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Resilient l okyo Disaster an~ l ransformation in the Japanese City

• Natural disasters have destroyed, in whole or in part, Japan's cities on numerous occasions. Human action, whether internal warfare or

the air raids of the Second World War, has been the cause of further

devastation. But regardless of the origin of the destructive force, Japan has always rebuilt its cities, and usually with astonishing speed. This chapter argues that while urban disasters can bring about an oppor- tunity for changes in the built environment, they do not appear to

induce innovation per se. 1 Many times, the Japanese rebuilt their cities

much the same as theywere before, innovating only slightly on building codes or urban form. At times "Of ongoing political, economic, and social transformation, however, the leadership sponsored urban change in the wake of destruction. These interventions, instead of responding to post-disaster conditions, were often pared-down versions of pre- disaster concepts, constrained by limited finances, the lack of appro- priate planning tools, the strictures of land ownership, and the needs and desires of private initiatives that called for rapid reconstruction and the preservation of traditional urban form.

Societal transformation by itself has promoted the large-scale de- molition and urban transformation of Japanese cities far beyond the

areas touched by natural or human-made disasters. Rapid industriali- zation, urbanization, modernization, and Westernization, following the

Meiji restoration of i868 and the establishment of modern Japan, in

particular buffeted Japanese cities on a grand scale. The repeated de-

struction of the capital, Tokyo (or Edo, as the city was called until

213

[AROlA Hf IN

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1868), and its rapid reconstruction provide an especially compelling

means to examine disaster and rebuilding in Japanese cities. A focus

on Tokyo permits comparison of reconstruction following both sud-

den, natural destruction and human-inflicted attack, as well as analysis

of urban change in the absence of disaster. 2

Earthquakes rattle Japan regularly; typhoons are frequent visitors;

and tidal waves as well as tsunami have wiped out many settlements

along the coasts. Rivers are highly susceptible to flooding, and inun-

dation along major rivers in Edo resulted in the affiuent abandoning

the lowlands to the poor and lower classes and building their villas on

the highlands. Traditional Japanese architecture has responded to such

threats in a variety of ways. Wood construction, for example, provides

flexibility in the event of tremors, and heavy roofing helps to stabilize

houses buffeted by typhoon-strength winds.

But no kind of wooden structure can endure fire, which has be-

deviled Japanese cities throughout history. Conflagrations were so

common in Edo that they were called Edo no hana, the "flowers of Edo." This aestheticization of a potentially lethal natural force suggests

a certain fascination with the awesome power of fire on the part of

Edoites. Indeed, the Japanese seem to have accepted the recurrent ad- ,

vent of urban destruction in general. The location and function of

many disaster-battered cities were rarely, if ever, challenged. The sho-

gunal government (bakufu) attempted to reduce the spread of fires through the creation of broad open spaces (hiyokechi) and ordinances requiring plaster fire-proofing or the use of fire-resistant roof materi-

als.3 Its main intent was the protection of its own lands and those of the feudal lords (daimyo ), which were less prone to widespread fires. The densely built commoners district, on the other hand, where most

of the fires occurred, did not benefit from strong governmental inter- vention. Furthermore, merchants and artisans resisted adopting more expensive fire-resistant materials, and traditional wooden construction

emerged again and again after each disaster. In any case, the govern-

mental measures did little to prevent fires from spreading, particularly

in winter.

The actual reconstruction of affected districts was not undertaken

by the government, but rather left to the private sector. Speedy recovery

was based upon individual action. It was commonly accepted that a

merchant had to be back in business in three days, lest his business be

The Politics of Reconstruction

ruined. 4 Rapid reconstruction was possible because the former build-

ings typically had been burned to ashes, effectively clearing the sites

and enabling new wooden structures to be built almost overnight. The

new buildings themselves were rarely built to better withstand confla-

gration; instead, cheap construction continued to be favored as a means

of reducing financial loss to the owners. Yakeya-a neologism based

on the words for speculative rental row houses (nagaya) and burning

(yake)-were so poorly built that they would bring profit to their in-

vestors even if they easily and frequently vanished in flames. Even when water, fire, or earthquakes wiped away the buildings,

existing land divisions and the reliance on traditional building mate-

rials and techniques favored a return to previous urban forms. Simi-

larly, human-caused destruction in times of warfare did not necessarily

lead to major transformations of city form. Changes in function, on

the other hand, could severely alter a city's standing. Kyoto, the seat of

the emperor, had been destroyed in the Sengoku Jidai (Period of War-

ring States, 1467-1568) by warring factions encamped to the north and

the south of the city. It was rebuilt quickly under the rule of Toyotomi

Hideyoshi, and the population quickly restored. But while the physical

destruction of the city was rapidly overcome, Kyoto's political standing

declined with the subsequent move of the shogun's capital to Edo in

the early seventeenth century. Despite retaining the seat of the emperor,

his court, and a rich artistic heritage, Kyoto was never the same.

This is not to say that fires were insignificant as forces of change.

The great Meireki fire of 1657, the largest fire of the Edo era, is a good

example. Some 108,000 inhabitants of Edo perished in the flames, and most of the city's buildings were destroyed, including the castle keep.

