 1880s, the Foreign Ministry viewed the operation of consular police forces as essential until the Korean government could organize effective security forces of its own. The notion that consular police were a temporary necessity but not a permanent institution remained the dominant view from Kasumigaseki until the mid-1890s. At that point, however, the meaning of “protect and control” changed, and with that the consular police came to be understood as highly useful, if not quite indispensable, in facilitating larger geopolitical goals. The Sino-Japanese War of 1894–1895 was the turning point that solidified that transformation.42
The consular police institutions that had taken shape during the early 1880s remained largely unchanged in terms of manpower until the mid-1890s. At that time, domestic unrest in Korea as well as rising tensions between (p.24) Japan and China over their respective influences on the peninsula contributed to a growing sense of crisis facing the Japanese treaty port community, and the end of the war also saw a dramatic influx of new Japanese residents to Korean treaty ports.43 Consular leadership and their police forces responded to all of these challenges by expanding the numerical and geographical scope of their presence. As early as June 1894, fifteen police officers from the police bureau of the Home Ministry were transferred to the Foreign Ministry in order to bolster its forces in Korea, and of those fifteen men ten were sent to Inch’ŏn and five to Pusan. By February 1896, the consul at Inch’ŏn sought an even greater increase when he asked for a staff of thirty patrolmen in his station, a staffing level it nearly reached by the spring of 1897. Wŏnsan and Pusan also grew considerably during the immediate postwar years, but Seoul was a somewhat unique case. Both the embassy and the consulate had maintained a small police force in the capital since the early 1880s, but budgetary restrictions put in place in 1889 had forced the embassy to transfer its officers to the consulate office in early 1892.44 That force then continued to grow until it became the largest consular police contingent in Korea by the late 1890s, with three detectives and fifty patrolmen.45
The exigencies of the Sino-Japanese War not only brought increases in already established consular police facilities; the postwar period saw several new consulates and subconsulates emerge on the scene. The expansion of consular facilities was seen as a necessary step in response to the rapid increase in Japanese resident populations after the war, as sub-consulates at Mokp’o (1897), Chinnamp’o (1897), and Masan (1899) were all elevated to full consulate status by 1900. Additional subconsulates at Kunsan, Songjin, and P’yŏngyang opened in 1899, bringing the total number of Japanese consular offices in Korea to ten. When the police personnel increases at the four original offices are combined with the police stationed in the six new offices, the increase in Japan’s consular police in Korea between 1894 and 1899 amounts to a rise from 52 to 134, or roughly 250 percent.46
During this period of expansion the Japanese consular police also initiated a practice that would prove to be one of the most controversial in its future activities in China. As Japanese civilians began to move beyond the confines of the treaty port concession regions and into the Korean interior, the consular police felt bound to follow. Since they could not set up a consulate or subconsulate in every town where Japanese residents settled, they instead began establishing hashutsujo (police boxes) and chūzaijo (police substations) in more remote interior locations, a process not unlike what metropolitan police throughout the home islands had begun to do roughly a decade prior.47 Usually staffed by a single officer, these outposts of consular police surveillance sprang up wherever Japanese civilians (p.25) staked a claim to residence. In this sense, Japanese merchants, business owners, and farmers and the consular police worked hand in hand to expand Japanese influence in and control over local Korean commerce and trade.48
During the Sino-Japanese War, the consular police were also involved in a Japanese attempt to place advisers in the Korean government as a means of directing policy and reforming Korean administrative institutions.49 These efforts were led by a highly placed police official in the Home Ministry police bureau named Takehisa Katsuzō. Takehisa and the men under his command spent two years training and advising Korean police in Seoul, and while their attempt ultimately came to naught, they set a precedent for a more aggressive policy of institutional advisers that would follow the Russo-Japanese War ten years later.
The Korean capital in the late summer of 1894 was an environment brimming with tensions of all sorts. The Korean government was under siege from Tonghak rebels across the country, and China and Japan were busy jockeying for position for influence over rulership in the Korean court. The Japanese resident population in Seoul was one of the largest in Korea at the time, and as a preparatory measure the Japanese Home Ministry decided to dispatch an emergency police force of roughly a hundred men to Korea in August 1894.50 Takehisa held command over this force, and they were charged with the duty of protecting Japanese civilian life and property, most of them being sent to Seoul while some went to Wŏnsan. It was not long before the duties of this emergency police force expanded beyond the simple protection of Japanese civilians. By October 1894, Takehisa’s term of service had been extended indefinitely, and the mission’s purpose came to include training and advising Korean police in the capital. In November, there was even talk of sending more police into those areas of nearby Chinese territory that had been occupied by the Japanese army.51
While the initial expeditionary police force was comprised entirely of officers from the police bureau of the Home Ministry, there were of course already Japanese consular police in Seoul when the metropolitan police arrived. This gave rise to a sensitive and complicated administrative problem.52 The consular police in Seoul had had years of local experience, so they were naturally called upon by Takehisa and the Home Ministry police for assistance in the training of Korean officers. However, consular police were paid out of the consular budget, and Home Ministry police salaries were the responsibility of the Police Bureau back in Tokyo. It soon came to light that Home Ministry police were being paid roughly twice as much as consular police for the same work.53 The controversy soon died down, however, because by December 1894 a large percentage of those officers dispatched to Korea as part of the emergency force in August had (p.26) been transferred to the Seoul consular police, while others were sent back to Tokyo in January and February 1895. Takehisa himself remained in Seoul throughout 1895 and worked with the consular police there as advisers to the Korean government. By July, almost all the original emergency police had returned to Japan, except for those who had been transferred to the consulate or who had volunteered to stay on as advisers under Takehisa’s charge. Because the Korean court came to feel a closer affinity to the Russian consular authorities in Seoul during 1896, Takehisa was dismissed from his advisory position in the Korean government.54
This era of police reform under the Takehisa and the Seoul consular police can be viewed in a number of ways. It is quite easy, for example, to condemn it as a fait accompli imposed upon the Korean court in the midst of Japan’s emergency dispatch of police to Seoul in 1894, in that the Korean leadership was forced by Japan to accept as police advisers a group of police officers who had already been placed in their capital.55 Alternatively, one cannot completely discount the fact that the Japanese community in Seoul did indeed face a significant amount of danger in the second half of 1894. That being the case, one might argue that the Foreign Ministry had both a right and an obligation to take steps necessary to ensure the security of its resident nationals. However, the work of Takehisa and his group of police advisers including those from the Seoul consulate, can also be viewed as a part of the Kabo domestic reforms that came in the wake of the social and political disturbances caused by the Tonghak Rebellion.56 Many of the pro-Japanese Korean progressives of the 1880s were placed back into power when Japan seized control of the Korean government during the spring of 1894, and while the Japanese certainly kept a close watch over the Korean cabinet, the reforms “were by no means merely a narrow imperialistic device.”57 With the pro-Chinese Min oligarchs and the conservative Taewŏn’gun temporarily removed from positions of influence, the new reform-minded Korean leadership unleashed a series of wide-sweeping reform programs in the fields of commerce, industry, judiciary, and police work. It was as a part of this program that Takehisa was involved in assisting the establishment of a centralized police department in Seoul in 1894, and the consular police in Seoul were no doubt indispensable to Takehisa’s mission. They had had almost fifteen years of local experience when Takehisa and his men arrived in the summer of 1894. It was their knowledge of local conditions as well as their ability to effectively communicate with Korean police, that made the advisory program possible.58
Interwar Growth and Conflict
Japan’s victory over China in 1895 and the peace settlement that followed in 1896 put an official end to Sino-Japanese rivalry over influence (p.27) on the Korean peninsula, but this did not mean that Japanese suzerainty would go unchallenged. The next and much more powerful rival was imperial Russia, and the contest with Russia, among several other factors, brought another wave of growth and change for the Japanese consular police in Korea during the first few years of the new century.
