The Crucible of Exile and Political Vision

In the turbulent years of the Bakumatsu period, as Japan teetered on the brink of transformation, two formidable figures emerged with starkly contrasting visions for the nation’s future. Saigō Takamori, during his first exile in 1859 and his second in 1862, articulated a clear and consistent political philosophy. He advocated for a “coalition of alliances,” a grand national unity system that would bring together the imperial court, the Tokugawa shogunate, and powerful feudal lords along with their senior retainers. His aim was to bridge the deep ideological chasm between the “open the country” factions, overcoming what he saw as the greatest obstacle to Japan’s stability and progress.

This vision stood in direct opposition to that of Shimazu Hisamitsu, the de facto ruler of Satsuma Domain, who had ordered Saigō’s transfer from Tokunoshima to the more remote island of Okinoerabujima. Hisamitsu pursued a different form of unity—one centered on a “union of court and shogunate” assuming the role of political affairs director.

The Ideological Divide: Opening Versus Expelling

Shimazu Hisamitsu’s commitment to the “open the country” position was unequivocally expressed in a memorial he presented to the Emperor on the 21st day of the intercalary eighth month of 1862. This document followed his successful escort of the imperial envoy Ōhara Shigetomi to Edo, where he pressured the shogunate to recognize the newly established positions of guardian and political affairs director. In his memorial, Hisamitsu argued that the call to “expel the barbarians” was not only a grave matter but the very root of the estrangement between the imperial court and the shogunate.

He reasoned that since the shogunate had already concluded treaties with Western powers, any unilateral move to expel foreigners would be met with fierce retaliation. Hisamitsu painted a vivid picture of the consequences: Western nations, citing Japanese aggression and breach of faith, would form alliances, dispatch dozens of warships, and simultaneously attack key ports around Edo Bay and other strategic coastal locations. From there, they would invade undefended inland areas. His assessment was stark: while Japan might hold its own in land battles, its naval capabilities were hopelessly inadequate. He pointed out that even thinkers like Aizawa Seishisai, in his 1825 work “New Theses,” had mocked the idea that Japan could win naval engagements, and Sakuma Shōzan had emphasized the urgent need to build large warships as early as 1854.

Hisamitsu’s pragmatic, if pessimistic, view was that naval warfare remained Japan’s Achilles’ heel. He concluded that the Western powers, aware of their naval superiority, would simply blockade vital ports like Edo and Osaka, crippling trade and supply routes without engaging in land combat where Japan might have an advantage. This reasoning was not merely theoretical; it was borne out by events such as the Anglo-Satsuma War of 1863 and the Bombardment of Shimonoseki by a four-nation fleet in 1864.

The Historical Context: From Isolation to Unequal Treaties

To understand the intensity of this debate, one must appreciate Japan’s rapid transition from isolation to forced engagement with the West. The arrival of Commodore Matthew Perry’s “black ships” in 1853 had shattered over two centuries of sakoku policy. The subsequent signing of the Convention of Kanagawa with the United States in 1854 and the more comprehensive Treaty of Amity and Commerce in 1858 integrated Japan into the global system—but on unequal terms. These agreements granted extraterritoriality to foreigners, imposed unfavorable tariff rates, and undermined Japanese sovereignty.

By the early 1860s, the country was deeply divided. The shogunate, caught between domestic pressure to resist foreign influence and the practical impossibility of militarily expelling Western powers, vacillated. Meanwhile, the imperial court in Kyoto, long sidelined politically, reemerged as a symbol of national authority and a rallying point for anti-foreign sentiment. Regional domains like Satsuma and Chōshū grew increasingly powerful and assertive, often acting independently of central authority.

It was in this volatile environment that figures like Hisamitsu and Saigō operated. Hisamitsu’s push for “open the country” was not merely capitulation; it was a strategic choice to avoid catastrophic conflict while strengthening Japan from within. He believed that by avoiding rash confrontations, Japan could focus on fukoku kyōhei , a slogan that would later define the Meiji era.

The Limits of Hisamitsu’s Vision

However, Hisamitsu’s approach had critical flaws. His concept of “union of court and shogunate” was narrowly conceived, excluding broader participation from other domains. He argued that once the shogunate appointed Yoshinobu and Yoshinaga to their new roles, there was no need for other lords to come to Kyoto. This effectively reduced the “union” to a tripartite arrangement among the court, the shogunate, and Satsuma. Such a limited framework could hardly unify national opinion behind the “open the country” policy or overcome the passionate appeal of “expel the barbarians” to many samurai and court nobles.

