Imagine a democratic state born at the edge of the world, amidst freezing forests and harsh winters. It’s not an American colony in New England, but a samurai democracy where soldiers, with katanas at their sides… vote. On the snowy island of Ezo, today’s Hokkaido, an epic political experiment unfolded that—though brief—became the first and only samurai republic in the history of Japan and the world. The Republic of Ezo, which lasted only a few months, remains an extraordinary episode that still brings a smile of astonishment and fascination to historians today.
It’s the winter of 1869. Japan is undergoing a rapid transformation—the old feudal structures are collapsing, and the young emperor of the Meiji era is turning the country into a modern empire. Far to the north, the last loyal samurai, unwilling to submit to the new order, decide to create something never before seen in Japan—a samurai democracy. Their leader, the brilliant strategist Admiral Enomoto Takeaki, along with his comrades, didn’t choose a traditional model of governance with a single military commander in charge. Instead, they opted for elections. The president of the Republic of Ezo was chosen in the first-ever election in Japan, although only the samurai voted, making this democracy somewhat “exclusive”—today we might call it an oligarchy or a “noble democracy.”
Interestingly, the Republic of Ezo wasn’t just a rebellious enclave cut off from the world. It had its own embassies, was recognized by some European countries (such as Great Britain and France), and even had support from French officers who taught the samurai modern military tactics. Among them was Jules Brunet, a character straight out of adventure films, who, after defeat in France, joined the Japanese loyalists and fought alongside them until the very end.
So how is it possible that we know so little about this samurai democracy? Why was the Republic of Ezo, bold as it was in concept, almost forgotten? Let’s explore what this dream of samurai freedom really was—and why it had to end in the fire of battle, remaining only a fascinating tale of a time when Japan’s history was shaping itself at an astonishing pace.
Let’s travel to Japan at the end of the 19th century…
Until the mid-19th century, Japan resembled a dormant world cut off from the rest of the globe, where time seemed to move slower, and life followed traditions cemented over hundreds of years. The Tokugawa shogunate, which had ruled Japan since the early 17th century, created a social system based on strict hierarchy, isolation from foreign influences, and a stable, though rigid, social order. The samurai stood at the top of this pyramid, serving as both military and political elites. Farmers, artisans, and merchants formed the backbone of society, which, despite strict rules, lived in relative harmony and peace.
However, this world, which seemed unchanging, was soon to undergo a dramatic transformation. On the horizon appeared the “black ships”—a symbol of Western power and modernity, arriving to force Japan to open itself to the world. In 1853, American Commodore Matthew Perry, with his fleet, sailed into Edo Bay (modern Tokyo), presenting Japan with an ultimatum—open your ports to international trade, or we will crush your walls and barricades. For the shogunate, it was a moment of terror. Japan, which had isolated itself from the outside world for two centuries, was forced to confront the reality of a modern, industrializing global economy.
Perry’s mission changed the course of history. The Tokugawa, seeing the power of Western ships and weapons, realized that further isolation from the world would be impossible. In a bid to maintain their power and position, the shogunate agreed to open ports to foreign merchants and began reluctant modernization of the military. However, these decisions undermined the government’s authority, stirring anger and resistance among the samurai, for whom the new times meant the loss of status and significance.
At the heart of this political chaos was born a conflict that soon escalated into civil war—the Boshin War (1868–1869). New forces, centered around the young Emperor Meiji, gained support from ambitious daimyō from the southern domains of Satsuma and Choshu. These were clans that had modernized their armies using Western technology and, under the banner of restoring imperial power, began a march toward taking control of Japan. Their slogan, “Sonnō jōi”—“Revere the Emperor, expel the barbarians”—reflected their dual approach: on the one hand, resistance to foreign dominance, and on the other, a desire for modernity.
On the opposite side were the Tokugawa loyalists who, despite the shogunate’s defeat, were not ready to give up easily. For many of them, it was a fight for the survival of their world, in which samurai tradition held undeniable value. The Boshin War was not only a struggle for power but also a clash of two different visions of Japan—one looking toward the future, and the other clinging to the past.
While the southern armies achieved success after success, the Tokugawa loyalists, led by the brilliant Admiral Enomoto Takeaki, decided to try their luck in the north. They knew they had no chance in the heart of the country, but on the wild island of Ezo, today’s Hokkaido, they could start a new chapter. Fleeing north with a war fleet, Enomoto, along with thousands of Tokugawa loyalists, embarked on a journey into the unknown. In their hearts burned the hope that there, far from the reach of the imperial armies, they could create a new state where samurai ideals would survive—and perhaps even take on a modern form.