As noted earlier, the population of civilian Japanese residents in Korean port cities grew rapidly after the Sino-Japanese War, and by 1900 the Pusan consulate was expressing its need for more and better trained officers in the city. Citing remarkable growth in the local Japanese community, especially in residents engaged in the fishing industry, as well as the need for staff equipped to manage relations with Korean residents, one report complained that the current staff level was both too small and underqualified to deal with increasingly complex problems.59 Local Japanese resident associations in other areas took it upon themselves to demand more and better police protection in their neighborhoods too. In October 1903, for example, representatives of the newer Japanese community in P’yŏngyang, a community much smaller by comparison than well-established ones in cities such as Pusan, petitioned for an increase of ten consular police patrolmen in their concession, arguing that it was because they constituted a mere three hundred or so Japanese in the midst of thousands of Koreans that more needed to be done to provide for the protection of their lives and property in the event of an emergency.60 Judging from the impatient pleas of these Japanese residents, the expansion of civilian Japanese settlements throughout postwar Korea was far outpacing both the financial and manpower resources of the consular system.61
Korean treaty port settlements in general also grew after the war as more foreign nationals of several different countries took up residence in concession areas, and as these urban centers expanded in size, a need for a general concession police system arose.62 The administration of civil service institutions in Korean as well as Chinese treaty port concessions was a complicated matter, because decisions were made and a budget produced by a local administrative body comprised of representatives from all the countries involved. On the issues of concession police, most treaty port communities maintained a rudimentary police force staffed and paid by the local international board. As the foreign treaty port community grew, however, many local European diplomatic representatives quickly recognized that the Japanese consular police were a highly organized, well-trained, efficient, and effective local police organization. Since negotiating a budget for international concession police could be such a complicated chore, in many instances local foreign consulates simply opted to recognize the Japanese consular police as the de facto concession police. The case of Inch’ŏn is indicative of the general pattern evident elsewhere, as the local international resident council determined that to establish an (p.28) independent security force would simply create too heavy a financial burden. Therefore, they acceded to the notion of the Japanese consular police serving as the general concession security force, to the extent that it did not become troublesome for Japanese authorities.63
The apparent enthusiasm with which other foreign governments welcomed the activities of the Japanese consular police was, however, rather short-lived. In particular, the attitude of fellow imperial powers in treaty port Korea began to change after Japan’s victory over China in 1895, with many Western representatives growing more suspicious of Japanese intentions in Korea. For example, at Inch’ŏn in 1897 there were several episodes of protests by American and German diplomatic representatives that seemed to reveal a growing resentment toward Japan’s control over local security operations.64 Similar disputes erupted in Chinnamp’o in 1899, where the other foreign authorities were growing increasingly uncomfortable with having uniformed Japanese police roaming the concession neighborhoods.65 No foreign power was more opposed to the idea of Japanese consular police as general concession security forces than imperial Russia, as the case of the Russian consulate in Masan illustrates vividly. In 1902 a dispute erupted between the Russian consul there and the Japanese consular representatives over the propriety of the Japanese consular police, with the Russians arguing that internationally recognized concession laws forbade the community from relying on the police forces of any one country for protection of the whole; police apparatus was, rather, the responsibility of the concession’s local international administrative board. In fact, what the Russians really objected to was the idea that Japanese consular police would be the sole law enforcement body in a port that the Russians were eager to build up as a naval stronghold in the Pacific.66
The interwar period also saw another burst of consular police expansion in geographical terms, and this growth was linked with the construction of a railway line between Seoul and Pusan.67 Construction began on this new line in 1901, but as Japanese concerns over Russian designs in the region intensified, the pace was accelerated in 1902–1903. The construction project brought about significant population changes as the result, both of the recruitment and transportation of thousands of railway workers to the Korean interior where the construction would take place, and of the arrival of common merchants, shopkeepers, and other business adventurists, who soon began to set up shop in the small towns along the planned rail line, towns that were sure to grow once the project was completed.68
On the issue of railroad-related police expansion, Seoul Ambassador Hayashi Gonsuke explained in a report to Foreign Minister Komura Jutarō in May 1903 that the private railroad companies involved in the construction projects were hardly capable of providing adequate security (p.29) on their own. Should disturbances break out, Hayashi reasoned, the local Japanese community might be in danger, Japanese companies would lose money, and a more widespread general disorder would be the result. All of these potential consequences, according to Hayashi, would reflect poorly on the dignity of the Japanese empire. Therefore, the best course of action would be to station consular police along the rail lines, with financial support from the railroad corporations, and to supervise security operations as a whole.69 Hayashi, however, was a man of foresight, and he clearly recognized the opportunity at hand. To be sure, the presence of Japanese police along the rail lines would likely help prevent disputes between local Japanese and Korean residents, and it was indeed in the best interests of the empire to do whatever possible to avoid potential public relations problems caused by poor security in the construction zones. Nonetheless, Hayashi also clearly viewed the railroad expansion as a convenient and effective excuse for intensifying Japan’s police presence throughout the Korean interior.70
This railway-related growth accounted for the last substantial increase in consular police personnel in Korea before the outbreak of war with Russia. More important, it facilitated the expansion of a Japanese security infrastructure that would come to serve quite effectively the creation of a protectorate state on the peninsula under Japanese overlordship after 1905. While the construction of the Seoul–Pusan railroad had justified some of that growth, by July 1904 local consular leadership was pushing for even more. Consul Ariyoshi in Pusan argued that the population of Japanese civilians in the Korean interior had grown dramatically because of the railroad and its associated opportunities for profitable commerce, and as subjects of the empire police protection of these settlers had to be a high priority. To wait for a troublesome incident to erupt and then send in military police to quell the situation was not enough, in Ariyoshi’s view. He argued instead that Japan needed to have officers—consular police officers that is—on the scene in the localities in order to best deal with situations as they arose.71 A preemptive escalation of sorts, Ariyoshi clearly advocated the need to expand the physical presence of Japan’s consular police before military exigencies made it inevitable by 1905.
