Pathway to Japanese Literature

Addressing the Young

Young friends.

"Tanaka Shōzō"—even if I were to suddenly utter this name today, you would not comprehend its significance.
Those slightly older should understand.
They likely still harbor somewhere in their fading memories the figures of "Tanaka of the Mining Pollution" and "Tanaka of the Direct Appeal."
When it comes to this man's speeches, they will surely recall that truly lion's roar eloquence.
Yet I invoke this man's name now not to rouse these elders' moss-grown memories.
It is because I wish young people like you—who do not even know his name—to freshly hear this man's life story.

The Ashio Copper Mine Pollution Calamity

I began with "Tanaka of the Mining Pollution."

For ten years from Meiji 24 to Meiji 34, this man had cried out about the "Ashio Copper Mine Pollution Incident" from the podium of the House of Representatives. Yet it ultimately ended without gaining parliamentary understanding. Today I told you this dead history—though speaking of mere bones, I believed you would grasp its living flesh through poetic insight.

This was a close-to-home story. While waiting for trains at stations, you were to look at transportation maps hung on restroom walls. You were to examine the Tochigi section. Nikko immediately caught the eye. Adjacent lay the Ashio mountains—there stood the Ashio Copper Mine, still renowned today under Furukawa Corporation. Two industrial names glared in red: "Copper" and "Arsenous Acid." At these three characters—Arsenous Acid—your nerves would shudder involuntarily. This substance refined from smelters' toxic fumes had become Furukawa's grand enterprise. From mines came countless other poisons. These combined and dissolved, flowing down into the Watarase River. The banks formed Upper and Lower Kōzuke's fertile plains. Where floods once brought mountain soil to enrich fields, toxic currents now swelled—transforming land into death.

Ashio came into Furukawa Ichibee's hands in Meiji 10 (1877).
He devoted himself wholeheartedly to excavating this mountain with indomitable energy.
These results are clearly evident in the following figures.

Ashio Copper Production Table

Meiji 10 (1877) 77,000 *kin*

Meiji 11 (1878) 81,000 *kin*

Meiji 12 (1879) 151,000 *kin*

Meiji 13 (1880) 154,000 *kin*

Meiji 14 (1881) 290,000 *kin*

Meiji 15 (1882) 223,000 *kin*

Meiji 16 (1883) 1,089,000 *kin*

Meiji 17 (1884) 3,849,000 *kin*

Meiji 18 (1885) 6,886,000 *kin*

Meiji 19 (1886) 6,052,000 *kin*

Meiji 20 (1887) 5,029,257 *kin*

Meiji 21 (1888) 6,368,558 *kin*

Meiji 22 (1889) 8,146,666 *kin*

Meiji 23 (1890) 9,746,100 *kin*

Meiji 24 (1891) 12,704,635 *kin*

What particularly spurred Furukawa's enterprise into sudden action was a Meiji 21 (1888) contract with a French syndicate that had stirred global markets, agreeing to supply 19,000 tons over a three-year period until Meiji 23 (1890). This led to the first installation of hydroelectric equipment in the Ashio mountains.
The mountainside's prosperity directly meant ruin for downstream farming villages—behold the fishermen's devastation, the most immediate manifestation of that outcome.

Anso, Ashikaga, and Yanada – Three Districts’ Fishing Households

Meiji 14 (1881) 2,800 households

Meiji 17 (1884) 2,000 households

Meiji 20 (1887) 1,000 households

Meiji 21 (1888) 700 households

As a result of the great flood in the autumn of Meiji 23 (1890), the riverside farmers finally rose up and began their movement.
The most fertile land was precisely the most devastated land.
In December of that year, Ashikaga District’s Azuma Village held a temporary village assembly and submitted a petition to the prefectural governor for the first time.
At the same time, the Tochigi Prefectural Assembly also decided on a resolution titled “Recommendation Regarding Copper Sulfate Poisoning.”

The farmers carried soil and water to appear at the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce and petitioned for analysis.
The Geological Institute of this ministry existed to conduct research in response to public requests.
Yet after some time passed, an unexpectedly ambiguous reply arrived:

"We acknowledge receipt of your application requesting quantitative analysis of field soil and flowing water, along with your inquiry regarding sample quantities.
However, concerning said analysis matters, as this office finds compliance with your request unfeasible, we hereby notify you of our formal recognition of this disposition."

Meiji 24, April 22
Geological Survey Office

Having no alternative, they appealed to Professor Kozai of the Agricultural College.
Before long, the professor sent this response:

"Having recently examined four types of affected soil as requested, all specimens were found to contain copper compounds. The damage appears wholly attributable to these compounds. Attached separately are the analysis results and recommended treatments for contaminated fields. Respectfully submitted."
(Attached documents omitted)

June 1: Kozai Yoshinao

Before and After the Establishment of the Imperial Diet

On December 18, Meiji 24 (1891), Diet member Tanaka Shōzō submitted his first "Written Inquiry Regarding the Matter of Damage Caused by Ashio Copper Mine Pollution" to the Second Imperial Diet, thereby igniting the battle to halt operations at the Ashio Copper Mine.

Before proceeding with Tanaka Shōzō's history of the mining pollution incident, I needed to first secure your understanding regarding these individuals' convictions toward the Constitution and Parliament.
Constitutional government had now become an object of widespread ridicule.
Yet people like Tanaka Shōzō held a firm conviction that constitutional government was something they themselves had built with their own sweat and blood.
Thus they deeply understood the grave responsibility borne by diet members.
In Meiji 13 (1880), he appeared before the Genrōin carrying a petition for establishing a national diet signed by 680 residents of Gunma and Tochigi prefectures.
The following text was crafted by young patriots of that era. To you today it might seem mere child's play—but read discerningly; within this youthful simplicity lay the unadorned ideals of those sages.

"Humbly we consider that Your Majesty embodies the virtue of reverent frugality and wields talents of sagacious wisdom.
You rise at dawn and retire at dusk, never neglecting your duties for even a month—this devotion to honoring Heaven and comforting the people has earned trust throughout the realm. Why then do its effects still fail to shine forth resplendently?
The affliction lies in failing to establish a constitution and convene a national parliament, for convening a parliament exists to achieve unity between high and low.
Should those above and below but unite, then their causes for anguish would vanish in an instant; those inflicting harm would be swiftly swept away; yesterday’s sorrows would become today’s rejoicing; last year’s destitution would transform into present abundance.
Therefore, convening a national parliament resides truly within Your Majesty’s august will and constitutes what the people fervently entreat to attain."

In the following year, the schedule for "opening the Imperial Diet in Meiji 23 (1890)" was formalized, and on February 11 of Meiji 22 (1889), the Constitution was finally promulgated.
As the then chairman of the prefectural assembly, Tanaka attended this unprecedented grand ceremony.
This day saw a rare heavy snow.
On the morning when this country bumpkin from Tochigi first had an inn maid help him into what they call a swallow-tailed coat and set off for the Imperial Palace ceremony, read through the letter he wrote to his political friends back home, presented below.

“Respected Sir,
The over a decade of hardships endured by countless patriots and benevolent souls has at last borne fruit; on this auspicious Empire Day, His Majesty the Emperor has most reverently deigned to conduct the ceremony for promulgating the Constitution.
Our shared jubilation knows no bounds.
Last night, overwhelmed by joy, I found myself unable to sleep.
I now prepare to partake in the honor of attendance.
In truth, though we prefectural assembly chairmen had initially been designated mere observers, through persistent negotiations, we have succeeded in securing participation as full attendees.
With this most auspicious commencement for the people’s endeavor, I humbly entreat you to share in our rejoicing as I hereby submit this report.
Upon my return home, I shall visit your residence to relay further particulars; but for now, let us first celebrate this day’s glory.
Respectfully submitted in haste.”

