Seeing the Enemy with Clarity: The Case of Colonel Masanobu Tsuji

Allied Australian soldiers fighting Japanese positions in the Malaya Campaign during World War Two

Photo: Wikimedia Commons

Studying an enemy’s history is a difficult task. It goes against the grain of our identity, our understanding of history, and our conception of ourselves. Delving into an adversary’s arguments can even strengthen our biases by triggering us to argue back. But, when people are given positive factual material about the enemy, their previously impervious positions weaken when asked to write about their own side.

We live in an era where polarized positions are de rigeur, and self-righteousness often goes unquestioned. Seeing ‘the enemy’s’ perspective may be more necessary than ever if we are to graduate to a less conflicted and violent world.

In 1941, Colonel Masanobu Tsuji was Chief of Operations and Planning of the 25th Japanese Army, which conquered Malaya (today Malaysia) and Singapore. After the war, in response to the fourth volume of Winston Churchill’s history of World War Two, entitled The Hinge of Fate, he wrote the Japanese account of this campaign in a book titled Singapore: The Japanese Version. Tsuji wanted to record another side of the same history

Japanese Colonel Masanobu Tsuji, Head of Operations and Planning for the 25th Army in Malaya during World War Two

Photo: Wikimedia Commons

Tsuji explains that Japan’s ultimate defeat was not due to the character of her people or servicemen, but to a weaker national economy and corrupt leadership—much in contrast to what Churchill, a man whom he admired, argued. He also explains how war was inevitable once Japan’s drive for resources was circumscribed by the United States and Britain. (Today, we may be seeing similar developments between the US and China).

His very detailed, intimate report of every military operation from the Japanese perspective, including the misery of the jungle, the loss of comrades, and discussions with a disheartened enemy immerses us so deeply that we end up more appreciative of his country’s experience. But the book offers other lessons.

Tsuji stresses two key success factors in the conquest of Malaya and Singapore. The first was the Japanese soldier’s fighting spirit. On average, Japanese troops fought two battles, repaired four or five bridges, and advanced up to 20 kilometres every day. Despite the jealousies and rivalries and lack of coordination between the Japanese Army and Air Force and within the General Staff, it was this determined spirit that ensured success.

Ironically, the Japanese error during the war—possibly repeated today by Russia in Ukraine—was its belief that because the Anglo Saxons were merchant nations, they would not carry on a protracted war. American and British binding and determined spirit, or asabieh as 14th century Arab scholar Ibn Khaldun termed it, turned out to be as tough as Japan’s.

Second, Tsuji describes a campaign that was hastily, but well prepared, and yet ultimately relied on rapid and bold adaptation and innovation for victory. Soldiers were provided with a preparatory pamphlet, entitled “Read This Alone – And the War can be Won” before being sent off to fight. The author writes that “to catch a tiger you must first put your head in the tiger’s den”. In the battle for the British defence line of Jitra, the Japanese had underrated the size of enemy forces and rushed headlong into battle. Nevertheless, this led to a breakthrough due to the extraordinary tactics of 500 Japanese determined men. A chance exploit based on wrong intelligence won the day whereas a broader and more careful engagement would have resulted in deadlock and more casualties.

Japanese soldiers invading Malaya by way of a blitzkrieg of bicycles.

Most evocatively, the Japanese adaptive spirit was demonstrated when horses and vehicles were abandoned in favour of a blitzkrieg on bicycles, which lessened traffic congestion and delay, especially at bottlenecks and destroyed bridges, and facilitated rapid pursuit of the enemy. The availability of excellent paved roads, funded by the British, and spare parts because cheap Japanese bikes were a major export to Southeast Asia, made the bicycle option very viable.

The fight for Singapore represented the apex of the campaign. For Britain, the island was a maritime fortress for the eastern defence of India and the northern defence of Australia, as well as an axis for the British navy’s and merchant fleets’ navigational routes. Singapore was very difficult to capture from the sea, but its incomplete rear defences were vulnerable. The Japanese quickly assessed this and made a swift bold crossing of the strait from the landward side to ensure victory.

Churchill stated that the Malaya campaign had been exhaustively prepared by Japan. However, Tsuji reiterates that, “our success was due to the intangible belief in victory resulting from scores of insubstantial factors”. In a world today obsessed by planning, regulation and information, success by patchwork improvisation and bold action is an interesting point of contrast.

Playing on Churchill’s book title, Tsuji also states that “the reduction of Singapore was indeed the hinge of fate for the peoples of Asia”: India, Pakistan Ceylon, Burma, Indonesia and the Phillipines all achieved independence soon after the end of hostilities, ending overnight domination by Europeans. Indeed, although Japan lost the war, the fall of Singapore marked the end of Britain’s presence in the Far East. This is an unusual perspective for Westerners conditioned to see the Pacific war only as a liberation from the Japanese—and both perspectives may well be true.

Major General Shimura, commander of the Japanese 7th Army Area and two of his staff give details of troops concentrations to British soldiers in Singapore, 1945

Photo: Wikimedia Commons

Tsuji points out that due to the shame of defeat in the post-war period, many Japanese analysts closed their eyes to the conduct of the war, and to the real reasons for Japan’s involvement in it. His book is an attempt to correct the record and widen the scope of understanding of events.

Maybe the ultimate lesson from this unusual book is that conflicts need to be looked at from varying perspectives because they are composed of the living interactions of these very outlooks. Conflicts cannot be peacefully resolved except by a full and profound attendance to the dynamic on all sides, what we call at The Conciliators Guild, “mutual needs satisfaction.”

Indeed, Tsuji ends Singapore: The Japanese Version by calling for an end to domination by force, whether by Britain or Japan over Asia, and to the pursuit of peace without vengeance for the past. The Cold War and today’s geopolitical dissatisfactions make the fundamental thesis of the book all the more valid: being able to see an opponent’s views and outlooks permits a greater hold on reality, which can only serve better the ends of war or peace.

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After the war ended, and with the approval of the Japanese Army authority, Masanobu Tsuji evaded arrest by Allied forces and wandered through Asia until he was cleared of all charges. He returned to Japan and served in the House of Councillors in the National Diet (the Upper House of Japan’s Parliament). In 1961, he travelled to Laos and was never heard of again. He was declared offcially dead in 1968.


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