Assassin

Assassin (pronounced uh-sas-in)

A murderer, especially one who kills a politically prominent person for reason of fanaticism or profit.

One of an order of devout Muslims, active in Persia and Syria circa 1090-1272, the prome object of whom was to assassinate Crusaders (should be used with initial capital letter).

1525–1535: An English borrowing via French and Italian, from the Medieval Latin assassīnus (assassinī in the plural), from the Arabic Hashshashin (ḥashshāshīn in the plural) (eaters of hashish), the Arabic being حشّاشين, (ħashshāshīyīn (also Hashishin or Hashashiyyin).  It shares its etymological roots with the Arabic hashish (from the Arabic: حشيش (ḥashīsh)) and in the region is most associated with a group of Nizari Shia Persians who worked against various Arab and Persian targets.

The Hashishiyyin were an Ismaili Muslim sect at the time of the Crusades, under leadership of to Hasan ibu-al-Sabbah (known as shaik-al-jibal or "Old Man of the Mountains") although the name was widely applied to a number of secret sects operating in Persia and Syria circa 1090-1272.  The word was known in Anglo-Latin from the mid-thirteenth century and variations in spelling not unusual although hashishiyy (hashishiyyin in the plural) appears to be the most frequently used.  The plural suffix “-in” was a mistake by Medieval translators who assumed it part of the Bedouin word.  

Whether in personal, political or family relations, assassination is one of the oldest and, done properly, one of the most effective tools known to man.  The earliest known use in English of the verb "to assassinate" in printed English was by Matthew Sutcliffe (circa 1548-1629) in A Briefe Replie to a Certaine Odious and Slanderous Libel, Lately Published by a Seditious Jesuite (1600), borrowed by William Shakespeare (circa 1564-1616) for Macbeth (1605).  Among the realists, it’s long been advocated, Sun Tzu in the still read The Art of War (circa 500 BC) arguing the utilitarian principle: that a single assassination could be both more effective and less destructive that other methods of dispute resolution, something with which Niccolò Machiavelli (1469–1527), in his political treatise Il Principe (The Prince, written circa 1513 & published 1532), concurred.  As a purely military matter, it’s long been understood that the well-targeted assassination of a single leader can be much more effective than a battlefield encounter whatever the extent of the victory; the “cut the head off the snake” principle.

Modern history

The assassination in July 2022 of Abe Shinzō san (安倍 晋三 (Shinzo Abe, 1954-2022, prime minister of Japan 2006-2007 & 2012-2020) came as a surprise because as a part of political conflict, assassination had all but vanished from Japan.  That’s not something which can be said of many countries in the modern era, the death toll in Asia, Africa, the Middle East and South & Central America long, the methods of dispatch sometimes gruesome.  Russia’s annals too are blood-soaked although it’s of note perhaps in that an extraordinary number of the killings were ordered by one head of Government.  The toll of US presidents is famous and also documented are some two-dozen planned attempted assassinations.  Even one (as far as is known) prime-minister of the UK has been assassinated, Spencer Perceval (1762–1812; Prime-Minister of the UK 1809-1912) shot dead (apparently by a deranged lone assassin) on 11 May 1812, his other claim to fame that uniquely among British premiers, he also served as solicitor-general and attorney-general.  Conspiracy theorists note also the death of Pope John-Paul I (1912–1978; pope Aug-Sep 1978).

Ultranationalist activist Otoya Yamaguchi (1943-1960), about to stab Socialist Party leader Inejiro Asanuma san (1898-1960) with his yoroi-dōshi (a short sword, fashioned with particularly thick metal and suitable for piercing armor and using in close combat), Hibiya Public Hall, Tokyo, 12 October 1960.The assassin committed suicide while in custody.

Historically however, political assassinations in Japan were not unknown, documented since the fifth century, the toll including two emperors.  In the centuries which unfolded until the modern era, by European standards, assassinations were not common but the traditions of the Samurai, a military caste which underpinned a feudal society organized as a succession of shogunates (a hereditary military dictatorship (1192–1867)), meant that violence was seen sometimes as the only honorable solution when many political disputes were had their origin in inter and intra-family conflict.  Tellingly, even after firearms came into use, most assassinations continued to be committed with swords or other bladed-weapons, a tradition carried on when the politician Asanuma Inejirō san was killed on live television in 1960.

Most remembered however is the cluster of deaths which political figures in Japan suffered during the dark decade of the 1930s.  It was a troubled time and although Hara Takashi san (1856-1921; Prime Minister of Japan 1918-1921) had in 1921 been murdered by a right-wing malcontent (who received a sentence of only three years), it had seemed at the time an aberration and few expected the next decade to assume the direction it followed.  However in an era in which the most fundamental aspects of the nation came to be contested by the politicians, the imperial courtiers, the navy and the army (two institutions with different priorities and intentions), all claiming to be acting in the name of the emperor, conflict was inevitable, the only thing uncertain was how things would be resolved.

Hamaguchi Osachi san (1870–1931; Prime Minister of Japan 1929-1931) was so devoted to the nation that when appointed head of the government’s Tobacco Monopoly Bureau, he took up smoking despite his doctors warnings it would harm his fragile health.  His devotion was praised but he was overtaken by events, the Depression crushing the economy and his advocacy of peace and adherence to the naval treaty which limited Japan’s ability to project power made him a target for the resurgent nationalists.  In November 1930 he was shot while in Tokyo Railway station, surviving a few months before succumbing an act which inspired others.  In 1932 the nation learned of the Ketsumeidan Jiken (the "League of Blood" or "Blood-Pledge Corps Incident"), a nationalist conspiracy to assassinate liberal politicians and the wealthy donors who supported them.  A list on twenty-two intended victims was later discovered but the group succeeded only in killing one former politician and one businessman.