In this text, I would like to briefly draw your attention to the terms "viewing" and "attendance."
In the initial seating arrangement that the government had established for the ceremony venue, the prefectural assembly chairman’s seat had been relegated among the "viewers."
It was Tanaka who discovered this impropriety.
While Parliament had not yet been convened, if one were to speak of the people’s representatives, there existed none other than the prefectural assembly chairmen.
They themselves had to be the main participants in that day’s Constitution Promulgation Ceremony venue.
What nonsense is this “viewing” status?—Using this argument, he persuaded the prefectural assembly chairmen to unite and pressed the government.
The government, taken aback, hastily changed their plans and revised the seating to participant status.

On July 1, Meiji 23 (1890), an election for members of the House of Representatives—unprecedented in Japanese history—was conducted for the first time.
Tanaka Shōzō was also elected as a Diet member from his hometown.
Fifty years old.

On November 25 of that year, the Imperial Diet was convened for the first time.
The central issue of the House of Representatives was the budget.
It was a dispute over budget ratification authority.
The interpretation of Article 67 of the Constitution became the focal point of contention between the government and the people's parties.
The government sought to curtail the Diet’s authority, while the people’s parties sought to expand its powers.
Due to the split among Liberal Party members, the people’s parties’ arguments first met defeat.
Tanaka belonged to the Progressive Party, the most hardline faction among the people’s parties.

On November 26, Meiji 24 (1891), the opening ceremony of the Second Imperial Diet was conducted. This time, chastened by the failure of the First Imperial Diet, they solidified the alliance between the Liberal and Progressive parties and devised plans for a fierce assault on the government—rumors of Diet dissolution had already begun circulating through society. Moreover, for Tanaka, this year necessitated waging a distinct battle by raising the mining pollution issue for the first time. Amidst these pressing matters, on November 27th, a telegram arrived announcing the death of his father, the venerable Tomizo. A postcard dated the 29th from Tanaka remains, vividly illustrating the frantic circumstances of that time.

“Father deceased. I returned home yesterday. The burial was conducted today. I will depart for Tokyo tomorrow. This is my report.”

The Mining Pollution Issue That Foreshadowed a Future Era

The Written Inquiry on the Mining Pollution Issue First Submitted by Diet Member Tanaka

“Article 27 of the Constitution of the Empire of Japan states: ‘The property rights of Japanese subjects shall not be infringed.’”
Furthermore, Article 3 of the Japanese Mining Law stipulates that when prospecting or mining operations harm public welfare, the Minister of Agriculture and Commerce may revoke previously granted permits—yet the totality of mining pollution damage flowing from Ashio Copper Mine in Kami-Tsuga District, Shimotsuke Province, Tochigi Prefecture has inflicted enormous annual losses upon all counties and villages along the Watarase River spanning Gunma and Tochigi prefectures. Not only have rice fields and farmlands been harmed, but even drinking water, embankments, and vegetation have suffered this damage. It remains impossible to predict what further devastation may yet manifest in the future.
For years, the government has addressed this matter with sluggish neglect. What is the reason?
What measures exist for remedying past damages?
What measures exist for preventing future damages?

On the 18th, at the House of Representatives' main budget session, the people’s parties' budget proposal passed with unstoppable momentum, and on the 22nd, the naval expansion budget—the foremost issue of this Diet session—was entirely rejected.
However, this clash between the government and the people’s parties—fought with sparks flying—belonged to the old notion of overthrowing the clan-dominated government.
The mining pollution issue that Tanaka Shōzō raised contained within it an impeachment of money politics and heralded a future era.

At the December 24 budget session, during deliberations on the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce's expenditures, Diet Member Tanaka Shōzō came face to face with Minister of Agriculture and Commerce Mutsu Munemitsu for the first time.
You must have heard of Foreign Minister Mutsu.
At this time, Mutsu was serving as Minister of Agriculture and Commerce.
Unfortunately, Mutsu's second son was Furukawa's adopted son.

Diet Member Tanaka's Questioning Speech

"I previously submitted a written inquiry to the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce, yet even after seven days, there remains no response."
"I had trusted there would be an official response before addressing this budget item today, but it seems some impediment exists, as no answer has been given."
"The Diet Law stipulates that one must either respond immediately or explicitly state why a response cannot be provided."
"Since seven days have passed without a response, you should declare this inability before we deliberate on the budget item—especially as the Minister is present here."
"If you cannot comply, then say you cannot."

Minister of Agriculture and Commerce Mutsu Munemitsu’s Response

“There was indeed Mr. Tanaka’s inquiry earlier, which initially concerned why our response to his previously submitted written inquiry has been delayed.”
“We remain prepared to provide that response at any time—in fact, I have brought the relevant documents here today.”
“I had fully intended to respond to the Speaker yesterday as well, but given that the budget session was embroiled in particularly heated debates, I deemed it prudent to await a suitable moment to deliver my response.”
“Perhaps I shall furnish our reply tomorrow—this constitutes the official response to your inquiry.”

Mutsu, the master of sophistry, evaded and ultimately never answered.

On the 26th, the Parliament was dissolved.
The response document that Mutsu had possessed yet feared to release was published in the Official Gazette appendix following Parliament's dissolution as follows:

1. While damage to cultivated lands along the Watarase River in Gunma and Tochigi prefectures was indeed factual, conclusive identification of its cause remained unestablished.

2. Concerning said damage's origin, specialists were presently conducting investigative examinations.

3. Mining operators had executed all feasible preventive measures—including procurement of ore sedimentation tanks from Germany and America—and were advancing preparations to further obstruct mineral discharge.

Denouncing Minister of Agriculture and Commerce Mutsu Munemitsu

In February of Meiji 25 (1892), an extraordinary general election was conducted.
This became the infamous election interference campaign to purge opposition parties. Unable to endure public censure, Minister of Home Affairs Shinagawa Yajirō resigned prior to the Diet's convocation.

On May 2, a temporary parliament was convened.
On the 11th, first, the resolution condemning election interference passed in the House of Peers.
On the following 12th, the House of Representatives engaged in a major debate over the election interference petition.
The petition was defeated by a small minority, but on the 14th, the resolution passed with a majority.
On the 16th, an imperial edict ordered a seven-day adjournment of the Diet.
The government implemented the Peace Preservation Ordinance.
A murderous tension seethed.

On the 20th, Diet Member Tanaka submitted the "Written Inquiry Regarding the Matter of Damage Caused by Ashio Copper Mine Pollution."
In Minister Mutsu’s written response during the previous parliamentary session, he had evaded responsibility in Item Two by stating, "The cause of the damage is currently under investigation by various experts." However, by this time, analysis results from Professor Tanba of the Medical University and Professors Kozai and Nagaoka of the Agricultural College—concluding that the cause of pollution damage along the Watarase River lay with the Ashio Copper Mine—had already been published publicly. Consequently, the government’s response was inevitably compelled to advance one step further.
Thus, on June 11th, they sent the following written response.

1. While test results confirm that Ashio's mining pollution constitutes one cause of damage along the Watarase River banks, this damage does not possess characteristics that would endanger public peace and order.
The extent of damage does not reach levels necessitating mining cessation.

