Matthew Perry and the Black Ships

The American commodore who sailed four warships into Edo Bay in 1853 and forced Japan open, setting off the fastest national transformation in modern history.

A lithograph of Commodore Perry's officers and marines coming ashore at Kanagawa in 1854
Lithograph after Wilhelm Heine, 1855. Wikimedia Commons, public domain.

On July 8, 1853, four American warships anchored in Edo Bay, refused every order to leave, and changed the trajectory of Asia. Their commander was Matthew Calbraith Perry, a career officer of the United States Navy in his late fifties, sent with a letter from President Millard Fillmore demanding that Japan open its ports. Two of his ships were steam-powered and painted black, and they moved against the wind under plumes of coal smoke. The Japanese called them kurofune, the black ships, and the phrase still means an outside shock that forces a country to change.

The demand

America's interest was practical, not romantic. The Pacific whaling fleet needed harbors, and shipwrecked American sailors washed up in Japan had been treated as criminals. More important, the new steamships on the California to China route needed coaling stations, and Japan sat directly astride the line. Washington had asked politely before through the Dutch and been refused. Perry was instructed to ask in a way that could not be refused.

He was a careful student of how the Japanese read power. He declined to deal with the minor officials sent to handle him, insisting on delivering the president's letter to representatives of the highest rank. He ordered his gun crews to drill in full view. He surveyed the bay without permission, which was a deliberate insult and a plain hint that his squadron could sail on Edo itself. Then he handed over the letter, announced he would return for an answer, and left for China.

The answer

He came back in February 1854 with a larger squadron. The Tokugawa shogunate, which had ruled Japan for two and a half centuries and had spent much of that time enforcing a policy of near-total isolation, had spent the intervening months discovering that it had no way to stop him. Its coastal batteries were antiques. Its navy did not exist. Worse, in a break with everything the regime stood for, it had polled the daimyo for advice, an admission of weakness that no one forgot.

On March 31, 1854, Japan signed the Convention of Kanagawa: two ports opened, shipwrecked sailors protected, an American consul admitted. It was modest. What followed was not. The consul, Townsend Harris, converted that opening into a commercial treaty in 1858 that fixed Japanese tariffs low and granted Americans extraterritoriality, exemption from Japanese law, and the European powers promptly demanded the same. Japan had joined China in the system of unequal treaties.

The consequence Perry never intended

Perry died in 1858, four years after Kanagawa, having no idea what he had detonated. The treaties broke the shogunate's central claim to legitimacy: that it protected Japan from the outside world. Within fifteen years, samurai radicals from the outer domains had overthrown it and begun rebuilding the country on Western models with a speed no one had thought possible.

The grim symmetry came in 1945, when Japan surrendered aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay. General MacArthur had Perry's own flag flown in from Annapolis and hung facing the surrender table. The lesson Japan drew from 1853 was that a country too weak to refuse gets dictated to, and it spent the next ninety years making sure it would never be that country again. It became a dictating one instead, which is how it ended up back in the same bay signing a different document.

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