Jump to ContentJump to Main Navigation
Crossing Empire's EdgeForeign Ministry Police and Japanese Expansionism in Northeast Asia$

Erik Esselstrom

Print publication date: 2008

Print ISBN-13: 9780824832315

Published to Hawaii Scholarship Online: November 2016

DOI: 10.21313/hawaii/9780824832315.001.0001

Show Summary Details
Page of

PRINTED FROM HAWAII SCHOLARSHIP ONLINE (www.hawaii.universitypressscholarship.com). (c) Copyright Hawaii University Press, 2022. All Rights Reserved. An individual user may print out a PDF of a single chapter of a monograph in HSO for personal use.date: 04 July 2022

A Disputed Presence in Late Qing and Early Republican China

A Disputed Presence in Late Qing and Early Republican China

(p.39) 2 A Disputed Presence in Late Qing and Early Republican China
Crossing Empire's Edge

Erik Esselstrom

University of Hawai'i Press

Abstract and Keywords

This chapter examines the dispute between China and Japan over the propriety and fundamental legal legitimacy of the consular police established by the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs in mainland Chinese treaty ports and the Manchurian frontier. It first considers the presence of the Gaimushō police in the treaty ports of Shanghai, Tianjin, and Xiamen before exploring how the legality of the consular police's existence in the Chinese treaty port environment and in Manchuria came under fire from local Chinese officials, other foreign colonial powers, and even rival institutions of their own imperial government. It also looks at the Zhengjiatun incident of 1916 in Manchuria to highlight the wider Sino-Japanese conflict over the legitimacy of the Japanese consular police. Finally, it analyzes the reasons why the Gaimushō insisted on its claim for legitimate police power despite strong opposition from the Chinese side.

Keywords:   consular police, China, Japan, legitimacy, Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, treaty ports, Manchuria, Gaimushō, Zhengjiatun

The early history of Japan’s Foreign Ministry police in China, South Manchuria, and the Sino-Korean border region of Jiandao (J. Kantō; Kor. Gando) had two things in common with the establishment of the consular police in Korea. First, in all three cases the initial deployment of police forces was quite small, and their duties were limited to the protection and management of Japanese civilian life and property in open treaty port communities. Second, in each case the Japanese government cited mutually recognized treaty agreements between Japan and Korea or Japan and China as the legal basis for their maintenance of police units attached to consulate offices. The greatest difference between the early experiences in these two regions was that in China the establishment of Japanese consular police forces met with much greater resistance from the Chinese government and the local populations than had been the case in Korea. This fact is perhaps attributable in some part to more general and long-standing differences between Sino-Japanese and Korean-Japanese relations, but the contemporary geopolitical context is likely the more significant factor. East Asian international relations in the late 1890s were even more volatile than they had been in the early 1880s.

This chapter will explore the conditions under which the Foreign Ministry expanded its consular police infrastructure throughout northeast Asia from the end of the Sino-Japanese War until the turbulent year of 1919, when Korean independence and Chinese nationalist movements began to inspire a radical transformation in the character and scope of Japanese consular police activities. While the overall numbers of consular police personnel remained relatively small during this early period, the dubious legality of their existence came under assault from numerous directions. The discussion focuses first on the Chinese treaty port environment and then turns to Manchuria, with special emphasis given to the Jiandao region. In all three places, the Foreign Ministry saw the legal legitimacy and jurisdictional authority of its consular police forces contested by local Chinese officials, other foreign colonial powers, and even rival institutions of their own imperial government; but the Gaimushō refused to back down. As later chapters will show, this controversy continued to dog the Foreign Ministry throughout the (p.40) 1920s, until some limited attempts were made in 1929–1930 to scale back the numbers and activities of the consular police. While the outbreak of military hostilities in the early 1930s ultimately made such legalistic disputes less significant as Sino-Japanese friction had by then become open Sino-Japanese war, it was during this early period of growth that the willingness of the Foreign Ministry to bend the “rules” of the treaty port imperialism was already evident. Recognizing this dimension of Japan’s early consular system on the continent thus helps bring to light those characteristics that facilitated the Foreign Ministry’s role in transnational security operations during later decades.

The Treaty Ports: Shanghai, Tianjin, and Xiamen

The first consular police officers to be stationed in China took up their positions only four years after the Gaimushō had sent a contingent of patrolmen to Pusan, Korea. Citing the problem of instability and popular unrest caused by recent Sino-French hostilities, as well as the growing resident Japanese population in the city, the Japanese consul in Shanghai requested in September 1884 that two police officers be stationed at his consulate.1 In response, the Gaimushō arranged for two patrolmen from the municipal police force in Nagasaki to be transferred to the Foreign Ministry and then sent overseas to Shanghai as Japan’s first consular police officers in China. The size of the consular police force in Shanghai seems to have fluctuated between two and six officers for the next few years.2 In September 1888, however, the two patrolmen assigned to the Shanghai consulate were sent back to Japan, and from that point until the signing of the 1896 commercial treaty no consular police were stationed in Shanghai, or anywhere else.3

Sources are sketchy on what these early consular police in Shanghai did, but it is reasonable to assume that their daily duties were quite similar to those of their contemporary counterparts in Korean treaty port communities. The Japanese civilian population in Shanghai was still rather small during the early 1880s, numbering only a few hundred residents, but the consul and his police staff were kept busy with the everyday administrative tasks associated with overseeing the economic and social activities of that community.4 There was, however, one significant difference between the contexts in which the consular police emerged in Korea and in China. When the first consular police arrived in Shanghai, Japan did not possess an unequal treaty advantage over the Qing empire, and thus the Japanese did not enjoy extraterritorial privileges in China. However, since the size of the force at the Shanghai consulate remained so small, it does not seem to have stirred up too much controversy during its first decade of operation.

Japan’s defeat of Qing China in 1895 and the subsequent treaty (p.41) agreements of 1896 then opened the door for an expansion of the consular police force at Shanghai, as well as for the establishment of new police offices in numerous other port cities.5 New ports opened by the 1896 treaty included Suzhou, Hangzhou, Shashi, and Chongqing, and by April of that year consular police forces had been assigned to those four cities, as well as to the already functioning consulates in Tianjin, Amoy (Xiamen), and Shanghai.6 Since the Japanese government consistently claimed that formally recognized treaty agreements between Japan and China clearly sanctified the establishment and maintenance of consular police forces, a closer examination of the 1896 commercial treaty is in order. The specific article from the treaty that relates to the issue of police powers reads: “It is agreed that Settlements to be possessed exclusively by Japan shall be established at the towns and ports newly opened to trade. The management of roads and local police authority shall be vested solely in the Japanese consuls.”7

While the phrasing is slightly ambiguous, the implication is that Japanese consuls are to be granted police authority within “settlements possessed exclusively by Japan.” This is the point on which the Chinese objections most often rested. In their view, foreign police operating anywhere beyond the specific borders of treaty port concession areas was not authorized by any treaty agreement and thus such forces were a blatant violation of Chinese sovereignty. The Japanese side, however, took the article to mean that wherever Japan had a consulate office it possessed the right to attach police forces to it.

Regardless of whether or not the 1896 treaty did indeed provide legal justification for the consular police, their mere presence in China’s treaty port communities often led to both political and physical clashes between Chinese and Japanese security forces, and such incidents were usually one of two kinds. In the first case, Japanese consular authorities complained that Chinese police forces consistently failed in their duty to protect Japanese civilians from acts of violence perpetrated against them by local Chinese. This being so, Japanese officials had no choice but to station their own police in any area where Japanese residents settled. In the other case, it was violence against Japanese civilians committed by Chinese police and military forces themselves that consular authorities protested. Incidents of this sort were, in fact, often the most inflammatory.

But, the consular police were not only a thorn in the side of Sino-Japanese relations. In these early years, the Japanese consular police in Chinese treaty ports also clashed with citizens and soldiers of the Western powers with some regularity. One such case occurred in Tianjin in August 1913 near the border between the French and Japanese concessions. A small group of criminal suspects, attempting to elude capture by the French concession police, crossed Akiyama Street into the Japanese concession, at (p.42) which time they were apprehended by a group of assistant patrolman (junho) from the Tianjin consular police force. When the French officers caught up with their suspects already in Japanese custody, a brawl between the two groups of policemen ensued in which the French assistants inflicted a harsh beating on a number of the junho from the Japanese side. Later on, a large group of Japanese residents organized a rally to protest the treatment of their policemen, and when the group met with French military forces, a number of Japanese civilians were injured in the melee. In the diplomatic discussion that followed, it was decided that henceforth the Japanese police would have jurisdiction over Akiyama Street.8

The fracas between Japanese consular police and soldiers of the United States Army in Tianjin in the spring of 1919 described in the opening paragraphs of this book was a similar case.9 Japanese and American diplomats argued over a resolution to the incident for months on end, the sticking point in the negotiations being which side bore ultimate responsibility for the violence. Another factor at the root of the prolonged negotiation was that, according to the American side, the Japanese consular police possessed absolutely no authority to arrest and detain soldiers of the United States military, or any American citizen for that matter. Not only had they overstepped their already dubious jurisdictional footing, the American consul in Tianjin was also personally furious that he had been lied to by the Japanese consular police chief when the consul first arrived at the Japanese police station and inquired as to the whereabouts of the missing American soldier.10

Clashes of these sorts with French and American officials in Tianjin provide ample evidence of the boldness of Japanese consular police activities. Furthermore, these incidents suggest that the legal position of the consular police was in doubt not only in rural areas of Manchuria. Even in the urban centers of large and diverse treaty ports like Tianjin, the activities of the Japanese consular police were contested by the Chinese and westerners alike. They also reveal, however, the simultaneous dynamic of local collaboration with treaty port police systems as represented by the junho, or assistant patrolman. In the case of the Japanese consulate in Tianjin, dozens of Chinese, Taiwanese, and Koreans were organized and hired by the local Japanese Residents’ Association to work as assistants to the local consular patrolmen.11 This practice was widespread in all of Japan’s consular police forces. At times, in fact, the number of non-Japanese junho working with a Japanese consular police unit made up a three- or four-to-one ratio. To take the case of Tianjin, for example, there were fifty junho employed by the consulate in 1910; and this number rose gradually over the next decade or so to eighty-four by 1916, one hundred nine in 1919, one hundred ninety in 1922, two hundred nineteen in 1925, and as many as two hundred eighty by 1928.12