2. Regarding past damages, administrative officials hold no authority to implement remedial measures.

3. For future prevention measures, mining operators are currently preparing to install ore sedimentation tanks.

4. The mining operators have entered into a contract with Kōzuke Province's Matsubayashi Two-Weirs Water Utilization Land Division Association and are making preparations—at their own expense—to establish sedimentation basins within both weirs' sluice gates and conduct periodic dredging.

Look at this response document—this is not the attitude of a government but entirely that of mining operators' agents.
Tanaka promptly submitted another written inquiry and, on the 14th—the final day of the parliamentary session—denounced them from the podium as follows.

“There are laws, yet those laws cannot be enforced.”
“There are laws and ordinances, yet the government does not enforce them.—What do you gentlemen fear most about these foreign settlements in treaty revision matters—what truly terrifies you?”
“Though our Empire has laws, it is because they remain unenforced.”
“Yet within Gunma and Tochigi, these upstart Furukawa Ichibee factions run wild—establishing new enclaves where laws exist but cannot be executed.”
“However destitute the people become—this remains utterly invisible to the eyes of the Minister of Agriculture and Commerce!”
“They occasionally spout idiocies—claiming Furukawa Ichibee’s enterprise benefits the nation.—What magnanimity!”
“We are the ones shouldering the tax burden.”
“This cannot compare to the reality that people who settled here before Furukawa—who bore taxes—now cannot remain on their land! Who cannot till ancestral fields! Whose ancestral fields lie barren!”
“In this era of constitution and law—if they cannot be executed—the Minister of Agriculture and Commerce fails his duty!”
“Those incapable of fulfilling their responsibilities must resign immediately!”

While Tanaka, crimson-faced at the parliamentary podium, was denouncing the Minister of Agriculture and Commerce’s responsibility, the government worked behind the scenes to silence the disaster-stricken people.
Local officials were using their authority to force the signing of settlement contracts.
Here is one example.

Contract

In Ashio, Kamitsuga District, Shimotsuke Province, concerning the ore powder discharged from the copper mine operated by Furukawa Ichibee, which had caused harm to towns and villages along the Watarase River, arbitrators intervened to manage the matter. Following proper procedures and entrusted with authority by the people of Kuno Village, Yanada District, twelve representatives and others concluded a negotiated contract with Furukawa Ichibee as follows.

Article 1: Furukawa Ichibee shall install sophisticated ore sedimentation tanks at the Ashio Copper Mine plant by June 30, Meiji 26 (1893), to prevent ore powder discharge.

Article 2: Furukawa Ichibee shall entrust the handling to arbitrators and disburse the settlement payment in good faith as follows.

The then Minister of Agriculture and Commerce, Enomoto Takeaki.

Tanaka's voice on mining pollution had long been absent from Parliament.
This was partly due to frequent parliamentary dissolutions and partly because this domestic conflict had been suppressed during the Sino-Japanese War.
In Meiji 29 (1896), when the Watarase River suffered catastrophic flooding—on February 26 of Meiji 30 (1897), Tanaka finally returned to the podium for an extended address.

At this time, the Matsukata Cabinet governed Japan, with Ōkuma Shigenobu serving as Foreign Minister while Tanaka's Progressive Party had joined the ruling coalition.
The government met Tanaka's inquiry with silence.
On March 17, he delivered an urgent follow-up speech.
The following day on the 18th, the government submitted this written response to Parliament.
"Gentlemen, this response document demands your closest scrutiny."

Government Response Document

1. Regarding the Ashio Copper Mine mining pollution incident in Kamitsuga District, Tochigi Prefecture, through several investigations conducted since Meiji 23 (1890), results confirming the presence of mining pollution had been obtained in the Watarase River coastal areas.
And upon reaching Meiji 25 [1892], the mining operators entrusted arbitrators to handle matters, concluded a negotiated contract with duly authorized representatives of affected residents from coastal towns and villages, disbursed a good-faith settlement payment to victims based on its formal provisions, and further established a testing period for ore sedimentation tanks from July of Meiji 26 [1893] through June 30 of Meiji 29 [1896]. During this term, they contracted with the mining operators that the contracted residents would naturally refrain from raising any grievances, let alone pursuing administrative or judicial remedies—thus bringing closure to the matter.

1. Furthermore, regarding damages to communal lands arising from mining pollution and other causes, in accordance with Article Five of the contract first documented herein, [they] shall calculate [compensation] anew from July of Meiji 26 [1893]. For future matters, [they] shall either conduct provisional negotiations to form separate agreements or, should remedies exist under civil law, rely solely upon such measures.

Here, for the first time, the government publicly declared, “No responsibility, no relation.”

Once this news spread, the entire mining pollution area erupted in murderous fury.
They began preparations for a mass march to the capital.

The Minister of Agriculture and Commerce at the time was Enomoto Takeaki, a former shogunate retainer.
Tsuda Sen—a veteran agricultural scholar and fellow former shogunate retainer—who had long supported Tanaka, now found it regrettable that this brazen-faced government’s written response had been issued under his close friend Enomoto’s name. On the 23rd, he personally accompanied Enomoto to inspect the polluted areas.
The farmers from the polluted areas, upon hearing of the Minister of Agriculture and Commerce’s inspection, painted extravagant hopes and converged from all directions.

Desolate and tragic—what a sight this was!
Enomoto Takeaki—whose blood from the days when he had barricaded himself with a lone force at Goryōkaku and harried the imperial army still ran hot—now stood disconsolate, sinking into deep contemplation.
Surrounded by his stone-like silence, the victims, overcome with grief and fury, hurled venomous curses at his heartless cruelty.

When the night train arrived at Ueno that evening, Enomoto immediately directed a carriage from the station toward Ōkuma’s residence.

On the 24th—the final day of Parliament—amidst great bustle during Foreign Minister Ōkuma’s speech, Tanaka forced his way to the podium and cried out for an immediate halt to mining operations.
At the conclusion of his lengthy speech, he shifted his tone and appealed to Parliament.

“I earnestly request of you, gentlemen.”
“I implore you all to witness the polluted areas with your own eyes.”
“The afflicted lands lie barely twenty ri from Tokyo.”
“Has anyone from the government gone to see it?”
“Has anyone gone to see?”
“How can you sit here listening to these self-serving deskbound reports without ever having seen it yourselves?――”

“Although this debate remains unresolved, I shall conclude here.”
“My outrage knows no bounds—over a hundred thousand people are being murdered by poison—(Laughter erupts from the benches) Gentlemen, though some among you find this amusing, I lack the power to fully convey this reality.”
“Yet your mockery compels me to speak more plainly.”
“What would you do, Gentlemen, if not a single vegetable could grow at the Minister of Agriculture and Commerce’s Mukōjima villa?”
“They would grasp it instantly in their own minds.”
“If—forgive my bluntness—Mr. Ōkuma’s splendid garden in Waseda were stripped bare of grass and flowers, how would you respond, Gentlemen?”
“They would understand if disaster struck their own homes, but so long as it remains distant, they pay no heed.”
“If we persist in this futile back-and-forth, let us fetch poisoned water from the mines and make the Minister drink it!”
“Let me speak plainly.”
“No words can adequately portray the true devastation.”
“Gentlemen, if you possess any shred of compassion, visit these lands—you could go and return within a day.”
“A day trip suffices to witness it.”
“Though fifteen days might be needed for thorough inspection, even a single site seen in one day would reveal whether I lie or exaggerate about these polluted regions.”
“Having witnessed this government’s response—this cruel, foolish, indescribably vile government that shows not an ounce of goodwill—I’ve resolved to abandon all reliance upon it.”
“I implore you, Gentlemen—see these poisoned lands with your own eyes.”
“This I beg of you.”