Major reforms followed on the heels of the fire. By the time the Meireki fire raged through Edo, shogunal power had been firmly established, and the complicated defense system around the shogunal stronghold,

built after 1590, was no longer necessary. It became possible to open

firebreaks to the north and west of the castle and to extend the growing

city into the surrounding areas as well as on landfill. 5 The feudal lords

were given land on either side of the outer moats to build secondary

residences, and many even built third estates, in order to hold goods

for the other residences and to serve as a refuge in case fire destroyed

the main residence. 6 All temples and most shrines were moved beyond

the outer moats and even beyond the Sumida River, extending the city

Resilient Tokyo 215

216

farther. The Meireki fire thus enabled the Tokugawa shogunate to adapt Edo's urban structure to the needs of the expanding feudal metropolis

and enabled the city to effectively become the political capital and administrative center of Japan.7

In the following centuries, urban change in Edo remained limited,

even though big fires burned down thousands of houses in the city almost every winter. Rather than upgrading building standards to pre- vent such conflagrations, the authorities instead directed their energy

toward improving fire-fighting capabilities through the creation of fire brigades. 8 Large-scale urban transformation, even in the wake of slate-

clearing disasters such as the Meireki fire, did not take place unless there was a broader societal mandate for change.

Such a mandate came about in 1868 with the Meiji restoration. Industrialization brought about rapid urban growth, while the cities- and particularly the capital, Tokyo-had to provide the physical frame-

work for the regime's new bureaucratic and corporate needs and rep- resentative functions The rapid transformation of Japan from a se-

cluded island nation into a world player did not allow for an overall urban makeover. Instead, the government selected specific places for

intervention. Governmental policy was to create first and foremost those buildings and urban structures crucial to industrial development

and modernization-such as factories, ministries, and infrastructure- leaving most of the city, particularly neighborhoods and the homes of ordinary citizens, relatively unchanged or only transformed under the influence of private investment.

The Meiji restoration introduced national and prefectural govern- ment as well as a system of municipal administration-all of which were invested in the development of the capital city. New economic opportunities and social hierarchies led to the emergence of business leaders whose interests further transformed the built environment. While these new public and private actors at times used disasters as catalysts for change, the emerging political and economic forces of

Meiji Japan themselves transformed many urban areas untouched by

disaster. An examination of Tokyo's history since the Meiji restoration

allows us to compare different types of destruction, consequent strat- egies of reconstruction, and their impacts on the urban landscape.

The brick district in the Ginza area at the heart of Tokyo stands out as an early attempt at fire prevention, modernization, and West-

The Politics of Reconstruction

ernization through reconstruction. After a major fire in 1872, which

destroyed nearly 3,000 houses, the governor decided that reconstruc-

tion in the Ginza area should set an example for fireproof residential

construction, and he retained the English engineer Thomas J. Waters

to rebuild the entire district with brick buildings. The Ginza then be-

came the first Japanese example of urban planning based on the cre- ation of a unified streetscape and the separation of traffic, common in

many European cities at the time. The speedy creation of the new plan was, in part, the result of a government still in flux, effectively run by

only a handful of people, and the absence of a mature body of planning

law and planning responsibility. 9 The new scheme laid out streets fitted

with footpaths and brick buildings adorned with arcades governed by

a strict design code. Projected as the modern entrance to Tokyo, the

Ginza formed the connection between the new train station at Shin-

bashi and the European settlement in Tsukiji.

While the architectural transformation of the Ginza was striking,

changes to its urban structure were less dramatic. The new plan largely

preserved the traditional layout of the area after attempts to unify the

land rights of the district failed. While the widening of many streets

was proposed, in only a few instances did the plan create new roads,

unify blocks, or alter directions in traffic flow. The Ginza took three

years to build; reconstruction with traditional methods would have

been much faster. Tokyoites were slow to warm to the new develop- ment. Buildings looked expensive and not particularly earthquake-

proof. Moreover, they were ill adapted to Japanese lifestyles. Many

remained empty for years, and the entire project was brought to a close in 1877. The Ginza was the first and last attempt at transforming Tokyo along the lines of a major European city. Because the district was de-

stroyed again in 1923 and 1945, these historic planning efforts have largely vanished, and the typical chaotic Japanese cityscape has again prevailed. 10 While public authorities promoted street widening and the

use of fire-resistant building materials as practices in the best interests

of all, the need for a uniform architectural streetscape had no historical

basis in Japan and was subsequently scrapped. While the Ginza project

may be considered a failure in its early years, it laid the basis for the

commercial development of the area, making it a long-term success in regard to land values. 11

Fires provided opportunities for punctual urban improvement

Resilient Tokyo 217

218

planning at the end of the nineteenth century, but Tokyo's leaders also

attempted to establish a more comprehensive plan for a modern in-

frastructural network. Such a plan could then serve as a guide for more

limited renewal projects, as well as for planning in other Japanese cities.

Since 1876 a committee under the Tokyo prefectural governor, Kusu-

moto Masataka, had been working on urban improvement, and by1880

his successor, Matsuda Michiyuki, presented a plan and budget esti-

mate for the most urgent fire-prevention works. To Matsuda, the yak- eya row houses were the source of fires and epidemics, and he proposed to eradicate them from central Tokyo by using a combination of tac-

tics-widening streets, building new canals, and introducing fireproof

construction (brick, stone, and plaster) along the main thoroughfares.

