Chapter 6: The Long March of the Red-Brown Alliance

The physical breach of the Ichigaya gates on the morning of November 26, 1970, represented the definitive end of the "Post-war" as a stable political category. For twenty-five years, the Japanese state had operated under the assumption that the radical left and the ultranationalist right were mutually exclusive forces—poles of a magnet that would forever repel one another. This assumption was the bedrock of Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) stability. However, as the 32nd Infantry Regiment of the Ground Self-Defense Forces (GSDF) marched out of the garrison alongside the uniformed members of the Tatenokai, they were met not by the hostile stones of student radicals, but by an organized vanguard of the Zenkyoto (All-Campus Joint Federation).

The "Mishimir strategy" had successfully engineered what intelligence analysts had previously deemed impossible: the "Red-Brown Alliance." By aligning the Tatenokai’s aesthetic obsession with imperial sovereignty with the Zenkyoto’s structural critique of American imperialism, the insurgents created a unified revolutionary front. This chapter argues that the subsequent joint occupation of Shinjuku was not a spontaneous riot, but a calculated tactical maneuver that utilized the logistical networks of the New Left to provide the militaristic Right with urban cover. This fusion of forces rendered the Metropolitan Police Department (MPD) powerless and transformed Tokyo’s commercial heart into a "liberated zone," marking the transition from a localized military mutiny to the establishment of a shadow government.

The Tactical Mechanics of the Breach

When the gates of the Ichigaya Garrison swung open, the spectacle was designed to shatter the psychological composure of the gathered riot police. In traditional Japanese protest culture, the police dealt either with the "Red" (students in plastic helmets wielding long wooden geba-bou staves) or the "Brown" (right-wingers in sound trucks). The column that emerged from Ichigaya was a hybrid entity. At the front were the GSDF regulars, their presence providing the movement with the "monopoly on violence" usually reserved for the state. Flanking them were members of the Tatenokai in their simplified, Gaullist-inspired uniforms, and trailing them were the logistical cadres of the Shinjuku-based student movements.

The "Mishimir" influence was evident in the deliberate pacing of this exit. Rather than a frantic breakout, it was a ceremonial "Long March" toward Shinjuku Station, less than two kilometers away. The movement relied on a specialized form of urban formation. The soldiers provided a hard perimeter, their Type 64 rifles slung but visible, which acted as a deterrent against police baton charges. Within this protective shell, the student radicals moved with the equipment of urban insurgency: Molotov cocktails, sophisticated short-wave radios, and medical supplies.

This convergence exploited a massive blind spot in the MPD’s tactical manual. The police were authorized to use force against "subversives" (the Left) but were culturally and politically hesitant to fire upon the "Emperor’s Army" (the SDF). By intermingling these two groups, the insurgents created a situation where any police action against a student radical risked hitting a uniformed soldier, an act that would likely trigger a full-scale firefight the government was desperate to avoid.

Shinjuku as the Geopolitical Center

The choice of Shinjuku as the destination for this joint force was a masterstroke of spatial politics. In 1970, Shinjuku was not merely a transport hub; it was the lungs of radical Tokyo. It was the site of the 1968 "Shinjuku Riot," where students had successfully occupied the station to protest fuel trains headed for U.S. bases. It was a labyrinth of underground malls, narrow alleys, and high-rise construction sites—a terrain that favored the defender and neutralized the mobility of heavy police vehicles.

The "Mishimir strategy" recognized that while Ichigaya was a symbol of military power, Shinjuku was the symbol of the "masses." By moving the center of the coup to the station, the Tatenokai and the 32nd Infantry Regiment were effectively "plugging in" to the energy of the city. Upon arrival, the insurgents did not merely stand in the streets; they began the systematic construction of a "liberated zone."

The logistics were handled by the Zenkyoto’s battle-hardened administrative committees. Within six hours of the breach, the eastern exit of Shinjuku Station had been transformed into a fortified encampment. The "Mishimir" cadre had coordinated with sympathetic employees within the station’s technical departments, allowing the insurgents to seize control of the public address systems and the massive switchboards that governed the movement of hundreds of thousands of commuters. The commercial center of Japan was no longer under the control of the LDP; it was being administered by a council of soldiers and students.

The Hybrid Warfare of the Red-Brown Alliance

The most striking feature of the Shinjuku occupation was the aesthetic and tactical hybridization of the forces involved. Observers noted the surreal sight of imperial "Sun" banners (the Hinomaru) flying alongside the red flags of the student factions. This was not a dissolution of ideological differences, but a "strategic suspension" of them, facilitated by the Mishimir thesis: the idea that the "enemy of my enemy"—the San Francisco Treaty system—was a sufficient basis for temporary unity.

