Censorship at Sugamo Prison

by Kokoro Igawa

Following World War II, the Allied Powers prosecuted, sentenced, and imprisoned Japanese war criminals across the Asia-Pacific. From December 1945, all Japanese war criminals incarcerated in Japan—including those repatriated thereafter—were held in Sugamo Prison (Wilson et al. 2017, 106). Sugamo thus became a central site where these individuals grappled with their responsibility for the war and shaped attitudes that influenced their reintegration into Japanese society (Wilson 2011, 173).

Sugamo Prison was originally built by the Japanese Empire to hold political prisoners, but was repurposed by the United States in October 1945 during the Allied occupation (Ginn 1992, 1). The U.S. occupation was predicated on the goal of demilitarizing and democratizing Japan to prevent the reemergence of fascism. As such, the rules and conditions in Sugamo generally reflected these principles, although they ebbed and flowed throughout, especially following the Occupation. Despite housing war criminals—and in the immediate postwar context of unhealed wounds and enduring hostility—conditions in the prison seemed to have been far from destitute, even under American occupation (Wilson et al. 2017, 115). The Americans sought to use Sugamo Prison to showcase the humanity and liberty that democratic countries extend to their prisoners (Ginn 1992, 9). Thus, the flow of information out of and into the prison was relatively unrestricted—especially the latter. 

Photograph of Sugamo Prison, 1948, Wikimedia Commons.

The Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal took place on a highly publicized global stage and was extensively covered by the media. However, once behind prison walls, the fate and treatment of war criminals were kept out of sight (Wilson et al. 2017, 105). General Douglas MacArthur imposed a strict ban on photographing Sugamo’s facilities, a policy that historians like Lindsey Powell and Chunmei Du argue created a paradox: the prison was meant to exemplify humane treatment, but visual evidence was restricted (Powell and Du 2015, 4-6). Nonetheless, such rules prevented the prisoners from becoming unwilling subjects of photographs at their lowest moments and preserved what remained of their dignity. The prison, according to MacArthur, was intended to be a space “free from the indignities of the growing swarm of paparazzi outside the gates” (Powell and Du 2015, 6). 
​
A former American guard reports that, “Before December 1948, the prison officials would have virtually shot anyone caught taking a picture of those cells” (Ginn 1992, 226). However, such a rule was not entirely effective in preventing American guards from secretly taking photos of where they were stationed and the facility that imprisoned some of the most infamous war criminals of the postwar period. These pictures served as valuable keepsakes that captured their daily realities and souvenirs for the guards to send to their families back home.

In place of photographs, drawings became a key medium for sharing information. American guards commissioned sketches from prisoners like Tobita Tokio, often trading them for cigarettes or lighter duties. These drawings, depicting “celebrity prisoners” like wartime Prime Minister Hideki Tojo, were sent home to showcase the guards’ proximity to notable figures (Powell and Du 2015, 6). For a 17-year-old guard, being assigned to Tojo was considered “an honor” (Ginn 1992, 200). Prisoners also exchanged drawings as parting gifts, such as those given by Tobita to fellow inmates like Prince Nashimoto Morimasa upon release, serving as a way to “bring the inside outside” (Powell and Du 2015, 4, 10). Between November 1945 and January 1948, drawing was officially prohibited, but guards often supplied scarce paper and requested sketches regardless (Barette 2013, 64).

Prisoners released from Sugamo were another source of information on the conditions inside the prison. In a press report, a former prisoner claimed that the prison “was like a high-class apartment-house and that the inmates were rationed more than three go of rice a day” (Kodama 1960, 144). Such reports sparked resentment among the Japanese public, prompting American guards to tighten regulations on personal belongings and incoming mail. As the war crimes trials progressed, stricter oversight was enforced to prevent suicides. By early 1947, external packages and mail were banned, though books remained an exception, freely permitted to inmates (Kodama 1960, 216).

Though the flow of information coming out of Sugamo was subject to censorship, the channels of information entering the prison were significantly more relaxed. When Yoshio Kodama, a Class-A war crimes suspect, entered Sugamo Prison in January 1946, he brought with him a sizable collection of books and continued to receive books in the mail from his wife (Kodama 1960, 2). Prisoners also had access to multiple newspapers and thus had little trouble keeping up to date with events outside of prison. Kodama wrote in his diary in August 1946 that he could “fully follow the changes that are occurring in the outside world” and that he felt he could understand these changes “more objectively” and “correctly” than those in the outside world (Kodama 1960, 158). However, in a diary entry less than three months later, in November 1946, he wrote that those in Sugamo “get only the vaguest sense of what is going on the other side of the concrete wall,” suggesting that they still felt significantly disconnected from the wider society (Kodama 1960, 194). 

Photograph of the General Headquarters Building of SCAP, 1950, Wikimedia Commons.

“Mugshots” of Yoshio Kodama and Ryoichi Sasakawa in Sugamo Prison, 1946, Wikimedia Commons.