(p.43) The Foreign Ministry consistently argued that its establishment of consular police forces was necessary for the protection of Japanese citizens in China and Manchuria, but this category was not limited to ethnic Japanese from the home islands. The Japanese government considered Taiwanese after 1895 and Koreans after 1910 to be legal subjects of the Japanese imperial state, and as such the Foreign Ministry had an obligation to provide for the security of Korean and Taiwanese residents in mainland China and Manchuria as well as for ethnic Japanese nationals. The significance of this obligation for the Korean community in Jiandao was immense, but the history of the Japanese consular police in southern China is also filled with episodes of police action to prevent violence against Taiwanese residents in cities such as Fuzhou and Xiamen. Just as the policing of Koreans in Manchuria led to cooperation between the Jiandao consulate-general and the Korea Government-General, so the control of Taiwanese in the south facilitated similar relationships between the Taiwan colonial police bureau and their consular police counterparts on the mainland.13

Because native Taiwanese were subjects of the Japanese emperor after 1895, albeit without the same citizenship rights of metropolitan Japanese citizens, Taiwanese residing in China were the responsibility of the local Japanese consulate. As such, they could count on the protection of the Japanese consular police in conflicts with Chinese locals and government officials, and this protection facilitated the creation of an environment in which numerous Taiwanese began crossing the straits to settle in the treaty ports of the south China coast.14 This Taiwanese community in south China and the traffic in goods and people between Taiwan and the coastal communities created numerous problems for Japanese police forces. Intercepting the trade in illegal drugs, for example, was always a daunting and difficult task, and police forces from both sides of the water were routinely concerned about the publication and circulation of anti-Japanese literature. A report produced in August 1916 by the central police department of the Taiwan Civil Affairs Bureau also discussed the problem of pirate bands, operating from base areas on the China coast and small islands off the coast, attacking the northwest coast of Taiwan, and even included a series of schematic drawings of pirate vessels to help police identify suspicious ships efficiently. The report also suggested the need for better relations with Chinese police in coastal areas, as the unilateral escalation of Japanese police there was severely problematic.15

For the first twenty years or so after the establishment of the Taiwan Government-General, the security forces of the police bureau (sōtokufu keimukyoku) operated independently on the island but also by sending a small number of men to the China coast. Japanese consular police, of course, also carried out their duties in the southern treaty port communities, (p.44) so by 1916 a move was made to coordinate the activities of these two forces since they both shared the same objectives. In late September of that year, the consuls at Xiamen and Fuzhou traveled to Taipei for a three-day conference with police officials in the Government-General. The agreements they reached in those talks facilitated the execution of police activities by coordinating the duties of consular police units in south China with those of the colonial Taiwan Government-General police bureau in a far more integrated way.

Among the new arrangements worked out in the conference, all Government-General police officers operating in China were placed under the direct supervision of the local consul. Political issues were also addressed in their decision to step up efforts to confiscate literature that “damages public peace,” as well as do more to stop the travel of “disreputable” Chinese and Taiwanese between the coast and the island colony. On the piracy problem, the colonial officials encouraged consular police authorities to investigate the coastal base areas of pirate groups with the help of local Chinese police forces. Providing the results of those investigations to the Government-General police and the Japanese Navy, they suggested, would help to eradicate the pirate threat in the region.16

These early efforts at coordinating the police activities of South China consulates and the Taiwan colonial police led to greater cooperation as the years passed. Yet, what is most striking here is that even as early as 1916 it is quite clear that the Foreign Ministry was prepared to perform the duties of a colonial police force on sovereign Chinese territory, becoming a de facto colonial security force, and this boldness provoked, not surprisingly, a rather hostile response from the Chinese side. For example, in making a number of contemporary observations about the disputed status of Japan’s consular police in China and Manchuria in 1920, the American legal pundit Westel Willoughby cited the example of the Japanese consulate in Xiamen. In response to the influx to the Fujian region of southern China of Taiwanese who had become naturalized Japanese subjects, the Japanese consulate in Xiamen rented a small house in 1916. Willoughby recalled that he staffed it with a handful of consular police officers and nailed a wooden sign above its doorway which read: “Police Sub-station of the Consulate of Great Japan at Amoy.” When local Chinese authorities protested, the consul responded by simply taking the sign from the doorway and hanging it inside the building instead—hardly an act of conciliation to the Chinese.17

Fortunately, the original source materials describe this episode in greater detail. The nine officers who staffed the new substation in Xiamen, it turns out, had been dispatched from the colonial police force on Taiwan.18 In December 1916, the Chinese described this move as a clear infringement on Chinese sovereignty and a violation of well-established (p.45) treaty agreements, and as such it was deemed imperative to immediately shut it down and remove those police.19 In his response to the Chinese side, Hayashi Gonsuke, then China minister extraordinary and plenipotentiary, left little room for debate. The consular police, he argued, were a natural part of extraterritoriality, so no treaty agreements had been broken. Furthermore, the new police substation was simply a preparatory step to facilitating better responses to conditions faced by Japanese residents, Hayashi contended, and thus was in no way a violation of Chinese sovereignty.20 While this logic hardly satisfied the complaints of local Chinese officials, the Foreign Ministry nonetheless continued to employ the same sort of justifications in many different scenarios for years to come.

Protest and Rivalry in South Manchuria

The establishment of the consular police in Manchuria followed a somewhat diverse pattern from what had occurred in Korean and Chinese treaty ports. In all three cases, the Foreign Ministry deployed police forces to the field in response to requests from local consuls who sought ways to manage growing Japanese civilian populations during periods of instability and change in Korea-Japanese and Sino-Japanese relations. However, the consular police in Manchuria were established in conjunction with the simultaneous acquisition of formal colonial holdings, the Kwantung Leased Territory, and this fact presented the Foreign Ministry with a number of difficult challenges in exercising its authority on the ground.

The Foreign Ministry had maintained a consulate office in the town of Niuzhuang since the late 1890s, but it had been closed down after the war with Russia erupted in 1904. After the Japanese Army occupied the area around Yingkou in July of the same year, the Niuzhuang consulate was reopened in August and the resident consul made a request to Tokyo for one inspector and one patrolman to be assigned to his office. Metropolitan Gaimushō leadership responded by transferring two patrolmen out of the Tokyo metropolitan police bureau and sending them to Niuzhuang in September; these two officers were the first Japanese consular policemen in Manchuria.21 With the exception of an additional patrolman being assigned to the Niuzhuang office in June 1905, no new consular police were assigned to Manchuria until 1906, when in May a new consulate was opened in Andong with a police force of two patrolmen, to which was added one inspector in June. Over the course of the next six months, the consulate office in Fengtian was staffed with a significantly larger force of twenty-two officers and supplemented by a new subconsulate with six police officers at Xinminpu. Following the opening of new offices in Liaoyang and Tieling, the establishment of a consulate in Changchun with six officers in November brought the total (p.46) number of consular police in Manchuria to roughly fifty men stationed in seven facilities by the end of 1906.22

Along with this expansion of consular facilities in south Manchuria, the Kwantung Government-General (Kantō totokufu) also began operations in September 1906 to manage the territorial and railway acquisitions gained through the victory over Russia. Officially, its jurisdiction was to include the Kwantung Leased Territory and the areas immediately adjacent to the South Manchuria Railway line that ran out from Dairen. In addition to its economic and administrative functions, the Kwantung regime also set up its own police bureau, which had the responsibility of providing for security within Japanese-controlled territory and along the railway.23 Throughout the following year, however, the Foreign Ministry nevertheless continued to expand its facilities in the region by setting up new consulates in Harbin and Jilin, each complete with a police force of roughly half a dozen men. Several incremental personnel increases in various offices throughout 1907 ultimately brought the total number of consular police in southern Manchuria to roughly one hundred men by the end of 1907.24

These first few years of growth and expansion in the consular police network in south Manchuria did not escape some conflict and controversy. For example, following a pattern of dispute to be repeated in countless episodes over the coming decades, a violent incident on the part of local Chinese police against Japanese civilians near Andong in January 1907 sparked a heated argument over just who possessed police power where. Chinese authorities refused to recognize the legal propriety of the new police forces deployed in the area largely because it was not an officially designated “commercial settlement” (shōbuchi). The Japanese in turn rested on the defense that in a “self-opened” commercial community, Japanese police power could be exercised legitimately, and further they refused to accept that Chinese police could hold any jurisdictional power over local Japanese residents.25 Despite the disagreement, local Japanese consular officials continued to press for the expansion of their police facilities, and in June 1907, Andong Consul Okabe Saburō requested an increase of twenty-two officers, justifying the escalation as a necessary measure for dealing with the increasingly complicated matter of controlling unregulated border crossing between the northern Korean peninsula and south Manchuria.26

As a center of Japanese political influence in the region, Fengtian also saw its share of early disputes over the presence of Japanese police in south Manchuria. In a report to Tokyo in June 1906, Fengtian consul Hagiwara Morikazu described the need for a large-scale increase of Japanese police in the area to prepare for the anticipated influx of Japanese residents and consequent economic development that was sure to come with the impending (p.47) extension of South Manchuria Railway lines to Changchun.27 By August, a local Chinese warlord was strongly protesting such plans, as well as the general presence of new Japanese consular police substations near Fengtian after withdrawal of the Japanese Army once open hostilities with the Russians had ceased. Such complaints were answered with a bold assertion of Japanese authority, as Hagiwara argued that stationing Japanese police there was fundamentally necessary in order to control Japanese civilians. Furthermore, not only was it not a violation of Chinese sovereignty, as had been accused, but Hagiwara suggested that “your country is actually better off for it.” Hagiwara’s point was that having the consular police nearby made it easier to respond to and deal with incidents as they arose, a fact that benefited both sides.28

It was not only government officials who led the charge for a stronger Japanese police presence and stricter limits on Chinese jurisdiction over security affairs. The Japanese Residents’ Association of Fengtian, for example, filed a petition addressed directly to Foreign Minister Hayashi Tadasu in which they detailed the numerous episodes of violence perpetrated against their community by unruly Chinese police. Specifically, they asked that the ministry take four measures on their behalf: (1) forbid Chinese police from being armed; (2) demand compensation payments to Japanese residents injured by Chinese police; (3) clarify the responsibilities of local Chinese police authorities; and (4) demand that Chinese police have absolutely no authority over Japanese residents.29 From these requests, it seems clear that many if not most local disputes involving Japanese residents resulted, not from clashes with ordinary Chinese residents, but rather from what the Japanese perceived as unjust and even illegal harassment by Chinese officials.

