Awakening

Since the "China incident" started two years ago the people of Japan have been led to believe that the U. S. was, by & large, sympathetic to their aims. The failure of the U. S. to take action after the sinking of the Panay convinced them there was no danger of intervention; the dispatch to Japan this year of the U. S. cruiser Astoria with the ashes of the late Ambassador Hirosi Saito was played up by the Japanese press as a symbol of U. S. friendship and understanding. What sympathy the U. S. had for China was minimized as a vague feeling for the underdog; few contemplated the possibility that the U.S. might one day become exasperated over the increasing number of incidents involving U.S. property and nationals.

Last week, with the sudden cancellation of the Japanese-U.S. Treaty of Commerce of 1911, the Japanese had a rude awakening. The press scarcely knew what to make of it; political leaders were reluctant to tell the people that the treaty's abrogation might well foreshadow an economic blockade. Tatsuo Kawai, the fastidious, chubby-faced Foreign Office spokesman who gives the foreign press interviews thrice weekly, called the U.S. action "unbelievably abrupt," admitted that it was "highly susceptible of being interpreted as having political significance." At first it was suggested that the U.S. might be ready to conclude a new treaty based on Japan's "new order in East Asia." Later, it was magnanimously said that the U.S. would not, after all, have to recognize the "new order." Characteristic newspaper comment came from Tokyo's Nichi Nichi: "It defies comprehension."

As time passed the meaning of the treaty abrogation was more openly acknowledged. The nation was exhorted to call upon its reserve of selfdiscipline, to remain calm and optimistic. The U.S., it was argued, would probably not dare impose a trade embargo. If the worst happened, Japan could prepare for it in the next six months. And early this week anti-U.S. posters appeared in Tokyo streets, announced: "Britain, America and Russia are our common enemy."

In Great Britain the Government's pleasure was mixed with regret that the U.S. had not gone into action sooner. For earlier in the week at Tokyo, Ambassador Sir Robert Leslie Craigie had conceded to Foreign Minister Hachiro Arita recognition of "hostilities on a large scale" and the "special requirements of the Japanese forces in China." Although Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain disagreed, to almost everybody else Great Britain had taken a diplomatic licking.

Many Chinese were sure that the British had acquiesced in the violation of both the Nine Power Treaty and League of Nations commitments. What the U.S. action did was to encourage the British Government to put brakes on further concessions to Japan. The Tokyo talks between Negotiators Sir Robert and Arita reached a crucial stage. Japan demanded as the price of raising the Tientsin blockade that Great Britain cease supporting Chinese currency and turn over to her the Chinese silver stocks deposited in British Concessions. On this point Mr. Chamberlain has said that he would never yield. Last week, with the U.S. throwing a scare into the Japanese, concession seemed out of the question, even if it meant breaking off the parley.

Chinese talked bitterly of the British "betrayal" at Tokyo, and almost alone in his optimism was Generalissimo Chiang Kaishek. Said he in his regular weekly lecture to Government leaders: "We believe no friends will abandon or betray us while we ourselves remain sound and upright." Next day Chinese morale hit a new high when word of the U.S. State Department's action reached Chungking. Declared one official: "The sympathy stage is definitely past. I think concrete, decisive, anti-Japanese measures will soon be taken."

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