And so, amidst snowy, mountainous forests and the harsh winter landscapes of Hokkaido, began an experiment that became the final flicker of the old order—the Republic of Ezo, a state of samurai dreams, ready to do anything to save what mattered most to them.
In the icy landscape of northern Japan, amidst the snow and wild nature of the island of Ezo (蝦夷 – Ezo, meaning “barbarian land”), an extraordinary vision was born. It was 1868, Japan was moving toward modernity, the emperor was implementing reforms to transform the country into an industrial power, and the old world of the samurai was on the brink of collapse. In this chaos, a group of unwavering Tokugawa loyalists, led by Admiral Enomoto Takeaki, refused to submit to the new order. Their dream was to create a new state where samurai values would endure—in a place where tradition would meet modernity. And so, from military preparations, political calculations, and deep loyalty to the old order, the Republic of Ezo emerged.
The road to the creation of the Republic of Ezo was like a heroic saga. Enomoto and his comrades, after fleeing Honshu, reached the island of Ezo with a fleet of eight ships and thousands of Tokugawa loyalists. Among them were not only outstanding military commanders but also French military advisors, led by the romantic and brave Captain Jules Brunet. The French, allies of the collapsing shogunate, brought with them modern war techniques, which would soon play a key role in defending the newly created state.
At first glance, the island of Ezo seemed like an isolated and harsh territory, dominated by wild nature and inhabited by the indigenous Ainu people, who were a separate non-Japanese group. But Enomoto saw its potential—remote, inaccessible, far from the imperial armies—it could become a new bastion of the old order. The samurai, weary of defeats in the south, saw in Ezo a chance to rebuild their world—far from the modern reforms that turned their traditions upside down.
The heart of the new state beat in an extraordinary place—the Goryokaku (五稜郭) fortress, a unique star-shaped fort. Built in the style of European fortifications, it was designed to defend against sea threats but now became the political and military center of the Republic of Ezo. Goryokaku was not just a fortress—its impressive architecture, symbolic shape, and modern walls made it a symbol of resistance and hope. Here, Enomoto established his headquarters, and the ruined magistracy of Hakodate Bugyōsho was transformed into the governmental seat of the Republic.
Goryokaku was not only a symbol of strength but also a place where key decisions were made. The Tokugawa loyalists, gathered in the fortress, were under no illusions—they knew that to survive, they had to combine old traditions with new ideas. And it was here that the idea was born that would surprise any contemporary Japanese person: presidential elections.
The Republic of Ezo, though ruled by samurai, introduced something never before seen in Japan—a system of elections. Enomoto Takeaki, the brilliant admiral and leader, was elected president of the republic in a vote that—although limited to the samurai class—was remarkably innovative. For the first time in Japanese history, the choice of leader was made through voting, not by inheritance or appointment by higher officials. While these elections were not democratic in the full sense of the word, they were still a groundbreaking event.
Famous figures sat in the Republic’s government—Matsudaira Tarō, closely tied to the Tokugawa clan, became vice president, and Otori Keisuke, a distinguished military commander, took on the role of war minister. The new republic had an ambitious plan: to combine traditional samurai values with modern political structures.
However, the Republic of Ezo was not merely a Japanese project. Thanks to Enomoto, who had studied in Europe in his youth, and the cooperation with French military advisors, the republic had strong foreign support. Allies from France and Great Britain, seeing the potential of the new state on Ezo, recognized the Republic of Ezo as the legitimate authority on the island. Jules Brunet, who had previously advised the shogunate forces, was not only an instructor for the Ezo army but also one of the key strategists in the defense of the new republic.
The French brought with them modern technologies, including artillery, advanced military tactics, and a belief in European republican values. Enomoto, though a samurai to the core, understood that without modernization, the republic would not survive. Thus, he cooperated with the French, hoping that with their support, they could stand against the imperial forces.
Unfortunately, while the Republic of Ezo had modern fortifications, allies, and determination, it lacked the most crucial element—time. The hope of preserving samurai tradition faded before it could fully blossom, and the modernity that they so desperately sought to resist was inexorably moving northward.
Before we delve into what happened next, let's take a closer look at the system the samurai introduced in their unique democracy on Ezo. The Republic of Ezo was the first attempt in Japan’s history to introduce a republican system, albeit in a somewhat limited form. What made it distinctive was the combination of traditional samurai values with modern ideas borrowed from Western governance models, particularly from France and the United States.
