Technology Transfer: Causes, Conduits, and Consequences
In their quest for technological autonomy, the Japanese military and domestic aircraft makers built on a tried-and-tested practice of exchanging foreign and Japanese experts that reached as far back as the Meiji era. Japanese engineers, military observers, and airmen were dispatched to Britain, France, Germany, and the United States. They returned to Japan with detailed information about the latest aeronautical developments and an almost missionary zeal for advancing aviation at home. In return, Japan invited a considerable number of foreign advisers, most notably the French Aeronautical Mission (1918–20) and the British Aviation Mission (1921–23). French, British, German, and US influence greatly accelerated the reshaping of Japan’s aviation. Yet Japan’s military and the country’s emerging aviation industry deftly selected from a wide range of accessible technologies and thus avoided sole reliance on a single country’s expertise.
The direct purchase of hardware and production licenses was another straightforward—if expensive—conduit for technology transfer. For a transition period, foreign imports continued on a limited and very selective base; they allowed Japan to absorb and diffuse the latest foreign aviation technology. Soon aircraft makers left behind the simple assembly of imported, prefabricated parts and managed to take control of the complete production process. Japanese engineers replicated the new technologies and, within a short period, devised their own original innovations.
This historic achievement depended not only on the engineers’ expertise and skill but also on their creativity and originality. What were the sources of such technological creativity and originality as the driving forces behind technological change? There is serendipity or—even more mysteriously—the inventor’s accidental flash of inspiration. Memoirs and hagiographies of heroic designers tend to downplay the chance character of discoveries while connecting the proverbial “eureka moment” with the protagonist’s genius.1 Such a view seems to suggest that creativity is driven by an autonomous (that is, context-free) dynamic that defies explanation.
In this book I tried to frame the phenomenon of creativity with an institutional and social context. Indeed, the emergence of an organizational structure for sustained technological inventiveness was a critical juncture in Japan’s aviation history. Such a “technological support network”2 had a significant practical implication: it institutionalized innovation. For many who entertain the idea of the brilliant solo inventor, the phrase “institutionalized innovation” might sound like an oxymoron. Yet it is important to realize the role of the state, the military, and the industry that provided the organizational structure along with the capital and equipment to motivate and stimulate innovators. As we have seen, the academic departments of aeronautics and laboratories and design sections of civil aircraft makers—together with the military’s arsenals—developed into venues of original research and creative development that propelled Japanese aviation to the forefront of aeronautical advance.
Obviously, the institutional model covers only the functional aspects of creative innovation. Any exclusive reliance on such a framework might result in a “total systematization [that] excludes all adventure.”3 To steer clear of any institutional determinism, this account of Japan’s aviation history paid careful attention to the creative historical actors: ingenious and resourceful aeronautical innovators. These engineers, with formal scientific and technical training, formed well-organized groups of “rational inventors.”4 They embodied the decisive transition from a purely empirical
Japan’s aeronautical engineers might have followed the motto “the sky is the limit.” Yet even the most brilliant innovators could not shun the gravitational pull of institutional inertia and rivalry. Even though these rational inventors benefited from institutional support, they often faced fierce resistance to innovation at the same institution. Paradoxically, even though the military was the driving force behind the development of Japan’s aviation, a significant number of high-ranking officials obstructed the advancement of the air arm. The notorious rivalry between the Imperial Japanese Army and the Imperial Japanese Navy resulted in costly parallel developments and effectively interdicted technological transfer between the two services. Furthermore, military innovators often faced a rigid environment that showed little inclination to consider unorthodox ideas or experiment with new concepts. In the 1930s, the army’s traditionalists still valued the soldier’s fighting spirit over modern technology and were loath to attribute a significant role to the new aerial weaponry. As a result, the army failed to implement advanced airpower doctrines that stressed the importance of fighter aircraft for gaining air superiority and a strike force of long-range bombers for strategic bombing missions into an enemy’s hinterlands.