To facilitate the kind of expansionism Ariyoshi advised, during the years leading up to the war with Russia the consular police also conducted extraordinary amounts of research on local social and economic conditions throughout the Korean peninsula. Dozens, if not hundreds, of the reports produced during these investigative expeditions survive, and a careful examination of them reveals the tremendous extent to which the Japanese government sought detailed knowledge of the natural and human resources available in Korea.72 The most common type of research trip was carried out by two or three consular police officers, (p.30) who would make a journey of two to three weeks around a small region, and their reports typically included a narrative of their activities, statistics on local demographics, and carefully hand-drawn maps of the areas they visited. In many ways, the reports foreshadow the kind of research work carried out in China and Manchuria during subsequent decades by students of the East Asian Common Culture Academy (Tōa Dōbun Shoin) in Shanghai or the Research Section of the South Manchuria Railway Company. While the ostensible purpose of these research expeditions was most likely related to immediate strategic concerns about a future conflict with Russia, they also certainly reflect a desire for knowledge of regional conditions in order to better plan for Japan’s long-term goals on the peninsula.73
Integration during the Russo-Japanese War Era
The Russo-Japanese War, a watershed for so many things in modern Japanese history, also marks the initiation of the final phase in the development of the Japanese consular police in Korea. Just as the Sino-Japanese War had done ten years earlier, this period of conflict created a justification for the expansion of the size and scope of consular police activity. Furthermore, it created the environment in which the very nature of the institution would be transformed into a pillar of Japanese colonial control over the entire Korean peninsula.74
Shortly after the outbreak of hostilities with Russia, the unique qualities of consular police field experience became clear to Japan’s military planners as dozens of local Gaimushō police officers were enlisted by the army to serve as interpreters on the battle front and in occupied territories.75 The language skills of consular police officers in Korea were apparently unrivaled by anyone in military intelligence. It seems clear, then, that the police officer language-training programs cultivated in the Korean consulates since the 1880s had produced a crop of patrolmen with considerable proficiency in spoken Korean.
The outbreak of war, however, meant much more than just new opportunities for consular police officers to tag along on army reconnaissance expeditions. In late 1904, the Japanese ambassador at Seoul, Hayashi Gonsuke, argued that current conditions in Korea demanded a drastic change in Japan’s police presence there. Citing the dramatic increase in the resident Japanese population since the completion of the Seoul–Pusan railway, Hayashi sketched out an ambitious three-part plan for expansion of the consular police network. First, he recommended that the number of police stations, substations, and police boxes throughout the country be increased by a total of forty-one new facilities, secondly bolstering that infrastructure with an additional seven inspectors and one hundred and (p.31) seven patrolmen to be stationed in extant and newly constructed consular police facilities. Finally, he argued that a high-ranking police superintendent (keishi) be assigned to both the Seoul and Pusan consulates.76
Foreign Ministry leadership back in Tokyo did not accept all of Hayashi’s suggestions, largely because of budgetary restraints, but they did agree with the basic assumption that Japan’s police forces in Korea needed to be reinforced and the first step in that direction was the creation of a new position in the consular police hierarchy. Up until that point, there had only been inspectors and patrolmen, with the consul being the immediate superior in charge of both. A new position of “station chief” (shochō), was instituted at those consulates with more than one inspector, and the offices that fulfilled that requirement were in Seoul, Pusan, Inch’ŏn, and Wŏnsan. Tokyo also acquiesced to Hayashi’s request for a resident police superintendent, assigning a former metropolitan police inspector from Nagasaki, Kameyama Riheita, to the Seoul embassy as a superintendent in early January 1905.77
Although the Foreign Ministry had rejected the idea of an outright escalation of consular police personnel in Korea, Hayashi and Foreign Minister Komura had been in discussions since December 1904 about an alternative method for strengthening the position of Japanese police on the peninsula. A Korean-Japanese agreement in September 1904 had provided for Japanese advisers to “serve” the Korean government on matters of finance and foreign affairs, and Hayashi and Komura planned to create a new position of police adviser along these same lines. This strategy would bring about a greater Japanese influence over police matters without a direct increase in consular police personnel. The man selected for the job was a veteran police inspector from the Home Ministry named Maruyama Shigetoshi, and his contract with the Korean government, orchestrated to appear as though he was coming at the behest of the Koreans, was put into action in late January 1905.
Before describing the activities of Maruyama and his cadre of police advisers, it is illustrative to note an exchange between Hayashi and Komura about the nomenclature of their police adviser program. Hayashi made the case that instead of the term adviser, or komon, the Japanese should insist that Maruyama be referred to as a councilor (sanyo) or even manager (kantoku). He argued that “adviser” was too benign a term, and that it would not sufficiently encompass the full scope of direct involvement he expected Maruyama to have. Komura, however, responded that komon was indeed the proper term, because the financial and foreign-affairs advisers were also known as komon. Komura reasoned that keeping Maruyama’s position on an equal footing with the other advisers would grant him legitimacy. Furthermore, the term “adviser” was broad enough to include a vast range of possible areas in which Maruyama (p.32) could involve himself and his staff. Komura’s judgment ultimately won out, and Maruyama was from then on referred to as Kankoku keimu komon (adviser on police affairs in Korea).78 It is important to note, however, that even though Hayashi and Komura disagreed on what would be the best term for his position, they both agreed that Maruyama needed to have the greatest latitude possible in his job description so that the Japanese government could have as much hands-on influence over police policy as possible.
Maruyama took up his new position in late January 1905.79 One of his major overall goals was to create a nationwide network of police advisers, all responsible to his headquarters in Seoul. That network eventually came to consist of five police stations in the city of Seoul itself, while a system of thirteen field offices, one in each of the thirteen major provinces, was also put in place. Each of these regional branches was staffed by one superintendent, one inspector, three patrolmen, and one interpreter; these six officers in each of thirteen provinces amounted to seventy-eight men.80 In the capital itself, Maruyama also devoted a considerable amount of resources to police training schools. In these small academies, Japanese police officers in the role of instructors conducted classes for Korean police from the Korean central police department. One source describes a Monday–Saturday curriculum with four hours of instruction each morning including physical conditioning, instruction in investigative techniques and criminal law, basic police duties and regulations, and Japanese-language practice.81
Where did the Japanese police who staffed all of these new positions come from? Many were transferred from positions in the Home Ministry police bureau or from various metropolitan police departments all over Japan. In fact, concerning the police adviser program under Maruyama, historian Ogino Fujio suggests that the plan to employ “police advisers” from metropolitan Japan was driven by the Home Ministry’s desire to station its own security forces directly in Korea, and thereby more directly facilitate Japanese control over the internal conditions of Korean society.82 However, Maruyama also relied heavily on the Japanese consular police who had already been operating in Korea for over twenty years when he arrived. Consular police officers in the capital could be put to good use in cultivating cordial relations with Korean government because of their language skills, and they also were natural candidates for positions as police work instructors.83 Police officers from the Seoul consulate were indeed often recruited as instructors in Maruyama’s training academies, and they also served in the five main Seoul police stations and the thirteen provincial branch offices. Personnel statistics indicate that Maruyama consistently incorporated consular police into his cadre of advisers specifically because they often had finely (p.33) honed Korean-language skills, something that the fresh arrivals from Tokyo, Osaka, and Nagasaki rarely, if ever, possessed. This police adviser network continued to expand and diversify its activities throughout 1905, and there were one hundred seventeen Japanese police officers officially employed in the keimu komon program by the end of the year. Significantly, twenty-one of those officers were consular police, representing roughly 18 percent of the total.84 The skills and experience of the consular police obviously proved quite valuable to Maruyama and the entire police adviser system.
