『安政の大地震』と明治維新の起点Ansei Earthquake and Meiji Restoration

Building on yesterday’s article, I want to go into more detail today. As previously mentioned, Japan is one of the most earthquake-prone countries in the world, experiencing frequent seismic events of varying magnitudes. Japan reportedly has over 2,000 active fault lines capable of causing earthquakes, and being an island nation surrounded by seas, it also faces the risk of tsunamis. Furthermore, the country is dotted with numerous volcanoes, posing continuous threats of eruptions. Having survived in such an environment for generations, the Japanese have developed a perspective toward natural disasters markedly different from people in other countries.

Moreover, it has already been established that major earthquakes occur at somewhat predictable intervals. As I’ve written before, the likelihood of a magnitude-7 earthquake striking the Tokyo area, known as the “Tokyo Metropolitan Earthquake,” within the next 30 years is around 70%. Similarly, the probability of a massive magnitude 8–9 Nankai Trough earthquake, significantly affecting western Japan from the Tokai region to Kansai, was revised this January and raised to 80% within the next 30 years. Besides these prominent risks, earthquakes continue to occur nationwide.

In Japan, earthquakes, tsunamis, and volcanic eruptions are not merely seen as natural disasters; rather, they are often interpreted as messages from nature to society. This perspective likely originates from the spiritual concept of nature worship deeply rooted in Japanese culture, reflecting a sense that they are listening to nature’s voice. Historically, massive earthquakes have conveyed distinct messages pertinent to their times, often closely linked to subsequent social transformations. Whether these societal changes lead to positive or negative outcomes varies according to each era. By examining recent major earthquakes, we can gain insights to better understand and anticipate future societal developments.

The first significant example I want to discuss is the Great Ansei Earthquake of November 11, 1855, a quake directly beneath southern Kanto that severely impacted Edo (modern-day Tokyo). Notably, just a year earlier, in 1854, two massive earthquakes, the Ansei Tokai Earthquake (magnitude 8.4) and the Ansei Nankai Earthquake (also magnitude 8.4), struck consecutively within just 32 hours, devastating a vast area stretching from the Tokai region to Shikoku. Coastal areas, particularly in Wakayama, suffered catastrophic destruction from the resulting tsunami. It was a rare case in which a Nankai Trough earthquake and a metropolitan earthquake struck in quick succession, and the quake set off an intensifying social upheaval of anti-shogunate sentiment that brought a new era.

Personally, I consider the death of Toko Fujita (1806–1855) of the Mito Domain (modern-day Ibaraki Prefecture) during the Ansei Earthquake as particularly significant. While it might be difficult to imagine today, the Mito Domain at the time held tremendous influence as a spiritual pillar for emerging social movements throughout Japan. This influence was rooted in the fact that the Mito Domain, established by Ieyasu Tokugawa, founder of the Edo shogunate, was recognized as one of three key domains responsible for protecting the shogunate and assisting the shogun (the Mito family). With a strong tradition of pride stemming from this historical role, samurai from the Mito Domain not only carried the responsibility of supporting the shogunate but were also actively engaged in studies related to Shinto and the imperial family, uniquely intensifying emperor worship in the region. This spirit originated from the historical work Dai Nihon Shi (History of Great Japan), begun by Mitsukuni Tokugawa (1628–1701), the second lord of the Mito Domain. Dai Nihon Shi continued as a Mito Domain project for over two centuries, finally completed in the Meiji era.

However, it must also be noted that the compilation of Dai Nihon Shi was predominantly carried out by Confucian scholars, incorporating Confucian concepts of loyalty derived from Edo-era Zhu Xi Confucianism, which later evolved into absolute loyalty towards the emperor. Mitsukuni founded the Shokokan, a school promoting Confucianism, to deepen the understanding of imperial history through the compilation of Dai Nihon Shi. This laid the foundation for a distinctive body of learning known as Mitogaku (水戸学), which was passed down through generations of Mito samurai. As Japan approached the turbulent end of the Edo period, Mitogaku increasingly became a central magnet, attracting youths from all over the nation eager to learn its teachings and seek guidance for the upcoming new era. Mitogaku was thus fundamental to the ideological foundation of the Meiji Restoration.