Saigō Takamori, from his exile, saw this clearly. In a letter to his associate Koba Den’nai in Osaka, he expressed frustration with Hisamitsu’s heavy-handed tactics. He noted that even reasonable officials within the shogunate found Hisamitsu impossible to deal with; at the slightest disagreement, he would confront them directly, using the power of Satsuma to force compliance. Saigō warned that bullying a weakened shogunate in this manner was unsustainable and would only deepen misunderstandings between the parties. His advocacy for a broader “coalition of alliances” was rooted in the belief that only a genuinely inclusive national unity could navigate the crisis.

Hisamitsu’ decision to exile Saigō was directly linked to the latter’s contacts with radical elements. Saigō had met with Hirano Kuniomi, a rogue samurai activist in the “revere the emperor, expel the barbarians” movement, who enjoyed the support of court nobles like Sanjō Sanetomi and Chōshū power brokers such as Kusaka Genzui. Having previously allied with Chōshū elder Masuda Danjō in 1858 and formed a rapport with Hirano in 1862, Saigō represented a threat to Hisamitsu’s controlled approach. The exile was both a punishment and a preventive measure.

Alternative Voices: Matsudaira Yoshinaga and Katsu Kaishū

Despite its shortcomings, Hisamitsu’s “open country–court-shogunate union” line found significant support in Edo, particularly from newly appointed officials. Matsudaira Yoshinaga, as political affairs director, and Katsu Kaishū, at the rank of warship magistrate, were among those who embraced its potential. These men represented a pragmatic, reform-minded faction within the shogunate that recognized the necessity of engaging with the West while modernizing Japan’s institutions.

Matsudaira Yoshinaga, former lord of Fukui, was known for his progressive views and efforts to promote Western learning and military reform. Katsu Kaishū, a visionary naval expert and statesman, understood that Japan’s future security depended on building a modern navy and adopting international norms. Their support lent credibility to Hisamitsu’s policies in the shogunate’s capital, even as those same policies faltered in Kyoto.

It is worth noting the complex bureaucracy of the late Tokugawa shogunate. Senior councillors functioned as a kind of professional administrative class, while officials like Katsu Kaishū operated in specialized, often technical roles. This division sometimes led to tensions between conservative elders and innovative specialists, further complicating policy implementation.

Cultural and Social Impacts of the Debate

The ideological struggle between “open the country” and “expel the barbarians” resonated deeply within Japanese society. For the samurai class, it represented a crisis of identity and purpose. Many saw the presence of foreigners as a defilement of the sacred soil and a humiliation to national honor. The sonnō jōi movement attracted idealistic young warriors willing to risk assassination and rebellion to achieve their goals.

Conversely, the pragmatic arguments of Hisamitsu and others appealed to those who recognized the material and technological superiority of the West. This faction included not only forward-thinking officials but also merchants and intellectuals who saw opportunity in trade and exchange. The debate fueled a burgeoning public sphere, with pamphlets, speeches, and secret meetings discussing the nation’s direction.

The exiles of figures like Saigō also highlighted the personal costs of political dissent. Removal to remote islands was not just a physical punishment but a symbolic erasure from the political arena. Yet, as Saigō’s continued correspondence shows, exile could not completely silence influential voices or prevent their ideas from circulating.

Legacy and Modern Relevance

The confrontation between Saigō Takamori and Shimazu Hisamitsu in the early 1860s was a microcosm of the larger struggle that would define the Meiji Restoration. Hisamitsu’s efforts to avoid war through diplomacy and selective modernization foreshadowed the Meiji government’s eventual embrace of fukoku kyōhei. However, his failure to build a genuinely inclusive coalition underscored the difficulty of achieving consensus in a fractured political landscape.

Saigō’s advocacy for broader alliances and national unity, though thwarted at the time, reflected a persistent need to reconcile diverse interests. His later role in the Meiji Restoration and his tragic rebellion in 1877 illustrated both the potential and the pitfalls of samurai leadership in a rapidly changing world.

The events of this period also offer lessons for modern times. The tension between isolationism and engagement, between national pride and pragmatic adaptation, remains relevant in many countries facing globalization. Japan’s eventual success in transforming itself into a modern nation-state owed much to the difficult debates and hard choices made during the Bakumatsu years.

In the end, the polarizations of the early 1860s—between exile and power, between opening and expelling—were not merely historical footnotes. They were essential struggles that shaped Japan’s path to modernity, reminding us that progress often emerges from the clash of visions and the courage to confront impossible choices.