When Tanaka’s speech concluded, the government announced to Parliament the official regulations for establishing the new "Ashio Copper Mine Pollution Investigation Committee" and the matter of committee appointments.
Last night, Enomoto had persuaded Ōkuma.
On the 25th, Parliament held its adjournment ceremony.
On the 28th, Enomoto took responsibility and resigned as Minister of Agriculture and Commerce.

On the 30th, Chamberlain Hirohata from the Imperial Household Ministry conducted an inspection of the polluted areas.

April 9th saw Home Minister Kabayama Sukenori’s inspection of the polluted areas.

On May 27th, the Mining Pollution Prevention Works Order was delivered to mining operator Furukawa Ichibee.

Tanaka Shōzō had not demanded “mining pollution prevention works”; he had called for mine closure.

Standing on the Precipice of Political Life

In the spring of Meiji 32 [1899], when the Parliament passed the bill to increase members' parliamentary salaries and Tanaka Shōzō reached the inevitable juncture of refusing his stipend, that was precisely when this man's political life had already drawn near the precipice.

To understand this, it was necessary to survey the political landscape of that year.
I wished to capture it in one stroke of the brush.

1. Ito Hirobumi: Meritorious contributor to the establishment of the constitution.
A bosom friend as close as flesh and blood—Inoue Kaoru—with Mitsui looming behind him.

Ōkuma Shigenobu: founder of the Progressive Party, his background being Mitsubishi.

1. Yamagata Aritomo: representative of anti-parliamentarianism, head of the army.

A strange fate it was that in the twenty-third year [1890], during this man’s tenure as Prime Minister, the Imperial Diet was first convened.
In Meiji 25 [1892], Home Minister Shinagawa Yajirō, who carried out violent election interference, was of this direct line.

1. Following the First Sino-Japanese War, in the winter of the 28th year [1895], the Itō Cabinet formed an alliance with the Liberal Party when confronting the Diet.
2. After the Diet adjourned, Liberal Party leader Itagaki Taisuke entered the cabinet through the party's coercion.

1. The Itō Cabinet, needing both to replace Foreign Minister Mutsu Munemitsu who had resigned due to illness and to secure a competent Finance Minister for postwar finances, attempted to appoint Matsukata Masayoshi and Ōkuma Shigenobu to the cabinet; however, Itagaki's adamant rejection of Ōkuma rendered this impossible.
The Itō Cabinet resigned en masse.

1. Through recommendation by the Genrō Conference, on September 18, Meiji 29 (1896), a new cabinet was formed through an alliance between the Satsuma faction and the Progressive Party.

Prime Minister and Finance Minister: Matsukata Masayoshi

Foreign Minister: Ōkuma Shigenobu

Home Minister: Kabayama Sukenori

Navy Minister: Saigō Tsugumichi

Colonial Minister and Army Minister: Takashima Toshinosuke

The unconstitutional actions of the Satsuma faction and the Progressive Party’s office-seeking campaigns proved mutually incompatible; in November of the 30th year [1900], Ōkuma resigned after severing ties with the Progressive Party, and it was at this time that orders were issued to Furukawa Ichibee to commence pollution prevention works.

1. On the 24th day of the same December, the opening ceremony of the 11th Imperial Diet was held.

On the 25th, the Progressive Party and Liberal Party united to submit a no-confidence resolution against the Matsukata Cabinet.
The House of Representatives was dissolved.

On the 28th, Prime Minister Matsukata submitted his resignation.

February 10, Meiji 31 (1898): Itō Hirobumi, Yamagata Aritomo, Kuroda Kiyotaka, Saigō Tsugumichi, Ōyama Iwao, and Inoue Kaoru—six members convened an imperial council.

On February 12 [Meiji 31 (1898)], the Itō Cabinet was formed. There had been a tacit understanding between Itō and Itagaki, and in the special general election held that March, the Liberal Party achieved favorable results across all districts.

1. Having secured over a hundred parliamentary seats through the election results, the Liberal Party leveraged this influence to demand that their leader Itagaki be appointed Home Minister. Finance Minister Inoue Kaoru vehemently opposed this; Prime Minister Itō found himself cornered over his political course.

On April 16, the Liberal Party Representatives' Assembly passed a resolution opposing the Itō Cabinet on grounds that it lacked party-based foundations.

On May 14, Parliament was convened.

On June 10th, the government's sole fiscal policy proposal for a land tax increase was defeated by an overwhelming majority of 27 against 247 under the collaboration of the Liberal and Progressive parties.
Parliament was dissolved.

On the following day, the 11th, the Liberal and Progressive parties each resolved to merge at their respective councils.

On the 16th, a fellowship meeting of new political party comrades was held. Ōkuma and Itagaki attended.

On the 22nd, the merged parties held the founding ceremony for the "Constitutional Party" at Shinbashi Enbujo Theatre.

1. On the 24th [of June], Itō Hirobumi, Yamagata Aritomo, Kuroda Kiyotaka, Inoue Kaoru, Saigō Tsugumichi, Ōyama Iwao, and elder statesmen from both the Satsuma and Chōshū factions held an imperial council.

In public discourse, Itō Hirobumi insisted on the necessity of establishing a new party to counter the Constitutional Party, clashing with Yamagata Aritomo. Rumors proliferated that Itō had recommended Ōkuma Shigenobu and Itagaki Taisuke for the successor cabinet, sparking vehement debates with Yamagata.

On the 25th [June 25], Itō Hirobumi resigned his post and submitted a petition to return all his honors and peerages.

That same day saw another imperial council convened, yet among these elder statesmen, not one came forward to confront the crisis.

On the 27th [of June, Meiji 31 (1898)], the imperial command to form a cabinet was issued to Ōkuma [Shigenobu] and Itagaki [Taisuke].
On the 30th, the imperial appointment ceremony was held.

Prime Minister and Foreign Minister: Ōkuma Shigenobu (former Progressive)

Home Minister: Itagaki Taisuke (former Liberal)

Minister of Agriculture and Commerce: Ōishi Masami (former Progressive)

Minister of Education: Ozaki Yukio (former Progressive)

Finance Minister: Matsuda Masahisa (former Liberal)

Minister of Justice: Ōtō Yoshitōru (former Progressive)

Minister of Communications: Hayashi Yūzō (former Liberal)

What deserves special emphasis here [○○○○] is that, at the very moment this party cabinet was first established, it rendered [○○], [○○]’s [○○] completely independent from the political sphere, placing them utterly beyond reach.

1. No sooner had the Constitutional Party Cabinet announced its formation than internal frictions arose, growing increasingly intense by the day.

1. In August, when Minister of Education Ozaki Yukio gave a speech at the Great Japan Education Association, he vehemently criticized the contemporary trend of money’s omnipotence, uttering these words: “Though we have no intention of implementing republican politics in Japan, were we to dream of such a thing, Mitsui and Mitsubishi would undoubtedly become presidential candidates.”
The bureaucratic faction, which had been lying in wait for vulnerabilities within the party cabinet, immediately seized upon this remark and propagandized it as “Minister Ozaki’s republican speech,” while even members of the liberal faction vigorously echoed these claims, plotting to collapse a corner of the cabinet.

1. October 20th: Grand Chamberlain Tokudaiji Sanenori visited Itagaki.
October 21st: Itagaki visited the Imperial Palace.
October 22nd: Secretary of the Imperial Household Agency Iwakura Tomosada visited Ōkuma.
24th: Ozaki resigned.

