As the postwar period progressed, Abe's stance as an intellectual pacifist led to his joining the
Japanese Communist Party, with which he worked to organize laborers in poor parts of Tokyo. Soon after receiving the
Akutagawa Prize in 1951, Abe began to feel the constraints of the Communist Party's rules and regulations alongside doubts about what meaningful artistic works could be created in the genre of "socialist realism."
[5] By 1956, Abe began writing in solidarity with the
Polish workers who were protesting against their Communist government, drawing the Communist Party's ire. The criticism reaffirmed his stance: "The Communist Party put pressure on me to change the content of the article and apologize. But I refused. I said I would never change my opinion on the matter. This was my first break with the Party."
[5]:35
[a] The next year, Abe traveled to Eastern Europe for the 20th Convention of the Soviet Communist Party. He saw little of interest there, but the arts gave him some solace. He visited Kafka's house in Prague, read
Rilke and
Karel Čapek, reflected on his idol
Lu Xun, and was moved by a
Mayakovsky play in
Brno.
[5]
The Soviet invasion of Hungary in 1956 disgusted Abe. He attempted to leave the Communist Party, but resignations from the party were not accepted at the time. In 1962 he was forcibly expelled from the party. His political activity came to an end in 1967 in the form of a statement published by himself, his wife,
Yasunari Kawabata, and
Kenzaburō Ōe, protesting the treatment of writers, artists, and intellectuals in Communist China.
[5]
His experiences in Manchuria were also deeply influential on his writing, imprinting terrors and fever dreams that became surrealist hallmarks of his works. In his recollections of Mukden, these markers are evident: "The fact is, it may not have been trash in the center of the marsh at all; it may have been crows. I do have a memory of thousands of crows flying up from the swamp at dusk, as if the surface of the swamp were being lifted up into the air."
[5] The trash of the marsh was a truth of life, as were the crows, yet Abe's recollections of them tie them distinctively. Further experiences with the swamp centered around its use as a staking ground for condemned criminals with "[their] heads—now food for crows—appearing suddenly out of the darkness and disappearing again, terrified and attracted to us." These ideas are present in much of Abe's work.