None of these urban planning techniques directly addressed the prob-

lem of the yakeya, which existed in the interiors of the blocks. However, the imposition of new fire-resistant roofing materials-which led to

rising rents and the exclusion of this inexpensive rental housing from

the city center-was intended to hasten the departure of the poor,

while enabling the rich to remain. 12

Under Matsuda's governorship, the city endured several major fires,

as well as the first planning responses to such disasters. During the

winter of 1881, four large fires broke out successively across the city.

One, the Matsuedacho fire, destroyed more than 10,000 houses. In

response, the city authorities enacted a number of successful planning

interventions intended to create firebreaks, including the widening of

fifteen streets and the construction of three canals. These punctual

planning interventions, together with ongoing discussion of more gen-

eral planning issues, led to both the 1888 Tokyo Urban Improvement

Ordinance and the 1889 Tokyo Urban Improvement Plan. 13

While the latter may be viewed in part as a reaction to earlier dis-

asters and fires, the 1889 plan was neither a reconstruction blueprint

nor a project limited to fireproofing. Rather, it outlined a comprehen-

sive strategy focused on infrastructural improvement. Although reali-

zation of the 1889 Tokyo plan was impeded by the Sino-Japanese (1895)

and Russo-Japanese (1904-1905) wars, the 1888 ordinance became the

forerunner of the first Japanese Urban Planning Law of 1919 and es-

tablished the template for subsequent rebuilding efforts. Fire preven-

tion remained the main focus of Japanese urban planning, but at a

The Politics of Reconstruction

time of major political change, the government pursued any oppor- tunity for the adaptation of Tokyo to modern needs.

The transforming capital of Meiji Japan could not wait for natural

disasters to unexpectedly create opportunities for the accommodation of modern functions. Huge urban areas were needed, and fast. The

political transformations were already in motion to provide the nec- essary land. The introduction of land-ownership laws after the Meiji

Resilient Tokyo

Figure 9.1. Tokyo Urban Improvement Plan, 1889. From Ishizuka and Ishida, Tokyo: Urban Growth and Planning (Tokyo: Center for Urban Studies, Tokyo Metropolitan University, 1988). This map has been turned sideways to facilitate comparison with Fig. 9.2.

219

220

restoration made land a tradable, taxable good, while the abolition of

the former aristocratic domains and the return of most of their land-

holdings brought large parcels into the hands of the new government.

Many of these areas were strategically well situated for government and

business districts or factories. As a first step, such land was partly

cleared of existing buildings and subdivisions and used for military

purposes (such as exercise grounds), government offices, factories, ag-

riculture, or other public functions. While these sites were scattered

throughout the city, much of the land formerly attributed to major

daimyo lay just beyond the gates of the former shogunal castle, which

had become the Imperial Palace after the Meiji restoration.

This area-the contemporary Hibiya and Marunouchi districts-

became a central element in the transformation of Tokyo, providing

space for all of the elements of a modern metropolis: a political center,

major park, business district, central train station, and so forth. In i890, the Mitsubishi Company purchased from the military the land not used

or defined in the Tokyo Urban Improvement Plan. Mitsubishi was

influenced to make the acquisition by the example of London's central

business district and the decision to site a new central rail station near

Marunouchi. There was little immediate demand and it took more than

two decades to fill the Mitsubishi Meadow, an area of about seventy

acres. Today, none of the original red-brick buildings survive. Neverthe-

less, the Marunouchi-Hibiya district remains a landmark in Japanese urban development. Few cities anywhere have had a comparable oc- casion for such a tabula rasa-style urban reorganization. With the com-

bined effects of a compelling urban vision for Tokyo and the availability of extensive areas of land at Marunouchi, the modernization of Tokyo and its transformation into a modern capital proceeded smoothly. The Marunouchi-Hibiya area itself, once home to the most powerful dai-

myos, has retained its role as the political and economic heart of Tokyo and Japan through successive changes of leadership.

Other former daimyo areas supported large-scale reconstruction as

well. Mitsubishi also purchased the Kanda-Misakicho area in 1890 and

rebuilt it with wide streets and one thoroughfare bordered by renga-

nagaya-wooden row houses separated by a brick wall for fire protec- tion purposes. 14 The use of brick reflects the advent of new building materials that the Ginza development had attempted to implement. In

The Politics of Reconstruction

contrast to the Ginza, however, there was no insistence on a Western- ized design. The new Tokyo thus kept many of Edo's urban patterns, while the functions themselves changed. 15

Where overall plans did exist prior to a disaster, they were used as

a framework for comprehensive reconstruction, but the existence of such plans and planning tools did not necessarily guarantee innovative

reconstruction. In the 1920s, modern planning had taken root in Japan.

In 1919, the Home Ministry passed the Town Planning and Urban Building acts, developed with the help of its City Planning Section under Ikeda Hiroshi. This legislation introduced a system of zoning, land readjustment, and building lines, which applied to the entire built-

up area, including the urban extension. Visionary public leaders- above all, Goto Shimpei, who held major administrative posts in the

colonies and in Japan-also developed concepts aimed at shaping To-

kyo's urban future. 16 But these first steps at modern planning neither

prevented the vast destruction unleashed by the 1923 Great Kanto earth- quake and its consequent fires, which affected large parts of two major cities, Tokyo and Yokohama, nor did they guide the reconstruction effort in its wake.