Spurred on by such civilian demands, the growth of consular police infrastructure continued apace during 1907; but it was matched by increases in Kwantung Government-General police forces, leading inevitably to conflicts between the two over jurisdictional prerogatives. The Foreign Ministry tried desperately to protect the integrity of its authority in Manchuria, but the military administration in the Kwantung Leased Territory pressed the case for integration of Japanese police forces in the region. Their argument was that because Government-General police and the Foreign Ministry’s consular police operated under different guidelines and regulations, the Japanese resident community was greatly inconvenienced. Furthermore, this multibranch system unnecessarily complicated relations with local Chinese authorities.30 Ultimately, the resolution reached in January 1908 favored the Government-General. The administrative reforms enacted at that time designated that the Foreign Ministry would retain its authority over formal diplomatic intercourse with the Chinese, although it needed to consult with Government-General (p.48) officials on major policy decisions. As for the problem of confusion over overlapping police jurisdictions, the new system, through joint appointments of consular officials and police with Government-General staff, placed all Gaimushō police forces under the joint supervision of Government-General police officials and their immediate consular superiors.31 This referred specifically to the consular police forces at the six consulates in Niuzhuang, Liaoyang, Fengtian, Tieling, Changchun, and Andong.32 In effect, the administrative reforms of 1908 served to greatly circumscribe the control of consuls in southern Manchuria over their own police forces. In fact, the consular police in areas under the umbrella of Government-General jurisdiction were for all intents and purposes Government-General police and not Foreign Ministry police at all.33

While the 1908 resolution seemed on the surface to have solved the problem of multiple police institutions in South Manchuria, Gaimushō and Kwantung Leased Territory police officials continued to debate the relative merits of police integration. In 1916, Kwantung Resident-General Nakamura Satoru argued that the development of Japanese economic and political interests in Manchuria and Outer Mongolia required a more efficient security apparatus, namely the complete integration of local consular police under the authority of the Kwantung government. He explained to Foreign Minister Terauchi Masatake that the economic activities of Japanese residents in South Manchuria had grown nicely since the 1908 restructuring of Japanese police forces there, and because of the recent Russo-Japanese treaty, similar activity in North Manchuria (Harbin, Qiqihar, etc.) had also been developing. Nakamura thus suggested that perhaps Japan could use new consulate offices in those regions, with joint appointments of police from the Government-General, in order to expand Japanese security networks throughout northern Manchuria. In fact, Nakamura directly compared this plan with the similar practice of Korea Government-General police working out of the Andong consulate. In a more specific request, Nakamura asked that the police forces of new consulates opened in northern Manchuria after 1915 be fully integrated with Government-General police for the sake of maintaining the integrity of the 1908 system.34

During a series of multilateral talks that took place during the summer of 1917, the Gaimushō responded by agreeing that the integration of Japanese police in Manchuria was needed, but in their view local consular police facilities were better situated to take control over all police matters. Representatives both from the South Manchuria Railway Company (Mantetsu) and the army argued that lack of unity between Japanese police forces was particularly disadvantageous because of the inconvenience it caused the Japanese resident community, and on a larger scale that it detracted from the dignity of Japanese empire as a (p.49) whole. Thus, further integration of the consular police into the Government-General security network was necessary. The Gaimushō countered these claims by arguing that all branches of the Japanese government in Manchuria could get along just fine with one another if each did its job properly and respected the jurisdictional prerogatives of the others. Certainly problems, disputes, and conflicts of various types would spring up now and then, the Foreign Ministry representatives agreed, but overhauling the whole system would create an even bigger problem. They argued, therefore, that simple solutions to everyday difficulties should be sought and no major change was needed.35

These debates continued into the following year, and in July 1918 the chief of the Colonial Bureau (Takumukyoku) offered a new plan to the Terauchi Cabinet. In short, he advised that the Korea Government-General be granted complete police authority in Jiandao, while the Kwantung Government-General would assume identical powers in South Manchuria. Basically, the idea was to subsume all Manchurian consular police completely under Japan’s formal colonial apparatus, but the Gaimushō again countered this assault on their jurisdictional prerogatives.36 Because of recent complications regarding the administration of Shandong, the Chinese side, on both official and popular levels, was especially sensitive to Japanese claims of jurisdictional authority on Chinese soil. So a complete reform of police in Manchuria, according to the Foreign Ministry, would be both ill-timed and destabilizing.37 By 1918, the Gaimushō’s view had emerged as the more influential position, and the broader liberalization of Japan’s colonial policy under the Hara Kei Cabinet from 1918 to 1921 returned the Manchurian consular police to a more preeminent position in relation to the Kwantung government. When that quasi-military office was in 1919 transformed into a civilian administrative bureau, the Kantō-chō, Gaimushō police regained much of the authority they had lost in 1908.38

In the midst of these many disputes and debates, the consular police had nonetheless continued to expand since 1908.39 However, the opening of a new consulate in Zhengjiatun in 1914 soon met with considerable opposition from the local Chinese population and the Republican Chinese government. Indeed, while problems linked to institutional rivalry with Kwantung Government-General police were an important preoccupation in the minds of consular police leadership, the growing volume of Chinese protests against Japanese police power in Manchuria was becoming an even bigger concern.

Back in Tokyo, the Foreign Ministry was sensitive to the problem of Chinese hostility toward the activities of Japanese police in south Manchuria. In July 1913, Foreign Minister Makino Nobuaki cabled the Korea Government-General with his suggestions on how to best avoid the provocation (p.50) of Chinese anger. In particular, Makino mentioned four scenarios in which Japanese police needed to take special care: (1) when detaining as possible suspects local Chinese of high social standing, most of all wealthy merchants; (2) when using borderline torture tactics during investigations of Chinese; (3) when a Chinese suspect suffered an unexplained death without clear cause while in Japanese police custody; and (4) when detaining a Chinese civilian outside the railway zone as a preventative step, even when there was clear criminal evidence against the Japanese resident involved in the matter. This sort of thing especially angered local Chinese police, Makino took time to note.40 Such steps were apparently insufficient, as two years later, in July 1915, new Foreign Minister Katō Takaaki addressed the growing problem of Chinese demands for the complete withdrawal of Japanese consular police from South Manchuria. He directed all Japanese consuls throughout China to defend the legitimacy of the consular police in Manchuria based on Japan’s legal treaty privileges. He went on to imply that the weakness and inadequacy of local Chinese security forces made Japanese police necessary; the logical conclusion being that only if and when the Chinese completely revamped their own police would it even be possible to discuss the withdrawal of Japanese consular police stations from the interior.41 Even if local Chinese authorities had been capable of making such improvements, however, it seems unlikely that the Japanese authorities would have immediately withdrawn their consular police from South Manchuria. By the late 1910s their usefulness had become all too clear.

Jurisdictional Ambiguity in Jiandao

As was the case in south Manchuria, the consular police in the Jiandao region also took shape under a unique set of circumstances. In fact, the history of the consular police in Jiandao was treated by the original editors of the Gaimushō keisatsushi as a separate and distinct institution within the general history of the Foreign Ministry police.42 The uniqueness of their situation and activities was due to the inextricable link between the administration of the Jiandao region of Manchuria and colonial Korea itself. The necessity of protecting and controlling Korean subjects in both areas demanded an extraordinary degree of cooperation between Jiandao area consulates and the colonial Korean Government-General.43

By the early years of the twentieth century, the Jiandao region had become the focus of a politically complicated set of territorial ambiguities in Chinese–Japanese–Korean relations. The Qing dynasty had long restricted the settlement of non-Manchu peoples in Manchuria, but those limits had weakened considerably by the late 1890s. Consequently, Korean immigrants began to flow into the area in ever larger numbers. Actually (p.51) encouraged by the Qing state to develop this rustic frontier, the hope was that these Korean migrants would help ward off further Russian encroachment in the Qing northeast.44 After Japan’s victory over Russia in 1905 and the creation of a protectorate state on the Korean peninsula, Jiandao also became a keen concern of the Japanese government. The noted Sinologist Naitō Konan was sent to the area in 1906 at the behest of the Gaimushō to investigate local conditions in an effort to formulate an official Japanese policy on the question of Jiandao as a historically Chinese or Korean territory. For obvious reasons, the Japanese preferred to think of it as a natural extension of Korea, since this would bolster the claims of protectorate officials regarding the logical expansion of Japanese authority there, and Naitō’s reports did indeed confirm this view.45 Interestingly, even some contemporary Korean historians advocated the notion of Jiandao as a historically Korean region, though for different reasons than the Japanese. Sin Ch’aeho, for example, argued vociferously that Korea should not be thought of in exclusively peninsular terms, citing archeological evidence of Korean kingdoms in Jiandao from many centuries past.46

The matter became an especially pressing concern when, in the aftermath of the establishment the Korean protectorate in 1905, numerous Korean resistance fighters fled to the neighboring region of Jiandao to escape capture by Japanese police and military forces in Korea. The Japanese army in Korea set up a temporary field office in Jiandao in 1907 to prosecute their mission of eradicating opposition to the protectorate.47 This was not accomplished, however, without some resistance from the Qing government; indeed, by 1909 the Jiandao problem had become a major issue in Sino-Japanese relations.48 A treaty agreement reached in that year attempted to resolve the conflict by providing for the establishment of a Japanese consulate-general in Longjincun, along with four subconsulates in Juzijie, Toudaogou, Hunchun, and Baicaogou, through which the Japanese Foreign Ministry could exercise its jurisdiction over Korean residents in the immediate region.49 From their opening each of these facilities was staffed with a consular police staff: forty-two officers at the consulate-general in Longjincun, and roughly six officers each at the four subconsulates. In accordance with the 1909 treaty, local Chinese authorities also established their own police forces in the same areas, and the duty with which all of these Japanese and Chinese police were charged was the maintenance of public security for Chinese, Korean, and Japanese residents alike in various local Jiandao region “commercial settlements.” It surely did not come as a surprise to anyone, however, when these various police forces clashed over issues regarding just who had jurisdiction where.50

Interpreting the historiographic meaning of the Jiandao Agreement of 1909 has become an important matter of discussion among Japanese and Korean scholars, with the debate centering on whether or (p.52) not it was a deliberately expansionistic move on the part of Japanese authorities.51 Whatever the real nature of the agreement, however, the overwhelming Korean resident majority in the Jiandao region remained the fundamental source of Sino-Japanese conflict in the area.52 On the issue of jurisdiction over the Koreans, the Chinese side maintained that Japanese authority was limited to the shōbuchi areas, outside of which the Chinese held the only legitimate police power. The Japanese side, however, reasoned that the consular police had a legitimate right to enforce law and order wherever Japanese residents resided. The Koreans in Jiandao were considered to be imperial subjects, and the consular police thus had a duty to protect them and their interests. The problem with this logic was that most Koreans did not live in the shōbuchi settlement areas. However, since nothing in the 1909 treaty specifically limited the scope of consular police authority, the Foreign Ministry refused to back down in the conflict over legitimate police jurisdiction.