In late 1948, the Tokyo Trials drew to a close, and the Occupation shifted increasingly toward policies that prioritized reform, ushering in a period defined by an institutional framework that focused on reforming the war criminals that remained in prison. This rehabilitation effort sought to prepare war criminals for reintegration back into Japanese society and was part of a push to “affirm the justice of the trial process” and prove that the Occupation was doing more than just punishing (Wilson et al. 2017, 120). As such, prison policies began to place greater emphasis on freedom and education as part of the reform process. Prisoners had access to a wide range of books and newspapers from the nearby Ueno Library, as well as the free time to engage with subjects such as philosophy and economics. The men’s eagerness to learn and advance their education further inspired prison authorities to offer even more opportunities. This wide range of rich educational experiences and opportunities was given the name Sugamo Daigaku, or Sugamo University (Yamaguchi 2013, 57). During the same period, under American occupation, a weekly prison newspaper called “Sugamo Shinbun” began to be published as part of rehabilitative vocational training (Yamaguchi 2013, 55). 
Though subject to censorship, Sugamo Shinbun facilitated intellectual exchange. Its front page covered global and national affairs, but criticism of American occupation policies or Tokyo Trials decisions was prohibited. Initially, the newspaper faced post-publication review, with inmates required to submit translated copies and adhere to content restrictions (Utsumi 2004, 86). When these rules were violated, pre-publication censorship was introduced. In early 1951, between the 137th and 138th editions, the newspaper’s staff was abruptly replaced, officially due to the expiration of their six-month contract. However, some historians suggest the real reason was criticism of execution decisions for Japanese war criminals in the Philippines (Utsumi 2004, 89). The newspaper was later revived with new writers.
English-speaking prisoners translated Sugamo Shinbun into The Sugamo Weekly News for review by American authorities, including the U.S. State Department and the General Headquarters of the Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers. While freedom of expression was officially promoted, criticism of U.S. policies or the Tokyo Trials was strictly censored (Utsumi 2004, 86). Notably, when Class-A war criminals like Hideki Tojo were sentenced to death or Nobusuke Kishi was acquitted in late 1948, Sugamo Shinbun did not report these events (Utsumi 2004, 91). Censored Japanese editions left blank spaces as a form of “silent resistance,” while English translations showed no evidence of edits (Yamaguchi 2013, 65). Interestingly, discussions of communism were permitted in early 1951, reflecting prisoners’ access to books on communism and Leninism, despite prevailing Cold War anti-left sentiments (Yamaguchi 2013, 67). Thus, compared to the wartime period, prisoners faced fewer restrictions on the kinds of intellectual material they could engage with, but they faced new constraints on the opinions they could voice. 

In April 1952, when the San Francisco Peace Treaty came into effect and the American occupation of Japan came to an end, Sugamo Prison was once again under the control of Japanese officials, and prisoners’ connections to the outside world grew exponentially (Wilson 2011, 172). They were no longer subject to the censorship of American authorities and had the freedom to criticize their continued imprisonment and postwar conditions. Many exercised this freedom to pressure politicians, the press, and the public for their sympathy and the release of the prisoners. Far from being censored, many prisoners harshly and openly attacked the Japanese government for what they saw as its insufficient effort to secure war criminals’ release with the Allied Powers in the peace treaty (Wilson 2011, 178). They published essays and books to these ends, which were widely consumed by the public, and received visits from a wide range of high-level bureaucrats and cabinet ministers who offered their moral support (Wilson 2011, 181). These explicitly political actions were highly publicized in the media, and prisoners were given platforms to voice their concerns and present their views to the Japanese public, helping to turn the tide of public opinion in favor of their release. Though many of these war criminals made these comments anonymously due to fear of being targeted by the Allied Powers, who still retained the power to decide who would be released, censorship was virtually nonexistent by this point. 

Prisoners in Sugamo Prison faced censorship of the information allowed out of the prison from the very beginning of the occupation period. However, these restrictions eventually relaxed—with some important exceptions, such as criticism of occupation policies—in favor of a more democratic, reform, and education-centered approach. Serving as a “model” for how democratic nations treat their prisoners, war criminals in Sugamo may have experienced less censorship than the Japanese public, who had been subjected to a bureaucratic censorship apparatus that extended to “every form of media and theatrical expression” (Dower 1999, 407). Despite such restrictions, however, the prisoners and American guards in Sugamo found creative ways to “bring the inside outside” (Powell and Du 2015, 10). Prisoners also utilized outlets like “Sugamo Shinbun” to exchange ideas among themselves and to amplify their voices. Further, once Japan regained control over Sugamo Prison, the prisoners were free to express their views as they pleased and had a wide-reaching platform through which to disseminate their voices. 



Sources:
Barrette, Bill. “Sugamo Life: Prison Arts Under American Occupation, 1945-52.” Impressions, no. 34 (2013): 54–83. http://www.jstor.org/stable/42597901. 
Dower, John W. Embracing Defeat: Japan in the Wake of World War II. W.W. Norton & Co., 1999.
Ginn, John L. Sugamo Prison, Tokyo: An Account of the Trial and Sentencing of Japanese War Criminals in 1948, by a U.S Participant. McFarland & Company, 1992.
Kodama, Yoshio. Sugamo Diary. Translated by Taro Fukuda, 1960.
Powell, Lindsey, and Chunmei Du. 2015. “Escaping Sugamo Prison with a No. 2 Pencil: The Drawings of Japanese War Criminal Tobita Tokio.” Visual Studies 30 (1): 1–19. doi:10.1080/1472586X.2015.996384.
Utsumi, Aiko. Sugamo Purizun: Senpantachi no heiwa undo. Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 2004. 
Wilson, Sandra. 2011. “Prisoners in Sugamo and Their Campaign for Release, 1952–1953.” Japanese Studies 31 (2): 171–90. doi:10.1080/10371397.2011.591780.
Wilson, Sandra, Robert Cribb, Beatrice Trefalt, and Dean Aszkielowicz. Japanese War Criminals: The Politics of Justice After the Second World War. Columbia University Press, 2017. https://doi.org/10.7312/wils17922.
Yamaguchi, Noriko. 2013. “Writing New Japan in Sugamo, 1948-1952: The Allied Occupation and Conflicted Democracy.” The Prison Journal 94 (1): 52–74. https://doi.org/10.1177/0032885513512089.