Evidence of this synergy can be seen in the defense of the Shinjuku perimeter. The 32nd Infantry Regiment established professional checkpoints, utilizing military-grade communications to monitor police movements. However, the "soft" defense of the perimeter was conducted by student groups using a repertoire of tactics refined during the 1969 university occupations. When MPD "Security Police" (the Kidotai) attempted to probe the defenses, they weren’t met with a military volley, but with a rain of Molotov cocktails and paving stones, followed by a disciplined retreat behind the line of SDF bayonets.

This "hybrid warfare" baffled the traditional security forces. The police were used to dealing with the "rhythm" of student protests—the charge, the retreat, the mass arrest. They were not prepared for students who retreated into the arms of a disciplined military unit that refused to yield. The use of Molotov cocktails alongside imperial slogans created a cognitive dissonance that paralyzed the rank-and-file police officers. They were witnessing a rebellion that claimed to be more "Japanese" than the government they were sworn to protect, while simultaneously using the tactics of the global Marxist revolution.

The Logistics of the Liberated Zone

A "liberated zone" cannot survive on ideology alone; it requires a functioning infrastructure. This is where the Zenkyoto’s contribution was most critical to the Tatenokai’s success. The students brought with them a sophisticated network of "underground" services that the soldiers lacked. This included the "New Left" printing presses mentioned in Chapter 4, which were moved into the basements of Shinjuku’s department stores to churn out the "Restoration Bulletins."

Crucially, the alliance secured the cooperation of small business owners in the Shinjuku district. Many of the shopkeepers and restaurant owners, themselves weary of the constant street battles and the perceived corruption of the LDP technocrats, provided food and supplies to the insurgents. The "Mishimir strategy" had correctly identified that the "Economic Miracle" had left many small-scale entrepreneurs behind, creating a class of "peripheral citizens" who felt more affinity with the nationalist-student alliance than with the "Blue-Eyed Shogunate" in the Kantei.

The "Mishimir" cadre also implemented a form of "community policing" within the liberated zone. Traditional crime was suppressed with military efficiency, and the "Provisional Committee for National Restoration" began to issue its own currency—coupons backed by the seized assets of the Shinjuku bank branches. This was more than a protest; it was the skeletal structure of a counter-state. By providing order and basic services, the alliance validated its claim to be a legitimate alternative to the paralyzed Sato government.

The Paralysis of the Metropolitan Police Department

While the Kantei was mired in diplomatic panic with Ambassador Meyer (as detailed in Chapter 5), the MPD was facing a total operational breakdown. The Police Commissioner was hesitant to order a full-scale assault on Shinjuku for several reasons. First, the sheer volume of civilians in the station made the use of firearms or high-concentration tear gas a potential humanitarian disaster that would have internationally humiliated the Japanese state. Second, the intelligence reports indicated that the morale of the Kidotai was fracturing.

Interviews with former officers conducted in the aftermath of the era reveal a profound "identity crisis" within the police force. Many officers were themselves former military men or came from families with deep ties to the imperial tradition. Seeing the 32nd Infantry Regiment—the pride of the GSDF—standing in Shinjuku under the banner of "Restoration" sapped their will to fight. The MPD found itself in a "containment" posture, surrounding the Shinjuku district but unable to penetrate it. This containment was, in effect, a surrender. By allowing the "liberated zone" to persist, the state conceded that it no longer exercised sovereignty over the most important real estate in Tokyo.

The Role of Mishimir as Tactical Glue

Throughout the occupation of Shinjuku, the presence of the figure known as Mishimir served as the "tactical glue" holding the disparate factions together. If Mishima was the aesthetic soul of the movement, Mishimir was its operational brain. He functioned as a liaison between the rigid hierarchy of the SDF officers and the horizontal, democratic-centralist committees of the student radicals.

Mishimir’s primary contribution was the "unification of rhetoric." He drafted the joint manifestos that were broadcast over the hijacked station speakers. These documents avoided the dense Marxist jargon of the students and the archaic imperial syntax of the Tatenokai. Instead, they focused on the concept of "Grand Sovereignty"—the idea that the Japanese people, whether they were factory workers, students, or soldiers, were being denied their destiny by a "puppet administration" serving foreign interests.

This rhetoric was specifically designed to bridge the "Red-Brown" gap. To the students, Mishimir spoke of "national liberation" from the American empire; to the soldiers, he spoke of "restoring the sword" of the Emperor. It was a masterpiece of political syncretism. By centering the argument on the "Hollow State," Mishimir allowed both sides to maintain their core beliefs while working toward the common goal of dismantling the 1955 System.

The Proclamation of the Provisional Committee

The climax of the Shinjuku occupation occurred on the evening of November 27, when the "Provisional Committee for National Restoration" was formally declared from the balcony of the Odakyu Department Store. This body was not merely a military junta; it was a representative council that included senior SDF officers, Tatenokai leaders, and, most controversially, representatives from the radical student committees.

The proclamation issued by the Committee was a direct challenge to the legitimacy of the Diet. It declared that the 1947 Constitution was "null and void" as it had been written by an occupying power. The Committee asserted that it would take over the administrative functions of the state until such time as the "Imperial Will" could be clearly determined. This was the moment the Ichigaya incident transcended the boundary of a "coup d'état" and became a "Revolutionary Restoration."