It was not simply their practical skills, however, that made the consular police useful members of Maruyama’s adviser system. The cover of legal legitimacy that their status as consular employees could provide, as well as their physical proximity to provincial areas, also had important benefits. In describing his plan to provide consular police inspectors with joint appointments as “assistant police advisers” (keimu komon hosakan), Ambassador Hayashi pointed out quite bluntly that local consular police captains were in the best possible position to undermine the authority of provincial Korean officials. Furthermore, because their presence in the countryside as consular staff was less conspicuous than having metropolitan police from Japan dispatched to those same areas, the “vanity” of the central Korean government, according to Hayashi, could still be satisfied.85 This reliance on local consular police, however, did not last long, as only thirteen of the forty-three advisory officers posted to local areas in June 1905 were consular police officers. This shift can be explained at least in part by the fact that Maruyama was rather disappointed with the personal character of some Foreign Ministry police officers after they had assumed positions in his advisory force, and the Foreign Ministry itself even admitted that there were problems with the attitude and morale of their consular officers.86 Nonetheless, even while recognizing these shortcomings, it cannot be denied that the mere existence of consular police forces in Korean treaty ports for over twenty years significantly facilitated the Japanese assumption of all police power in Korea by 1910, beginning with the police adviser system under Maruyama in 1905.87
It is also useful at this point to make some comparisons between the attempts at police reforms under the direction of Takehisa Katsuzō in 1894–1896 and those of Maruyama Shigetoshi and the keimu komon system in 1905.88 In the documents related to both episodes the most common phrase used to describe their goals in Korea was keisatsu kaizen, an improvement of domestic Korean police institutions. However, during Takehisa’s tenure at the time of the Sino-Japanese War, the Japanese police involved in efforts at reforming Korean police organizations were most often refereed to as ōen keisatsu, or “support police.” In addition, the common use of the phrase rinji haken, or “temporary deployment,” to describe (p.34) their mission implied a clear limit to their term of service. Of course, Takehisa and the consular police who worked for him might well have continued to advise the Korean court if the Russians had not replaced them as more trustworthy supporters. Nonetheless, most of those Japanese police sent to Korea in late 1894 were eventually sent back to Japan by the middle of 1895. The nature of the police deployments in 1905 under Maruyama was quite different. The assignment of large numbers of Japanese police to various new positions and locations was never referred to as “temporary.” Clearly, this time the Japanese police were there to stay.
The careful and deliberate planning that went into creating Maruyama’s police advisory system thus on some level indicates its position in a larger program of enhancing Japanese control over the peninsula. At the same time that Maruyama and his cadre of police advisers were executing their mission of reforming Korean police institutions, however, a high-level police commissioner from Tokyo arrived in Seoul in the summer of 1905 to evaluate the effectiveness of Japanese police forces in Korea. In a summary report on his findings in September, he identified ten general areas of Japanese police operations that required immediate attention, and among his list were such things as unification of police duties, revamping overall management strategies, clarifying the limits of police duties, setting standards and rules of police behavior, standardizing staff and personnel strength, better budget planning, salaries and promotion schedules, and improving jail facilities.89 These are hardly the observations of someone who found a well-oiled system rooted in a long-term plan for the destruction of Korean independence. What his recommendations suggest, rather, is that the consular police system in Korea and the subsequent police adviser programs took shape in a highly haphazard and ad hoc manner. Hardly a decades-long and carefully calculated program of encroachment on Korean sovereignty by hijacking its public security apparatus, Japanese police institutions in late Chosŏn Korea had evolved in a fractured and piecemeal way. The protection and advancement of Japanese interests were always the top priority, but the path toward that goal was a shaky and contentious one constantly shaped by the forces of contingency and opportunism.
The disorganized manner through which Japanese authorities came to control all police functions in Korea is also reflected in relations between the consular police and the Japanese army during 1905. Along with the Japanese consular police, protectorate police, and police advisers, there was one more foreign security force operating on the Korean peninsula in the milieu of the immediate post–Russo-Japanese War era: the kenpeitai, or military police. Perhaps not surprisingly, army leadership argued for placing local consular police under kenpeitai control in areas under military occupation, largely because consular and military police forces (p.35) had frequent jurisdictional clashes. The Foreign Ministry, however, resisted attempts to incorporate their police forces into the military police.90 Guidelines worked out between the two sides dictated that on matters of public security in areas under army control, the kenpeitai would have ultimate jurisdiction, with local consular police answering to military authorities. However, in matters of normal police business, the consular police retained their jurisdictional prerogatives except in cases directly related to the army, wherein the consular police and the kenpeitai would work closely together.91 Even though the line between army and Foreign Ministry authority was hazy, and perhaps because of that fact, the consular police were determined to hold on to their position.
The role of the consular police in the system of police advisers under Maruyama came to an end in late 1905. In November a new treaty agreement between Korea and Japan mandated that Korea become a protectorate under Japanese authority, and during the following month new administrative institutions were developed. In February 1906, all of Japan’s consulates and the embassy in Korea were closed, as the functions of the Foreign Ministry in Korea were now under the control of the new protectorate institutions. At that time there were roughly 270 Japanese consular police in Korea, and while a few of those officers were transferred to consulates in China, most were incorporated into the protectorate police organization.92 With that move, the twenty-five-year history of the Japanese consular police in Korea came to a close.93
Concerning the transfer of all consular police in Korea to the jurisdiction of the protectorate administration in December 1905, the key point is that once the imperial Japanese state seized power over Korean foreign relations through the Second Japan–Korea Agreement, Japanese diplomatic offices on the peninsula became obsolete. Likewise, the logical and legal justification for Japanese consular police protecting and controlling Japanese residents also ceased to exist, in that the Korean peninsula was no longer “foreign” territory.94 It is especially interesting to note that this process was almost identical to what would occur in December 1937 when extraterritoriality in Manzhouguo was abolished. In that case, however, the consular police were dissolved in order to create the fiction of Manchurian independence. In the earlier scenario, of course, they were disbanded in Korea to do the opposite—namely, to initiate the destruction of Korean sovereignty.
A collection of memoirs from the period of police advisers under Maruyama Shigetoshi reveals one last significant point to be mentioned in this chapter. As later discussion will show, the Japanese consular police in China and Manchuria gradually assumed duties of political policing in the informal empire, especially after 1919. Evidence suggests, however, that the so-called kōtō keisatsu (high-level police) of the consular police (p.36)
had even earlier origins. Apparently, the Seoul consular police were also engaged in the surveillance and suppression of “villainous” (burai) Japanese citizens in Korea, most likely referring to the rōnin adventurer types engaged in surreptitious activities designed to undermine the Korean government.95 Among the earliest targets of politically driven Japanese consular police action, then, were Japanese nationals. Put differently, what made someone a target of consular police surveillance and suppression was behavior that posed a threat to the political will of the imperial Meiji regime. Targets of that sort could be Japanese just as easily as Korean.