1. On the 25th [October], Itagaki recommended Hoshi Tōru and Ebara Soroku as candidates for Education Minister.
Ōkuma did not accept them.
On the 26th, Ōkuma attended the Imperial Palace and recommended Inukai Tsuyoshi.

1. On the 27th, the imperial appointment ceremony for Inukai [Tsuyoshi] was held.
Prior to this, Itagaki [Taisuke] visited the Imperial Palace and reported Ōkuma [Shigenobu]’s arbitrary conduct.

1. On the 29th [of October], the Liberal faction’s three ministers—Itagaki [Taisuke], Matsuda [Masahisa], and Hayashi [Yūzō]—submitted their resignations.

1. On the 31st [of October], the Progressive faction’s four ministers—Ōkuma, Ōishi, Ōtō, and Inukai—submitted their resignations.

1. Less than five months had passed since the Constitutional Party’s formation when conflicts erupted—power struggles and splits emerged, with the Liberal faction styling themselves as the Constitutional Party and the Progressives adopting the name Constitutional Main Party.
Thus, the party cabinet had not yet even faced parliament itself when it exposed its disgraceful collapse.

The party cabinet collapsed under its own weight, and on November 8th, a new cabinet formed by the Satsuma and Chōshū factions was established. Yamagata Aritomo became Prime Minister; Matsukata Masayoshi became Finance Minister. However, the government, which lacked a majority in the House of Representatives, could not easily hold the opening ceremony even though Parliament had already been convened on the 7th of the previous month. On the 12th, Itagaki met with Yamagata and negotiated collaboration with the Liberal Party. Exchanges grew frequent. On the 27th of November, the proposal for collaborating with the Liberal Party was approved at a temporary cabinet meeting. Yamagata then summoned Hoshi Tōru, head of the Liberal Party, handed him a declaration, and on the 30th held a tea meeting at the Prime Minister’s residence.

1. On December 3rd, the opening ceremony was held for the first time.

On December 8th, the government first submitted the land tax increase bill to the House of Representatives.
This land tax increase bill had become a recent stumbling block in political waters, and due to opposition from political parties, it had already seen parliament dissolved multiple times.
Especially since land tax reduction had been the Liberal Party's longstanding policy, to suddenly abandon their party resolution from just the day before without cause was utterly baffling.
Therefore, to create a pretext for public justification, they decided to agree on the condition of imposing a five-year time limit.
And they secretly agreed to increase parliamentary salaries from 800 yen to 2,000 yen.

Thus, on the 20th, the long-contentious land tax increase bill was able to pass smoothly with the Liberal Party’s support.

1. February 28, Meiji 32 (1899) had been set as parliament’s final day, but on that very date, an imperial edict extended the session until March 10.
Thus, the long-pending parliamentary salary increase bill was submitted.
Even within the Liberal Party, many members felt ashamed.
To placate them, Hoshi amended the Parliamentary Law’s clause from “Members may not refuse their salaries” to “Members may refuse their salaries.”

On March 6th, the bill moved directly from committee to plenary session.

You must have seen, within these dry, lifeless reports, the true face of party corruption and parliamentary decay unfold like a film.
“Parliamentary Salary Increase Bill”
At first glance, this Parliamentary Salary Increase Bill might appear utterly ordinary, yet in truth it contained profound significance.

The Progressive Party had to oppose it.
Yet who should they appoint as their representative to voice their opposition?
This Progressive Party brimmed with wise men and eloquent speakers—but who among them could truly declare their opposition with dignity?
The party executives conducted an exhaustive search.
And they found one man.
It was Tanaka Shōzō.
The ever-troublesome Tanaka Shōzō.
Thus he stood at the podium representing the Progressive Party.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I oppose this Revised Parliamentary Law Bill—that is to say, the Parliamentary Salary Increase Bill.”
“As you all are no doubt concerned about, I have been utterly consumed by the mining pollution problem, and regarding these general budgetary matters and other legal issues, I find myself almost entirely in the dark.”
“Apart from the mining pollution problem, I have become unable to comprehend anything else.”
“Lately, even within the assembly hall, I have become almost like a dead man.”
“Today, regarding this original proposal to increase parliamentary salaries, I find myself compelled by all means to state my position.”

“First, what of this statement of rationale proposing to increase parliamentary salaries?”

“The rationale document states: ‘Current parliamentary salaries are insufficient to maintain members’ qualifications.’”
“What does this mean?”
“It declares parliamentary dignity cannot be sustained due to lack of funds.”
“To presume legislators can be swayed by monetary amounts in official documents—this insults parliamentary members.”
“Stated plainly: this is an insult.”
“Those who deem this document reasonable are people who believe worldly affairs require monetary solutions.”
“I make no claim about such individuals—but any legislator told their dignity depends on salary levels would surely feel ashamed.”
“This is an insult.—”

“Parliamentary salaries cannot be measured through ordinary economics alone.
This transcends matters of material gain—it becomes a question of moral principle.
Since legislators wield supreme authority over national budgeting, they must show restraint regarding their own compensation—whether accepting it is permissible or entirely justified.
‘If our nation prospers and taxes decrease,’
even should public sentiment rise demanding ‘Why shouldn’t we raise legislators’ salaries?’, those worthy of being legislators cannot readily increase their own stipends.
That constitutes parliamentary dignity.
That defines legislative qualification.
To claim eight hundred yen proves inadequate while two thousand yen preserves qualifications—what preposterous logic underpins this proposal!
Should such reasoning unfortunately carry this bill through parliament, it would demonstrate not only irreverence toward His Majesty above but unforgivable betrayal toward citizens below.
I offer this admonition through an old woman’s meddlesome concern.’”

The result of the vote saw the increase bill pass with 125 in favor to 134 against—a margin of nine votes.
As this law was immediately implemented, all legislators received their increased parliamentary salaries and returned home.
Though the law was amended to state, “Parliamentary salaries may be refused,” this provision was left utterly forgotten.

Tanaka Shōzō alone could not forget.
He submitted an impeachment rationale document, resigned, and exited parliament.
Slander instead arose within the Progressive Party: “Tanaka’s refusal of his parliamentary salary is for fame.”

He also had to report to his constituency.
At the conclusion of his report to his constituency, he stated as follows.

“Regarding my personal circumstances, I have long been privileged by your gracious benevolence and borrowed considerable sums that remain outstanding. Though proper protocol demanded I seek your collective approval before initiating the procedure to decline the parliamentary salary, the exigencies of state affairs left no moment to spare—thus I completed the resignation process without obtaining your consent. I implore your profound comprehension of this situation.”
“While I indeed should have sought your esteemed agreement, let it be known that my resolve remains utterly unchanged—my sole purpose lies unwaveringly in renouncing the parliamentary salary.”
“In these pressing circumstances requiring decisive action, I humbly entreat your enlightened understanding.”

The Old Farmer’s "Watarase no Uta"

The public believed that with the “Pollution Prevention Works” order issued in May of Meiji 30 (1897), the mining pollution problem had already been resolved.

In the autumn of Meiji 31 (1898), during the great flood, farmers from the polluted areas descended upon Tokyo in a massive protest.
In Tokyo, Tanaka immediately set out alone by carriage along Senju Highway upon receiving this urgent report, racing to Fuchiemura Village where he intercepted the petitioning masses and compelled their withdrawal through exhaustive persuasion.
This occurred during the Constitutional Government Party cabinet—he urged them to trust his party’s cabinet and return peacefully to their villages this time.