Within this context, Yukoku Fujita (1774–1836) emerged as a pivotal figure who profoundly influenced young people of the next generation in Mito. During the era of national isolation (鎖国), Western nations frequently conducted provocative actions near Japanese shores, pressing for market openings. Outraged by these acts, Yukoku put forward the concept of joi (攘夷), the idea of driving foreign threats out of Japan. This idea then joined with sonno (尊皇), reverence for the emperor, which came by way of Mitogaku, and transformed into sonno joi (尊皇攘夷), the driving force of the Meiji Restoration.

Standing at the intersection of these two ideologies was Toko Fujita, the son of Yukoku. After Yukoku’s death, the spirit of Mitogaku was effectively upheld by Toko and became nationally renowned through exceptional samurai such as Seishisai Aizawa (1782–1863), who fought alongside him. Shoin Yoshida (1830–1859), who later became the spiritual cornerstone of the Choshu Domain, was deeply impressed in his youth by the thought of Seishisai Aizawa, even studying directly under him at the Mito Domain’s official school. Similarly, Takamori Saigo (1828–1877), who later became the leader of the Satsuma Domain, was profoundly influenced by Toko Fujita. It is important not to overlook that, through the spirit of Mitogaku, Choshu and Satsuma together took up the slogan sonno joi and carried out the Meiji Restoration.

Sadly, Toko Fujita died in the earthquake, just before the upheaval of the Meiji Restoration. After his death, Takamori Saigo, known as a man of great character, resolved to carry on Toko’s will. Shoin Yoshida, meanwhile, returned to Choshu and, using his own school, the Shoka Sonjuku, as cover, provided intensive ideological and martial arts education primarily to local lower-ranking samurai youths. The curriculum included radical teachings advocating the assassination of anyone obstructing their objectives, leading some today to critically label it as essentially a terrorist training institution. Shoin himself, whose extremist ideology was seen as a problem, was executed in 1859, before the Meiji Restoration. Yet the lower-ranking Choshu samurai influenced by his radical ideology later became the key figures of the Restoration. They were not the rightful heirs of Mitogaku’s spirit, however; they were shaped by Shoin’s arbitrary interpretation, and sonno joi became a hollow slogan on the surface. In the end it became a military coup in which lower-ranking samurai simply overthrew higher-ranking ones.

Against the Choshu faction, whose grasp of Mitogaku remained on the surface, the Satsuma faction led by Takamori Saigo pushed back fiercely. The people of Satsuma had directly inherited the will of the line running from Toko Fujita to Saigo; they did not seek a mere transfer of hegemony and kept thinking in earnest about Japan’s future. For this reason relations between Satsuma and Choshu were tense, and only through the mediation of Ryoma Sakamoto (1836–1867), a samurai who had left the Tosa Domain, did they agree on an alliance, to work together for the Meiji Restoration alone. After the Restoration, however, the Choshu officials of the new government found Saigo, revered for his character, an obstacle. Saigo built on the thought that came down from Toko, and his vision of Japan’s future was entirely different from theirs.

Although they had launched the Meiji Restoration under the banner of sonno joi, the Choshu officials suddenly let joi go and turned to the Western model of institutions, and their sonno was empty: they only put in place a constitution that praised the emperor. In fact, the Choshu official Aritomo Yamagata devised a way to convert modern Japan into a bureaucratic system derived from Zhu Xi Confucianism, directly inheriting the problem of the Tokugawa shogunate. Takamori Saigo and the Satsuma faction were furious: this was no different from the age of Tokugawa rule. The two sides went from working together in the Restoration to open civil war. In 1877 Saigo called the Satsuma samurai to arms in a large-scale coup attempt aimed less at the Meiji government itself than at the Choshu officials who held its bureaucracy. With no answer to the new government’s modern weapons, Saigo finally took his own life.

Saigo’s death was far too great a loss for Japan’s new future. Bureaucracy and the imitation of Western institutions were driven through society, and the nation was set on a course that lacked substance. This matters because it connects to the colonialism toward neighboring countries pursued by the Empire of Japan, especially its army. The trigger of this beginning of modern Japan was the Great Ansei Earthquake, and above all the death of Toko Fujita that came with it. Let us hold in mind the before and after of modern Japan here. Next time, I will look at how the Great Kanto Earthquake of September 1, 1923, became the trigger for the army’s runaway course toward the Second World War.