The Constitution That Banned War

Based on Wikipedia: Article 9 of the Constitution of Japan

In 1947, Japan did something no nation had ever done before. It wrote into its constitution a clause that permanently renounced war as a sovereign right and pledged never to maintain armed forces. Not as a treaty obligation. Not as a temporary measure. As the fundamental law of the land.

Seven decades later, Japan has one of the most capable militaries in the Pacific—officially called the "Self-Defense Forces"—and tanks that are legally classified as "special vehicles." This is the strange story of Article 9.

What the Constitution Actually Says

The English translation of Article 9 reads:

Aspiring sincerely to an international peace based on justice and order, the Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as means of settling international disputes.

In order to accomplish the aim of the preceding paragraph, land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential, will never be maintained. The right of belligerency of the state will not be recognized.

Read those words carefully. This isn't a promise to avoid aggressive war—something most constitutions implicitly contain. This is a complete rejection of military force as an instrument of national policy, followed by a commitment to maintain no armed forces whatsoever.

The phrase "other war potential" is particularly striking. It was meant to close any loophole. You can't have an army. You can't have a navy. You can't have an air force. And you can't have anything else that might serve the same purpose.

At least, that's what it says.

Who Wrote It?

The authorship of Article 9 has been disputed for decades, and the truth matters because it speaks to whether this was an American imposition or a Japanese choice.

General Douglas MacArthur, the Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers who oversaw Japan's occupation after World War II, claimed that the idea came from Prime Minister Kijūrō Shidehara. According to MacArthur, Shidehara wanted to prohibit "any military establishment for Japan—any military establishment whatsoever."

Shidehara's reasoning was practical, even cynical. He believed that any postwar Japanese military would be so weak and substandard that it would fail to command the respect of the Japanese people. Rather than obsess over rearming, he argued, Japan should simply declare the whole enterprise off-limits.

Shidehara confirmed this account in his 1951 memoir, Fifty Years' Diplomacy, describing how the idea came to him during a train journey to Tokyo. MacArthur corroborated this version multiple times.

But there's a competing theory. Some historians argue that the real driver was Charles Kades, one of MacArthur's closest associates in the Government Section of the occupation authority. Under this interpretation, Shidehara was merely a convenient Japanese face for an American decision.

Constitutional scholar Toshiyoshi Miyazawa went further, suggesting that MacArthur himself originated the concept and used Shidehara as a pawn. Most recent scholarship, however, has swung back toward crediting Shidehara's authorship.

The truth probably contains elements of both narratives. The American occupation wanted Japan disarmed. But it helped enormously to have a respected Japanese statesman genuinely advocate for the same outcome.

The German Parallel

Japan wasn't the only defeated Axis power to face restrictions on rearmament. After World War I, the Treaty of Versailles had imposed strict limitations on Germany's military, overseen by the United Kingdom. Germany was forbidden from having an air force, restricted to a tiny army, and barred from manufacturing heavy weapons.

That prohibition failed spectacularly. Germany remilitarized during the Weimar Republic and then accelerated under Adolf Hitler's regime. By 1939, Germany had rebuilt a war machine capable of conquering most of Europe.

This failure haunted the architects of Japan's postwar order. A treaty could be violated. A constitutional provision, embedded in domestic law and embraced by the Japanese people themselves, might prove more durable.

There was also a philosophical dimension. The failure of the League of Nations to prevent World War II convinced many that collective security could only work if nations agreed to limit their national sovereignty—specifically, their right to wage war. Article 9 was Japan's contribution to this new world order, joined by Germany's Article 24, which allowed the delegation of sovereign powers in favor of collective security.

The Cold War Changes Everything

The constitution took effect on May 3, 1947. Within two years, the entire strategic picture had transformed.

The Chinese Civil War ended in 1949 with victory for Mao Zedong's Communist Party. The Republic of China, America's ally, fled to Taiwan. Suddenly, the United States had lost its major partner against communism in the Pacific.

A demilitarized Japan had made perfect sense when China was friendly. It made considerably less sense when China was Communist and the Cold War was heating up.

Then came Korea.

In June 1950, North Korean forces invaded South Korea. The United States committed ground troops, including the 24th Infantry Division, which was pulled directly from its occupation duties in Japan. This left Japan—a nation constitutionally prohibited from maintaining armed forces—with no armed protection whatsoever.

MacArthur's solution was characteristically creative. He ordered the creation of a 75,000-strong "National Police Reserve." This was organized by an American Army colonel using Army surplus equipment, including tanks.

To avoid constitutional problems, military equipment was given civilian names. Tanks became "special vehicles." The whole enterprise was treated as an expansion of police functions rather than the creation of a military.