At that moment, he said.

“If the government refuses to adopt the explanations of Shōzō and my comrades, we shall hold them accountable in parliament and expose the authorities’ unlawful acts before society.”
“When that time arrives, you may all come to the capital as you see fit.”
“For when that day comes, I shall rise or fall alongside you all—which is why I must safeguard this life pledged to our struggle until then.”

However, the Constitutional Government Party cabinet vanished in that disgraceful manner.

On February 13 of Meiji 33 (1900), the victimized people—resolved to submit their final petition to parliament—departed from Unryū-ji Temple in Watarase Village, passed through Tatebayashi, and advanced as far as the Tone River.

The government had already dismantled the Tone River’s pontoon bridge, deployed military police and regular officers on both banks to chase and scatter them, arrested over a hundred individuals, and under the charge of “Riotous Assembly,” sent them to Gunma Prison.

Up to this point,I had addressed the mining pollution issue within parliamentary confines.
“Regarding these ‘polluted lands,’ I have yet to tell you anything.”
I want you——you must see these poisoned fields.
Here exists something vital.
From Shimohata in Azuma Village——a place branded ‘worst afflicted’——comes an old farmer named Niwata Genpachi who took brush in hand and recorded reality unadorned;this I name “Watarase no Uta.”
To read its entirety would prove overlong——instead,I shall cull passages across four seasons.

“The season of Risshun (the solar term marking the beginning of spring), the first month of the lunar calendar.”
When snow fell over a foot deep, since it remained bitterly cold, it did not readily melt.
When children cleared away the snow from about two tsubo of ground and scattered feed there, small birds that had been starving for two or three days would come.
There, they would construct what was called a bamboo bow trap using green bamboo, wait for the birds to come scavenging for the feed, then suddenly pull the string. The arrow would release, the bamboo bow would snap, and they would catch three or even five sparrows and doves at once.
They would clear away snow and scatter bait, then tilt a barley sieve over the spot. Attaching a string to a slender bamboo pole, they watched until small birds descended hungrily upon the feed, then pulled the string to catch them.
One or two birds could be caught.
In recent years, due to mining pollution damage, small birds had become scarce, and those under twenty years of age knew nothing of this practice.
Ten days past the season of the New Year, snow fell seven sun to one shaku deep. Though the cold showed no sign of abating, the warmth of spring had already arrived, and when clear skies came the following day, the snow began gradually melting from around eight or nine o’clock until ten.
In the rice fields too, at sunlit spots where patches of soil emerged from the snow, heat hazes shimmered—the warmth rising from beneath the earth like steam.
“However, with mining pollution damage reaching depths from eight or nine sun to three shaku, in the rice fields, no longer could one see the warmth rising.”

“When the Qingming season arrived in March, wild chrysanthemums, wild parsley, butterbur, three-leaf mountain asparagus, and such abounded in thickets and along forest edges.”
“Along the riverbanks grew many plants we called kuko (matrimony vines).”
“In the March festival season when we would pound mugwort rice cakes, there was once abundant mugwort to gather. But now, with mugwort scarce in the polluted areas, we journey to the Tone River embankments or Yamate to collect it.”
“In recent years, having no alternative, we buy what’s called blue powder—a substitute—to pound instead.”
“They would time the cherry blossoms’ peak to marlta fish season and pear blossoms to sai fish spawning, stretching nets across the full breadth of the Watarase River from five in the evening until six the next morning, hauling in over three hundred seventy-five kilograms of fish.”
“On moonless nights when great waves surged through rivers and marshes, the timid would startle at what they took for giant serpents—but these were merely otters swimming with their young.”
“Places along the Watarase River named as deep pools once held six to nine meters of water even in dry seasons.”
“Carp leapt here year-round—Now toxic mine sediment has settled, riverbeds silted up, leaving these former depths barely eight or nine shaku [2.4–2.7 meters] at normal flow.”
“The shallowed waters hold no fish.”

“Lesser Fullness, fourth month, middle season.”
In mountain forests, fields, and paddies, snakes once abounded.
Their varieties were manifold.
There were those we called *yamakagashi*—striped serpents—alongside *jimoguri* burrowers, *aodaishō* rat snakes, and *kaname* snakes. Yet in the polluted lands today, not one remains—it would be no exaggeration to declare them utterly vanished.
Along field boundaries stood planted deutzia trees.
This tree’s roots spread not wantonly, making it most fit for border markers.
Upon these trees bloomed pure white deutzia flowers in profusion.
In their season, cuckoos would sing everywhere, darting through the air—but now, whether because insects and spiders no longer dwell here from mining poison, not a single cry is heard.
The deutzia flowers bloom no more.
Mantises, mole crickets, centipedes, wasps, spiders—all once teemed here.
“Ground spiders,” as they were known, would hang their nest-sacs on tree roots and fences—but in the poisoned earth today, none remain at all.”

“When the season reached Grain in Ear (the ninth solar term) in May, fireflies would teem in both fields and rivers, so caretakers and children would go firefly hunting, unable to wait for dusk to fall. But due to mining pollution, not a single one can be seen now.”
When this season arrived, the barley stood about five shaku tall.
When hitching an average horse [to the cart], unless [they] fastened it quite high, the ears would drag.
Per one *tan*, approximately three *koku* and four to five *shō* could be harvested.
The wheat also stood over four shaku in height.
Per one *tan*, approximately two *koku* and five *to* could be harvested.
The rapeseed plants also stood over six shaku in height.
Per one *tan*, up to one *koku* eight to nine *shō* could be harvested.
The Korean greens known as Chōsensaï stood over seven shaku tall.
Per one *tan*, over two *koku* could be harvested.
The mustard plants stood from eight shaku to about nine shaku tall.
Per one tan, over one koku could be harvested.
“Shimotsuke Province, Ashikaga County, Azuma Village, Kobatada—once renowned across Kantō as fertile soil—now grows nothing at all due to mining pollution damage.”

“The middle season of July during End of Heat.”
When about ten days had passed since the end of midsummer, at the Watarase River from around sunrise, tens of millions of mayflies—countless in number—would form lines and rise in pure white swarms over a section about three ken wide in the middle of the river. After an hour or half had passed, they would swiftly drift downstream.
This continued every single morning for about fifteen days, but now they do not fly at all.
Furthermore, there was a bird called the cormorant that lived in rivers and marshes throughout all four seasons, feeding on fish.
Moreover, on days of intense heat when great thunder would roar and sudden heavy rain fell upon the scorched sands of the Watarase riverbed, by around six or seven in the evening, the aforementioned riverbed sands would be washed away by the rain.
When the river water turned muddy, the small fish would gather and emerge in great numbers to the shallows of the riverbed.
When they cast what was called a casting net here, they could catch a great many.
Those without nets would use bamboo brooms to sweep them up and collect them.
“Also, along the rice fields and marsh riversides, there used to be abundant white egrets that would fly about feeding on small fish. But now, even when evening showers bring heavy rain, no fish can be caught, and neither white egrets nor cormorants remain.”

When the Major Snow season of November arrived, daikon radishes, burdock roots, scallion tubers, and such would be harvested in abundance.
As for these tubers, people would dig holes in fields or along roadsides to store five or even seven horse-loads of them.
Each household maintained three, four, sometimes five of these mounds, marking them with family signs or surnames before sowing barley seeds.
Come spring, that barley would grow verdant and serve as a living landmark—but now, with tubers made unharvestable by mining pollution, these mounds have vanished from every path walked.