A characteristic Sino-Japanese jurisdictional clash in the region occurred in January 1910. The local Chinese police had determined that the business of a local Japanese resident named Koga Shōjirō was illegal, so they set out to shut down his operation, while Koga in the meantime called upon his local consul for defense and protection. On January 28, local Chinese authorities and the Japanese consular police argued over Koga’s case, and a brawl erupted between them, in which one Japanese consular patrolman was injured and a Korean assistant patrolman lost his hand from a sword blow. The local Japanese consul demanded that the Chinese police responsible for the violence be punished and reparations to the injured Japanese patrolmen be paid, but the only Chinese response to materialize was instead an increase in their local police force from thirty to sixty men.53

Clashes such as these continued sporadically over the next few years, but when the Japanese government presented the Yuan Shikai regime with its infamous Twenty-One Demands in 1915, the deadlock over police authority in Jiandao was broken.54 In the new treaty agreements that were negotiated out of the original demands, the 1909 Jiandao treaty was abrogated in favor of a new one that gave the consular police a much stronger hand in the region. As a result the number of consular police in the Jiandao region grew to just over one hundred men after 1915.55 It is also clear that as early as December 1911 the Korean Government-General was already requesting cooperation from newly established Jiandao consulate police office to assist in political security operations. The Jiandao office arrested and deported several suspects in an assassination plot against Governor General Terauchi Masatake, for example, in early 1912, and between 1910 and 1915, it became increasingly common for the Police Bureau of the Korean Government-General to send (p.53) security teams across the border to gather intelligence with the support of local consular police officers.56

What is most important to note here is that the evolution of Japanese consular police forces in Jiandao cannot be separated from the development of the formal institutions of Japanese colonial control of the Korean peninsula and the larger twists and turns of Sino-Japanese relations during the late Qing and early Republican eras. The early experience of the consular police in Jiandao also demonstrates two critically important characteristics of the Foreign Ministry police in general. First, they were committed to protecting Japanese civilian life and property in any location, without regard for whether or not they possessed an internationally recognized legal right to do so. Second, the Chinese government and local Chinese populations resisted this encroachment on their national sovereignty at every turn, leading to episodes of violent conflict on a regular basis. Also important is the fact that in both China (South China in particular) and Manchuria, the jurisdictional boundaries between consular and colonial police were more than a little hazy, since managing non-Japanese imperial subjects demanded close cooperation between the Foreign Ministry and colonial administrative regimes. But this cooperation was not always easy to come by, as institutional rivalries also drove the policy decisions of all the offices involved.

The Zhengjiatun Incident

What happened in 1916 at the Manchurian town of Zhengjiatun is representative of the wider Sino-Japanese conflict over who held legitimate authority over police activities within and beyond concession areas designated by mutually recognized treaty agreements, so it is worth considering in some depth.57 In early August 1916, a Japanese businessman who had been physically abused by local Chinese security forces in Zhengjiatun called on his local consul to take his complaint to relevant Chinese authorities. When consular police sent to investigate the matter encountered their local Chinese counterparts, an armed clash ensued during which twelve Japanese were killed, including a consular police patrolman named Kawase Matsutarō.58 A lengthy diplomatic dispute followed in the wake of the incident, with Japanese officials arguing that the violence was clear proof of the necessity for Japanese police forces in the southern Manchurian interior. They went even further in strengthening their position by demanding that Japanese police advisers should also be placed in Chinese police organizations. The Chinese side rejected these claims outright. The source of the dispute was in how each side interpreted the 1915 treaty agreements that provided for the security of Japanese civilians who settled in interior regions of Manchuria and Eastern Mongolia. The Chinese argued that Japanese (p.54) police jurisdiction was limited to the areas immediately adjacent to Mantetsu rail lines, and Zhengjiatun clearly did not fit that description; in areas beyond the railway concessions, only local Chinese authorities possessed legitimate police power. However, the Japanese consistently maintained that the 1915 treaty empowered consular officials with the right to station police wherever Japanese residents lived. In their view, the consular police were merely a natural extension of extraterritorial privileges.

In an effort to clarify the intended function of Foreign Ministry police and soothe Chinese anger over the issue, Japanese officials spelled out in specific terms the precise duties of the consular police in Manchuria: (1) to prevent Japanese subjects from committing crimes; (2) to protect Japanese subjects when attacked; (3) to search, arrest, and escort Japanese prisoners under the jurisdiction of a Japanese consulate; (4) to attend to the enforcement of consular orders in connection with civil cases, such as the duties of the registrar; (5) to investigate and supervise the personal standing of Japanese subjects; (6) to control and discipline Japanese subjects who violated the provisions of treaties between Japan and China; (7) to see that Japanese subjects abided by the provisions of Chinese police regulations when the agreement between Japan and China respecting the same should actually come into force.59

The Chinese refused to accept this position because the 1915 treaty had stated that Japanese civilians residing in the interior would be subject to the police and taxation regulations of the local Chinese government. The Japanese consular police were thus ipso facto a violation of Chinese sovereignty. As the Chinese response stated:

As the seven principal functions of the Japanese police officers … are those which should properly belong to the Chinese police … there is no necessity for the establishment of a Japanese police force. Hence, the question of police cannot be associated with extraterritoriality and the Chinese government cannot recognize it as a corollary of the right of extraterritoriality. Ever since the conclusion of the extraterritoriality treaties between China and the foreign Powers for several decades, no such claim has ever been heard.60

To that charge, Japanese authorities reiterated their earlier position, adding to it that while the Chinese government considered whether or not to grant its consent to the presence of Japanese consular police, “the Imperial Government will nevertheless be constrained to carry it [i.e., the stationing of additional consular police forces] into effect in case of necessity.”61 In other words, whether the Chinese recognized their legitimacy or not, the consular police would continue in their activities.

Not only did the local Gaimushō police forces remain on duty, but the (p.55) Japanese government also put forth an extensive list of demands in the wake of the disturbance at Zhengjiatun, including (1) employment of Japanese military advisers in Manchuria-Mongolia; (2) employment of Japanese military officers as public school instructors; (3) Zhang Zuolin’s officers in Mukden were to apologize in person to Japanese authorities there; and (4) monetary compensation was demanded for the families of dead Japanese. In addition, they added four smaller provisions: (1) the punishment of the regional commanding Chinese officer; (2) the dismissal and punishment of officers and men directly involved in the incident; (3) all Chinese troops in Manchuria and Mongolia were ordered not to interfere with Japanese civilians, police, or military in any way; and (4) unconditional recognition of Japan’s special interests in Manchuria and Mongolia, namely local police power and Japanese police advisers in South Manchuria.62

Japanese authorities clearly used the clash at Zhengjiatun as a convenient excuse for extracting further concessions from the Chinese, but such pressure did not come only from official channels of the Japanese government. Prominent members of the local Japanese community in Manchuria also recognized a clear opportunity taking shape during the discussions over how to best resolve the affair. For example, the editorial pages of the Dairen-based periodical Tairiku featured a variety of proactive positions in the weeks immediately following the incident.63 Editor-in-Chief Yamada Takeyoshi began by describing the incident itself, including the gruesome mutilation of the Japanese victims by Chinese soldiers. He then went on to say that the incident had clearly marred the prestige of both the nation and the army, so a decisive retaliation was necessary. The root cause of the affair, Yamada explained, was the poor quality of Chinese security forces and the weak authority of the Chinese government itself in Manchuria. This incident, then, was a chance to take steps toward fundamentally fixing those problems. He contended that Japan had shown in Taiwan and Korea that it knew how to rule well, and Chinese in the Japanese-controlled Kwantung region were thriving in a stable and secure environment. Recognizing Japanese power in Manchuria and Mongolia was clearly the best option for Chinese and Japanese alike, in Yamada’s view. If disorder was allowed to continue in the interior, no one would succeed. If the Chinese government was serious about Sino-Japanese friendship and local security, he concluded, they would accede to Japanese proposals.64

Other pundits adopted a more hostile tone. Itō Kazuya, a local lawyer, claimed, “we ought to grab Zhang Zuolin by the scruff of the neck and use our Army to let him know who the boss is in Manchuria.” But Itō also recognized that such a solution was not diplomatically feasible, so he urged the Japanese government to use diplomatic discussion to achieve a firm and final solution to these problems.65 In one of the boldest editorials, (p.56) Nakanishi Masaki raged that Japan’s army and empire had been insulted by Chinese impudence. “Why the hell do we even have a colonial government here? An army in Manchuria?” Nakanishi pondered cynically. He went on: “It’s quite unbearable that our government won’t take necessary steps because of needless fears about Western opinion.” He explained further that because the Western powers were busy destroying each other in the Great War, only Japan was in a position to dominate in Asia. With more than a little contempt in his tone, Nakanishi concluded: “At first glance, China seems like a splendid country, but it really is an especially troublesome place. … The central government has no grip on the northeast, and as such it is overrun by banditry and warlords like Zhang Zuolin. … The whole place should be under Japanese control.”66

As Nakanishi’s comments indicate, what position the Western powers would take on the affair was of considerable interest to both the Japanese and the Chinese. An editorial piece from the Peking-Tientsin Times gives some indication of the Western view on the episode. “If one assumes that the Chinese were entirely at fault in this matter,” it read, “the Japanese demands, harsh though they may be, would not be open to serious criticism.” However, the author went on to say that this was not a reasonable assumption. In short, what both sides needed was an impartial investigation and a mutually acceptable resolution. The article concluded with the notion that instability in China served no one’s interests: “self-respect is an extremely important factor in the development of nations; where it is constantly wounded from abroad one cannot expect to find health in the body politic. … That being so, there should be a limit to the humiliations they [the Japanese] inflict upon it [China].”67 A local Chinese commentator in the Peking Gazette also made it clear that securing the sympathy of the Western powers was critical. He characterized Japanese demands in the wake of the incident as “an attempt to repeat what was done by the Japanese in Korea when the administration of justice and prisons in that country was extorted under the Convention of 1909, that is as a measure to be followed inevitably by the annexation of the regions at some later and more convenient date.” He went on: “Alone and unaided, we are powerless to contest with the Japanese on any matter on which they are insistent”; so, “let it once be made clear that China is resolved officially to consult the Powers guaranteeing her independence and territorial integrity.” Only this would keep the rapacious aggression of the Japanese in check, the writer concluded.68