At the head of the new state stood the president, who was elected Enomoto Takeaki, the former commander of the Tokugawa fleet. The president was chosen by the samurai elite, meaning higher-ranking officers and commanders, which made the system "democratic" only within the military class, not for the entire society. Nevertheless, the very idea of electing a leader through voting was something entirely new in the context of Japanese history.
The government of the Republic of Ezo established several ministries modeled after Western systems. Otori Keisuke, a renowned military commander, became the Minister of War, while Matsudaira Tarō, a member of a collateral branch of the Tokugawa family, became vice president. This division of power introduced elements of collective responsibility, which was a step towards a modern political structure.
It’s also worth mentioning the role of foreign allies, especially the French, in shaping the structures of the Republic of Ezo. Jules Brunet, who advised the Tokugawa loyalists, was not only a military instructor but also one of the architects of this republican system. French influences were evident, especially in the government’s decisions regarding the organization of the army and administration.
Although the system of the Republic of Ezo was not a full democracy, it still represented a unique political experiment in Japanese history, combining traditional values of loyalty and honor with modern principles of governance based on participation. Unfortunately, time was not on the side of this samurai democracy, and its existence was brutally cut short by the advancing imperial forces.
In addition to regulations surprising to contemporary Japanese, such as presidential elections, the establishment of ministries, the absence of universal military service, or republican terminology, there were also many rules that reflected not only the term “republic” but more so the term “samurai,” which might have seemed surprising to Europeans. These regulations included:
• Military etiquette based on bushidō – One of the most surprising elements that distinguished the Republic of Ezo was the continuation of the traditional samurai code, bushidō, in military regulations and daily life. Although the republic’s army was modernized thanks to French advisors and modern technology, the samurai still had to adhere to strict rules of honor, loyalty, and fidelity to their commander. For example, samurai fighting to defend the Republic of Ezo, despite having access to modern weapons, were still required to carry traditional swords, which symbolized their status and honor.
• Obligation of seppuku for samurai in case of failure – Although the Republic of Ezo tried to introduce modern rules, some traditions, such as the obligation of seppuku, remained alive. Seppuku, ritual suicide, was practiced by samurai as a way to preserve honor in the event of failure or surrender. It might have been surprising to Europeans that in some cases, officers who failed to fulfill their duties were morally obliged to commit seppuku.
• Respect for hierarchy, despite "democracy" – Although the Republic of Ezo introduced certain democratic elements, such as presidential elections, it strictly adhered to the samurai hierarchy. Only samurai could vote, and some decisions were made by a group of elders (higher-ranking samurai), which was entirely consistent with tradition.
• Prohibition of “improper” carrying of weapons by samurai – In Ezo, rules related to the carrying of weapons, which at the time might have seemed bizarre to Europeans, were still in effect. Every samurai had to carry their swords (daishō, 大小) in a manner consistent with etiquette, and failure to do so could result in sanctions. For example, the sword had to be worn appropriately depending on rank and situation. Despite Ezo’s military using modern firearms, traditional rules concerning the sword remained obligatory.
• Special law regarding duels – In the Republic of Ezo, as in the former shogunate, duels between samurai (called kenka, 喧嘩) were accepted but regulated by strict rules. While the state introduced modern law and tried to modernize the army, honor duels were not entirely banned. It was believed that duels between samurai, if resolved according to ethical standards, could be justified as a way of preserving honor and resolving disputes.
The Republic of Ezo, this last bastion of the samurai world, barely had time to be born before it found itself under the shadow of destruction. The winter of 1869 was harsh, and fear spread across the snowy plains of Hokkaido. The Tokugawa loyalists who had fled north knew their time was limited. Cut off from the rest of Japan, they had to face not only the advancing imperial armies but also the harsh living conditions on the island, which they were not fully prepared to conquer.
In Hakodate, the heart of the Republic of Ezo, food supplies dwindled day by day. Cut off from rice shipments from Honshu, residents and samurai were forced to improvise—cultivating land whose conditions were foreign to them and attempting to establish difficult relations with the indigenous Ainu people. However, hunger and isolation were not their only enemies. To the south, in the capital of the newly founded Meiji Empire, the emperor and his advisors were already preparing the final blow.
At that time, Ezo still hoped for foreign support. French military advisors, led by Jules Brunet, did what they could to modernize the loyalist army. But hopes for further support from Europe or Great Britain melted like snow in spring. The final blow came faster than expected.
