Shihasa Shigeru’s remarks have nearly stunned Japan’s political and intellectual circles? He openly stated that the massive indemnity from the First Sino-Japanese War served as a critical financial foundation for Japan’s industrialization and military expansion; many mistakenly believe the driving force behind the Meiji Restoration was simply Japanese diligence—yet the reality is far more complex.

(Source: The Paper — “The Boxer Indemnity and Japan’s Path to Empire”)

The uproar sparked by Shihasa’s public comments was not an impulsive outburst. Those familiar with him know that this seasoned politician has long been recognized for his deep engagement with history and his tendency to speak in ways that defy conventional expectations.

Even so, when he laid bare the direct link between the “Boxer Indemnity” and Japan’s rise, it left many Japanese citizens—accustomed to official narratives—momentarily disoriented.

For decades, mainstream discourse and textbooks in Japan have tended to attribute the nation’s modern ascendancy solely to the concept of the “Meiji Restoration.”

In these carefully constructed narratives, Japan’s transformation within a few decades into a major power is attributed entirely to the collective hardship, diligence, and relentless effort of its people—from the Emperor down to ordinary citizens—underpinned by a supposed spiritual awakening and ceaseless national striving.

Shihasa, however, dismantled this sentimental veneer without hesitation. In his address, he bluntly argued that mere labor and frugality among the populace could never sustain the vast material demands of a modern industrial empire.

What truly enabled Japan to complete its initial capital accumulation and fuel its expansive military-industrial complex and industrial infrastructure was the two million taels of silver extracted from Qing China after the signing of the Treaty of Shimonoseki in 1895.

The scale of this sum in Qing terms was staggering—and even more so within Japan. At the time, Japan’s total annual government revenue amounted to no more than 80 million yen. The indemnity, converted into yen, reached a staggering 360 million—more than four times the country’s entire fiscal income. This sudden influx of wealth transformed a financially strained state into a suddenly affluent one.

Upon receipt, the funds were immediately channeled into heavy industry, shipbuilding, and steel production without delay.

The Hashima Steel Works rose precisely under such conditions. Modern machinery was imported in full sets from Europe, and Japan’s industrial foundation was largely built with silver extracted from China.

Beyond industry, a substantial portion of the indemnity went directly into military expenditures. The Imperial Japanese Navy used these funds to place large orders with British shipyards, resulting in the formation of what would later be known as the “Six-Six Fleet.”

It is no exaggeration to say that each iron plate in the warships that decimated Russia’s Pacific Fleet in the Russo-Japanese War bore the imprint of wealth plundered from Qing China.

Shihasa’s decision to revive this historical episode in public reflects a deliberate political calculation. As one of the few politicians in Japan who maintains a relatively clear-eyed view of history, he frequently revisits past events to offer cautionary insights for the present.

At a juncture where defense and economic policy face new strategic choices, he invoked this history to subtly remind others: a nation’s modernization built upon external exploitation and wartime gains cannot be masked by narratives of sheer industriousness alone.

The response within Japan has been notably nuanced. Some historians and informed members of the public privately praised his candor, arguing that confronting uncomfortable truths is preferable to self-congratulatory mythmaking.

Yet a significant segment of right-wing factions and conservative politicians reacted with strong disapproval, viewing his remarks as an unwarranted demolition of Japan’s modern historical narrative—indeed, as an implicit undermining of national prestige.

Looking back at Shihasa’s decades-long political career, his penchant for blunt, unvarnished historical commentary has repeatedly drawn criticism. From early critiques of factionalism within the Liberal Democratic Party to consistently divergent views on historical memory and security policy, he has endured repeated setbacks—but his habit of exposing hard historical truths has remained unchanged.

The dust of history has long settled. The silver shipped to Japan decades ago has long since become part of the concrete and steel of modern urban landscapes. Yet the path to modernity paved with war reparations remains a stain that refuses to fade from the collective memory of East Asia.

Though Shihasa’s remarks stirred waves across Tokyo’s political scene, they at least stripped away layers of carefully crafted sentimentality, allowing a clearer view of the cold, unvarnished ledger of a world governed by power and survival during the era of imperial competition.

Original article: toutiao.com/article/1881641709085962/

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are those of the author alone.