Goto, the former mayor of Tokyo who was named home minister on the second day of the disaster, attempted to promote the recon-

struction work as a national project. 17 While his efforts were dogged

by a bureaucratic structure and a decimated budget, a comprehensive plan-the Tokyo Reconstruction Plan-was prepared. This document concentrated on land readjustment and the creation of roads and parks in the built-up areas of the city. But the plan was neither progressive nor responsive to the needs of the expanding metropolis; it was even more conservative and pragmatic than plans discussed before the dis- aster.18 It ignored the developing suburbs and did not provide guide- lines for urban extension, although many people rebuilt their liveli- hoods in the suburbs after the earthquake.

The Tokyo Reconstruction Plan resulted in approximately 8,895

acres of land-readjustment projects, the construction of 157 miles of

roads, and the building of some 55 parks. It also included a unique bridge allocation plan based on urban design principles. The plan re-

mained in effect until 1930 and helped to establish land readjustment as the main Japanese planning tool. 19 Land readjustment has a partic-

ular character in Japan. It does not consist of overall expropriation of

Resilient Tokyo 221

Figure 9.2. Tokyo Reconstruction Plan, i923. From Ishizuka and Ishida, Tokyo: Urban Growth and Planning (Tokyo: Center for Urban Studies, Tokyo Metro- politan University, i988).

222

a site followed by a completely new urban plan, but rather street wid- ening and straightening, which strive to keep the new lots as close as possible to the old ones and thus maintain elements of the traditional urban form.

In the end, the opportunity to transform the city following the earthquake's destruction was not fully captured. In its immediate af- termath, the citizens wanted stability and relief and thereafter they strongly opposed major changes. While citizen opposition did not suc-

ceed in stopping major land-readjustment projects at the time, assem-

bling land for large-scale interventions, even after major disasters,

nonetheless remained a challenge to urban authorities. The longing on

the part of citizens to quickly rebuild their lives, and the Edo "habit"

of fires, further promoted rapid rebuilding according to traditional protocols. To aid the citizenry, construction of temporary barracks in

preassigned firebreak zones was permitted. But the removal of these

The Politics of Reconstruction

r I dwellings was never strictly reinforced, and so large areas of Tokyo

turned once again into densely settled districts of highly flammable

wooden buildings.20

Beyond the reconstruction activities that it caused, the earthquake

of 1923 brought to light existing social problems and spurred a variety

of changes already under way. It sparked violence against Koreans, for

example, who were rumored to be poisoning wells. It also accelerated

the move of the wealthy to the outskirts of the city, a trend that had

begun around 1900 and was further impelled by the great flood of 1910.

At the same time, people began moving from the countryside to these

suburban districts, furthering their growth. New road and rail infra-

structures were built to connect the emerging suburbs with the center

city and to accommodate the burgeoning traffic needs. Specifically,

these involved the construction of terminal stations and of inter-

changes, such as Shinjuku and Shibuya.21

While the development of Shinjuku as a major subcenter of Tokyo

was prompted by disaster, it was reinforced by earlier planning deci-

sions. In 1919, Fukuda Shigeyoshi, a technical officer of the city of

Tokyo, had proposed the development of subcenters like Shinjuku to

promote deconcentration of the growing metropolis. The concept was

taken up in later plans, and Shinjuku's west side has since evolved into Tokyo's high-rise business district and the home of the Tokyo metro-

politan government. Such development was not directly a result of the

1923 Great Kanto earthquake; rather, it was made possible through the availability of the eighty-four-acre site of the Yodobashi water pur- ification plant, which had been built in the late nineteenth century.

Just as the land formerly owned by the military aristocracy had

allowed for the creation of new urban functions, the waterworks be- came the condition for the creation of the Shinjuku business district. A disaster may destroy buildings in a large area, but land ownership

and private initiative will determine the rebuilding trajectory if strong expropriation laws and planning tools do not exist or are not effectively

applied. The reconstruction after the 1923 Great Kanto earthquake il- lustrates how urban development and radical change depend both

upon private and public intervention and their interaction, as well as

on the larger political, economic, social, and cultural conditions pre-

vailing at the time. While the earthquake accelerated the modernization

Resilient Tokyo 223

Figure 9.3. The site of the Shinjuku subcenter before construction, featuring the Yodobashi water purification site From City Planning Institute of Japan, Centenary of Modern City Planning and Its Perspective (Tokyo: City Planning Institute of Japan, 1988).

224

of urban functions and social structure, the catastrophe did not bring

about a progressive project for the Japanese capital. A new urban plan could have emerged following the Second World

War, when the occupation army transformed Japanese politics and eco-

nomics. But after the air raids ofi945, production capacity was crippled

and the economy could not support a massive reconstruction effort.

