(See front cover)
The Japanese Government is building a simple, square-towered Parliament not far from the low, buff-colored wooden Imperial Palace. The Diet and House of Peers meet at present in a low, dingy frame building, which "looks like an orphan asylum," according to Japanese correspondents. To this Imperial orphanage went the peers of Japan last week, some in grey silk kimonos, more in frock coats and high button shoes, to sit on stiff benches behind wooden desks and listen to a speech actually addressed to the entire world: an explanation by Foreign Minister Count Yasuya Uchida of his country's foreign policy. Most cautiously, most meticulously was the speech prepared.
Three weeks ago U. S. Secretary of State Stimson addressed the Council on Foreign Relations in New York, referring to his efforts in January 1932 to stop the Japanese invasion of Manchuria. Said Statesman Stimson:
"The power of the Briand-Kellogg Treaty cannot be adequately appraised unless it is assumed that behind it rests the combined weight of the opinion of the entire world. . . . The American Government's . . . refusal to recognize the fruits of aggression might be of comparatively little moment to the aggressor. But when the entire group of civilized nations took their stand beside the position of the American Government, the situation was revealed in its true sense. Moral disapproval, when it becomes the disapproval of the whole world, takes on a significance hitherto unknown in international law."
Last week the League of Nations' commission to Manchuria under Lord Lytton was still in China finishing its voluminous report on the invasion, preparatory to taking it to Geneva. No official announcement was made but every one felt sure that the report would hold Japan guilty of aggression. The Japanese Government had not the slightest intention of modifying its Manchurian policy one iota but it was burningly anxious to know just how far the U. S. and Europe would back their "moral indignation." European reports were reassuring. British editors were as indignant as those in the U. S. but British statesmen kept very silent, anxious not to endanger their friendly relations with Japan. So did the French. French citizens have money invested in the Chinese Eastern Railway, which they are anxious to sell to Japan. In the U. S. the complete text of the Stimson speech was cabled to Japan. Smiling little Ambassador Katsuji Debuchi was called home "on vacation," to give a report on public opinion in the U. S. On his way to Tokyo with his thin, attractive wife and son last week he stopped in San Francisco long enough to have a farewell party with every Japanese consul west of the Rockies. What they said was apparently reassuring. A few hours later Foreign Minister Uchida made his speech to the world.
Recognition. Before he had been speaking 60 seconds two facts were glaringly evident: 1) Japan is ready to give formal recognition to her puppet state of Manchoukuo immediately, and 2) she will take no back talk from the League of Nations. These prime points were made with all the suavity of which Count Uchida is capable and the introduction of a word new to newspaper headlines: fissiparous. Said Japan's Foreign Minister: