dealt with "Boryaku"— espionage and counter-espionage, propaganda and counter-propaganda. Its armory included almost everything, from poison to presidentship. It had been perfected by such foxy geniuses as General Doihara, Japan's "Lawrence" of Manchuria.
Besides the series of amazing military successes, Japan scored heavily in its propaganda offensive, especially in the Southeast Asian countries, by the skillful use of such slogans as "Freedom for All," "War of Liberation," and "Asia for Asians." There was something irresistible about the trend of military events at the initial stages of the Pacific War. Added to that was the magic of such terms as "freedom" and "liberation" and the hope and trust they engendered in the hearts of politically oppressed people. Yet, there were misgivings among the people in the countries overrun by the Japanese armed forces regarding the sweet slogans of the Mikado's mission.
The Japanese lashed forth in full fury. Thailand succumbed to the grand assault in five brief hours and then signed up on the dotted line. It was called an agreement providing for the passage of Japanese troops through Thailand but it amounted to virtual Japanese military occupation of the Thai Kingdom. British resistance in Malaya was feeble. The "Prince of Wales" and the "Repulse," the pride of the British Fleet, were sunk by Japanese kamikaze pilots. The Japanese forces marched into Burma and carried out landing operations everywhere in the East Indies archipelago. The war seemed to be going on, according to Japan's plans.
Those were fateful days for the unhappy peoples of Southeast Asia. Their colonial rulers were on the retreat before the onslaught of the Japanese war machine. Japan claimed that it was out to crush Anglo-American-Dutch imperialism and to liberate Asian nations from alien yoke. The British and the Americans, on the other hand, claimed that they were determined to defend themselves against Japanese aggression and to maintain peace in the Pacific. In the twinkling of an eye, all Asia became a pawn in that catastrophic game.
There was already a major war in China and the Chinese communities, large and influential in almost every country in Southeast Asia, needed no particular introduction to the war aims, ideals, and aspirations of the Japanese militarists. Since 1937, the Chinese in Southeast Asia had been actively assisting Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek's Nationalist Government of China in its anti-Japanese resistance. Chinese businessmen had organized large scale anti-Japanese boycotts and many Chinese leaders in Southeast Asia figured in the "black lists" maintained by the Japanese militarists. It was only through brute force that the Japanese succeeded in getting overseas Chinese communities to the point of tolerantly listening to the slogans of Asian liberation.
The Chinese genius for adjustment in the game of self-preservation, however, often proved superior to the ruthlessness of the Japanese demand for conformity. Many well-to-do Chinese in Malaya and elsewhere affixed a portrait of Wang Ching-wei behind the massive frame which held the portrait of Chiang Kai-shek. Wang was on display, in all prominence, in the drawing room when the Japanese were around, while a quick turn of the frame brought back Chiang's portrait on the wall, as soon as the Japanese left the place.
The people of Indochina were not unduly impressed by Japan's doctrine of Asian liberation. They wondered why it was not applied to them when the Japanese army forced the French into the background and assumed control over their country. The Filipinos, who were already on the threshold of freedom at that time, were equally unenthusiastic about the pledge of "liberation" by the Japanese. The Malays, Javanese, and others, until then under British or Dutch colonial rule, were indifferent to the strange combination of unabashed oppression and condescending affection with which their Japanese liberators dealt with them. These innocent millions had seen both these tactics, as practiced by their colonial masters, though under more congenial surroundings.
It was among the freedom-hungry Indians and Burmese that the initial phase of the Greater East Asia War created a more profound impression. To them, the appeal to freedom proved magnetic, in spite of the vague suspicion that there was something false about the appeal. In Burma, there was a large faction of young nationalists who welcomed the Japanese assault on British power and actively helped Japanese armed forces at the initial phase of the campaign. In India, Japan's War of Greater East Asia brought fresh hopes and fears—hopes of the possibility of Britain revising its attitude towards Indian nationalist aspirations, and fear of the destruction and chaos that would result in the event of India becoming a battleground between British and Japanese forces.
Meanwhile, the Japanese combined all their skill and resourcefulness—goodwill and cajolery, bribery and corruption, threat and terrorism—for the mobilization of what was probably the most astounding political and propaganda campaign by any power. And that in the blessed name of freedom and humanity and the sacred cause of the liberation of hundreds of millions of oppressed Asians!
Japan's fifth-column had been active in Burma, Malaya, Thailand, and the string of islands, large and small, that made up the former Netherlands East Indies. Japanese agents were scattered all over Southeast Asia in the guise of dentists, barbers, tailors, photographers, small-time traders, traveling salesmen, wandering newsmen, and goodwill tourists. On December 8, all these seemingly innocent people came out in their true color. With them were disclosed many of the local hands who worked for the Japanese spy ring at various places. Most of them, however, were obscure men who suddenly started parading their political foresight and pan-Asian spirit, once they felt sure of their safety.
No nationality was left unexploited by the Japanese fifth-columnists, but it seemed that it was among Indians that they were least successful. No Indian public figure of any consequence anywhere in East Asia was known to have been in league with the Japanese before the outbreak of war, with the result that the Japanese had to be content with men of mediocre ability, who lent their services mainly for the profit derived from the deal. Yet, in a few months after the war broke out, almost every Indian in East Asia became involved in Japan's great game of the liberation of India.
There was good reason why the Japanese failed to win influential Indians among their sympathizers. India was already engaged in a struggle against British imperialist rule. The Indian National Congress, which led this struggle, had always supported China in its resistance against Japan. This attitude of India's premier political party had its influence on the large Indian population throughout Southeast Asia. Besides, the Japanese might have found it difficult to secure the support of the better known Indians in Malaya and Burma, where the British authorities maintained strict vigil against all alien elements.
Sprawled all over Southeast Asia were nearly two million Indians, subjects of Japan's British enemy. The problem of these Indian immigrants was different from that of the Malays, Javanese, Burmese, Filipinos, and others whose countries were being overrun by the Japanese forces. Besides the two million Indians, mostly laborers and merchants and a small sprinkling of the professional classes, there were about 80,000 Indian troops and officers in Malaya and Singapore and probably half that number in Burma.
The small Indian community in Tokyo was assured on the afternoon of December 8 that no harm would come to them, that Japan's war was only against the British, not their Asian subjects. In Bangkok, while the Japanese forces were encircling the British and American legations, raiding British and American business firms, and rounding up all the Britons and Americans, Indians were wondering what would happen to them. Only a very few like me thought of getting away, without realizing that running for the frontier was an extremely risky game. The next day, however, the issue was clarified. Indians were not interned; the British were. In Hongkong, Malaya, Burma, and elsewhere Indians were treated with special consideration.
It was incredible—Indians being treated with special consideration and respect, while Britons were dragged out of their homes and offices and driven to prison camps; the Indian coolie going about free while the British Tuan Besar (Big Master) was slapped in the face; Indian second lieutenants and havildars (non-commissioned officers) of the British Army invited to share the Japanese commander's jeep, while British captains and colonels were herded together and marched off to concentration camps by Japanese corporals. It seemed the colored man —black, brown, and yellow—had