In contrast to the 1923 earthquake-which left the rest of the country

capable of sustaining the revitalization of the capital region-the Sec-

ond World War touched nearly every major Japanese city. More than

one hundred urban areas, not just Hiroshima and Nagasaki, were se-

verely damaged by air raids and were designated for restoration ac-

cording to the War Damage Restoration Plan. 22 Only a handful of cities

survived the war intact, including Sapporo and the historic cities of

Kyoto and Nara. In response to the national scope of the destruction,

The Politics of Reconstruction

-

the government created a central planning office for reconstruction on

November 5, 1945. In December, the cabinet decided on the policy for

the reconstruction of war-damaged areas, and in September 1946, the

Special City Planning Act was passed. Despite the national planning,

the outcome of postwar :reconstruction efforts varied in each city, as did their prewar experiences with urban planning.23

Moreover, Japan in the postwar years was an occupied country and

did not enjoy complete freedom in the reconstruction of its cities. This

was particularly the case in Tokyo. Based on its strong tradition of

prewar planning, Tokyo was well equipped for comprehensive rede-

velopment, but progress was, nevertheless, slow. To begin with, Allied

forces had taken over part of the city's central business district, as they

had done in Yokohama. 24 While the American occupation forces rarely

interfered with urban issues, the larger postwar changes they set into

motion were manifested in the built environment. There was also a

symbolic dimension to keeping Tokyo in check. This was the national

capital that had hatched the Japanese war machine; grand plans for a

Resilient Tokyo

Figure 9.4. Photo of war destruction

in Tokyo. From Tokyo Metropolitan Govern-

ment, Tokyo: The Making of a Metropolis (Tokyo: Tokyo Metropolitan Government, 1993). Courtesy Asahi Shinbun.

225

226

return to its past glory were not encouraged by the Allied victors. More-

over, the reconstruction policy specifically favored the rebuilding of local cities and did not allocate supplementary funds for the recon-

struction of the capital.

The manager of the Tokyo metropolitan government planning sec-

tion, Ishikawa Hideaki, had led Tokyo's planning since 1933 and was

also in charge of Tokyo's War Damage Restoration Plan. Ishikawa had

very specific ideas about the future of the city, suggesting decentrali-

zation and deconceritration of the urban population. Based on his ideas

for "living spheres" proposed during the war, Ishikawa sought a ward-

area population of around 3.5 million and the development of satellite

and outer towns all over the Kanta plains to accommodate population

and industrial growth. Ishikawa developed a plan for monofunctional

towns containing 200,000 to 300,000 people, set apart by greenbelts

(an inheritance from air defense planning during the war), and struc-

tured by a ring- and radial-shaped road network. Ishikawa's original

plan projected land readjustment on about 50,000 acres, exceeding the

burned-out area. But the nation's financial difficulties and the Fun-

damental Policy for the Reconsideration of Reconstruction Planning

of 1949-based on the American-imposed so-called Dodge line25-

forced reconstruction projects to be scaled down or abandoned, and

curtailed Ishikawa's idealistic concepts.

Ishikawa's plan for a general reconstruction of Tokyo failed, as did

similarly large-scale schemes drawn up by Hans Scharoun and his

group for postwar Berlin-in part because it called for demolition be- yond the destruction of the war in order to create a coherent infra- structural network. Citizens objected to such action. Faced with the need for housing and the enormity of the destruction, they longed for

quick rebuilding and not a city built from scratch. Moreover, existing

property rights and limited finances prevailed against such large-scale transformations.

After 1949, Tokyo's projects were reduced from the original 50,000

acres to a mere 3,000. These were implemented mainly in the districts

of Shinjuku, Ikebukuro, and Shibuya, a move that promoted decon-

centration through the creation of the subcenters that had been sug-

gested decades earlier. Similar reductions applied to the street and park

plans, and none of the proposed 100-meter-wide streets were realized.

The Politics of Reconstruction

Once more, planning in response to fire prevention succeeded, while

efforts to create monumental cityscapes failed. The curtailment of the Tokyo reconstruction projects occurred

shortly before the economic boom of the 1950s, which was triggered

by the Korean War. Had the reconstruction projects remained in place,

they might have guided building in later years. Once the economy

revived, a building boom ensued and land prices soared, making it

even more complicated to implement planned improvements. By 1960

Tokyo's ward population exceeded 8 million, more than double Ishi-

kawa's projection for the population maximum. 26 The infrastructural

improvements of the boom period, hastened by the 1964 Olympics,

concentrated on public land and often involved multilayered highways

built over the old moats and canals. The war reconstruction had, after

all, not provided land for such developments. Beyond infrastructural

improvement, Tokyo's reconstruction was largely left to the private

sector, which quickly reestablished the metropolis as the economic

heart of Japan. 27 While the decades following the Second World War

saw change on multiple levels, the physical form of the city and intan-

gible laws of urban tradition helped to maintain continuities with the

traditional city amid changes in architectural design and building ma-

terials.

By the 1970s Tokyo had fully recovered its prewar functions and

gone beyond reconstruction to become a global city.28 Moreover, it

seems to have forgotten its own legacy of past destruction. Hiroshima

instead has eclipsed Tokyo as the archetype of urban trauma in Japan.

