Mr Shintaro Ishihara was the Goethe of Japan. I was his pupil, a person in the same profession, and his escort runner. In this chapter, I have woven together my knowledge and private recollections, which span as long as twenty-plus years, and "my unfulfilled promise" to him. ー Shin Ushijima
Chapter 1.7: The Most Manly Man
Read other chapters in My Mentor, Shintaro Ishihara
I wonder what blessed Mr Ishihara with such popularity during his lifetime.
Five or six years ago, a television station aired a special program on the 50th anniversary of Yukio Mishima's death.
As a part of introducing Yukio Mishima, it featured an article from the May 8, 1967 edition of the weekly magazine Heibon Punch. The article was a listing of the favorite dandies of that time. Of course, Mishima topped the list. But I fixed my eyes on the name of Shintaro Ishihara, who came in fourth. And on the second line was the actor Toshiro Mifune.
Like Mifune, most on the list were from the entertainment world, but the two novelists ranked surprisingly highly. By the way, Ishihara's brother Yujiro, an actor, came in only sixth.
Young people today may not be aware of the magazine. It was a light-hearted weekly magazine for young men, typical of the era. In 1967, the baby boomers were pushing 20-years-old. Japan was about to enter its eighth year of rapid growth and enjoyed a steadily rising economy.
Perhaps it was also a sign of the times. Shintaro Ishihara was 34, and Yukio Mishima was 42.
Watching the program brought to mind another TV show from the same era. That one featured the theme of who is "the most manly man?" As I recall, Yukio Mishima also topped that ranking.
But at the time, I was deeply disappointed that the program had chosen Mishima for that honor. I thought Kenzaburo Oe should have been chosen instead. Come to think of it, that was a very long time ago.
'Young Beasts'
Oe lived in fear, hounded by right-wingers who threatened his life because of the nature of his novel, Seventeen, published about that time (Shinchosha, 1963). When I learned this, I thought Oe was a profoundly human figure and, by extension, a man of true masculinity.
Whether or not someone "looks" the part of being manly or not is utterly trivial. What matters above all is an attitude toward life, the conviction to unflinchingly express what he believes is right, no matter the personal danger it may bring, yet allows for the feelings of unbridled fear beyond himself, should a terrifying situation arise. I may have thought in those days that such a response was a reflection of a truly manly man. It was a time when I, too, was in low spirits and frustrated.
Kenzaburo Oe
My first encounter with Mr Oe was through his book titled A Personal Matter (1964). The protagonist suddenly transforms himself near the final scene, which drew considerable public attention and severe disapproval from readers when it was published.
Contrary to popular opinion, however, I found the storyline deeply appealing, which may have shaped my perception of Mr Oe. His book had just been published when I first picked it up at the library of my junior high school.
The story focused on a family where the wife was just about to give birth to their child. As that was happening, the protagonist dreamt of escaping the boredom of his present life by fleeing to Africa with an ex-girlfriend from his college days and betting on the possibility of finding a new life there. However, at the last moment, he calls off the jaunt. Confiding in an older man ー who serves as both his mentor and his father-in-law ー he allows that, "It seems that to live in reality means being compelled to live an orthodox life in the end." (Ibid, p 249.)
This peaceful ending is why the novel earned such an unfavorable reputation. Readers thought Oe must have submissively changed the ending at the urging of someone like a studio executive. Indeed, I remember Yukio Mishima spearheading the effort of those critics.
By the way, I wonder whether Mr Ishihara was featured in the "the most manly man" program.
Possibly ー he should have been chosen as one of the "most manly men." But unfortunately, I have absolutely no memory of it. I vaguely recall that it was before Mr Ishihara entered politics.
Waiting for My Season of the Sun
As for me, I had convinced myself that I would not find my "Season of the Sun" until I had successfully passed the entrance examination of my first-choice university. Therefore, when a high school friend introduced me to Mr Ishihara's novel, Young Beasts (若い獣, Shinchosha, 1957), I did not take much interest in it. I was keeping my nose to the grindstone while on the verge of being crushed by the pressure of preparing for the entrance examination for Tokyo University.
Nevertheless, I was intent on reading Mr Ishihara's short story, A Statue at the Water's Edge (水際の塑像), which appeared in the January 1966 issue of the monthly Bungei. I would have been 16 years old at the time. In particular, the opening passage, which describes a father taking his son to a beach, attracted me. "In those days, I had a habit of getting up early on Sunday mornings and going for a walk with my father…with my younger brother in tow, too. (Contained in The Complete Short Stories of Shintaro Ishihara, Vol. II, Shinchosha, 1973, p 287).
This scene called back my fond memory of walking to kindergarten with my father, hand in hand. But it also resonated with the protagonist, Yoshihisa Ishii, in Mr Ishihara's first book, A Bleak Classroom:
"It seems that the time which was ushered out by the ringing of a bell, slowly makes its way back once more on the notes of that very sound.
"Listening to the beautiful chiming of the bells, Yoshihisa suddenly recalls his kindergarten days." (A Bleak Classroom, also incorporated into Season of the Sun, Shincho Bunko, p 91.)
A Young Seaman
In A Statue at the Water's Edge, the story leaps to the scene where the boy, accompanied by his father, the branch manager of a shipping company in Otaru, witnesses a young seaman's desperate effort to save his sinking ship. He ties himself with a rope and "jumps alone into the dark and tempestuous sea." As the storyline observes, "He dared to do it, even though he must have known he might not survive."