From the south, the greatest nightmare of the samurai fleet was approaching. The warship Kotetsu (甲鉄 – "iron armor"), once purchased by the Tokugawas, but now in the hands of the Meiji forces, was like an iron demon. This powerful, armored ship, originally known in English as Stonewall Jackson, was for the Ezo loyalists a harbinger of the end—it was the ship that would decide their fate. In March 1869, Kotetsu sailed at the head of the imperial fleet, filled with seven thousand soldiers, ready to destroy the last hope of the samurai.
Enomoto Takeaki, commanding the Ezo fleet, did not intend to surrender without a fight. He decided to take a desperate step. His navy attacked the imperial fleet in Miyako Bay, attempting to surprise and seize Kotetsu. At the moment when the samurai, led by the legendary Toshizō Hijikata, stormed the enemy’s deck, it seemed fortune was on their side. Their plans were meant to change the course of the war. But the imperial ship was not an easy target—armed with modern Gatling guns, Kotetsu turned the samurai’s attack into a bloodbath, almost literally cutting them in half with machine gun fire. Only a few warriors managed to escape. The Battle of Miyako Bay was a disaster.
After the defeat at sea, the imperial forces reached the island of Ezo. The Meiji soldiers, supported by a powerful fleet and modern weaponry, approached Hakodate like the shadow of death. The loyalists, gathered in the Goryokaku fortress, prepared for a final defense. The star-shaped fortress seemed impregnable, but time was not on the side of the defenders.
When the imperial forces landed on the island, the fighting began again. The samurai, under Hijikata’s command, fought with superhuman determination, but they could not withstand the power of modern rifles and artillery. Hijikata, who was a symbol of loyalty to the Tokugawas, had no intention of laying down his arms. He sent his final orders to his warriors, knowing the battle was already lost. A few days before his tragic end, he wrote a death poem that became an epitaph for an entire era:
「よしや身は蝦夷が島辺に朽ちぬとも魂は東の君やまもらむ。」
"Though my body may rot on the shores of Ezo,
my spirit will protect my lord in the East."
In June 1869, Toshizō Hijikata, the last commander of the Shinsengumi (you can find more about them here: The Ikedaya Incident), was killed by a bullet, leading his men into their final battle. His death became a symbol of the fall of the old samurai world. The Republic of Ezo died along with him.
After Hijikata’s death, the defenders' morale collapsed. The Tokugawa loyalists, seeing the inevitable defeat, barricaded themselves in the Goryokaku fortress, the last bastion of the Republic of Ezo. Enomoto Takeaki, the president of this short-lived republic, considered suicide, which would have been in line with the samurai code, but at the last moment, he decided to surrender.
After weeks of siege, Goryokaku finally fell. Enomoto, in a move that surprised many, did not choose seppuku. Instead, he decided to surrender to the imperial forces, believing that his life could still serve Japan. Perhaps he understood that the times ahead would require not only courage on the battlefield but also the ability to adapt to modern realities.
The fall of the Republic of Ezo was not just the end of the last Tokugawa resistance but also the end of the samurai era. Japan stepped into modernity, leaving behind the world of honorable warriors with katanas at their waists. Along with the ruins of Goryokaku, where the bodies of hundreds of samurai lay among shattered weapons and torn banners, the last hope of preserving the old order faded.
When Enomoto Takeaki, a proud admiral loyal to the Tokugawa clan, surrendered the Goryokaku fortress, many believed his fate was sealed. In earlier times, such uncompromising loyalty to a fallen ruler would have meant certain death, and Enomoto, once the commander of one of Japan’s most powerful fleets, could have expected execution for treason against the newly founded empire. However, in the Meiji era, full of dynamic changes and transformations, Enomoto's life took an unexpected turn.
After the capitulation of the Republic of Ezo in June 1869, Enomoto was arrested and put on trial for treason. Imprisoned in a cell, he surely considered his options—honorable seppuku, escape, or waiting for the inevitable death sentence. Yet, to the surprise of many, that was not his fate. Despite leading a rebel government against the emperor, Enomoto was seen as a Japanese patriot, not necessarily a traitor. In his letters to the Meiji government, he repeatedly emphasized that his actions were aimed at protecting the country from external influences, not rebelling against the emperor.
