Part 2: Tokugawa Visits Singapore for the First Time, 1921

The previous post explored the theme of historical memory in the lead-up to VJ Day, focusing on the Fall of Singapore in 1942. It introduced Marquis Yoshichika Tokugawa—a largely overlooked figure whose role in those dramatic events has long remained in the shadows. He is one of several key figures whose hidden stories form the untold history at the heart of Palace of Ghosts, all of them intricately connected to the Palace that gives the book its name. In this second post of the series, we begin to unravel his story and ask: Who was Tokugawa?

Read Part 1 here

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Hunter, Scholar, Nobleman

The life Sultan Ibrahim of Johor reads like an epic novel—an extraordinary blend of adventure, intrigue and romance. But while the Sultan’s story often steals the spotlight, Palace of Ghosts reveals a cast of equally fascinating characters who shaped his destiny in profound and sometimes surprising ways.

One of the most compelling figures in this saga is Marquis Yoshichika Tokugawa—a Japanese aristocrat, biologist, political thinker, and blood sports enthusiast with a particular penchant for tormenting tigers. 

Their improbable friendship would reverberate far beyond the lush jungles of Johor, leaving an imprint on the histories of Singapore, the British Empire, and Southeast Asia. Yet Marquis Tokugawa is a figure who is inexplicably overlooked by most historians of the Fall of Singapore. His presence in the region, though largely forgotten, was anything but incidental — a hidden thread woven through the calamitous events of wartime geopolitics.

However, as Palace of Ghosts reveals, Tokugawa was also to play a role in the story of Tyersall too. The events that link Tokugawa to the Sultan’s Tyersall estate specifically are vividly explored in Chapter 11 of Palace of Ghosts, “Seven Hundred Ghosts”. They are, in fact, a concealed layer of tragedy within this hidden history of the Fall of Singapore.

Read about Marquis Tokugawa's hidden role in the Fall of Singapore

To understand the weight of these connections, we must first ask: who was Marquis Tokugawa?

Who Was Yoshichika Tokugawa?

Born in 1886, Yoshichika Tokugawa would go on to become the 19th head of the Owari Tokugawa clan. They were descendants of Japan’s most powerful ruling family, which had governed the country for over two centuries until the Meiji Restoration–the return of the Emperor–in 1868.

His incredible rise was unconventional. He married Yoneko, the daughter of the clan patriarch Yoshiakira Tokugawa who died without a male heir. In a rare act of political adoption, Yoshichika inherited the title, propelling him into the highest echelons of Japanese aristocracy.

Photograph of the Marquis in October 1913, aged 27

But Yoshichika was no relic of the past. Educated in history and biology at Tokyo University, he was a modernist at heart. He wanted Japan to be part of the global conversation—scientifically, economically, and politically. His ambitions aligned with Japan’s broader desire to shed its isolationist past and assert itself on the world stage.

In the turbulent decades leading up to World War II (WWII), Japanese politics were caught between two competing visions to acquire territory that would support Japan’s rapid economic development: the “Strike North” strategy targeting Soviet territories, and the “Strike South” strategy, which eyed Southeast Asia as a rich prize in Japan’s imperial ambitions.

Tokugawa was a vocal and well-connected supporter of the latter. Even after the Meiji Restoration, members of the Tokugawa clan continued to be ennobled. As a member of the House of Peers and a confidante of Emperor Hirohito—thanks in part to a shared passion for botany—he had a direct line to the heart of Japanese power, (both he and the Emperor were enthusiastic botanists and, as a result, Tokugawa was granted the unusual privilege of visiting the Emperor at any time that he was present in his palace botany laboratory.) 

Marquis Tokugawa in his laboratory during his 30s

His political ideology was shaped by the ultra-nationalist Showa Restoration movement, which sought to restore total control to the Emperor and reject the growing influence of democratic institutions and industrial conglomerates. The movement was radical, at times violent, and deeply suspicious of the West.

It was here, perhaps, that Tokugawa first began to feel conflicted by the complex domestic considerations of the times. While subscribing to many aspects of the Showa movement, he also sought to embrace the international order and to contribute to it for the advancement of Japan’s interests: economic, scientific, or otherwise. These were very much part of an external philosophy and set of actions that was intended to promote Japan’s status and role in the international community and which would have gargantuan implications in the next few decades. 

First Time Singapore in Lah!

In 1921, the Marquis arrived in Singapore for the first time aboard the luxurious Kamo Maru steamship. His first meeting with Sultan Ibrahim of Johor, which occurred during this visit, would be a turning point.

The Kamo Maru

What began as a “unofficial” visit quickly blossomed into an enduring friendship—sealed during a tiger hunt in the jungles of Johor. Their shared enthusiasm for big-game hunting became the foundation for something more profound: political and economic cooperation aimed at the development of Johor.

The two men, both aristocrats navigating a rapidly changing world, saw eye to eye on more than just wild cats. They shared views on modernization, sovereignty, and the uneasy presence of European colonialism in Asia.

Throughout the 1920s, Tokugawa facilitated a wave of Japanese investment into Johor, helping to spur regional growth. Japanese businesses thrived, and the local economy benefited. It was a win-win—at least, on the surface.

From Business to Espionage: The Shift No One Saw Coming

As Japanese expats settled into Johor and Singapore, they began collecting vast amounts of local information—not unusual for foreign businesses. Market data, workforce habits, and social customs were all noted and relayed back to Japan.

Then, as now, this was considered best practice for any successful business operation. But in hindsight, the seemingly innocent act of gathering information morphed into something darker: intelligence gathering.

This informal network of informants—many of them ordinary traders, shopkeepers, and entrepreneurs—would later become a critical asset for the Japanese military. It came at a time that had seen a steady increase in the number of Japanese living and working in Malaya, Johor and Singapore over the four preceding decades. By the time Japan launched its infamous campaign through Malaya and into Singapore during WWII, the groundwork had already been laid.

History's Hidden Threads

In Chapter 11 of Palace of Ghosts, we delve into this pivotal moment in time, revealing how the personal friendship between a Japanese marquis and a Malay sultan helped shape the fate of an empire.

The story of Yoshichika Tokugawa and Sultan Ibrahim is a vivid reminder that history is rarely shaped by generals and politicians alone. Sometimes, it's the quiet conversations, the shared passions, and the unlikely friendships that ripple across decades, altering the course of nations.

In a world on the brink of war, two aristocrats from opposite ends of Asia found common cause—not 

just in tiger hunting, but in a vision of the future that would challenge empires and reshape a region.

To uncover the full story of this relationship, read Palace of Ghosts and explore the untold histories that still echo across Singapore, Johor, and beyond.

Coming up in the next post: we step back in time and take a look at the evolving presence of the Japanese in Southeast Asia in the 50 years prior to WWII, including the shadowy world of the sex trade.

Read the full story