When the season of Major Cold arrived in December, raccoon dogs and foxes would roam around the eaves of houses and residential areas. Raccoon dogs would growl gai-gai-gai, and foxes would bark kon-kon-kon. There were also ones that barked kain-kain. When people would bury carrots and such in the soil around homesteads, animals would dig them up to eat—but now, with mining pollution leaving no mice in the fields, no insects, and few fish, youths under twenty years of age likely know nothing of this.

Words could not suffice to describe it—now what remained were only grasses like lawn grass and sedge growing thick and rampant.

Drafted on the 8th day of the 11th month of the old calendar, Meiji 30 (1897).

Revised: 10th day of the 2nd month of the old calendar, Meiji 31 (1898).

Sixty-one years old: Niwata Genpachi

The deeply wounded old lion roared.

"Is it 'nature'?"
"Is it 'ignorance'?"
No—"the crime of politics."

When the grand drama of “Riotous Assembly” was unfolding in the polluted areas, Tanaka Shōzō stood at the podium in Parliament.
On this day, he abandoned the Progressive Party.
Because he was a Progressive Party member, there had been a risk that the mining pollution issue would readily be viewed as a partisan matter.
“Now that I have broken away from the Progressive Party I helped establish—Gentlemen, you too must cast aside partisan sentiments and look upon this mining pollution issue!”

Another cloud shadow had long plagued the mining pollution issue.
"They say mining pollution is ultimately Tanaka's election tool."

He stepped forward and said.

“Furthermore, since this Tanaka Shōzō is a member of the House of Representatives, should the idiotic argument that he acts out of concern for his electoral district exist within this chamber—even if only one or two such gentlemen are present—and should this bring misfortune upon the affected people and calamity upon the nation, I will resign my seat as a representative.”
“I shall resign as early as today.”
“However, if I submit my resignation today, I will be unable to ascend the podium tomorrow. Therefore, I shall now deliver one final address and thereby resign my seat as a representative—”

Behold this man upon the podium—a black-crested cotton haori over faded figured satin hakama.
On his large, round forehead, long hair streaked with white lay tangled like wild grass.
He was exactly sixty years old.
After years of solitary struggle, even his rock-solid body had grown as limp as cotton.
Like a severely wounded old lion.

On the 17th, he stood at the podium once more.
First, behold his written inquiry:

"If they remain unaware of marching toward national ruin, then this—through inquiries into ruinous governance that slay the people—is to slay the nation itself."

To disregard the law is to disregard the nation.

All are destroying the nation themselves.

Lavishly squander public funds, slay the people, disrupt the law—and yet not perish? No such nation exists. What remedy exists for this?

"The above concludes these questions."

He was saying thus at the end of that long speech.

“If you make such grand accusations as ‘Riotous Assembly,’ then why did you not bring charges against Tanaka Shōzō? If you would go so far as to slaughter the people, then why do you not arrest and investigate Tanaka Shōzō? Should I call you blustering fools? Shall I call you utter fools? If these parliamentary stenographic records were not to be reviewed by His Majesty the Emperor, I would hurl the most scathing insults imaginable and unleash a torrent of harsh rebukes—but I shall show restraint upon restraint and hold back. Any minister of a constitutional government—whether viewed through the lens of baseness, greed, or cowardice—by what means do you presume to bear this nation upon your shoulders? The fate of our nation today is by no means in such an easygoing, carefree state! If even fools were to act earnestly, they might preserve this nation—but being fools who put on airs instead, what will you do with this country?”

This country belongs to no one.
In any case, those who have become today’s officials and today’s parliament members bear a grave responsibility.
Setting aside past matters, I earnestly beseech you to act with sincerity and earnestness for the nation’s sake henceforth, so that this country’s collapse may be delayed even by a single day.

Does the government, in its position, believe that what has perished to this extent has not perished?
“Do they truly believe—exactly as I, Tanaka Shōzō, have stated—that it has perished?”

On the 21st, the government sent over the following official response.

The intent of the inquiry could not be grasped in its essentials; therefore, no answer will be provided.

The above concludes our response.

Prime Minister Marquis Yamagata Aritomo

The Final Cry Hurled at Parliament

The Riotous Assembly case came to trial at Maebashi District Court in December of Meiji 33 (1900), resulting in verdicts of "Defying Official Orders" and "Violating the Public Order Police Law." However, due to the prosecutor’s appeal, the case was transferred to the Tokyo Court of Appeals.

In the political world, Ito Hirobumi organized the Friends of Constitutional Government Party in September of Meiji 33 (1900), basing it on the Liberal Party and leading bureaucrats. Consequently, Yamagata promptly recommended Ito, submitted his resignation, and in October, a Seiyūkai cabinet with Ito as Prime Minister was formed.

The Fifteenth Parliament—Tanaka Shōzō’s final parliament—was convened.
In this Parliament, he took the podium twice.

March 24th—hear the final words of his last speech.

“What I must urgently appeal to you, Gentlemen, is that none among us can assure even tomorrow for human life.”

“Setting aside the upcoming Sixteenth Parliament—since tomorrow lies beyond reckoning—I wish to convey to you through any means possible, even a single word if need be, the crucial points weighing upon my mind.”

“For consider—this year brought tax hike turmoil, last year saw tax hike turmoil, and thus it shall undoubtedly continue: next year more tax hikes, the year after that too—such being the established pattern.”

“Gentlemen.
“With this approach—smashing the Constitution to pieces and leaving it in ruins—tax hikes, tax hikes, tax hikes… How far must this go before it stops?”
“After all, this Japanese… what a *fortunate* tale this is.”
“If this nation’s people were truly scheming citizens, then……………there would be none.—I must make this point clear.”

“As we see today—a small number of individuals, a mere handful—monopolize extraordinary happiness, violently overthrow others’ property, and selfishly pursue their own excessive greed, colluding with……………to bolster their momentum.
“If we allow the nation’s economy to be trampled for the sake of this minority—this unquiet minority—then this nation as a whole loses its vitality, and the very title of Japan as a nation comes to be held in light regard.”
“When plundered solely by this minority of cunning, wicked schemers, and the general populace is kept oppressed, the ideology that jointly esteems what is called Japan’s ownership rights will diminish.”
“The residents of Japan—the government declares...‘Hence we are fortunate,’ treating the people as if they were nonexistent, believing that no matter how much evil they commit, it will go unnoticed.”
“Believing that no matter what they do, the people will never notice—with such shallow thinking imposing tax hikes this year and next year as well—what will you do to put an end to this, Gentlemen?”

At this moment, he was utterly exhausted in body and mind, nearly collapsing on the podium. He tightly shut his eyes, shook his head repeatedly, and opened his mouth once more.

“There is a Constitution—the Constitution is being splendidly upheld.”
“Pay your taxes”—they demand.
“I am absolutely opposed.”
“The Constitution is not mere written logic.”
“It is about morality.”
“Those who uphold morality possess the Constitution.”
“The immoral have no right to possess it.”
“The Constitution shall be shared by forty million compatriots—evildoers hold no claim.”

Twenty years had passed since he first resolved at age forty to establish constitutional government.
Now leaving this final cry lingering within the four walls of the assembly chamber, he slowly walked out through the Diet’s gates.

Resigned as a Member of the House of Representatives

In September of Meiji 34 (1901), the second trial of the Riotous Assembly case was held at the Tokyo Court of Appeals.

Defendants charged with felonies: twenty-three

Those charged with misdemeanors: twenty-eight

Lawyers: over fifty

The Mining Pollution Issue moved from the Imperial Diet to the courts.