The death of Inukai Tsuyoshi san (1855–1932; Prime Minister of Japan 1931-1932) was an indication of what was to follow.  A skilled politician and something of a technocrat, he’d stabilized the economy but he abhorred war as a ghastly business and opposed army’s ideas of adventures in China, something increasingly out of step with those gathering around his government.  In May 1932, after visiting the Yasukuni Shrine to pay homage to the Meiji’s first minister of war (assassinated in 1869), nine navy officers went to the prime-minister’s office and shot him dead.  Deed done, the nine handed themselves to the police.  At their trial, there was much sympathy and they received only light sentences (later commuted) although some fellow officers feared they may be harshly treated and sent to the government a package containing their nine amputated fingers with offers to take the place of the accused were they sentenced to death.  In the way the Japanese remember such things, it came to be known as “the May 15 incident”.

Nor was the military spared.  Yoshinori Shirakawa san (1869–1932) and Tetsuzan Nagata san (1884–1935), both generals in the Imperial Japanese Army were assassinated, the latter one of better known victims of the Aizawa Incident of August 1935, a messy business in which two of the three army factions then existing resolved their dispute with murder.  Such was the scandal that the minister of army was also a victim but he got of lightly; being ordered to resign “until the fuss dies down” and returning briefly to serve as prime-minister in 1937 before dying of natural cause some four years later.

All of the pressures which had been building to create the political hothouse that was mid-1930s Japan were realized in Ni Ni-Roku Jiken (the February 26 incident), an attempted military coup d'état in which fanatical young officers attempted to purge the government and military high command of factional rivals and ideological opponents (along with, as is inevitable in these things, settling a few personal scores).  Two victims were Viscount Takahashi Korekiyo san (1854–1936; Prime Minister 1921-1922) and Viscount Saitō Makoto san (1858–1936; admiral in the Imperial Japanese Navy & prime-minister 1932-1934 (and the last former Japanese Prime Minister to be assassinated until Shinzo Abe san in 2022)).  As a coup, it was a well-drilled operation, separate squads sent out at 2am to execute their designated victims although, in Japanese tradition, they tried not to offend, one assassin recorded as apologizing to terrified household staff for “the annoyance I have caused”.  Of the seven targets the rebels identified, only three were killed but the coup failed not because not enough blood was spilled but because the conspirators made the same mistake as the Valkyrie plotters (who sought in 1944 to overthrow Germany’s Nazi regime); they didn’t secure control of the institutions which were the vital organs of state and notably, did not seize the Imperial Palace and thus place between themselves between the Emperor and his troops, something they could have learned from Hernán Cortés (1485–1547) who made clear to his Spanish Conquistadors that the capture of Moctezuma (Montezuma, circa 1466-1520; Emperor of the Aztec Empire circa 1502-1520) was their object.  As it was, the commander in chief ordered the army to suppress the rebellion and within hours it was over.

However, the coup had profound consequences.  If Japan’s path to war had not been guaranteed before the insurrection, after it the impetus assumed its own inertia and the dynamic shifted from one of militarists against pacifists to agonizing appraisals of whether the first thrust of any attack would be to the south, against the USSR or into the Pacific.  The emperor had displayed a decisiveness he’d not re-discover until two atomic bombs had been dropped on his country but, seemingly convinced there was no guarantee the army would put down a second coup, his policy became one of conciliating the military which was anyway the great beneficiary of the February 26 incident; unified after the rebels were purged, it quickly asserted control over the government, weakened by the death of its prominent liberals and the reluctance of others to challenge the army, assassination a salutatory lesson.

Assassins both:  David Low’s (1891-1963) Rendezvous, Evening Standard, 20 September 1939. 

The Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact (usually styled as the Nazi-Soviet Pact), was a treaty of non-aggression between the USSR and Nazi Germany and signed in Moscow on 23 August 1939.  A political sensation when it was announced, it wouldn't be until the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946) that the Western powers became aware of the details of the suspected secret protocol under which the signatories partitioned Poland between them.   Low's cartoon was published shortly after Stalin (on 17 September) invaded from the east, having delayed military action until German success was clear.

It satirizes the cynicism of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, Hitler and Stalin bowing politely, words revealing their true feelings.  After returning to Berlin from the signing ceremony, von Ribbentrop reported the happy atmosphere to Hitler as "…like being among comrades" but if he was fooled, comrade Stalin remained the realist.  When Ribbentrop proposed a rather effusive communiqué of friendship and a 25 year pact, the Soviet leader suggested that after so many years of "...us tipping buckets of shit over each-other", a ten year agreement announced in more business-like terms might seem to the peoples of both nations, rather more plausible.  It was one of a few occasions on which comrade Stalin implicitly admitted even a dictator needs to take note of public opinion.  His realism served him less well when he assumed no rational man fighting a war on two fronts against a formidable enemy would by choice open another front of 3000-odd kilometres (1850 miles) against an army which could raise 500 divisions.  Other realists would later use the same sort of cold calculation and conclude that however loud the clatter from the sabre rattling, Mr Putin would never invade Ukraine.