Within this introductory survey of the Korean origins of Japanese consular police institutions four main themes are worth revisiting. First, this is the story of Japan’s earliest quasi-colonial organization in northeast Asia. Extensive colonial police forces were a hallmark of Japan’s rule over the formal empire in both Taiwan and Korea, but fifteen years before Japan acquired Taiwan and thirty years before the full-scale annexation of Korea, the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs had established a police (p.37) network that performed many of the functions normally associated with the apparatuses of colonialism. In everything but name the Japanese consular police on the Korean peninsula from 1880 to 1905 were a colonial public security institution. Therefore, in the search for precedents related to Japanese colonial security policy, we must recognize that Taiwan was not only the testing ground; treaty port Korea was as well. In addition, the steps taken by the Foreign Ministry police to secure control over treaty port society in late nineteenth-century Korea transpired simultaneously with like-minded efforts on the Japanese archipelago, reminding us of the need to place early police work in both its proper international and domestic contexts.
Second, the story illustrates how large a role the Foreign Ministry played in facilitating the eventual annexation of Korea. In the broadest view, the Japanese consular police created a peninsula-wide infrastructure for police surveillance through their establishment of police substations and field offices, and the police forces of the colonial government-general thus had a headstart on building the physical tools of police control. The consular police also conducted extensive field research that produced a massive body of empirical knowledge about local social and economic conditions in Korea, and this research was surely put to use in future land-use policy decisions under the formal colonial regime. Their local language skills also proved especially useful in facilitating the elimination of autonomous Korean police in favor of a Japanese colonial security bureau, with many of the police officers who would serve as colonial enforcers after 1910 being trained by consular police veterans. Finally, the consular police themselves became a part of the colonial police system in 1905, bringing with them twenty-five years of experience in the field.
Third, the history of the consular police makes clear the significant role played by Japanese residents in accelerating the complete imperial colonization of Korea, evident in two interrelated ways. Resident associations consistently made the first demands for a greater police presence in their neighborhoods. Obligated by their raison d’être of protecting Japanese civilian life and property overseas, the Foreign Ministry responded to such requests by sending in more patrolmen whenever it was politically and fiscally possible. Indeed, as Alain Delissen has also concluded, the Japanese community in treaty port Korea was “one of the major causes prompting increasing Japanese meddling in Korean affairs.”96 Furthermore, organizations of local Japanese business people directly supported the police system financially by providing in many cases as much as half of the expense of maintaining the consular police forces in their communities.
Finally, as later chapters will show, the history of the consular police in Korea was simply a prelude to what was yet to come in China and Manchuria. After the political and commercial treaties of 1896 and 1915, there is a (p.38) clear pattern of initial consular police deployment in limited numbers followed by gradual and contested increases in strength. Eventually, the full-blown colonial conquest of Korea in 1910 would be repeated in Manchuria by 1932, and attempted in China after 1937. But, rather than reflecting a well-calculated and systematic program of Japanese aggression, the numerous jurisdictional conflicts and institutional rivalries, especially between the Foreign Ministry and the army, reveal that there was no uniform voice emanating from the Japanese side. While the end goal for all parties was the protection and advancement of the empire’s interests, the question of how best to achieve those ends was fiercely debated.
One last comment on what transpired during the disturbances in Seoul during the summer of 1882 provides a telling sign of things to come and an appropriate note on which to end this chapter. In the violence of that episode, six consular police officers in the capital lost their lives. The ultimate sacrifice of these six men was soon thereafter commemorated at Yasukuni Shrine in Tokyo, the sacred space where Japan’s war dead were and are still remembered. The official Foreign Ministry statement on those memorial services described the men as brave martyrs who faced danger squarely and gave their lives “for the sake of the nation” (kokka no tame).97 This is among the earliest but certainly not the last expression of this sort. The consular police viewed themselves as more than mere beat cops and bureaucrats; their role in protecting the empire placed them among the ranks of honored national heroes. In tracing the evolution of the force over the next few decades in China and Manchuria, we shall witness this broad imperial ideology embraced by Foreign Ministry police becoming even more dramatic and militarized.
(1.) Ching-chih Chen, “Police and Community Control Systems in the Empire,” in The Japanese Colonial Empire, 1895–1945, ed. Ramon H. Myers and Mark R. Peattie (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984), 220. (p.160) This essay is one of the best (and only) secondary treatments of Japanese colonial police forces in English. Chen, however, does not even mention the existence of consular police.
(2.) Two early secondary studies of the consular police in Korea are Kawamura Kazuo, “Chōsen ni okeru waga ryōjikan keisatsu shi,” Chōsen gakuhō 50 (January 1969): 77–116, and Soejima Shōichi, “Chōsen ni okeru Nihon no ryōjikan keisatsu,” Wakayama daigaku kyōiku gakubu kiyō—jinbun kagaku 35 (1986): 1–24.
(3.) One of the most useful recent secondary treatments of Japanese treaty port communities in Korea is Takasaki Sōji, Shokuminchi Chōsen no Nihonjin (Tokyo: Iwanami shinsho, 2002). In English, see Duus, The Abacus and the Sword; Alain Delissen, “Denied and Beseiged: The Japanese Community of Korea, 1876–1945,” in New Frontiers: Imperialism’s New Communities in East Asia, 1842–1953, ed. Robert Bickers and Christian Henriot (Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press, 2000); The character of Japanese resident communities after 1910 is brilliantly explored by Jun Uchida in her “‘Brokers of Empire’: Japanese Settler Colonialism in Korea, 1910–1937,” Ph.D. diss., Harvard University, 2005; John Uchida, “Settler Colonialism: Japanese Merchants under Cultural Rule in the 1920s,” Harvard University, Edwin O. Reischauer Institute of Japanese Studies, Occasional Paper in Japanese Studies, No. 2002–03, 11–22; and Jun Uchida “Shokuminchiki Chōsen ni okeru dōka seisaku to zai Chō Nihonjin-dōminkai o jirei to shite,” Chōsen shi kenkyūkai ronbunshū 41 (October 2003): 173–201. See also Kimura Kenji, “Kindai Nik-Kan kankei shita no zai-Chō Nihonjin: Chōsen jitsugyō kyōkai no soshiki to katsudō o chūshin ni,” Chōsenshi kenkyūkai ronbunshū 23 (March 1986): 185–213.
(5.) “Chōsen-koku Busanho keisatsushi no gi ni tsuki jōshin,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–5, vol. 2, pp. 5–6; Kawamura, “Chōsen ni okeru waga,” 80–81; Barbara Brooks, “The Japanese Consul in China, 1895–1937,” Sino-Japanese Studies 10, no. 1 (October 1997): 19.
(7.) Subsequently, in 1884, a consulate was also set up in the capital city with a modest six officers of its own. Kawamura, “Chōsen ni okeru waga,” 85–87; Soejima, 8–9. For an overview of the high-level diplomatic discussions of these early years in the new treaty ports, see Hilary Conroy, The Japanese Seizure of Korea: 1868–1910 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1960), 78–123.