The modernizers at the Imperial Japanese Navy had to fight similar battles with the advocates of a big-ship, big-gun policy: these advocates pledged the navy’s strike force to giant battleships rather than powerful naval aviation. Yet the remarkable advancement of Japan’s naval aviation technology strengthened the position of the navy’s airpower faction. As a result, and in marked contrast to the army, technological innovation had a profound effect on the navy’s battle doctrine and air strategy. A new generation of flying boats enabled the navy to independently carry out long-range air missions in the Pacific. Even more important, carrier-launched
The Media and the Public: Anxieties, Exhilaration, and Fervent Nationalism
Japanese media became the vital link between the military’s aviation project and the public. The press repeatedly echoed the military’s concern about foreign aeronautical superiority and Japan’s technological backwardness. A pattern emerged where newspaper articles articulated, intensified, and at the same time soothed their readers’ worries. Detailed accounts informed the readers about the latest advances in Japanese aviation. These reports emphasized the prowess of the country’s engineers, workmen, and pilots and celebrated Japan’s apparently unstoppable progress in the aviation world. A topic of similar national importance was the quest for attaining technological independence. The Japanese press continuously supported the development of a thriving national aircraft industry and praised the appearance of more and more aircraft that had been built and designed by domestic manufacturers.
Already in the 1870s, the military had become aware of the flying machines’ potential to capture the public’s attention and burnish the army’s and the navy’s images. Public balloon launches received intense press coverage and attracted huge crowds of spectators. In December 1910, Japan’s first motorized flight became a mass spectacle of epic proportions. The event that the military carefully staged in the center of Tokyo attracted more than 100,000 spectators. When Japan’s first pilots took off in their flimsy biplanes, an exhilarated crowd celebrated them as heroes, and the press praised the airmen for having secured Japan’s membership in the exclusive club of airfaring nations.
During the early months of World War I, a curious mix of aerial sensationalism and nationalistic war fever made its first appearance in Japan. When the country fought its first aerial warfare over the German base at Qingdao, the press glorified the fearless Japanese pilots who proved equal or superior to a powerful enemy. In the following years, Japanese
Close cooperation between the press and the military resulted in a series of transcontinental flights that became a strikingly efficient instrument to forge national pride and identity in foreign air space. In July 1925, more than 150,000 Japanese watched two aircraft take off for the “visit Europe flight,” a venture sponsored by the Asahi newspaper and carried out largely by the Japanese Army. In April 1937, a converted Mitsubishi bomber left Japan for a flight to London, setting a new flight-time world record. Just two years later, Japan celebrated its first around-the-world flight: the Nippon covered a distance of more than 52,000 kilometers before safely returning to Tokyo. These endeavors were advertised as good-will flights and manifestations of Japan’s efforts for international understanding. They further stirred Japanese air-mindedness and propagated the high standard of Japan’s aviation at home and abroad.
International Relations: From Cooperation to Alienation and Conflict
The interaction between Japan’s aviation and the country’s international diplomacy and military strategy is a tale full of ironies, unintended consequences, and devastating outcomes. Post–World War I diplomacy had a profound impact on Japanese aviation, leading to a massive transnational flow of matériel, experts, and ideas. The 1919 Treaty of Versailles provided the Japanese unprecedented access to German aircraft, aircraft engines, and equipment and unintentionally paved the way for German aircraft makers to do business with Japan. This illicit move, which was sanctioned by both governments, led to a Japanese–German rapprochement and alienated Japan from its erstwhile allies. At the same time, the Japanese benefited from the postwar slump of the Allied aviation industries. They welcomed French and British willingness to export aeronautical hardware
During the interwar period, two important diplomatic initiatives led to what can be called a paradoxical disarmament. The 1922 Washington Naval Treaty and the 1930 London Naval Treaty were calls for arms reduction. While the Japanese Navy agreed on limiting the number of its warships and submarines, it redirected appropriations toward a significant expansion of naval airpower. Even though the conclusion of the treaties still nurtured the hopes of multilateral cooperation, Japan’s international relations soured. A revised Imperial Defense Policy promoted the United States to “Japan’s number-one hypothetical enemy,” and military planners initiated a hugely expensive project for a fleet of long-range bombers to attack US bases in the Philippines.
During the takeover of Manchuria, Japanese bombers engaged for the first time in air raids not only against combatants but also against civilians. These campaigns met with international criticism and accelerated Japan’s isolation, which became manifest with the country’s withdrawal from the League of Nations in 1933. In 1934 the Japanese government decided to abrogate the Washington Naval Treaty; in the following year, it withdrew from the London treaty as well. As a result, the pace of Japanese aerial armament accelerated dramatically.
After the start of the Second Sino-Japanese War in 1937, the Japanese resumed bombing civilians on an unprecedented scale. This time the airpower deployment caught the Japanese in a fundamental dilemma. The further expansion of airpower crucially depended on the import of US fuel, aluminum, and production tools. But US embargoes set up in response to Japan’s bombing campaigns severely jeopardized the advancement of Japan’s aviation industry. A ticking-clock scenario emerged, enticing Japan’s military officials to bet the country’s fate on the technological excellence of their airpower and on—what they believed to be—a uniquely Japanese fighting spirit of their pilots to win against a numerically superior enemy. Cut off from essential resources and technology, Japan’s reliance on international diplomacy gave way to a dogged confidence in military power to fight what they imagined would be a short, decisive war.
Transwar Continuities and Postwar Disruptions: Japanese Aviation after 1945
Soon after their country’s defeat in World War II, Japanese aeronautical engineers reexamined the fundamental deficiencies of the country’s wartime aviation industry. Many of these specialists arrived at the view that—apart from the obvious shortage of resources and labor—Japan had lost the war in its research departments and design offices.5 Some also declared that Japan’s science and technology had been driven by a mistaken war of aggression and compared the results of their wartime efforts with “jewels sunk to the bottom of disgrace.” Now it would be necessary to restore science and technology to its “original position as a foundation of peace.”6 Virtually from day to day, scientists and engineers repurposed their trade from a means of imperial expansion to an instrument for rebuilding a democratic Japan.7 In January 1946 the Federation of Democratic Scientists (Minshushugi Kagakusha Kyōkai) was founded.8 In the same year, the Foreign Ministry issued a report that contended a mutual dependence between democracy and technological development: “Without democratization it will be difficult to achieve technological advance, and at the same time without technological advance we will be unable to achieve true economic democratization.”9
The Demise of Japan’s Aircraft Industry
“The mighty falls at last, to be no more than dust before the wind.” This bleak photograph shows some remainders of a once-proud air fleet crammed in a scrapyard. (Source © Japan Aeronautic Association; quote from Tale of the Heike, translation by Helen Craig McCullough)
Determined to completely break up Japan’s aircraft industry, SCAP’s General Headquarters went even further. In January 1946 they took into custody around 390 research laboratories, arsenals, and aircraft manufacturing sites. In November 1947, the dismantling of Japanese factories began with a priority on the former armament industry. There was only one way for erstwhile arms manufacturers to avoid the demolition of their factories: they could apply for armament conversion. By November 1948, 182 out of 300 aircraft manufacturing plants received a permit for the “conversion” of their production from military supply to civilian goods.11
The workforce of the former aviation industry also faced tough times. By the end of the war, the number of employees involved in design or production of aircraft had exceeded 1 million, including about 100,000 engineers and highly qualified technicians. Confronted with the General Headquarters’ draconian measures, many former aviation engineers moved into the industries of precision mechanics and optics or went into automobile manufacturing. Others joined the Transportation Ministry’s Railway Technology Research Institute (Tetsudō gijutsu kenkyūjo), where they played a key role in the development of the Shinkansen high-speed passenger train.12
A Changing Geopolitical Climate and the Revival of Japan’s Aviation
With aircraft manufacturing coming to a complete stop and engineers finding employment elsewhere, it was difficult to imagine a return of Japan’s aviation industry. However, in the early 1950s the escalation of
While the Korean War hastened US plans for Japan’s rearmament, large segments of the Japanese public opposed the country’s remilitarization and any reinstatement of a national armament industry. Even though Prime Minister Yoshida Shigeru (1878–1967) was well aware of the unpopularity of a fast and comprehensive military buildup, he reluctantly gave in to US demands. In March 1954 Yoshida signed the US-Japan Mutual Defense Assistance Agreement; the same year, Japan Self-Defense Forces were established under the direction of the Japan Defense Agency.