Western commentators looking back on the incident several years later were divided in their opinions. The American scholar Westel Willoughby, a one-time adviser to the Republican government in China, saw the disturbances at Zhengjiatun as the result of Japan’s incorrect interpretation of the 1915 treaty stipulations regarding police jurisdiction in the (p.57) Manchurian interior. He described the negotiations over the incident in this way:

Little imagination is required to perceive that, had these Chengchiatun demands and desiderata been granted by China, Japan would have been enabled, without much further claims of right, to obtain effective military and police control of the Manchurian provinces. Fortunately for China, however, Japan did not at this time deem it advisable to enforce her demands. … The whole “incident” is, however, of significance in that it indicated what, at that time, were the further wishes of Japan with regard to Manchuria and Eastern Inner Mongolia.69

Contrary to Willoughby’s case that the Foreign Ministry’s insistence on police jurisdiction in Manchuria was part of a much larger and more sinister subimperialist plot, another American scholar of East Asian international relations, C. Walter Young, took a different stand on the significance of the Zhengjiatun incident and its larger corollary issues of police prerogatives in Manchuria. Pointing out that Japanese claims of inadequacy in local Chinese public security institutions were not entirely unfounded, Young wrote:

Candor must compel the honest student of this subject to admit that the picture of continual banditry and disorder painted by Japanese writers on South Manchuria is much too highly colored, but fairness must compel him in the same breath to say that, while Manchuria as a whole has been better governed than most provinces of China, and there have been fewer major civil disturbances there than in almost any other part of China, yet, as anyone who is really familiar with Manchuria must admit, banditry has not been stamped out, even in the territories lying adjacent to the Kwantung leased territory itself.70

Postwar historical studies of the Zhengiatun affair most often conclude that it was the Chinese who had the stronger case on purely legal grounds in the jurisdictional dispute. In fact, even Kajikawa Masakatsu, editor of the postwar consular police commemorative history, admitted that the Japanese position on the legitimacy of consular police in the interior was “extremely delicate (kiwamete bimyō de atta).”71 Looking at long-term patterns of consular police expansion in South Manchuria, Tanigawa Yūichirō has also pointed out that among the thirty-eight police boxes linked to nine consular offices in Manchuria (excluding Jiandao) in 1923, only fifteen publicly displayed signs that identified their building as a police facility. Furthermore, almost all of those twenty-three police boxes that did not identify themselves publicly had (p.58) been established after the Zhengjiatun Incident of 1916.72 Clearly, then, while the incident did not slow down the pace of consular police escalation in Manchuria, it certainly caused the Foreign Ministry to expand their police networks in a more surreptitious way, suggesting that perhaps Japanese authorities recognized the dubious international legality of consular police operations in China. Indeed, Tanigawa ultimately concludes that the deliberately secretive expansion of Japanese consular police facilities throughout the Manchurian interior between 1915 and the early 1920s clearly indicates that Japanese authorities knew such escalation rested on exceedingly weak legal grounds.73 The Japanese government believed that its imperial prerogatives justified the use of consular police regardless of specific legal semantics, and, as Ogino Fujio maintains, the Foreign Ministry never even considered withdrawing its consular police forces during the 1910s because it saw the institution as one particularly useful dimension of extraterritorial rights that could serve as a tool for the deliberate penetration of Chinese sovereignty.74

The Debates Continue

While it will stretch beyond the chronological parameters of the present narrative, it is nonetheless useful to follow the debate over consular police legitimacy as it evolved during later decades. Quite striking is the fact that later defenders of Japan’s right to station consular police throughout China were not only to be found within the Foreign Ministry, for Japanese legal professionals and academics often wrote to defend the institution against its Chinese and Western critics. One such author was Koga Motokichi. A prominent lawyer and China affairs enthusiast in Tokyo, Koga published a lengthy analysis of the problems associated with the operations of foreign police in China in the pages of Shina kenkyū (China Studies). In fact, in the first article of his six-part series, Koga kicked off his argument by citing Westel Willoughby as his model foreign critic of the consular police.75 Refuting the points made by Willoughby in his Foreign Rights and Interests in China, Koga nonetheless stressed the need to explain the Japanese position to the international community as it had become a focal point of foreign criticism.

Shinobu Junpei also addressed the problem of police legitimacy during the Manchurian crisis of the early 1930s.76 He began by surveying the long history of treaty agreements that provided for the legal underpinnings of police forces operating from Japan’s consulate offices, even citing Article 14 of the 1858 treaty between the Qing Empire and France as the first to establish an important precedent. That article stipulated that matters of legal jurisdiction not specifically addressed by the treaty would automatically (p.59) fall to French authorities. Japan, according to Shinobu, reserved the same right, which made consular police unquestionably legal under formal treaty agreements with China.77 After reviewing the history of controversies regarding Japanese police power in China, including the incidents of Chinese protest at Xiamen in 1916 and the Zhengjiatun affair, Shinobu turned to the pressing debate over the abolition of Japanese extraterritoriality in China. Citing the crucial need for adequate security to protect the lives and property of Japanese civilians, especially in the Jiandao region, Shinobu concluded that even if extraterritorial rights were relinquished, making the maintenance of consular police untenable, Japan would still need to take measures to facilitate the reform and improvement of Chinese police organizations, perhaps by compelling the employment of Japanese police advisers along the lines of men like Kawashima Naniwa, founder of the Peking Police Academy. Beyond that, Shinobu even suggested that Japan follow the model of French colonial authorities in their revamping of police institutions in Morocco, something that he had studied on his own in an attempt to devise a plan for solving the police problem in China and Manchuria.78

When circumstances in 1932 compelled the Western powers finally to pass judgment on the validity of Japanese actions in Manchuria, Chinese spokesmen seeking Western sympathy often made reference to the long-standing controversy surrounding Japanese consular police forces. The Japanese government’s persistence in maintaining this security apparatus of dubious legality was clear evidence, such advocates argued, of Japan’s blatant disregard for Chinese sovereignty dating back almost two decades. Hsu Shushi, a Yenching University professor of political science, for example, referred to the Zhengjiatun Incident of 1917 in citing the ubiquitous presence of Japanese consular police throughout China’s interior as one of many “questions awaiting solution” in Sino-Japanese relations at the time of the Manchurian Incident.79 The official Chinese representative to the Council of the League of Nations, V. K. Wellington Koo, also pointed out to the Lytton Commission the problematic status of Japanese police boxes in Manchuria, which in his view were “illegally established and without treaty basis whatsoever.”80

Despite the strongly worded statements of these and other Chinese representatives, however, the report of the Lytton Commission did not make a clear condemnation of the Japanese consular police as illegal. The foreign observers only went so far as to say that the Japanese practice of establishing police units in its consular facilities throughout China ran “contrary to the general practice of countries having extra-territorial treaties.”81 Consistent with the overall tone of the commission report, blanket rejections of Japanese contentions were avoided. However, the commission did include the removal of “special bodies” of Japanese police forces (p.60) from the Three Eastern Provinces among its many suggestions for bringing about a peaceful and mutually acceptable resolution to the Sino-Japanese conflict in Manchuria.82 This would seem to have been, however vaguely phrased, recognition that Japanese claims to the legitimacy of consular police in Manchuria, if not unfounded, were nonetheless the cause of considerable and reasonable Chinese resentment.

In the wake of the Manchurian Incident, the Lytton Commission report, and Japan’s withdrawal from the League of Nations in 1933, Koga Motokichi again took up the cause of defending Japan’s special brand of extraterritoriality in China that warranted the maintenance of consular police there. Here, too, he made reference to Willoughby as the de facto spokesman of Anglo-American criticism.83 In discussing the ramifications of abolishing extraterritoriality in China and Manchuria, Koga took on the system’s critics. Foreign scholars such as Willoughby, Koga maintained, were wrong to conclude that extraterritorial privilege undermined the administrative integrity of China. In fact, the opposite was true. Koga argued that extraterritorial rights and consular jurisdiction made it possible to hold Chinese society to the recognized legal standards of the international community. To relinquish those rights before Chinese institutions were able to adequately guarantee the property rights and personal liberty of foreign nationals residing within her borders, Koga reasoned, would actually work to hinder China’s integration into the modern nation-state system.84 This logic seemed to suggest that by exercising their extraterritorial rights, Japan and the other foreign powers were actually doing the Chinese a favor.

Self-serving argument as it clearly was, Japanese defenders of the consular police were not the only ones to make it. American, British, and other Western nationals, particularly those in the business of trade and commerce, were just as apt as their Japanese counterparts to tout the benefits of extraterritorial rights for the Chinese themselves. In an extensive editorial from the Peking and Tientsin Times, for example, H. G. W. Woodhead produced a litany of examples to illustrate the inadequacy of the Chinese legal system in 1929, concluding that the government of China at that moment was one “in which, apparently, elementary rights and liberties are in abeyance, or subject to the whims of Kuomintang committees.”85 An ardent opponent of abolishing extraterritoriality, Woodhead finished his tirade with a sentiment remarkably similar to that of Koga a few years later. “The premature abolition of extraterritoriality,” Woodhead concluded, “would operate most disadvantageously towards the Chinese themselves for it would remove a strong incentive to judicial reform.”86 To make this point even more dramatically, Woodhead included the poignant words of Arnold Foster, a late veteran missionary, who once lectured, “Let every patriotic Chinese then look today, not with envious and (p.61) resentful eyes, but with eyes gleaming with gladness and expectation, on the privileges that Western nations enjoy in China.” The joys of freedom and security experienced by people in the West, the good preacher insisted, were what the Chinese themselves had to strive to obtain from their own rulers. They could not gain those benefits, Foster concluded, “by depriving the foreigner” of them, or “subjecting him to all the injustice” routinely meted out by Chinese officials upon their own people.87

What links the contentions of Koga and Woodhead here is their shared faith in the propriety of international standards to which all nations must be held accountable. Elaborating on this notion of broad international consent, one of the most fascinating Japanese interpretations of consular police legitimacy was advanced by Shihozawa Kita, a Foreign Ministry Asia Bureau adviser, in 1938. Shihozawa explained it this way:

That the consular police operate within the parameters of international consent does not mean that they operate according to international consent; while the origins of police power are based in international consent and developed from it, the use of police power already cannot be restrained. That is to say that police power is limited by the extent to which consular jurisdiction can be exercised, and consular jurisdiction is something which operates according to treaties and precedent, and those treaties and precedents constitute international consent. There are clear cases and unstated cases of international consent, but in either case, the effect is not controllable.88

In other words, Shihozawa argued that, in broad conceptual terms, consular police power was justified by the treaty port system. The specific form through which that power was exercised, however, was determined solely by consular jurisdiction. Framed in this way, the Japanese consular police could operate freely despite any protests related to specific circumstances, because the larger system of treaty port imperialism sanctioned their actions, in Shihozawa’s view, by an inherent form of international consent.