(8.) C. I. Eugene Kim and Han-Kyo Kim, Korea and the Politics of Imperialism, 1876–1910 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967), 33–40.
(p.161) (9.) Kajikawa Masakatsu, Gaimushō keisatsu ryakushi (Nagoya: Gaikeika yūkai, 1988), 31–32. For a detailed exploration of the 1884 coup attempt, see Harold F. Cook, Korea’s 1884 Incident: Its Background and Kim Ok-kyun’s Elusive Dream (Seoul: Taewon Publishing Company, 1972).
(10.) For an overview of such early efforts at policing domestic society, see Obinata Sumio, Keisatsu no shakaishi (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 2003), 30–52.
(11.) See Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–10 (“Ryōjikanrei,” 1879–1905), vol. 3; for example, “Shussan todoke kisoku” and “Shibō todoke kisoku,” 245; “To Kan kikoku tenshuku narabini Chōsen kaikōba ōrai todoke kata kisoku,” 239.
(12.) Duus, The Abacus and the Sword, chap. 9, passim. See also Takasaki, Shokuminchi Chōsen no Nihonjin, 1–24. Another excellent description of the everyday life of Japanese residents in Korean treaty ports is Kimura Kenji, “Chōsen kyoryūchi ni okeru Nihonjin no seikatsu taiyō,” Hitotsubashi ronsō 115, no. 2 (February 1996): 382–402.
(13.) “Chōsen-koku naichi ryokō torishimari kikoku,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–10, vol. 3, p. 244. The consular police also played an important role in managing the local economy in the treaty ports where they operated. In each of the early concession areas, consular police issued licenses and permits for the opening of new businesses, and any new construction within the concessions also required consular approval. To keep a handle on the activities of local creditors, the consular police also issued numerous regulations to govern the conduct of brokerage houses. Finally, local industries such as fishing and mining also came under the watchful eye of consular police authorities.
(15.) “Shigai sōji kisoku,” ibid., 239; “Ryōriten inshokuten torishimari kisoku,” ibid., 353–355; “Suidō torishimari kisoku,” ibid., 273; “Gyūnyū torishimari kisoku,” ibid., 281; “Yuya torishimari kisoku,” ibid., 314–315.
(17.) “Kazashiki eigyō oyobi shōgi eigyō haishi kata no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–1, vol. 1, pp. 98–102.
(18.) “Mitsuinbai torishimari no ken, Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–1, vol. 1, pp. 102–115. For Kobayashi’s comments, see, pp. 105–106; for Enomoto, see pp. 114–115.
(19.) Details available in Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–9 (“Nihon gawa shisetsu byōin”), vol. 3, pp. 181–232. An important sociological study of medical history and colonial authority in Taiwan is Ming-cheng M. Lo, Doctors within Borders: Profession, Ethnicity, and Modernity in Colonial Taiwan (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002).
(20.) “Busankō minei byōin no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–9, vol. 3, pp.182–183.
(21.) “Kyōritsu byōin setsuritsu no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–9, vol. (p.162) 3, p. 187. Brett Walker has also argued insightfully for the role played by medical technology in facilitating Japanese expansionism in his “The Early Modern Japanese State and Ainu Vaccinations: Redefining the Body Politic, 1799–1868,” Past and Present 163 (May 1999): 121–160.
(22.) Details available in “Gaikokugogaku gakushū,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–7 (“gaikokugogaku gakushū, keisatsu yosan, keisatsusho no kasai, shōbōgumi, shinbunshi, zairyū kinshi, kyoryūchi keisatsu, gunji keisatsu kankei”), vol. 3, pp. 37–47.
(24.) “Junsa o shite Chōsengo oyobi Shin-kokugo kōshū kata no ken,” ibid., p. 39. Uchida had five specific recommendations: (1) anyone in the Seoul office not already proficient in Korean had to spend at least one hour per day studying; (2) the consul would also select a few officers to study Chinese, and those individuals did not have to learn Korean; (3) officers would be tested at the end of every month for basic language proficiency; (4) officers who demonstrated adequate skills would not be required to pursue further study; and (5) areas of training were to include conversation, dictation, and two-way translation (Korean-Japanese).
(25.) “Keisatsukan gogaku gakushu shōrei no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–7, vol. 3, pp. 40–41. For analysis of language acquisition programs for police officers in colonial Korea after 1910, see Yamada Hirohito, “Nihonjin keisatsukan ni taisuru Chōsengo shōrei seisaku,” Chōsenshi kenkyūkai ronbunshū 38 (October 2000): 123–149.
(28.) “Junsa kisoku,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–3 vol. 1, p. 200.
(30.) “Keisatsu jimu ni kanshi Akabane kōsaikan shiho ikensho tenrin,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–5, vol. 2, pp. 45–47.
(31.) Takeuchi Tatsuji, War and Diplomacy in the Japanese Empire (New York: Doubleday, 1935), 75.
(32.) Andrew Fraser, “Local Administration: The Example of Awa-Tokushima,” in Japan in Transition from Tokugawa to Meiji, ed. Marius Jansen and Martin Collcutt (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986), 120.
(34.) Umemori Naoyuki, “Modernization through Colonial Mediations: The Establishment of the Police and Prison System in Meiji Japan” (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 2002). The case for Paris as the model is made in D. Eleanor Westney, “The Emulation of Western Organizations in Meiji Japan: The Case of the Paris Prefecture of Police and the Keishi–chō,” Journal of Japanese Studies 8, no. 2 (Summer 1982): 307–342.
(p.163) (35.) Umemori, “Modernization through Colonial Mediations,” 50–55. A wonderful autobiographical account of a former Aizu samurai who clearly saw the Meiji war as a regional conflict can be found in Teruko Craig, trans., Remembering Aizu: The Testament of Shiba Gorō (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1999).
(36.) Umemori, “Modernization Through Colonial Mediations,” 108–109. Umemori cites statistics in Obinata Sumio’s Nihon kindai kokka no seiritsu to keisatsu (Tokyo: Azekura shobō, 1992) in support of this claim. An outstanding book that argues for the need to understand the evolution of centralized political control over the archipelago during the Edo period in colonial terms is Brett Walker, The Conquest of Ainu Lands: Ecology and Culture in Japanese Expansion, 1590–1800 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001).
(37.) Comparatively speaking, Mike Brogden has argued that similar comparisons can be drawn between the London Metropolitan Police of the nineteenth century and British colonial police. Contrary to the notion that Britain’s colonial security forces in Asia, for example, were modeled exclusively on earlier systems of quasi-colonial police forces in Ireland, Brogden argues that, in many ways, “colonial policing replicated the policing of Victorian society.” See his “The Emergence of the Police—The Colonial Dimension,” British Journal of Criminology 27, no. 1 (Winter 1987), 12. See also Brogden, “An Act to Colonise the Internal Lands of the Island: Empire and the Origins of the Professional Police,” International Journal of the Sociology of Law 15 (1987), 179–208.