Hiroshima's potent symbolism derives not so much from the number of lives lost in the atomic blast (in comparison, for example, more

people perished in a single Allied air raid on Tokyo on March 10, 1945), but because it was the first time the terrible force of an atomic explosion had been unleashed on a human population. Remarkably, in spite of

Tokyo's many cycles of destruction and recovery, the city has built no

memorials on the order of the Hiroshima Peace Center. 29

A general discussion about political, economic, social, and cultural

aspects of planning in Tokyo was largely absent in the years after World

War II. This was because reconstruction relied mainly on land read-

justment to provide the framework for rebuilding, reconfirming it as

a tool of choice for Japanese planning. As in the aftermath of the 1923

Resilient Tokyo 227

Figure 9.5. Hiroshima Peace Memorial, under

construction. From Ishimaru Norioki,

"Reconstructing Hiroshima and Preserving the Reconstructed City," in

Rebuilding Urban Japan after 1945, ed. Carola Hein, Jeffry Diefendorf, and Yorifusa Ishida

(London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003).

228

earthquake, land-use plans and building regulations were not fully im-

plemented, and Tokyo (as well as other cities) once more saw the

growth of the kind of traditional temporary housing that was partic-

ularly vulnerable to fires.

Tokyo has not seen a major natural catastrophe in seven decades.

Street widening and the use of fire-resistant construction materials par-

ticularly in large-scale recent developments have limited the spread of

fires. The continued existence of large traditional areas with predom-

inantly wooden housing and narrow lanes, however, raises fears that a

future earthquake and its consequent fires could still wreak havoc on

large areas of Tokyo. Statistically a major earthquake is anticipated, and

planning specialists are gearing their proposals toward the next major disaster. As history has shown, the post-disaster reconstruction trajec-

tory depends strongly on the existence of plans and methods that frame

rebuilding not only on the site destroyed, but also in areas that may experience secondary impacts of the disaster. In particular, reconstruc-

tion plans need to be laid out early enough to permit adequate citizen

participation, as the example of the reconstruction of Kobe after the

Great Hanshin-Awaji earthquake in 1995 demonstrates. When the earthquake hit-spurring large-scale fires in the older

sections of the city, but also destroying reinforced-concrete structures

from highways to skyscrapers-the city of Kobe had just approved a new master plan. This projected two subcenters for the city, one of

which was to be in the Shin-Nagata area, which was largely destroyed

in the quake. The catastrophe enabled realization of the plan, but ren- dered its implementation more difficult. In the earliest period after the

earthquake, the government took charge and promoted plans for a

major infrastructural development program and general improvement plan without allowing room for participation; only later could trau- matized citizens voice their opinions. The master plan did not recog- nize the population's urgent needs, especially for housing. Recovery

and reconstruction efforts in those areas of the city with established

citizen initiatives proceeded more smoothly than those without.

This overview of disasters in Japan and their role in the transfor-

mation of cities demonstrates that the response to urban trauma de-

pends upon the larger political and socioeconomic, as well as cultural

and technological situation and the special conditions of the city pre-

vailing at the time. Societal changes more than disasters per se are thus

The Politics of Reconstruction

key to understanding Japanese urban transformation. New urban and architectural forms were introduced after a disaster only when urban planning authorities, public- and private-sector actors, and citizens were all in alignment, or when extraordinary conditions prevailed, as in Hiroshima. The form of destruction and its scale appear to be less

important than the time and the (natural or human-made) context in which these occur. Natural destruction rarely changes the general po- litical and economic conditions by itself. It is usually localized, destroy- ing a part of a city or even an entire city, but leaving the national

government in a position to help with the rebuilding. In the case of war destruction, particularly on the losing side, the overall political,

economic, and societal conditions often change dramatically and-in

contrast to natural disasters, which provoke overall compassion-war

reconstruction is morally charged and requires taking sides. 30 Destruc- tion in the Second World War was also not limited to one area or one

city, but affected many cities and all areas of society-military as well

Resilient Tokyo 229

as civilian. The American occupation forces provoked political, socio- economic, and larger cultural changes, which stimulated further trans- formation.

Disasters alone do not revolutionize planning. Once people have

settled back into their lives, initiatives to improve the cityscape often

slow down, just as attempts to prepare Tokyo for a major earthquake

have not made much progress in spite of the devastation of the Great

Hanshin-Awaji earthquake in Kobe. Unless citizen initiatives are

strengthened through education initiatives (machi sodatte) and the de-

centralization of planning powers, and unless their aims are integrated with a larger analysis of future urban needs and the changing com-

position of society, reconstruction efforts will invariably fall short of

their lofty goals. 31 And the cycle of destruction and reconstruction will continue without improving the lives of the citizenry.

Disasters may serve as opportunities for change, but they may also

provoke the desire to retain the past-as the postwar rebuilding of Warsaw shows. This, however, is more typical for Europe. With their

stone-building culture and relative absence of natural disasters, Euro-

pean cities do not have many opportunities for physical change. Thus, disasters may provoke more transformation (or provoke even more

regret over what disappeared) than similar disasters in, for example,

Eda-period Japan, where physical destruction of buildings occurred regularly, and the intangible urban culture and power structures stayed

the same.

Political, economic, social, and cultural changes or technological innovations can occur rapidly, while transformations of urban and built forms need more time, unless a disaster hits. Although buildings disappear easily, lifestyles have changed only gradually, and they keep

traditional Japanese building elements alive. While the height, form,

material, and appearance of all types of buildings are very different today from a century ago, houses in particular are still built of wood

and contain traditional features and spaces, such as rooms laid out

with reed mats (tatami). Contemporary architectural design and build-

ing materials differ strongly from traditional construction, but land

ownership and the structure of the traditional neighborhoods remain

largely unchanged.