1. Inspection of the defendant’s residential village within the disaster-affected areas along the Watarase River; assessment of its harvest yields; soil analysis; and evaluation of relationships between soil quality and crops.

1. Inspection of the crime scene—specifically areas spanning from Unryūji Temple through Tatebayashi to Kawamata.

1. Selection of three professors from the Agricultural College as expert witnesses.

As a result, a group of over fifty people—including judges, prosecutors, expert witnesses, lawyers, and journalists—departed for the polluted areas on October 6 and returned to the capital on the 13th.

Tanaka Shōzō had until this time still retained his title as a Diet member and guided this group, but once the inspections concluded, he promptly submitted his resignation as a member of the House of Representatives and reverted to being simply Tanaka Shōzō, a man of the wilderness.

Direct Appeal

On December 10 of Meiji 34, the opening ceremony of the Sixteenth Parliament was held.

Amidst the crowd of spectators on Hibiya Ōji, Tanaka Shōzō—who had been waiting for the appointed time while blending into the throng—held a written appeal in his hands,

“I have an urgent petition—”

He called out loudly and dashed toward the imperial procession’s carriage.
A cavalryman re-gripped his spear and thrust it forward.
Tanaka—his legs weakened—stumbled and fell forward.
Because he had shifted his posture too abruptly, the cavalryman fell sideways along with his horse.

The imperial procession advanced solemnly toward Sakuradamon Gate.

The true intent behind the old man’s direct appeal is made clear in a letter to his wife Katsuko back home, dated the same 18th.
In it is written as follows.

“Furthermore, Shōzō is henceforth no longer a man of this world—he was meant to have died ten days past.
That I live today is but a mistake.
It is truly but a matter of unavoidable circumstances.
On that day, had none among the cavalrymen fallen from their horses—and thus had this mistake not occurred—it would have culminated in an incomparable boon for Their Majesties above and below. Yet through misfortune, owing to these weakened legs of mine, I have remained unharmed until today.
This mistake is thought to be entirely due to a cavalryman’s fall from his horse.”

It is necessary to speak with them so that each and every one of the villagers may keep their hearts on virtuous paths and sincerely care for one another to the fullest extent of their hearts.
The profound charity of Tokyo’s noblewomen is truly, truly akin to that of a heavenly father and mother.
“I humbly and gratefully acknowledge each and every one of their kindnesses.”

The Old Man’s Unforgettable Soliloquy

The reference in Old Man Tanaka’s letter to “the charity of Tokyo’s noblewomen and such matters” pertained to the “Polluted Areas Women’s Relief Association,” which had been established prior to his direct appeal.
In February of Meiji 35 (1902), an elderly woman named Shioda Chiseko from this Relief Association had a cart loaded with food and clothing pulled as she set out to visit the Polluted Areas.
I also went along.
Ms. Shioda was likely sixty years old.
That day, they toured severely affected areas including Funatsukawa Takayama.
The day after heavy snowfall, though the sun shone warmly, everyone trudged through knee-deep snow on wild paths wearing straw sandals.
Old Man Tanaka served as their guide, wearing his customary black cotton haori and hiking his silk-crepe hakama high on his hips.
Though called a guide, visiting each household like this and earnestly listening to families’ circumstances was something even he had never done before.

There existed detailed records painstakingly recorded by Matsumoto Eiko, a woman journalist who served as Ms. Shioda’s secretary.
A few of these are presented here.

At Takayama 37, Moro Sakuzō (58), his wife Kiwa, eldest daughter Saku (24), and second daughter Kiyo (10) formed a household of four.
The wife spoke: "We were once a proper farming family, but now with the mining pollution, nothing grows."
"Because I'm always worrying, my eyes have gotten so bad that even though I can see faintly with both of them, I can't make out the stripes on my clothes."
"If only my eyes were better, I could do something—I barely manage to keep the fire going, but I can't even sew a single stitch—Father-san's gotten old and his back hurts something awful, but he has to work or we'll starve—he's pushing himself to earn what he can."
"People who can see have no consideration."
"Because I can see, every time they tell me what to do or not do, I feel as if my body is being sliced—I do—"

"Funatsukawa River, Aza Nakasago: Kawamura Shinkichi (45)’s family."
The wife, distressed that nothing would grow in their fields, suffered from what seemed like a blood disease—persisting vaguely—until she died three years ago.
Left behind, Shinkichi—now responsible for three children—found his mind beginning to fray.
In the courtyard, weaving without so much as a glance to the side was the fourteen-year-old eldest daughter, Asa.
The young girl shouldered the burden of her family’s survival.
On the veranda, nine-year-old Shinzaburō and six-year-old Oi, their hands red like maple leaves, were twisting rope.
Though Asa was of an age to attend school, she worked as a substitute mother, beginning to weave as soon as dawn broke and continuing past midnight every night.
They were once farmers with nearly a whole chō of land, but...

“Funatsukawa River, 174: Suzuki Shimakichi (31), his wife Oei (29), and his parents—a household of four.”
Father: Suekichi (fifty-five); Mother: Onaka (sixty-two).
Old Mother Onaka had always enjoyed sake, but in recent years, phlegm would rise, leaving her unable to sleep at night.
Then Shimakichi would have his elderly mother drink her favorite sake.
When she drank sake, her phlegm would temporarily subside and she would forget her pain, it was said.
According to the neighbors, Mr. Shimakichi went to the neighboring village to buy sake at the same fixed time every single day.
So we said it was about noon when Mr. Shimakichi passed by.
From their destitution, he bought five sen worth of sake each day and had his mother drink it.
When we visited, it was exactly noon, and Shimakichi had returned home and was building a fire. As for the firewood, his wife would wade into the Watarase River up to her knees, gather driftwood pieces, and pile them up, he said.
When they burned this wood, ash the color of copper remained, and indeed, the smoke caused flies on the ceiling to drop.
Although they knew it was poison, there was nothing to be done—so they puffed on it to start the fire.
“This household once engaged in farming as well as fishing, but since the mining pollution began, both had been reduced to nothing; with no other recourse, they now spun thread on a spinning wheel, sending up smoke thinner than thread.”

While listening to such stories, they went door to door.
Ms. Shioda would occasionally pause in the snow, close her eyes, and offer a silent prayer.
The old man could not endure it and, turning bright red, shouted.

“Tanaka Shōzō will surely take down the enemy for you!”

Enraged, he wiped away his hail-like tears with a large fist.

That night, they stayed at an inn by the marsh.
Ms. Shioda and Ms. Matsumoto, exhausted from the day’s labors, went to a separate room and fell asleep.

The old man sat upright on his bedding, sunk in deep meditation.
I remained seated as I was, keeping watch over the old man's condition.

The andon lamp faintly illuminated the narrow room, a silence as of 'nothingness' in this world.

How much time had passed?

“While I was engaged in politics, the very people who mattered perished.”

A single word escaped the old man’s lips like smoke.

And thus, how much time had passed again?

The old man raised his face with a start as if startled by something and looked around, but since I was still awake and sitting there,

“Oh! This is…”

With those words, he collapsed his mountainous frame with a thud and pulled the bedding clear over his face.

I too laid my head upon the pillow, but with a mind clear as water, found sleep impossible.

O young friend.

Whenever I think of Old Man Tanaka, this night’s scene inevitably floats before my eyes.

The subsequent ten years of the old man’s new life: “Child of Humanity”
It seems the seeds of Tanaka Shōzō’s great world had already begun to germinate deep within the soliloquy of this night.

(April 1933)