Even as late as 1943, Japanese academics were still arguing for the necessity of consular police in China because of the peculiar exigencies faced by Japan on the continent. For example, when Keiō University professor Hanabusa Nagamichi summarized the controversy, he made the same arguments that Koga had pursued fifteen years earlier. Also like Koga, Hanabusa cited Westel Willoughby specifically as an important voice of foreign criticism.89 (One cannot help but wonder if Willoughby ever realized that his views had such an impact on so many Japanese.) In a lengthy review of the history of Sino-Japanese conflicts over the legitimacy of the consular police, Hanabusa cited the clashes at both Xiamen and (p.62) Zhenjiatun as cases in point, and in addressing the criticisms of European and American pundits such as Willoughby, Hanabusa suggested that the difference between the sizes of their national populations in China was the source of their different interpretations of consular police legality. It was because English, French, and American resident communities were so much smaller than Japanese communities that westerners did not appreciate the necessity for consular police forces in the Japanese case.90

A theme that runs through all of these Japanese defenses of Foreign Ministry police legitimacy from the 1920s until the 1940s is the notion that Western criticisms of Japan on this matter revealed to Japanese observers the hypocrisy of the modern international treaty system in East Asia. It was a system created by the Western powers to justify and legitimize their predatory economic relationship with the Qing Empire, but once Japanese society had remade itself through the Meiji transformation and joined that circle of imperialist powers, it seemed the rules of the game were changed and the rug pulled out from under them. There is in the discussion from the Japanese side a pervading sense of frustration with Western criticism because it reflected the larger refusal of the Western powers to truly treat Japan as an equal. As for Chinese criticism, the Japanese argued along similar lines, suggesting that only if China could strengthen itself enough to join the international system would it be able to free itself from the abuses that system inflicted upon it. There is no doubt, of course, that both government officials and private-sector pundits sought to expand and protect Japan’s interests in China at the expense of their Western rivals. But along with that competition and rivalry was a longing for recognition and legitimacy. In this sense, then, the debate over consular police legitimacy was also a stage upon which much larger issues of frustration and friction in imperial politics were being played out.


In his final analysis of the disputed legitimacy of the Japanese consular police, Willoughby offered the prescient comments of a Dr. C. C. Wu, who wrote in 1917:

From actual experience we know that the activities of these foreign police will not be confined to their countrymen; in a dispute between a Chinese and Japanese, both will be taken to the Japanese station by a Japanese policeman. This existence of an imperium in imperio, so far from accomplishing its avowed right of improving the relations of the countries and bringing about the development of economic interests, to no small degree will, it is feared, be the cause of continual friction between the officials and peoples of the two countries.91

(p.63) Dr. Wu did not know how right he was. It is clear that the Japanese Foreign Ministry understood that its position on the establishment of consular police throughout China and Manchuria rested on shaky legal ground from the very beginning. Why, then, did the Gaimushō press its claim for legitimate police power in the face of such opposition from the Chinese side?

Did the construction of new police substations and the gradual enlargement of police personnel constitute a calculated program of encroachment upon Chinese sovereignty? Or were these developments reasonable ad hoc responses to conditions faced by an overseas Japanese community in a region lacking effective public security institutions?

What the evidence suggests is that a combination of factors motivated the Foreign Ministry to deflect the incessant criticism and insist on the legitimacy of their consular security forces. Consular police forces could certainly play an important role in facilitating the advancement of Japanese strategic and financial interests on the continent. Local Japanese residents, however, also demanded that they receive better protection from their consular officials, and increases in the numerical strength of consular police forces almost always came in response to specific incidents of violence in which Japanese civilian life and property had been destroyed. Finally, it is also quite obvious that the Foreign Ministry defended its right to consular police forces in an effort to maintain its jurisdictional prerogatives in the face of challenges from rival Japanese administrative bureaucracies. It is worth remembering, too, that these very same factors were evident in the pattern of consular police expansion in treaty-port Korea.

The Japanese consular police were just one of many armed flanks that once roamed Japan’s continental empire, all of which Albert Feuerwerker has condemned as “blatant infringements of China’s sovereignty.”92 The numerous diplomatic arguments between officials and physical clashes between police officers in the field in this early period may have eventually motivated the Foreign Ministry to reconsider its position on police jurisdiction when the framework of the so-called Washington System was worked out after the First World War. The rise of Korean and Chinese nationalist movements, however, as well as the burgeoning threat of international communism after 1919, made such a reversal highly unlikely if not impossible. Indeed, before 1919 the imperial Japanese government viewed the consular police as a clearly useful tool for expanding and protecting Japanese interests on the continent, but not necessarily as an absolutely vital branch of the imperial bureaucracy. This understanding had begun to change by 1920, as the imperial state faced serious threats on both foreign and domestic fronts from international communism and Korean nationalism. In this new environment, Foreign Ministry police forces became a crucial (p.64) weapon in the state’s war on colonial resistance and political dissent; they were critical in maintaining the integrity of Japanese colonial rule in Korea, as well as in suppressing the Japanese left. As such, the Foreign Ministry came to play an active role in securing colonial power abroad and authoritarian power at home. The matter of how and why this transformation took shape in the way it did is the subject of the next three chapters.


(1.) “Shinkoku Shanhai e junsa haken …,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 2–5, vol. 5, pp. 133–134; Chen Zuen, “Shanhai Nihonjin kyoryūmin kankei nenpyō: Meiji hen,” Hōsei daigaku kyōeibu kiyō: jinbun kagaku hen 90 (February 1994): 21. An excellent overview of the Japanese community in Shanghai is Katsuragawa Mitsumasa, “Shanhai no Nihonjin shakai,” Kokusai toshi Shanhai (Osaka: Osaka sangyō daigaku, 1995), 29–97. See also Chen Zuen, “Seiyō Shanhai to Nihonjin kyoryūmin shakai,” in Chūgoku ni okeru Nihon sokai: Jūkei Kankō Kōshu Shanhai, ed. Ōzato Hiroaki and Son Ansok (Tokyo: Ochanomizu shobō, 2006), as well as Yamamura Mutuso, “Dai ichi-ji taisenki ni okeru Shanhai Nihonjin kyoryūmin shakai no kōsei to ‘dochakuha’ chukensō,” Wakō keizai 30, no. 1 (September 1997): 85–105. In English, see Joshua Fogel, “‘Shanghai Japan’: The Japanese Residents Association of Shanghai,” Journal of Asian Studies 59, no. 4 (November 2000): 927–950, and Christian Henriot, “‘Little Japan’ in Shanghai: An Insulated Community,” in New Frontiers, ed. Bickers and Henriot, 146–169.

(2.) Soejima Shōichi, “Chūgoku ni okeru Nihon no ryōjikan keisatsu,” Wakayama daigaku kyōiku gakubu kiyō—jinbun kagaku 39 (February 1990): 63–80.

(3.) Ogino, Gaimushō keisatsushi, 578–579. Mark Peattie states that “by 1886” there were consular police in various other port cities, but this is incorrect; see Peattie, “Japanese Treaty Port Settlements in China, 1895–1937,” 202n50. The mistake, however, could quite likely just be a typographical error.

(p.169) (4.) The population estimate comes from Henriot, “‘Little Japan’ in Shanghai,” 148.

(5.) “Keibu haichi no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 2–5, vol. 5, p. 135.

(6.) Gaimushō no hyakunen, 1391–1395. Ogino, Gaimushō keisatsushi, 581–589. Each of these seven consulate offices were outfitted with a police contingent of one inspector and up to half a dozen patrolmen, but because of its larger resident Japanese population, the Shanghai consulate was staffed with an extra inspector. New consulates and accompanying consular police forces were also opened in numerous areas during the decade between the end of the Sino-Japanese War and the conclusion of the Russo-Japanese War roughly ten years later. New consular facilities in Hankou (1898) and Fuzhou (1899) were followed by a small wave of expansion in the wake of the Boxer Uprising of 1900. At that time, the consular police force in Tianjin was expanded, and police forces were assigned to the embassy in Beijing (1900) and the consulate in Nanjing (1901). During and immediately after the Russo-Japanese War, additional consulates and police staff were stationed at Shantou (1904), Changsha (1904), and Guangdong (1906). The First World War and its aftermath then brought a final wave of growth to the early expansion of Japan’s consular police apparatus in China. Offices in Jinan (1914), Jiujiang (1915), Chengdu (1916), Yun’nan (1918), and Yichang (1919), were followed after the Paris Peace Conference by the establishment of consular police forces in Zhengjiakou (1922) and Qingdao (1922). Qingdao was a somewhat unique case in terms of the size of the initial police deployment there. In most cities, the consular police force was initiated with less than ten men, but because of its large Japanese population and its new status as a semicolonial Japanese possession since 1914, the Qingdao consulate maintained a police force of more than sixty men from its very inception. Soejima, “Chūgoku ni okeru Nihon no ryōjikan keisatsu,” 68.

(7.) John V. A. MacMurray, ed., Treaties and Agreements with and concerning China, 1894–1919, vol. 1 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1921), 21.