Soon a sweeping interministerial rivalry emerged that bore a remarkable resemblance to the notorious pre-1945 army-navy antagonism. Unlike Japan’s powerful World War II Imperial General Headquarters, the Defense Agency had no direct authority over the domestic aviation industry. Neither was the agency in a position to counter the Ministry of Finance’s strong hold on the defense budget. Moreover, the powerful Ministry of International Trade and Industry (MITI) also showed a strong ambition to be in control of the newly reemerging aviation industry. Finally, a compromise was reached that put the Defense Agency in charge of setting up plans and guidelines for the Air Self-Defense Force’s equipment, while MITI controlled the aircraft manufacturers’ production facilities and channeled government subsidies and investments.13
The Rocky Road to Japan’s First Postwar Jet Engine
Ishikawajima Heavy Industries, the company that developed the wartime Ne-20 jet engine, also endeavored to build on past successes. In July 1953, the firm established—along with Shin Mitsubishi, Fuji Precision Industry, and Ōmiya Fuji Industry—the Nihon Jet Engine Company (NJE).15 Yet it turned out that NJE’s first engine, the JO-1, was no match for its US counterparts, which were more than twice as powerful. The JO-1 project was abandoned in December 1955. In the same year, the Defense Agency ordered NJE to develop a new engine for Japan’s first jet trainer. The company could not meet the delivery deadline, so—contrary to the Defense Agency’s ambitious plans—the new Fuji T-1 jet trainer made its first flight in January 1958 with a British Orpheus engine. To make matters worse, when NJE finally delivered four jet engines, none met the required performance levels. With little prospect for setting up a successful series production, NJE ceased operations in 1959.
NJE’s failure revealed the difficulties in closing the gap between wartime technology and the advances of the 1950s. It also confirmed the view of those who argued that Japan should give up its expensive aspirations for indigenous engine development and engage in the licensed production of foreign designs. Such an approach would be more helpful for advancing the jet engine industry, especially after the United States announced easier access to production licenses.
Japan Returns to the Jet Age
Kawasaki and Mitsubishi were the main beneficiaries of the Mutual Security Agreement. Kawasaki set up a production line for Lockheed’s T-33 jet trainer, and Mitsubishi engaged in building the North American Aviation’s F-86 Sabre fighter aircraft. The US government agreed to cover about 45 percent of the US$155 million production cost, clear proof of the importance the United States attached to Japan’s rapid aerial rearmament.16 The arrangement gave Kawasaki and Mitsubishi full access to US jet technology and US-style production. A distinctive pattern evolved that became characteristic of the transfer of US military aviation technology to Japan. Initially, a few aircraft were built and tested in the United States and then brought to Japan. As a second step, beginning in June 1955, Kawasaki and Mitsubishi started with assembling imported, prefabricated parts. Then the Japanese companies moved forward to licensed production, initially under the close guidance of US specialists. During this third phase, the Japanese manufacturers gradually increased the portion of domestically produced components. In sharp contrast to the country’s go-it-alone jet engine program, the licensed production of jet aircraft was remarkably successful. By 1961 Kawasaki and Mitsubishi had built more than 500 trainers and fighters. During these production periods, both companies significantly expanded the portion of made-in-Japan parts to over 60 percent.17
Blue Impulse : Japan’s Acrobatic Flight Team
The opening ceremony of the 1964 Tokyo Summer Olympics was a defining moment of Japan’s postwar transformation. The picture shows Japan’s acrobatic flight team Blue Impulse painting the five-ringed Olympics symbol in a brilliant blue sky. (Source © International Olympic Committee)
An Engineering Master piece Turns intoa Sales Debacle
In 1957 some of Japan’s most experienced engineers went to their drawing boards to design Japan’s first turboprop passenger aircraft, the YS-11.20 All of them had established their reputation with the development of military aircraft before and during World War II. Kimura Hidemasa, designer of the rocket-driven Ōka kamikaze attack plane, chaired the technology committee that consisted of former Nakajima designer Ōta Minoru; Kikuhara Shizuo, who had developed Kawanishi’s H8K flying boat; Horikoshi Jirō, who had risen to fame with his Zero-sen fighter;
The YS-11 made its first flight at Nagoya Airport on August 30, 1962. However, intractable flight control problems caused a major delay for series production. As a result, an impatient All Nippon Airways did not respond to patriotic appeals to “buy Japanese.” In 1963 the airline canceled its YS-11 orders and purchased twenty-five airplanes from Dutch
Japanese ambition to design, build, and sell the country’s first postwar passenger aircraft suffered from a prewar legacy of overambitious engineering that neglected the requirements of efficient production. Furthermore, a fiercely competitive international environment—and a public response that turned from lukewarm support into open criticism—turned a patriotic dream into an economic crash landing.