Four years later, in 1872, Enomoto was pardoned. And here begins one of the most fascinating transformations in Japanese history—the shift from "traitor" to hero and a key figure in the modern Meiji state. Enomoto, who had served the Tokugawa government all his life, somehow convinced the new authority that his skills and knowledge could be invaluable in building modern Japan.
One of Enomoto's first steps in the new order was his appointment as a member of the Kaitakushi (開拓使), the Hokkaido Development Commission. Interestingly, the island of Ezo, which he had once tried to transform into a samurai republic, now became his new field of action—this time under the emperor's auspices. Instead of resisting, Enomoto used his knowledge and skills for the colonization and development of Hokkaido, which was crucial to the modern reforms of the Meiji era. Settling the island and introducing modern agricultural technologies became one of his main tasks, and his experience as a sailor and fleet commander also allowed him to improve trade routes.
But that wasn’t all. Enomoto Takeaki, though considered a symbol of the past, became one of the first samurai to successfully merge tradition with modernity. In 1875, the Meiji emperor entrusted him with an extremely important mission—negotiations with Russia. At the time, the border between Hokkaido and Sakhalin was a matter of dispute. Enomoto, fluent in Western languages (including Dutch and English), was the ideal candidate for chief negotiator. His efforts led to the signing of the Treaty of St. Petersburg, which settled the border issues between Japan and Russia, ceding Sakhalin to Russia but granting Japan the Kuril Islands.
His diplomatic successes made him one of the most trusted figures in the Meiji government. He was appointed vice-admiral of the modern imperial fleet, and his career continued to rise at a dizzying pace. Enomoto later served as Minister of the Navy and Minister of Education, becoming one of the chief architects of modern Japan.
What made Enomoto a unique figure was his ability to adapt and transform. In the eyes of many, he became a symbol of modernity that did not reject tradition but combined it with new ideas. As a former Tokugawa loyalist and simultaneously a modern politician and diplomat, Enomoto demonstrated that samurai values—such as honor, loyalty, and discipline—could find their place in a modern, dynamically changing world.
Although the Republic of Ezo existed for only a few months, it left a legacy that resonates in Japan's history to this day. This brief, yet extraordinary political experiment was an attempt to bridge two worlds—the feudal tradition based on samurai honor and loyalty to the old order, and modern democratic ideas inspired by the West. It was a moment when Japan’s old world, symbolized by the samurai, had to face the inevitable wave of changes brought by the Meiji era.
Although the Republic of Ezo lost on the battlefield, its ideals were not entirely forgotten. In Hakodate, where the republic’s final dramatic moments took place, monuments have been erected to commemorate those events. The modern reconstruction of Goryokaku Fortress, with its star-shaped structure still dominating the city’s landscape, serves as a reminder of the short-lived but brave attempt to create a new model of government. The famous Kaiyo Maru warship, which sank off the coast of Ezo, was also reconstructed, and its replica now serves as a museum that tells the story of the Republic of Ezo and the Tokugawa loyalists’ struggle.
The Republic of Ezo has left its mark on contemporary Japanese culture as well. Fascination with this unique historical moment is reflected in numerous literary works, anime, and manga, where characters like Toshizō Hijikata and Enomoto Takeaki appear as heroes symbolizing the struggle to preserve traditional values in a world of modernity. For many Japanese, this part of history is more than just an episode—it is an inspiration to reflect on what it means to remain loyal to one's ideals in times of radical change.
Looking at the Republic of Ezo from the perspective of time, it can be seen as the last chord of feudal Japan. It was a desperate attempt to save the old world by people who refused to accept the inevitable fall of the samurai order. However, instead of closing themselves off from modernity, the Republic of Ezo sought to embrace it, transforming into something entirely new—a samurai democracy. Although it ended in defeat, this experiment showed that even in times of profound change, one can try to find a balance between tradition and progress.
In the context of Japan's transformation from an isolated feudal country into a modern empire, the Republic of Ezo was a symbolic bridge between two eras. The fall of the Tokugawa loyalists marked the definitive end of the samurai era but also opened the way for Japan to become an industrial and military power within a few decades. The Republic of Ezo, though short-lived, serves as a reminder that every great transformation comes with sacrifices—both of people and ideals—that shape the future.
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A connoisseur of Asian culture with a deep-seated appreciation for various philosophies of the world. By education, psychologist and Korean philologist. By heart, an Android developer and an ardent tech aficionado. In tranquil moments, he champions a disciplined way of life, firmly believing that steadfastness, perpetual self-enhancement, and a dedication to one's passions is a sensible path for life.
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"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (possibly)
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