A Japanese socialist leader, Shigesaburo Suzuki, sued to have the National Police Reserve declared unconstitutional. The Supreme Court dismissed his case on procedural grounds, avoiding the substantive question entirely.

From Police Reserve to Self-Defense Forces

The legal fiction evolved. In 1952, the National Police Reserve became part of a new National Safety Agency, headed directly by Prime Minister Shigeru Yoshida. Yoshida defended its constitutionality with an argument that would become standard: the National Safety Force lacked "true war potential in the modern era."

In other words, Article 9 only prohibited maintaining forces capable of waging modern warfare. If Japan's forces were weak enough, they weren't technically "war potential."

This argument was dubious when Yoshida made it. It became absurd in 1954, when the National Safety Agency became the Japan Defense Agency and the National Police Reserve became the Japan Self-Defense Forces, known by their Japanese acronym JSDF or, in Japanese, the Jieitai.

The Self-Defense Forces grew steadily. By the late 1980s, defense appropriations were increasing by more than five percent annually. Today, Japan's military spending ranks among the highest in the world, and its naval capabilities—officially called the Maritime Self-Defense Force—are considered superior to the navies of several of Japan's neighbors.

The constitutional question never went away. A 1959 Supreme Court case, the Sunakawa Case, upheld the legality of the U.S.-Japan Security Treaty and reinforced the government's position that armed self-defense was constitutional. But the Court has never directly ruled on whether the JSDF itself violates Article 9.

The Legal Gymnastics

How can Japan maintain one of the world's most capable militaries while its constitution prohibits "land, sea, and air forces, as well as other war potential"?

The government's official interpretation relies on careful parsing. According to the Cabinet Legislation Bureau, "war potential" in paragraph two means force exceeding the minimum level necessary for self-defense. Anything at or below that level doesn't constitute war potential.

This interpretation transforms a blanket prohibition into a calibrated limitation. Japan cannot maintain offensive military capabilities, but it can maintain defensive ones.

In practice, this means Japan cannot possess:

• Intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs)
• Nuclear weapons or other weapons of mass destruction
• Aircraft carriers
• Bomber fleets

But Japan can and does possess:

• Submarines
• Destroyers equipped with Aegis missile defense systems
• Helicopter carriers (with plans to operate vertical-takeoff fighters)
• Advanced fighter aircraft
• Cruise missiles
• Unmanned aerial vehicles

The distinction between "defensive" and "offensive" weapons is inherently slippery. A submarine can defend your coastline, but it can also sink enemy ships anywhere in the world. A destroyer can shoot down incoming missiles, but it can also project power across vast distances.

Some Japanese citizens and legal scholars argue that the JSDF is simply unconstitutional, and Japan should pursue genuine demilitarization. The Supreme Court has never agreed, ruling that nations have an inherent right to self-defense. But the tension between the constitution's text and Japan's military reality has never been resolved.

The 2014 Reinterpretation

For decades, Article 9 was interpreted to prohibit "collective self-defense"—the principle that an attack on an ally is an attack on you. Under this reading, even if North Korea attacked South Korea or China attacked Taiwan, Japan could not use force to assist its allies because Japan itself was not under attack.

This changed in July 2014, when Prime Minister Shinzo Abe's cabinet approved a reinterpretation allowing Japan to exercise collective self-defense in certain circumstances. If one of Japan's allies were attacked, and the attack created an "existential crisis situation" for Japan, the Self-Defense Forces could now respond with force.

The National Diet—Japan's parliament—made this reinterpretation official in September 2015 through a series of new security laws. The stated justification was straightforward: failing to defend an ally would weaken alliances and ultimately endanger Japan.

This was controversial for several reasons.

Critics argued that Abe had circumvented the constitutional amendment process. Amending Japan's constitution requires a two-thirds vote in both houses of the Diet, followed by a majority in a national referendum. Abe's cabinet simply announced a new interpretation without any of these steps.

Supporters countered that the constitution hadn't changed—only its interpretation had. The government had always claimed the right to interpret constitutional provisions. This was simply a new interpretation of longstanding language.

International reactions split along predictable lines. China opposed the move, seeing it as a step toward Japanese militarization. The United States, the Philippines, Vietnam, and Indonesia welcomed it. South Korea took a middle position, neither opposing the reinterpretation nor endorsing it, while making clear that Japanese forces should not operate near the Korean peninsula without Seoul's explicit consent.

The Failed Revision

In May 2017, Abe announced a goal: revise Article 9 by 2020 to explicitly legitimize the Self-Defense Forces within the constitution. No more pretending that tanks were special vehicles. No more arguing that an army isn't really an army. Just straightforward constitutional recognition of Japan's military.

He never achieved it.