(40.) Umemori, “Modernization through Colonial Mediations,” 55–59. For more on this idea and others in Japanese, see Umemori, “Kiritsu no ryotei: Meiji shoki keisatsu seido no keisei to shokuminchi,” Waseda seiji keizai gaku zasshi 354 (2004): 44–62.
(43.) A useful brief overview of the Japanese community in Korea during the era of the Sino-Japanese War is Takasaki Sōji, “Zai Chō Nihonjin to Nis-Shin sensō,” in Kindai Nihon to shokuminchi (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 1992–1993), 5:3–25. See also Takasaki, Shokuminchi Chōsen no Nihonjin, 45–98.
(44.) “Kōshikan tsuki junsa Keijō ryōjikan ni haizoku no ken”; “Kōshikan tsuki junsa haishi no ken”; “Kōshikan tsuki junsa haishi ni tsuki kōshikan ni goei junsa haichi no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–5, vol. 2, pp. 53–54. See also Kajikawa, Gaimushō keisatsu ryakushi, 32–36.
(45.) “Zai Kan-koku teikoku kōshikan oyobi kaku ryōjikan keisatsukan no haichi,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–6, vol. 3, p. 4.
(46.) “Zai Kan-koku teikoku kōshikan oyobi kaku ryōjikan keisatsukan no haichi,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–6 (“Keisatsukan no haichi, kinmu, (p.164) zairyūmin no hogo torishimari furoku”), vol. 3, p. 4. The changes in consular police personnel figures are also recounted in Moppo shi hensankai, ed., Moppo shi (Seoul, 1914), reprinted in Kankoku chiri fūzoku shi sōsho, vol. 97 (Seoul: Keijin bunkasha, 1990), 70–71.
(47.) See Obinata Sumio, Kindai Nihon no keisatsu to chiiki shakai (Tokyo: Chikuma shobō, 2000), 67–81.
(49.) For an overview of Japanese attempts to guide reform in Korea during the Sino-Japanese War, see Duus, The Abacus and the Sword, chap. 2 (“The Failed Protectorate, 1894–1895”), 66–102. See also Conroy, Japanese Seizure of Korea: 1868–1910, 261–285.
(50.) “Meiji 27 nen Chōsen jiken ni kanshi rinji ōen keisatsukan no hai oyobi rinji zōin,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–5, vol. 2, pp. 78–92.
(51.) Ibid. See also Duus, The Abacus and the Sword, 90. In at least a preliminary sense, the lead up to the Sino-Japanese War also created conditions within which the Japanese consular police began to take on a more overtly political function. During the Tonghak disturbance, for example, the consular police began to move beyond their duties of simple “protection and control” over Japanese residents. They were in a strategic position to obtain and deliver to the military valuable intelligence on Tonghak activities and movements. Ogino Fujio argues that this marks a significant early attempt by the Japanese state to monitor and perhaps even influence political conditions within Korea. See Ogino, Gaimushō keisatsushi, 76–77.
(52.) “Chōsen-koku iken Takehisa Katsuzō keishi ni zenkoku keisatsu komon shokutaku no ken,” in Kan-Nichi gaikō mikan himitsu shiryō sōsho, ed. Kim Yonggu (Seoul: Ajia bunkasha, 1995), 21: 137–155. See also Ichikawa Masaaki, ed., Nik-Kan gaikō shiryō, vol. 4: Nis-Shin sensō (Tokyo: Hara shobō, 1980), 253.
(53.) “Meiji 27 nen Chōsen jiken ni kanshi rinji ōen keisatsukan no hai oyobi rinji zōin,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–5, vol. 2, pp. 84–85.
(54.) Matsuda Toshihiko, “Chōsen shokuminchika no katei ni okeru keisatsu kikō (1904–1910),” Chōsenshi kenkyūkai ronbunshū 31 (October 1993): 132. On Takehisa Katsuzō, Ogino Fujio, undoubtedly the most well–informed of the handful of Japanese scholars who have written about the consular police during this era, admits that he simply does not know enough about how the police reform program under Takehisa was received and what it accomplished, if anything. See Ogino, Gaimushō keisatsushi, 83.
(55.) Representative of this sort of view on the 1894 domestic scene is Pak Jong-gun, “1894 nen ni okeru Nihongun teppei mondai to Chōsen ‘naisei kaikaku’ an tōjō no haikei,” Chōsenshi kenkyūkai ronbunshū 5 (November 1968): 30–64.
(56.) A highly detailed and perceptive discussion of Japanese involvement in the Kabo reform movement is Yu Yong-ik (Akizuki Nozomi and Hirose Teizō, trans.), Nis-Shin sensōki no Kankoku kaikaku undō (Tokyo: Hōsei (p.165) daigaku shuppankyoku, 2000). For a brief discussion in English, see Carter Eckert et al., Korea Old and New: A History (Seoul: Ilchokak; distributed by Harvard University Press), 222–230.
(57.) Conroy, Japanese Seizure of Korea: 1868–1910, 268. One recent work that perpetuates the notion that the Kabo Reforms, and just about every other step taken by the Japanese state in its relations with Korea, were part of one overarching colonial conspiracy is that of Pak Tuk-chun (Ryan Sanjin, trans.), Nihon teikokushugi no Chōsen shinryakushi: 1868–1905 (Tokyo: Akashi shoten, 2004). A more thoughtful and balanced exploration of the Kabo era in terms of Korean perceptions of modernity and reform is Tsukiashi Tatsuhiko, “Kōgo kaikaku no kindai kokka kōsō,” Chōsenshi kenkyūkai ronbunshū 33 (October 1995): 67–92.
(58.) A recent detailed exploration of police reforms during the Kabo movement is Itō Shunsuke, “Chōsen ni okeru kindai keisatsu seido no dōnyū katei: kōgo kaikaku no hyōka ni tai suru ikkōsatsu,” Chōsenshi kenkyūkai ronbunshū 41 (October 2003): 89–117. Itō argues that Korean officials keen to enact reformist policies tried to resist the Japanese model, but were pressured to accept Takehisa’s plans when their own views were obstructed by the more conservative positions of the Taewŏn’gun. The internal struggle within Korean official circles over reform in 1894–1896 is also briefly discussed in André Schmid, Korea between Empires, 1895–1919 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002), 27, 29–30.
(59.) “Keisatsu jimu no sasshin ni kansuru ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–5, vol. 2, pp. 170–175.
(61.) The Japanese Resident Association of Seoul mentions numerous requests it received for increases in consular police protection in its official community history. See Keijō kyoryūmindan, Keijō hattatsu shi (Seoul, 1912); reprinted in Kankoku heigōshi kenkyū shiryō, vol. 27 (Tokyo: Ryūkei shosha, 2001), pp. 56–57, 59–60.
(62.) A short series of documents on this topic can be found in “Kakukoku kyoryūchi keisatsu,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–7, vol. 3, pp. 75–81. For additional documents, see Japanese Foreign Ministry Archives, hereafter JFMA, file no. 4.2.2–102, Kankoku kakukoku kyoryūchi keisatsu jimu o teikoku kōkan tsuki keisatsukan ni shokutaku ikken.