(8.) Tenshin kyoryūmindan, Tenshin kyoryūmindan sanjūshūnen kinenshi (Tianjin, 1941), 235–236. See also “Fukoku junho no bōkō,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 5–9.1, vol. 34, pp. 31–39. For additional reference, two of the best recent articles concerning the Japanese resident community in Tianjin more broadly are Katsuragawa Mitsumasa, “Sokai zaijū Nihonjin no ninshiki: Tenshin o ichirei toshite,” in Kindai Nihon no Ajia ninshiki, ed. Furuya Tetsuo (Tokyo: Ryokuin shobō, 1996), 351–394, and Kishi Toshihiko, “Kindai Tenshin no toshi comyuniti to nashonarizumu,” in Gendai Chūgoku no kōzō hendō, ed. Nishimura Shigeo, vol. 3: Nashonarizumu—rekishi kara no sekkin (Tokyo: Tokyo University Press, 2002), 175–200. Katsuragawa deals more precisely with the matter of prostitution in the Japanese concession at Tianjin in “Tenshin sokai ni okeru baishun,” Kindai shaki to baishun mondai (Osaka: Osaka sangyō daigaku, 2000), 117–146. For a focused look at the (p.170) 1920s, see Kobayashi Motohiro, “1920 nendai Tenshin ni okeru Nihonjin kyoryūmin,” Shien 55, no. 2 (March 1995): 53–73.

(9.) For additional source documents, see JFMA file no.4.2.5–186–1–1–1, Bōkō kankei zakken: Tenshin ni oite hon Hōjin Beihei shōtotsu jiken; “Tenshin ni okeru Nichi-Beijin shōtotsu jiken gaiyō,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 5–9.1, vol. 34, pp. 81–93.

(10.) Erik Esselstrom, “‘Of Such Local Significance’: Culture, Diplomacy, and the Tientsin Incident of 1919” (M.A. thesis, Asian Studies Program, University of Oregon, 1996).

(11.) Tenshin kyoryūmindan, Tenshin kyoryūmindan gyōsei gaikan (Tianjin, 1927), 31. Ching-chih Chen discusses the function of junho in colonial Taiwan in his “Police and Community Control Systems in the Empire,” 215.

(12.) Tenshin kyoryūmindan, Tenshin kyoryūmindan nijūshūnen kinenshi (Tianjin, 1930), 607.

(13.) Asano Toyomi’s work on this topic is instructive. My understanding of the issues raised in this section was deepened by reading his “The Japanese Consular Police and Social Control in the Taiwan Straits,” a conference paper for the 2004 AAS Annual Meeting, San Diego, CA, 2004. An excellent article that treats the matter of legal integration and identity within the Japanese empire is Tanaka Ryūichi, “Teikoku Nihon no shihō rensa,” Chōsenshi kenkyūkai ronbunshū 38 (October 2000): 61–91.

(14.) Nakamura Takashi, “‘Taiwan sekimin’ o meguru shomondai,” Tōnan Ajia kenkyū 18, no. 3 (December 1980): 66–89. Tai Kuo-hui, “Nihon shokuminchi shihai to Taiwan sekimin,” Taiwan genkindai kenkyū 3 (1980): 105–128. In English, see Barbara Brooks, “Japanese Colonial Citizenship in Treaty Port China: The Location of Koreans and Taiwanese in the Imperial Order” in New Frontiers, ed. Bickers and Henriot, 109–124; and her Japan’s Imperial Diplomacy, 105–109. Japanese-language research on the dynamics of legal jurisdiction over Koreans in China is enormous. Most of it, however, focuses on south Manchuria and Jiandao. One recent exception that explores the position of Koreans in Shanghai is Takei Yoshikazu, “Senzen Shanhai ni okeru Chōsenjin no kokuseki mondai,” Chūgoku kenkyū geppō 60, no. 1 (January 2006): 7–21. For an overview, see Mizuno Naoki, “Kokuseki o meguru higashi Ajia kankei—shokuminchi ki Chōsenjin kokuseki mondai no isō,” in Kindai Nihon ni okeru higashi Ajia mondai, ed. Furuya Tetsuo and Yamamuro Shin’ichi (Tokyo: Yoshikawa kobunkan, 2001), 211–237.

(15.) “Taiwan ni okeru kaizoku to nan-Shi to no kankei,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 5–33, vol. 52, pp. 18–25. Ogino Fujio also suspects that Amoy and Fuzhou consular police staff were involved in the political surveillance of Taiwanese independence activists, but he has not found substantial specific evidence in support of that notion. See Ogino, Gaimushō keisatsushi, 594.

(16.) “Keisatsu jimu ni kanshi Shamen, Fukushū ni ryōji to Taiwan sōtokufu kyōtei jikō,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, section 5–32, volume 51, 97–102.

(p.171) (17.) Westel Willoughby, Foreign Rights and Interests in China, 1st ed. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1920), 80–82.

(18.) “Tōkan keisatsu bunsho o Shamen gawa ni setchi no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 5–32, vol. 51, pp. 102–103.

(19.) “Shamen ryōjikan keisatsu bunsho kaisetsu ni kanshi gaikōbu yori kōgi no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 5–32, vol. 51, pp. 103–105.

(20.) Ibid., 104.

(22.) Ibid., 67.

(23.) For an overview of the Kantō totokufu, see Kurihara Ken, “Kantō totokufu mondai teiyō—toku ni kanseijō yori mita totoku no zai-Man ryōji shiki kantoku mondai,” in Tai Man-Mō seisakushi no ichimen: Nichi-Ro sengo yori Taishōki ni itaru, ed. Kurihara Ken (Tokyo: Hara shobō, 1966).

(25.) “Shin-koku junsa no bōkō jiken shimatsu ni kansuru ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 3–1, vol. 7, pp. 27–32.

(26.) “Junsa zōin no ken,” ibid., 34–35.

(27.) “Minami Manshū tetsudō fuzokuchi keisatsu ni kansuru ken,” ibid., 40–42.

(28.) “Waga keisatsukan haken ni kanshi Jō shōgun yori kōgi no ken,” ibid., 47–48.

(29.) “Junkei bōkō jiken oyobi zairyūmin taikai chinjō no ken,” ibid., 59–62.

(30.) Saitō Ryōji, Kantō-kyoku keisatsu yonjū nen no ayumi to sono shūen (Tokyo: Kantō-kyoku keiyaku jimukyoku, 1981), 17–18; Kantō-chō, Kantō-chō shisei ni-jū nen shi (1926), 268–269; Kantō totokufu kanbō monjo ka, Kantō totokufu shisei shi (1919), 135–136. For secondary analysis of Army–Foreign Ministry conflict on these matters, see Teramoto Yasutoshi, “Nichi-Ro sensō go no tai-Man seisaku o meguru Gaimushō to rikugun no tairitsu,” Seiji keizai shigaku 237 (January 1986): 76–93. A more recent and highly perceptive analysis is Yamazaki Yukō, “Mantetsu tsuki zokuchi gyōseiken no hōteki seikaku: Kantōgun no kyōbaba senryaku,” in Shokuminchi teikoku Nihon no hōteki tenkai, ed. Asano Toyomi and Matsuda Toshihiko (Tokyo: shinsansha, 2004).

(31.) “Zai-Manshū teikoku ryōjikan tsuki keisatsukan ni kansuru ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 2–5, vol. 5, pp. 136–138; “Tōtokfu kansei kaisei ni kanshi naikun no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 3–2, vol. 7, p. 169; Saitō, Kantō-kyoku keisatsu yonjū nen no ayumi to sono shūen, 17–18; Kantō-totokufu, Kantō totokufu jimu gaiyō (1913), 81–82.

(33.) The distinct position of consular police in South Manchuria is reflected in the structure of the Gaimushō keisatsushi itself. The editors did not create separate sections for each consulate, as they did for other regions, (p.172) but rather grouped all consulates in South Manchuria under one category. This is also one of the smallest sections of the history.

(34.) “Kantō totokufu kansei kaisei ni kansuru ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 3–2, vol. 7, p. 206; “Man-Mō ni okeru keisatsukan no keitō tōichi ni kansuru ken,” ibid., 207.

(35.) “Taishō 6 nen 6 gatsu Manshū ni okeru teikoku kikan tōichi ni kansuru ken,” ibid., 217–223.

(36.) “Manshū oyobi Mō-Ko ni okeru shisetsu keiei kaizen ni kansuru ken,” ibid., 227–228.

(37.) “Manshū oyobi Mō-Ko ni okeru shisetsu keiei kaizen ni kansuru Takumushō an ni taisuru iken,” ibid., 229–232.

(38.) “Kantō-chō kansei oyobi do kaisei,” ibid., 235–240. For general background information on the reforms under the Hara Cabinet, see Yagyū Masafumi, “Kantō totokufu kansei no kaikaku to Kantōgun no dokuritsu: Hara naikaku to tai Manshū gyōsei kikō kaikaku mondai,” Komazawa shigaku 35 (May 1986): 167–189.

(39.) A consulate with police forces opened in Qiqihar later that year, and several older consulates opened subconsulate offices. In 1916 a subconsulate of the Changchun office opened in Nongan, and similar branch offices of the Tieling consulate opened in Hailong and Taolu. The following year of 1917 also saw two new consulates open in Chifeng and Chengde, as well as a subconsulate of the Fengtian office in Tonghua. Soejima, “Chūgoku ni okeru Nihon no ryōjikan keisatsu,” 68.

(40.) “Minami Manshū ni okeru waga keisatsukan no Shinajin ni taisuru taido ni kansuru ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 3–2, vol. 7, pp. 198–199.

(41.) “Minami Manshū ni okeru waga keisatsukan shutchōjo teppai yōkyū ni kansuru ken,” ibid., 200–201.

(42.) Section 4, which is devoted entirely to the history of the consular police in Jiandao, begins with a subsection covering the outbreak of the 1919 Korean independence movement until the Hunchun Incident of 1920. The next two subsections describe the Hunchun Incident, the Jiandao Expedition of 1922, and the subsequent police personnel increases. Next, the period from the Toudaogou Incident until the May 30 uprising is covered as one unit of chronological narrative. Finally, the last two subsections address the year and a half between the May 30 riots and the Manchurian Incident, and then the years following September 18, including a special section devoted exclusively to the joint paramilitary operations conducted by the Jiandao consular police and the Kwantung Army during 1932.