Legal systems further regulate change, creating long-time conti-

nuities, even when the actual construction disappears. Urban land with

The Politics of Reconstruction

small lot divisions strongly resists change, even as technological in- novations demand urban transformations. The increase of horse- drawn carriages and other types of wheeled traffic in the largely pe- destrian Japanese cities since the mid-nineteenth century and the

introduction of the railroad necessitated infrastructure changes. It took years, for example, to build parts of the Yamanote ring line through densely built areas north of Tokyo station or around Shinbashi station.

These same innovations doomed many aspects of traditional Edo, such as canals, waterways, and narrow streets, but did not provoke a com- plete rebuilding, as it proved much easier to follow former streets, canals, or moats than to build a whole new pattern.

The existing urban structure has proven resistant to any type of reconstruction-be it post-disaster or due to other types of change- unless a complex set of political, economic, and social forces promotes

change and there are large tracts of land available for comprehensive transformation.

Inside the existing city, major changes happen on land that is in the hands of a single authority. Large estates, military land, industrial sites, or railway holdings make major urban transformation possible. Outside the city, in spite of being somewhat limited by agricultural land patterns, planners theoretically have a larger chance to implement

new forms-if they can overcome resistance by speculators and private land owners. The creation of new towns, for example, has been a major

theme of postwar urban growth. A future decline in urban population and the end of urban growth, however, may limit such new develop- ment to existing lands. If planners are to intervene in the future trans- formation of a city, they must lay out a long-term plan based on the existing urban structure-one that can be implemented whenever a site is freed through disaster or societal transformation. They also must limit themselves to a handful of ideas that are applicable to that city's culture and traditions. Preserving green spaces and improving public

spaces may be one important aspect of their work. Knowing that the urban structure changes slowly, planners should develop principles

rather than fixed plans for the future.

The history ofJapanese destruction and rebuilding has shown that

even the best political and planning intentions do not prevent disasters from striking cities and that even though the dangers of future disasters

are often known, possible preventive measures are not always imple-

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232

mented. Nonetheless, as long as cities fulfill their functions of sheltering and protecting trade, politics, and everyday life, national and local lead- ers will promote their rebuilding and citizens will move to cities even

though new disasters loom. Urban resilience is thus anchored in the resilience of an intangible urban culture as well as remnants of the physical urban past. A city is more than built form; it is a complex phenomenon of political decisions, economic powers, social structures,

cultural experiences, and legal heritage. As long as these intangible el- ements survive, the physical destruction of the city and even the deaths of large numbers of people do not cause the death of the city. Even

when an urban culture dies, the geographic location, remnants of an older culture, and traces of built form can influence a reconstruction centuries later. It is thus not surprising that pride and urban resilience are often stronger than the memory of a disaster.

Notes

i. See, for example, the argument by Genevieve Massard-Guilbaud that ca- tastrophes often serve as catalysts for change: Genevieve Massard- Guilbaud, "Introduction: The Urban Catastrophe-Challenge to the So- cial, Economic, and Cultural Order of the City," in Cities and Catastrophes: Villes et Catastrophes, ed. Genevieve Massard-Guilbaud, Harold L. Platt, and Dieter Schott (Frankfurt am Main: Lang, 2002), 9-42, esp. 38.

2. On the urban history of Tokyo, see in particular, Roman Cybriwsky, Tokyo: The Shogun's City at the Twenty-first Century (New York: Wiley, 1998); Hiromichi Ishizuka and Yorifusa Ishida, Tokyo: Urban Growth and Plan- ning (Tokyo: Center for Urban Studies, Tokyo Metropolitan University, 1988); Hidenobu Jinnai, Tokyo: A Spatial Anthropology (Berkeley: Univer- sity of California Press, 1995); Edward Seidensticker, Low City, High City: Tokyo from Edo to the Earthquake: How the Shogun's Ancient Capital Became a Great Modern City, 1867-1923 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1991); Edward Seidensticker, Tokyo Rising (Tokyo: Tuttle, 1990 ).

3. On the recurrence of fires in Tokyo and attempts at fire prevention, see also Ishida, Yorifusa, "Finding a Way to Overcome Tokyo's Big Fires," unpublished paper presented at the International Conference of Asia Scholars meeting in 1998 in Noordwijkerhout, Netherlands; and William W. Kelly, "Incendiary Actions: Fires and Firefighting in the Shogun's Cap- ital and the People's City," in Edo and Paris: Urban Life and the State in the Early Modern Era, ed. Jam es L. McClain, John M. Merriman, and Kaoru Ugawa (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1994), 310-331.

The Politics of Reconstruction

4. Seidensticker, Tokyo Rising, 8. Early visitors to Japan had made similar remarks; see Edward S. Morse, Japanese Homes and Their Surroundings (New York: Dover, 1961), 317.

