"Barbarians" open up Japan: Commodore Perry broke through Japan's secret world 150 years ago

New York Times Upfront, April 18, 2003 by Sean McCollum

Kayama Yezaimon sized up the four black American warships that had anchored in Edo (Tokyo) Bay, menacing Japan's seat of power.

The squadron's two steam frigates were like nothing the Japanese had ever seen. They did not know that steamboats existed, and described the heavily-armed ships as "giant dragons puffing smoke."

Kayama, an aide to the local governor, had already asked the Americans to leave Japanese waters--and been politely turned down. A naval officer, Commodore Matthew C. Perry, carried a letter from the President of the United States, Millard Fillmore. Perry refused to leave until the letter was delivered to Japan's Emperor or other top official.

Kayama decided to seek further instructions from his superiors. Aboard one of the black ships, Perry plotted his next move. His strategy for penetrating the suspicious, self-isolated Japanese appeared to be working.

A CLOSED COUNTRY

Perry's arrival in 1853 came as the U.S. was eager to carve out an Asian foothold for its commercial and military shipping. It hoped Japan would open some of its ports to trade, and to provide coal and other supplies to New England's commercial whaling fleet.

The visit of the black ships, as it came to be known, was audacious. Japan, fearing the influence of outsiders, especially Christian missionaries, had jealously guarded its shores for 200 years. The Tokugawa shoguns, a warrior class that held more power than the Emperor and effectively controlled the country, barred foreigners from entering; shipwrecked sailors, landing by accident, were forbidden to leave, to preserve Japan's secrets. Except for tightly controlled contact with a few Chinese and Dutch traders, Japan blocked out the rest of the world.

But by the 1800s, explorers and traders were poking the prows of their ships into every potential port. In 1852, scholar Aizawa Seishisai grumbled:

   Today the allen barbarians
   of the West ... are dashing
   about the seas, trampling
   other countries underfoot,
   and daring ... to override
   the noble nations.

SHIPPING NEEDS

Across the Pacific, the U.S. was looking beyond its coastlines. The Americans had recently wrested a west coast from Mexico, adding California as its 31st state in 1850. Opening Japanese ports could make the economically expanding U.S. a major player in the Far East.

U.S. naval ships had twice visited Japan in the 1840s in hopes of establishing relations. Their goals, as outlined by President Fillmore, were to pursue "friendship, commerce, a supply of coal and provisions, and protection for our shipwrecked people."

Predictably, Japan met the American overtures with distrust and dismissal. "[The Emperor] earnestly advises you tO depart immediately and to consult your own safety in not appearing again upon our coast," a Japanese official had warned one of the American commanders.

In 1851, Washington decided to try again, entrusting the mission to the 60-year-old Perry. From his long Navy career, Perry had learned the value of knowing one's adversary. He pored over books on Japan, and spoke to anyone with insight into its culture. He developed a plan to match Japanese stubbornness and pride with his own. He would plant his ships in their waters and demand respect.

GUNBOAT DIPLOMACY

On July 8, 1853, Perry's four warships arrived in the Uraga Channel, at the mouth of Tokyo Bay, with more than 1,000 sailors and marines. Boatloads of Japanese soldiers attempted to board the arriving ships. The swords and muskets of the marines waved them off. Fillmore had warned Perry to avoid a fight, but the officer had drilled his men intensely, just in case. Many believed Japan would never open to Westerners without bloodshed.

Once at anchor, Perry insisted he would meet only with a Japanese official of equally high rank; until then, he would communicate solely in writing. When Kayama told the Americans they must deliver Fillmore's letter at the port of Nagasaki, some distance away, a memo emerged from Perry:

   If this friendly letter of the President of
   the Emperor is not received and duly
   replied to, [the Commodre] will consider
   his country insulted and will not hold himself
   accountable for the consequences.

Perry also bluffed that if the Japanese failed to cooperate, he and an armed detachment would march ashore to deliver the letter to the Emperor.

Japanese officials soon saw that they could not talk this American barbarian back out to sea. But an attack by U.S. forces might make their military look weak. They would have to negotiate.

On July 14, a meeting was finally arranged. Forty musicians, 100 sailors, and 110 well-armed marines preceded Commodore Perry ashore. They received ominous stares from more than 5,000 Japanese soldiers and cavalry. The threat of ambush hung in the air.

DRESSED FOR EFFECT

Perry arrived in full-dress uniform. As he stepped off his boat, he became the first Western ambassador to set foot on Japanese soil since the 17th century.

Perry delivered the President's letter to a scowling and silent Governor Toda Izu of Uraga. To the shock of the Japanese delegation, Perry also told his hosts that he and his ships would return in the spring for treaty negotiations. The Japanese gave Perry a letter that again asked him to leave.