(63.) “Jinsen kakukoku kyoryūchi keisatsu ni kansuru ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–7, vol. 3, p. 75. For a useful discussion of the multinational dynamics at work in Kunsan, see Furukawa Akira, “Kunsan kakukoku kyoryūchi (kyōdō sokai) no kenkyū,” Chōsen gakuhō 160 (July 1996): 45–88.
(64.) “Jinsenkō kyoryūchi keisatsu ni kansuru ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–7, volume 3, 75–77.
(67.) For secondary discussion, see Janet Hunter, “Japanese Government Policy, Business Opinion and the Seoul–Pusan Railway, 1894–1906,” Modern Asian Studies 11, no. 4 (1977): 573–599.
(69.) “Kei-Bu tetsudō kōji hōgō oyobi do rōdōsha torishimari no tame keisatsukan haken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–5, vol. 2, pp. 200–204.
(70.) Ibid., 201. Peter Duus also discusses railway construction as a means of expanding Japanese commercial interests on the peninsula in The Abacus and the Sword, 136–157; the Seoul–Pusan line is described on 146–154.
(71.) “Keisatsu bunsho Kankoku naichi ni setsubi ni kansuru ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–5, vol. 2, pp. 244–245.
(72.) JFMA, file (no.6.1.6–5, Kankoku zai kin keibu junsa kakuchi shutchō zakken. A fascinating analysis of such reports can be found in Kimura Kenji, “Meijiki Nihon no chōsa hōkokusho ni miru Chōsen ninshiki,” in Kindai kōryūshi to sōgo ninshiki, ed. Miyajima Hiroshi and Kim Yong’dok (Tokyo: Keio daigaku shuppankyoku, 2001), 1:365–397.
(73.) This assertion is based on an overview of the voluminous reports contained in the aforementioned JFMA file. There is also an extensive and quite interesting collection of these consular police research reports under the subtitle of “Kankoku zaikin keibu junsa kakuchi shutchō hōkokusho” contained within volumes 37–43 of Kim Yong-gu, ed., Kan-Nichi gaikō mikan himitsu shiryō sōsho, 50 vol. (Seoul: Ajia bunkasha, 1995).
(74.) Miscellaneous documents related to the consular police during this era can be found in Nik-Kan gaikō shiryō, ed. Ichikawa Masaaki, vol. 6: Nichi-Ro sensō (Tokyo: Hara shobō, 1980), 44, 265–266, 269–270, 336, 340–342, 353, 377–380, 412–413; On the activities of Maruyama Shigetoshi specifically, see 446–452, 485–489.
(75.) JFMA, file no.6.1.5–34, Chōgo tsuyaku no tame zai Kankoku ryōjikan tsuki junsa shiyō kata ni tsuki rikugun sho yori shoyo ikken.
(77.) Soejima, 19; Kawamura, 108–109.
(78.) Exchange between Komura and Hayashi, January 6–February 1, 1905; “Keimu komon,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–8 (“Keimu komon”), vol. 3, pp. 90–91.
(79.) Vast documentation on the activities of Maruyama and his police advisers can be found in JFMA, file no.3.8.4–31, Kankoku ni oite keimu komon yōhei narabini dō koku keisatsu seidō kaikaku ikken (4 vols.) For additional documents, see “Kankoku keimu komon yōhei narabini keisatsu seido kaikaku (p.167) no ken,” Nihon gaikō bunsho, vol. 38, pt. 1, pp. 827–860. Additional description and documentation concerning the police adviser program and the reorganization of Japanese police forces in Korea during 1905–1906 can be found in Gaimushō jōyakukyoku hokika, Nihon tōchi jidai no Chōsen, dated 1941 (Tokyo: Gaimushō jōyakukyoku hōkika, 1973), 224–239. See also Keijō kyoryūmindan, Keijō hattatsushi in Kankoku heigōshi kenkyū shiryō, 27:139. Maruyama Shigetoshi is also included in a well-known history of Japanese continental adventurers produced by the Black Dragon Society in 1936. The entry on Maruyama describes him as a man who worked hard to improve both police institutions in Korea and improve public security conditions there. It also notes that he went on to become the prefectural governor of Shimane in 1909 before his death in 1911. See Kokuryūkai, TōA senkaku shishi kiden (1939), vol. 3, reprinted in the series Meiji hyakunen sōsho (Tokyo: Hara shobō, 1968), 497.
(81.) “Keimu gakkō ni okeru kyōshū ni jikkyō,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–8, vol. 3, pp. 133–135.
(83.) “Zaikin teikoku keisatsukan o komon keisatsukan ni saiyō no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–8, vol. 3, pp. 110–111.
(85.) “Ryōjikan keibu o keimu komon hosakan ken’ninhō no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–5, vol. 2, p. 330.
(86.) Toshihiko Matsuda, “The Colonization of Korea and the Consular Police, 1904–1910,” conference paper for the AAS Annual Meeting, San Diego, CA, 2004.
(87.) For more on Maruyama Shigetoshi’s role in facilitating the future annexation of Korea in 1905 and beyond, see Duus, The Abacus and the Sword, 187, 195, 207, 213.
(88.) Contemporary accounts of the evolution of Japanese police forces in Korea before annexation, including references to Takehisa Katsuzō and Maruyama Shigetoshi, can be found in Kankokugaku bunken kenkyūjo, ed., Kankoku shisei ippan (dated 1906), in Kyū Kan matsu Nittei shinryaku shiyrō sōsho (Seoul: Ajia bunkasha, 1984), 1:25–38; A more lengthy description is in Kankoku shisei nenpō (dated 1906), in Kyū Kan matsu Nittei shinryaku shir yō sōsho, 2:106–127.
(89.) “Keisatsu kaizen no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–5, vol. 2, pp. 331–353.
(91.) “Kankoku ni okeru gunji keisatsu to ryōjikan keisatsu to no kankei,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–7, vol. 3, pp. 81–83.
(p.168) (92.) “Zai Kan-koku teikoku kōshikan oyobi kaku ryōjikan keisatsukan no haichi,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–6, vol. 3, p. 4; Gaimushō no hyakunen, 1378. Kajikawa, Gaimushō keisatsu ryakushi, 41. Soejima, “Chōsen ni okeru Nihon,” 136. Kajikawa and Soejima both give 248 as the total number in later 1905, but the original source data calculates at 268. Barbara Brooks gives a figure of “about 300” in her “The Japanese Consul in China, 1895–1937,” 19.
(93.) For details on the steps through which all Japanese police forces in Korea were consolidated under the government-general police bureau in 1910, see Matsuda, “Chōsen shokuminchika no katei ni okeru keisatsu kikō (1904–1910).”
(95.) “Ryōji keisatsu no gaiyō,” in Iwai Keitarō, ed., Komon keisatsu shoshi (1910), Kankoku heigōshi kenkyu shiryō, vol. 4 (Tokyo: Ryukishosha, 1995), p. 296.
(97.) “Chōsen-koku ni oite senshi no junsa Yasukuni jinja e gōshi,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 1–5, vol. 2, pp. 26–29.