Amending Japan's constitution is extraordinarily difficult. You need a two-thirds supermajority in both houses of the Diet, then a national referendum. The Liberal Democratic Party, or LDP, which Abe led, has advocated changing Article 9 since 1955. In all that time, they have never secured the necessary votes.

Part of the problem is Komeito, the Buddhist-affiliated party that has been the LDP's coalition partner for decades. Komeito has consistently opposed changing Article 9, and without their support, the LDP cannot reach the two-thirds threshold.

Abe retired in 2020 due to health problems. Article 9 remains unchanged.

The Political Landscape

Japanese political parties take varied positions on Article 9, and understanding these positions illuminates the broader debate.

The Liberal Democratic Party has sought to revise Article 9 since its founding in 1955. The current party position would add language explicitly authorizing force for self-defense against aggression directed at Japan. This wouldn't fundamentally change current practice, but it would eliminate the constitutional ambiguity.

The Constitutional Democratic Party, the main opposition, generally agrees with the LDP's interpretation of Article 9 as allowing self-defense. Like the LDP, they support adding explicit authorization for self-defense.

Komeito, despite being the LDP's coalition partner, opposes constitutional revision. Their Buddhist pacifist heritage makes them deeply skeptical of any change to the peace clause.

The Japan Socialist Party—historically Japan's major left-wing party—long considered the JSDF unconstitutional and called for complete demilitarization. But when they joined a coalition government with the LDP in the 1990s, they reversed course and recognized the JSDF as constitutional. Pragmatism trumped principle.

The Japanese Communist Party still considers the JSDF unconstitutional. Their proposed alternative is an "armed militia"—though the distinction between a militia and an army can be elusive.

Why Article 9 Matters Beyond Japan

Article 9 represents one of history's most ambitious experiments in constitutional pacifism. It asks whether a nation can legally bind itself never to wage war, and whether such a commitment can survive the pressures of international politics.

The results are mixed.

On one hand, Article 9 has been remarkably effective at constraining Japanese foreign policy. Since 1947, Japan has not used military force in international conflicts. During the 1991 Gulf War, when the government wanted to join the American-led coalition against Iraq, the Cabinet Legislation Bureau ruled that doing so would violate Article 9. Japan was limited to providing financial assistance—$13 billion, which the United States and others criticized as inadequate, but which respected the constitutional prohibition.

On the other hand, Article 9 has not prevented Japan from building a substantial military. The constitutional language has been interpreted, reinterpreted, and stretched until it bears little resemblance to its original meaning. Tanks are special vehicles. Armies are police reserves. Aircraft carriers are helicopter destroyers.

Perhaps the most honest assessment is that Article 9 created a powerful norm against the use of force while allowing the gradual accumulation of defensive capabilities. Japan has the means to wage war but has not done so. Whether this represents the success of constitutional pacifism or its failure depends on which you value more: the prohibition on force or the absence of forces.

The American Factor

Article 9 cannot be understood without the U.S.-Japan security alliance. American forces have been stationed in Japan continuously since World War II under the Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security. The United States provides Japan's nuclear umbrella and commits to Japan's defense.

This arrangement has always created tension with Article 9. If Japan renounces war and maintains no armed forces, how can it host the military of a nation that very much maintains armed forces and uses them regularly?

The legal answer is that American forces are American, not Japanese. Japan isn't maintaining an army; it's allowing an ally to station troops on Japanese soil. The Sunakawa Case validated this interpretation.

But the deeper reality is that Article 9 was always premised on American protection. Japan could afford to renounce war because America hadn't. The constitution's pacifism was underwritten by American power.

This bargain is now under strain. American policymakers have long urged Japan to take more responsibility for its own defense. The rise of China, North Korea's nuclear weapons, and uncertainty about American commitments have intensified the pressure. The 2014 reinterpretation allowing collective self-defense was partly a response to these concerns.

The Future of Article 9

The debate over Article 9 touches fundamental questions about national identity, security, and the lessons of history.

For some Japanese, Article 9 represents the country's rejection of its militarist past and its commitment to peaceful development. Revising it would betray the postwar social contract and risk returning Japan to the path that led to Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

For others, Article 9 is an outdated relic of American occupation, imposed when Japan was a defeated nation and maintained through legal fictions that fool no one. A mature democracy should be able to acknowledge its military honestly and decide for itself when force is appropriate.

The coming years may force resolution. China's growing military power, North Korea's nuclear weapons, and the uncertain future of American commitments create pressures that legal interpretation may not be able to absorb. At some point, Japan may have to choose: genuine pacifism or honest militarization.

Until then, Article 9 remains—a constitutional commitment to eternal peace, maintained by one of the world's most formidable military forces.