Beyond the Sound Barrier
While Japan advanced into the supersonic age, tensions with its US ally heightened. In December 1959, Japan’s National Security Council opted for the Lockheed F-104 Starfighter as Japan’s first supersonic fighter aircraft.24 As it turned out, Lockheed had paid about US$1.5 million to Japanese government officials to change their previous decision which favored Lockheed’s competitor Grumman.25 Presumably unaware of these dealings, Mitsubishi, Kawasaki, and engine maker Ishikawajima-Harima welcomed the opportunity to engage in producing a supersonic aircraft.
The Starfighter’s successor also caused intense controversy. In November 1966, the Japanese cabinet approved the procurement of the McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom. In the Diet, this decision for an aircraft that already had been deployed in large numbers in the Vietnam War led to fierce discussions. Opposition politicians argued that “the aircraft with its long flight range and its bombing equipment poses an aggressive threat to neighboring countries.”26 In response to these apprehensions, the Defense Agency ordered the aerial refueling devices and bombing computers to be removed from all F-4 aircraft. In addition to these domestic disputes, the licensed production of the F-4 made it obvious that the United States had become less willing to share advanced military technology,
Before the start of the F-4 licensed production, the military ordered Japanese manufacturers to engage in independent design and construction for a supersonic training aircraft. In 1971 a prototype of the trainer made its first test flight. As a next step, Japanese engineers modified the basic design to turn the trainer into a fighter, the Mitsubishi F-1. The two aircraft types bolstered Japanese self-confidence as the country became the sixth member in the exclusive club of nations that had developed their own supersonic aircraft.28
The quest for a successor to the F-1fighter became notorious for causing considerable contention at home and abroad.29 Both the Defense Agency and Japan’s aircraft manufacturers favored a made-in-Japan fighter rather than relying on foreign technology. In 1983 the National Security Council approved the development of a new fighter, the FS-X, and in 1985 Mitsubishi and Kawasaki presented their detailed design proposals. However, US politicians opposed Japan’s initiative. Expressing their worries about the United States’ soaring trade deficit with Japan, they argued that Japan should buy US aircraft to support US manufacturers and reduce the massive trade imbalance. In October 1987, both governments arrived at a compromise. Mitsubishi would design the FS-X based on General Dynamics’s F-16 fighter. Furthermore, the Japanese had to agree to a bidirectional but lopsided technology transfer. While the United States would not disclose all technological details of the F-16, any new Japanese developments would be made fully available to the US aviation industry. The denial of advanced technology proved to be an opportunity rather than a handicap. Crucial components of the aircraft’s electronic equipment—such as the fighter’s radar, head-up display, and navigation system—were made in Japan. Yet for many Japanese, the unequal partnership was difficult to swallow. Politician Ishihara Shintarō famously protested that “[Prime Minister] Nakasone gave away our technology; all he got in return was Reagan’s friendship.”30
From “Made in Japan” to “Made with Japan”
Japan’s participation in developing and producing the Boeing 767 wide-body twinjet was the country’s first commercial aviation project in cooperation with a foreign manufacturer. Mitsubishi, Kawasaki, Fuji, Nippi, and Shin Meiwa collectively received a 15 percent share of the Boeing 767’s overall production. Production began in 1981, and a satisfied Boeing official confirmed that “Japanese companies have developed into a competent source for the manufacture of commercial aircraft parts.”32 The success of the joint venture led to an important change in Japan’s official aviation policy. According to the 1986 revision of the Law for the Promotion of the Aircraft Manufacturing, subsidies would now be extended exclusively to projects based on international cooperation.33 In early 1989, Boeing showed interest in Japan’s cooperation for the Boeing 777, a 350-seat wide-body airliner. This time Japanese manufacturers secured a record 21 percent share of the new airplane’s development and production.34 The “Triple Seven” made its first flight in 1994 and became a remarkable commercial success, with more than 1,100 sold by 2017.