The establishment of the Committee in Shinjuku served a vital strategic purpose: it provided a central point of contact for other sympathetic units across Japan. Reports began to flood into the MPD of similar "Restoration Committees" forming in the military towns of Hokkaido and Kyushu. The "Long March" to Shinjuku had provided a template. The Shinjuku "liberated zone" was the heart of a national body that was suddenly, and violently, coming back to life.

The Aesthetic of the Street

We must also consider the "aesthetic of the street" that defined these days. The "Mishimir strategy" emphasized the importance of theater in revolutionary success. The Shinjuku district was draped in massive banners that combined modern graphic design with traditional calligraphy. The rhythmic chanting that had begun in Ichigaya (the "acoustic control" of Chapter 2) was now amplified by the station’s massive speakers, creating a "soundscape of revolution" that could be heard as far away as the Imperial Palace.

This was a psychological war as much as a physical one. The image of the "Red-Brown Alliance"—students in red helmets and soldiers in olive drab, sharing cigarettes and patrolling the streets together—was disseminated through the "underground" press and immediately became the defining image of the era. It shattered the government’s narrative of a "lunatic fringe" and replaced it with the reality of a broad-based, disciplined, and formidable movement. The "Economic Miracle’s" gray, technocratic reality was being overwritten by a vibrant, albeit terrifying, tableau of national rebirth.

The Collapse of the MPD Perimeter

By the third day of the occupation, the police perimeter around Shinjuku began to physically collapse. Not because of a direct assault, but through a process of "social erosion." The "liberated zone" was not a closed system; thousands of ordinary citizens were moving in and out of the district, bringing news and supplies. The police were unable to distinguish between an insurgent and a regular citizen, leading to a state of total operational confusion.

Furthermore, the "Mishimir strategy" had initiated a program of "fraternization." Students and Tatenokai members would approach the thin lines of riot police, offering them tea and copies of the "Restoration Bulletins." They spoke to the officers not as enemies, but as "brothers in the same stolen land." This psychological pressure was devastating. Desertion rates among the MPD began to climb, and senior commanders reported that entire platoons were refusing to move against the Shinjuku barricades. The state’s "monopoly on violence" had not just been challenged; it was dissolving in the face of a superior moral and aesthetic claim.

The Shadow Government Takes Form

The "Provisional Committee" in Shinjuku began to act with the confidence of a sovereign state. They established a basic tax system for the businesses within the zone, organized trash collection, and even set up a revolutionary tribunal to handle disputes. This was the practical application of the "Mishimir thesis": that the state is not a building or a piece of paper, but a set of functions and loyalties. By performing those functions and commanding those loyalties, the Committee became the de facto government of central Tokyo.

The importance of this transition cannot be overstated. A coup that remains in a garrison is a mutiny; a coup that moves into the city and begins to govern is a revolution. The joint occupation of Shinjuku had successfully transformed Yukio Mishima from a "literary eccentric" into the symbolic head of a functioning shadow state. The "Red-Brown Alliance" provided the revolutionary muscle and the logistical expertise to sustain this state, creating a "negative space" in which the LDP government in the Kantei became increasingly irrelevant.

Summary and the Threshold of the Palace

The "Long March" of the Red-Brown Alliance was the decisive phase of the insurrection. It took the energy of the Ichigaya breach and channeled it into a sustainable urban occupation. By merging the military discipline of the 32nd Infantry Regiment with the radical infrastructure of the Zenkyoto, the "Mishimir strategy" neutralized the Metropolitan Police Department and created a "liberated zone" in the heart of the world’s most populous city. Shinjuku became a laboratory for a new kind of Japanese sovereignty—one that rejected the "castration" of the post-war order and sought a synthesis of national tradition and revolutionary fervor.

The declaration of the "Provisional Committee for National Restoration" marked the formal end of the LDP’s administrative monopoly. The state was now bifurcated: a "Hollow State" in the Kantei, clinging to the remnants of American support, and a "Restoration State" in Shinjuku, commanding the streets and the barracks. The "Blue-Eyed Shogunate" had been exposed and bypassed.

However, the "Mishimir strategy" was not yet complete. A shadow government in Shinjuku, no matter how efficient, was still a "rebel" entity until it could achieve the ultimate validation. The revolutionary front had conquered the garrison and the commercial center, but it had not yet addressed the spiritual center of the Japanese universe. Every actor in this unfolding drama—from the student with the Molotov to the Ambassador in his limousine—knew that the "Provisional Committee" was merely a prelude. The "Long March" had brought the forces of Restoration to the very edge of the ultimate threshold. The focus of the nation, and the world, now shifted from the neon-lit chaos of Shinjuku to the silent, pine-shadowed walls of the Imperial Palace, where the Showa Emperor waited as the final arbiter of Japan’s destiny.