5. Paul Waley, Tokyo: Now and Then (New York: Weatherhill, 1984), 331-333. 6. Ibid., xiii. 7. Ishida, "Finding a Way to Overcome Tokyo's Big Fires." 8. On the creation of fire brigades, see Waley, Tokyo, xxv. 9. On the construction of the Ginza brick district, see also Terunobu Fuji-

mori, Meiji no Tokyo keikaku (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 1990); Yorifusa Ishida, Nihon kindai toshikeikaku no hyakunen (Tokyo: JijitaikenkyUjo, 1987); Andre Sorensen, The Making of Urban Japan: Cities and Planning from Edo to the Twenty-first Century (London and New York: Nissan In- stitute/Routledge Japan Studies Series, 2002), 61-62.

10. On the long-term development of Ginza, see Satoshi Okamoto, "Destruc- tion and Reconstruction of Ginza Town," in Destruction and Rebirth of Urban Environment, ed. Norihiko Fukui and Hidenobu Jinnai (Tokyo: Sa- gami Shobo, 2000), 51-83.

11. See also Fujimori, Meiji no Tokyo keikaku; Okamoto, "Destruction and Reconstruction of Ginza Town."

12. On the preparation of the Tokyo Urban Improvement Plan, see Ishida, "Finding a Way to Overcome Tokyo's Big Fires," 2.

13. See Ishizuka and Ishida, Tokyo, 12. 14. On Kanda-Misakicho, see Masao Suzuki, Meiji umare no machi, Kanda-

MisagichO (Tokyo: Seiobo, 1978). 15. On the continuous presence of Edo-time urban patterns in contemporary

Tokyo see, in particular, Jinnai, Tokyo. 16. Goto Shimpei, mayor of Tokyo from 1920 to 1922, had laid out a large-

scale public investment project for Tokyo. See Ishizuka and Ishida, Tokyo,

19.

17. Ishizuka and Ishida, Tokyo, 5. 18. As Japan scholar Edward Seidensticker argues, the earthquake sped up

social and spatial transformations, such as the decline of the "low city," destroying remnants of the Edo period and its culture which had survived the Meiji restoration. Seidensticker, Low City, High City, 9; Seidensticker, Tokyo Rising, 5.

19. Carola Hein and Yorifusa Ishida, "Japanische Stadtplanung und ihre deutschen Wurzeln," Die Alte Stadt 3 (1998): 189-211.

20. The Dojunkai Foundation provided only 5,663 houses, including tempo- rary dwellings in 1924 and 1925. See Ishizuka and Ishida, Tokyo, 21.

21. See also Akira Koshizawa, Tokyo toshi-keikaku monogatari (Tokyo: Nihon Keizai Hyoronsha, 1991), 76-91.

22. The war damage encompassed an area of 63,153 hectares; 2,316,000 houses had been burned. Moreover, 331,000 of the citizens in these areas had been killed and 427,000 were injured. All data on the damages during World

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234

War II exclude Okinawa. On the general framework of reconstruction in Japan, see Yorifusa Ishida, "Japanese Cities and Planning in the Recon- struction Period: 1945-55," in Rebuilding Urban Japan after 1945, ed. Carola Hein, Jeffry Diefendorf, and Yorifusa Ishida (London: Palgrave Macmillan,

2003), 17-49.

23. Ishida establishes six categories of war-damaged cities; see Ishida, "Japa- nese Cities."

24. The historian John Dower calls the area "Little America"; see John W. Dower, Embracing Defeat: Japan in the Wake of World War II (New York: Norton, 1999), 206.

25. The so-called Dodge line was an austerity budget devised by Lt. Joseph Dodge and imposed by the General Headquarters, which targeted national budget allocations for public works projects and especially for the war- damage reconstruction projects.

26. See Ishizuka and Ishida, Tokyo, 27. 27. On the reconstruction of Tokyo, see Hiroo Ichikawa, "Reconstructing To-

kyo: The Attempt to Transform a Metropolis," in Rebuilding Urban Japan after 1945, ed. Carola Hein, Jeffry Diefendorf, and Yorifusa Ishida (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 50-67.

28. Book titles refer to Tokyo as a global city; see, for example, Saskia Sassen, The Global City: New York, London, Tokyo (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Uni- versity Press, 1991).

29. The decision to memorialize the atomic destruction of Hiroshima was also realized because there was abundant international support for such a me- morial. Indeed, several elements came together to allow for the realization of the Hiroshima Peace Park: international interest, a special law providing supplementary funding (the Peace City Law), a comprehensive project chosen by competition, and a sensitive architect, Tange Kenzo. It is none- theless surprising that Tokyo does not offer a memorial of a scope and scale at least similar to the pagoda commemorating the 1923 Great Kanta earthquake by Ito Chuuta. See also Carola Hein, "Hiroshima: The Atomic Bomb and Kenzo Tange's Hiroshima Peace Center," in Out of Ground Zero: Case Studies in Urban Reinvention, ed. Joan Ockman (New York: Temple Hoyne Buell Center for the Study of American Architecture, Columbia University, 2002), 62-83.

30. See Judith Lewis Herman, Trauma and Recovery (New York: Basic, 1992), 5.

31. On the concept of machi so'datte, see also Yasuhiro Endo, Machi Sodatte wo hagukumu: Taiwa to kyodo no dezain (Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppan- kai, 2001).

The Politics of Reconstruction