Japanese participation in designing and manufacturing US airliners reached an unprecedented scale with Boeing’s 787 “Dreamliner.” Mitsubishi, Kawasaki, and Fuji built 35 percent of the Boeing 787. Japan played a key role in developing a light airframe and a wing with advanced aerodynamic properties, significantly reducing fuel consumption and operating costs. Boeing branded the 787 as part of its “made with Japan” program, whereas the Japanese companies proudly marketed the aircraft as a “quasi-national production.”35
A Return to a “Made-in-Japan” Policy?
Soon after the start of the MRJ development, Japan’s government launched a parallel project that was to establish Japan’s technological independence in cutting-edge military aviation. Japanese officials were frustrated by the continuing refusal of the United States to sell its fifth-generation stealth fighter, Lockheed Martin’s F-22 Raptor, to Japan. In 2009, the Japanese government earmarked ¥39 billion for developing an all-Japanese stealth fighter, known under the name X-2 Shinshin (“spirit”). The aircraft’s shape and its carbon-fiber composite material minimize detection by radar. With the X-2’s first flight in April 2016, Japan became the fourth nation after the United States, Russia, and China to have mastered advanced stealth technology.37
Conclusion
A fast-changing geopolitical environment became the key factor in the fate of Japan’s postwar aviation sector. Whereas the end of World War II had brought about the eventual demise of Japan’s aviation, the Cold War sparked and then accelerated its unlikely revival. US–Japan relations became the single most important feature driving this development. Against a background of increasingly strained US relations with the Soviet Union and communist China, Japan transformed from a former enemy into a close ally. This process led to an equally radical reversal of US policy from a complete aviation ban to the full support of Japanese aerial rearmament via generous provision of funds and know-how.
While this process can be seen as a prime example of Japan’s transwar continuities, not all transwar legacies were successful. World War II engineers who aimed to revive the wartime pioneer jet research failed to establish large-scale production of a domestically made jet engine. In a similar way, a selected group of Japan’s top World War II aeronautical engineers managed to design and build the YS-11, Japan’s first commercial turboprop airliner. However, largely due to a wartime legacy of neglecting cost-efficient production, the YS-11 project ended up as a commercial disaster. As a response, Japan’s aircraft industry and lawmakers abandoned an “all-made-in-Japan” doctrine. They turned toward international cooperation, which culminated in the Boeing 787 being “made with Japan.”
Japanese aviation enthusiasm outlived the country’s defeat in World War II, though with a decidedly nonmilitaristic note. The Blue Impulse acrobatic team owes its popularity to upbeat airmanship rather than a display of military airpower. Political and economic leaders continue to emphasize a strong and independent aviation industry and connect it with the country’s prestige and international standing. However, such nationalist rhetoric was faced—and is still facing—an increasingly critical public that, along with the press and opposition parties, has spoken out against rapid rearmament and offensive airpower as much as against bribes and wasteful government spending.
A strong US–Japanese military alliance, well-established technological internationalism, and a government under close public scrutiny suggest a rather down-to-earth development of Japan’s aviation with no highflying dreams of military supremacy and little risk of getting lost in technological extravagancies. Yet recent developments, such as the 2014 end of the arms export ban, new security legislations in 2015, and the 2018 plan to upgrade two Izumo-class destroyers to aircraft carriers indicate