The statue at the water's edge was configured to show the "perfect stillness" of the young man, who was a chosser (chief officer). For Mr Ishihara as a boy, the chosser was a familiar young seaman who would come to his place and amuse his family.
The boy asks why the young seaman would jump into the sea in the face of a high-risk situation, knowing that it might cost his life. And his father answers, "For all of us, and for himself, too."
"For himself?" the boy asks again, and as though persuading himself, the father adds: "Yes, for himself, too. One should not die in silence for nothing. Dying in itself is not a big deal. After all, every man must die someday." (From The Complete Short Stories of Shintaro Ishihara, Vol. II, p 291.)
A Father's Death
Mr Ishihara's father suffered his first brain hemorrhage in his late 30s or perhaps when he turned 40, after which he endured more attacks. Sometimes he would abstain from eating at home, fasting as a therapy. He would go on two-week-long starvation diets while his family dined as usual in front of him every day. These were not one-offs ー he tried several such bitter remedies. Nevertheless, about 10 years later, despite his efforts, he collapsed in a meeting room at work and passed away instantly.
Shintaro was a senior high school student then, and he didn't make it in time to witness his father's last breath.
Having arrived too late to see his father before his death, the young Ishihara took a look at the face of his deceased father and instantly recalled the frozen face of the chosser. His father's face was like the statue of the young man who had jumped alone into the dark and tempestuous sea, for everyone and for himself. That time, it was the father who said to his son, "Dying in itself is not a big deal. After all, every man must die someday."
When I was 16 years old, I read A Statue at the Water's Edge for the first time. Since then, I have read it several more times. As I was reading it again recently, I was so moved that I could not stop the tears from running down my cheeks. "There was such a paternal figure" that existed in Mr Ishihara.
Enter Okinori Kaya
Mr Ishihara lost his father while he was still in high school. However, I suspect there was another figure, Okinori Kaya, who might have served that role for him. Kaya was the Minister of Finance in the cabinet of Hideki Tojo, the prime minister who dared to start a war against the United States. Kaya had been a central figure at the finance ministry since the prewar period.
There is an episode that demonstrates just how influential a man, Okinori Kaya, was. When he was in Sugamo Prison [under the Allied Occupation], he had a telephone connected to his cell. Using it, he would provide instructions to his former subordinates in the Finance Ministry, as well as some lawmakers, instructing them to act accordingly on his behalf. Among other things, he retained enough power to order the payment of survivors' benefits to war-bereaved families. Of course, this was made possible because the former subordinates in the finance ministry and various Diet members held Okinori Kaya in such high esteem.
A 43-year age gap separated Ishihara from Kaya. Sentenced to life in prison by the postwar International Military Tribunal for the Far East, Okinori Kaya served prison time until 1955. Then, released, he was elected to the Lower House in the 1958 general election.
Ishihara ran for and was elected to the Upper House for the first time in 1968, winning over three million votes. In the same election, Kaya was voted into his fourth consecutive term as a member of the Lower House. He was then 79.
A Book of Prominent Value
To my surprise, Okinori Kaya appears in The Great War of Showa and that Tokyo Trial (昭和の大戦とあの東京裁判, Kawade Shobu Shinsha, Ltd, 2011) by Professor Sukehiro Hirakawa, whom I respect. But in truth, it should come as no surprise. Okinori Kaya carried considerable weight in Japan before the war against the United States, so that Professor Hirakawa might have felt compelled to mention him.
At page 308 of his book, Hirakawa states, "When Shintaro Ishihara became an Upper House member, he was greatly impressed by the tremendous personal impact of the politician Okinori Kaya (1889–1977)."
Professor Hirakawa also introduces Okinori Kaya's volume, Prewar and Postwar 80 Years (戦前・戦後八十年, Keizai Orai-sha, 1976). Hirakawa elaborates: "It was written in 1972, not a long time ago, but the book is valued as an antique volume, and its price is extraordinarily high. This goes to show how many people think that, among the politicians indicted as Class-A war criminals, his autobiography is particularly worth reading."
The instant I read Professor Hirakawa's statement, I went out and purchased this prominently valued book. It cost me ￥11,000 JPY (equivalent to over $100 at the time).
Mr Ishihara, too, expressed respect for Okinori Kaya in his book, My Favorite Japanese (私の好きな日本人, Gentosha, 2008). Kaya was one of only 10 figures selected from the beginnings of Japanese history, including Oda Nobunaga (1534-1582). The subtitle describes Kaya as a "Gigantic Realist."
In his essay, "Crossing the Line of Death," contained in one of his later books, Dialogues with the Dead (死者との対話, Bungeishunju, 2020), Ishihara describes Okinori Kaya as "an unparalleled realist" and acknowledges him as "the sole politician that I most respect and can learn from." (P 164.)
Ishihara's Perspective
Did Mr Ishihara ever talk to me about Okinori Kaya? Perhaps. I have tried to recall, but no such memory comes to mind.
Vaguely, I have the impression that it was Mr Ishihara who taught me that Japan was able to hold on for three years and eight months in the battle against the United States, whose national power was incomparably stronger than Japan's in those days, thanks to Okinori Kaya and his efforts as finance minister. This I learned from someone, and I cannot imagine that it was anyone other than Mr Ishihara.
Find the Table of Contents
(To read the book in Japanese, please visit the publisher's website.)
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