(43.) An excellent series of articles describing the position of Koreans in Jiandao largely from the Korean perspective is Shin Kyu-seop, “Nihon no Kantō seisaku to Chōsenjin shakai: 1920 nendai zenhan made no kaijū seisaku o chūshin to shite,” Chōsenshi kenkyūkai ronbunshū 31 (October 1993): 157–187; “Shoki ‘Manshūkoku’ ni okeru Chōsenjin tōgō seisaku: zen Man (p.173) Chōsenjin minkai rengōkai no bunseki o chūshin ni,” Nihon shokuminchi kenkyū 9 (July 1997): 16–31; “Zai Man Chōsenjin no ‘Manshūkoku’ kan oyobi ‘Nihon teikoku,’” Chōsenshi kenkyūkai ronbunshū 38 (October 2000): 93–121.

(44.) Hyun Ok Park, “Korean Manchuria: The Racial Politics of Territorial Osmosis,” South Atlantic Quarterly 99, no. 1 (Winter 2002): 196. For more detailed background information, see No Kye-hyŏn, “Kantō kyōyaku ni kansuru gaikō teki kōsatsu,” Kan 106 (1987): 145–181.

(45.) See Tanigawa Yūichirō, “Naitō Konan to Kantō mondai ni kansuru jakkan no saikentō,” Chūgoku kenkyū geppō 55, no. 4 (April 2001): 39–46; Nawa Etsuko, “Naitō Konan to ‘Kantō mondai’ ni kansuru shinbun ronchō,” Okayama daigaku daigakuin bunka kagaku kenkyūka kiyō 9 (March 2000): 137–155.

(46.) André Schmid, “Rediscovering Manchuria: Sin Ch’aeho and the Politics of Territorial History in Korea,” Journal of Asian Studies 56, no. 1 (February 1997): 26–46.

(47.) For a detailed secondary analysis of how this field office came to be, see Ch’oe Jang-gun, “Kankoku tōkan Ito Hirobumi no Kantō ryōdo seisaku—tōkanfu hashutsujo no setsubi kettei no keii,” Hōgaku shinpō 102, nos. 7, 8 (February 1996): 175–202; 102, and no. 9 (March 1996): 171–187. See also Bai Rongxun, Higashi Ajia seiji gaikō shi kenkyū: kantō jōyaku to saiban kankatsu ken (Osaka: Osaka keizai hōka daigaku, 2005), 20–27. For additional documents, see “Tōkanfu rinji Kantō hashutsujo,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 4–1, vol. 19, pp. 20–24. There is also a contemporary recounting of the establishment of this field office in “Tōkanfu rinji Kantō hashutsujo kiyō,” in Chōsen tōchi shiryō, ed. Kim Chŏng-ju (Tokyo: Kankoku shiryō kenkyūjo, 1970–1972), 1:1–262.

(48.) A detailed history of early Sino-Japanese debates and disputes over the administration of Jiandao is a three-part article series by Kanbe Teruo and Kuroya Takako, “Kantō ryōyū o meguru Nis-Shin no kakuchiku,” Oita daigaku kyōiku gakubu kenkyū kiyō 13, no. 2 (1991): 255–274; “Shoki Kantō mondai ni okeru Nis-Shin no funsō jiken,” Oita daigaku kyōiku gakubu kenkyū kiyō 14, no. 1 (1992): 173–188; “Go Rokutei to Kantō mondai,” Oita daigaku kyōiku gakubu kenkyū kiyō 14, no. 1 (1992): 158–172.

(49.) See “Kantō jōyaku kōshō keika,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 4–1, vol. 19, pp. 35–42; also, Bai, Higashi Ajia seiji gaikō shi kenkyū, 28–52.

(50.) Bai Rongxun, “Kantō ‘shōbuchi’ ni okeru Nit-Chū kōshō,” Higashi Ajia kenkyū 29 (August 2000): 17–33. For additional discussion, see No Kyehyŏn, “Kantō kyōyaku ni kansuru gaikō teki kōsatsu,” Kan 106 (1987): 145–181; Shin Kyu-seop, “Nihon no Kantō seisaku to Chōsenjin shakai: 1920 nendai zenhan made no kaijū seisaku o chūshin to shite.”

(51.) One of the earliest explanations was offered by Hayashi Masakazu, who argued that the Jiandao problem had deep roots in Sino-Japanese-Korean territorial disputes, since the border between Korean and Manchuria had a long history of being somewhat ill-defined. Recognizing the weakness of their claims in those disputes, Hayashi suggests, Japanese authorities passively (p.174) acceded to Chinese demands in the Jiandao agreement while nonetheless continuing to press their claims in 1915 and beyond. Tanigawa Yūichirō has also taken a moderate view of the accord in arguing that the Jiandao agreement was not necessarily a reversal of previously aggressive expansion, but rather a natural effort to find the most effective solution to larger problems, namely the complex question of legal authority over Koreans beyond the peninsula. Hyun Ok Park, however, sees a more sinister motive behind the agreement, describing it as an early step in the process of Japan’s “osmotic” expansion beyond the Korean peninsula and into China’s northeastern provinces. See Hayashi Masakazu, “Kantō mondai ni kansuru Nis-Shin kōshō no keii,” Shundai shigaku 10 (March 1960): 181–199; Tanigawa Yūichirō, “‘Kantō kyōyaku’ teiketsu katei no saikentō,” Bungaku kenkyū ronshū 14 (February 2001): 169–186; Park, Two Dreams in One Bed, 98–100.

(52.) See Brooks, Japan’s Imperial Diplomacy, 110–115. One of the only substantial studies in English on the Korean community in Jiandao is Paul Hobom Shin, “The Korean Colony in Chientao: A Study of Japanese Imperialism and Militant Korean Nationalism, 1905–1932” (Ph.D. diss., University of Washington, 1980). In Japanese, see Yoda Yoshiie, “Manshū ni okeru Chōsenjin imin,” in Nihon teikokushugika no Manshū imin, ed. Manshū iminshi kenkyūkai (Tokyo: Ryūkei shosha, 1976).

(55.) Yi, Kindai higashi Ajia no seiji rikigaku, 99. This increase was accompanied by the construction of several new local police substations by 1918 in Tianbaoshan, Badaogou, and Nanyangping to facilitate management of the expected influx of Korean immigrants and the rising number of Japanese settlers from the home islands. See also Tanigawa Yūichirō, “‘ManMo TōKo jōyaku’ to Kantō ryōjikan keisatsu zōkyō,” Nihon shokuminchi kenkyū 16 (2004), 5–6.

(57.) The most complete collection of documents related to the Zhengjiatun affair can be found in Nihon gaikō bunsho, 1916, vol. 2, sec. 10, “Tonkaton ni oite Nit-Chū ryōgoku guntai shototsu,” pp. 591–750. For a contemporary American editorial on the incident, see James Brown Scott, “The Chengchia Tun Agreement,” The American Journal of International Law 11, no. 3 (July 1917): 631–635. English translations of the official documentary exchange between the Chinese and Japanese diplomatic representatives are included along with Scott’s editorial in the same issue of The American Journal of International Law as “Documents regarding the Chengchia Tun Affair between China and Japan,” 112–125. For secondary description of the Zhengjiatun incident in English, see Brooks, Japan’s Imperial Diplomacy, 96–97.

(58.) “Kawase junsa senshi no ken,” Gaimushō keisatsushi, sec. 3–10, vol. 12, pp. 50–68; Soejima, “Chūgoku ni okeru Nihon no ryōjikan keisatsu,” 74–76.

(64.) Ibid., 5–7.

(65.) Ibid., 9.

(66.) Ibid., 9–10.

(68.) October 19, 1916, Peking Gazette, “The Chengchiatun Negotiations: A Formula of Defence,” in Nihon gaikō bunsho, doc. no. 743, vol. 2, sec. 10, pp. 700–702.

(69.) Westel Willoughby, The Sino-Japanese Controversy and the League of Nations (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1935), 12.

(70.) C. Walter Young, Japanese Jurisdiction in the South Manchuria Railway Areas (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1931), 300–301.

(73.) Ibid., 13.

(74.) Ogino, 589.

(75.) Koga Motokichi, “Shina ni okeru gaikoku keisatsuken,” Gekkan Shina kenkyū 1, no. 5 (April 1925): 1–41, and continued in 1, no. 6 (May 1925): 1–44; “Minami Manshu tetsudō fuzokuchi no keisatsuken ni tsuite,” Gekkan Shina kenkyū 2, no. 1 (June 1925): 55–94; “Shina ni okeru gaikoku keisatsuryoku,” Gekkan Shina kenkyū 2, no. 2 (July 1925): 33–74; “Shina ni okeru sokai keisatsu,” Gekkan Shina kenkyū 2, no. 3 (August 1925): 1–45; “Shina ni okeru keisatsuryoku no kyōgō,” Gekkan Shina kenkyū 2, no. 4 (September 1925): 37–84.

(76.) Shinobu Junpei, Man-Mō tokushū keneki ron (Tokyo: Nihon hyōronsha, 1932), 428–452.

(77.) Ibid., 438–439.

(78.) Ibid., 451.

(79.) Hsu Hsu-shi, Essays on the Manchurian Problem (Shanghai: China Council, Institute of Pacific Relations, 1932), 177.

(80.) V. K. Wellington Koo, Memoranda Presented to the Lytton Commission, vol. 1 (New York: Chinese Cultural Society, 1932), 170–171.

(81.) Manchuria: Report of the Commission of Enquiry Appointed by the League of Nations (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1932), 53.

(82.) Ibid., 134.

(83.) Koga Motokichi, Shina oyobi Manshū ni okeru chigai hōken oyobi ryōji saibanken (Tokyo: Nis-Shi mondai kenkyūkai, 1933), 121.

(p.176) (84.) Ibid., 8–13.

(85.) H. G. W. Woodhead, Extraterritoriality in China: The Case against Abolition (Tianjin, 1929), 12.

(86.) Ibid., 55.

(87.) Arnold Foster, quoted by Woodhead in ibid., 55.

(88.) Shihozawa Kita, Nihon ryōjikan keisatsu hō (Tokyo: Shinkokaku, 1938), 10.

(89.) Hanabusa Nagamichi, Nihon no zai-Ka chigai hōken (Tokyo: Yuhikaku, 1943), 81.

(90.) Ibid., 80–82.

(91.) Willoughby, Foreign Rights and Interests in China, 87; from a paper published by Wu as an appendix in B. L. Putnam Weale, The Fight for the Republic in China (New York: Dodds, Mead and Company, 1917).

(92.) Albert Feuerwerker, “The Foreign Presence in China,” in The Cambridge History of China, vol. 12: Republican China, Part I, ed. John K. Fairbank (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 154.