Japanese human rights abuses during the second world war, as enumerated by the late Iris Chang in her best-selling book The Rape of Nanking: The Forgotten Holocaust of World War II,
distinguish themselves as perhaps some of the most egregious atrocities
committed within twentieth century combat and beyond. Yet,
despite repeated unofficial apologies for wartime aggression by
government leaders, Japan refuses to demonstrate the sincerity of its
remorse by paying reparations to the victims of the nation’s war
crimes. Furthermore, Japanese officials have consistently
undermined their professed sorrow and their own efforts for
reconciliation by stubbornly resisting a full condemnation of and break
from their nation’s sullied past. While in office, former
Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi made annual visits to Tokyo’s
Yasukuni Shrine, a site that honors convicted war criminals as well as
other deceased soldiers, in direct defiance of warnings by the Chinese
government and his more diplomatically minded predecessor Kiichi
Miyazawa. In addition, as recently as April 2007, Japan’s
current prime minister Shinzo Abe, who, in a rare move to reestablish
Sino-Japanese relations, chose to make his first official trip to China
as opposed to Washington, D.C., later commented that there was no proof
that thousands of Chinese and Korean women and girls were abducted and
forced into prostitution as “comfort women” for the
Imperial Army—an assertion made in spite of the number of
survivors who have spent decades demanding an official apology
sanctioned by Japan’s parliament.
Abe
eventually retracted the statement, but his enigmatic stance on the
severity of Japanese war crimes reflects the resistance of Japanese
nationalists to accept full accountability for the scope and ferocity
of the Imperial Army’s offenses. Paradoxically, such
nationalist maneuvers to defend Japan’s honor by whitewashing,
distorting or erasing history injure not only the victims of Japanese
misdeeds, but also the very reputation and regional relationships that
revisionists and progressive thinkers alike hope to salvage.
That
Japan’s evasion of proper restitution continues to negatively
affect the victims of that nation’s atrocities is self-evident.
Chang herself provides examples of Nanking survivors who have
dwelt in poverty as a consequence of their experiences with the
Imperial Army while Japan’s economy (aided by the United States)
has flourished. Moreover companies that participated in setting
up concentration camps and torturing prisoners remain protected by the
Japanese courts. According to an April 2007 report from the
Xinhua News Agency, the Japanese Supreme Court overturned a decision to
reward damages and an apology to two laborers and three families of
deceased victims interned by the Nishimatsu Construction Company during
the war.1
Since the Chinese government stated in the Sino-Japanese Joint
Statement of 1972 that it would not seek reparations from Japan, a move
made to improve political relations, plaintiffs in China and Korea have
sought to sue for retribution on an individual basis, as with the
Nishimatsu lawsuit, their argument being that the 1972 agreement with
Japan was only valid at the governmental level. With this latest
decision, however, Japan’s court was adamant: the Sino-Japanese
Joint Statement negates both China’s ability to seek restitution
and that of its citizens.2
Regardless, then, of its leaders’ words of regret and repentance,
Japan has, through its judiciary’s actions, crystallized the
country’s official policy in dealing with those affected by the
torture, rape, germ warfare, and murder with which the Imperial Army
ravaged its Asian neighbors—namely, that Japan holds corporate
interest above human life, and the “bottom line” above
responsible behavior; and such a policy will undoubtedly reopen old
wounds and stoke the already smoldering coals of resentment. For
one nation to affirm to another nation that its citizens’ lives
are worth nothing is to court ill will and poison further diplomatic
relations.
Of
course, Japan’s evasion of adequate international justice and
failure to make proper restitution to its victims is not unique.
An examination of the actions of both Allied and Axis countries
both during and after the second world war, as well as the oppressive
measures taken by colonial powers globally, reveals that not only was
the twentieth century marked with widespread war crimes by countries as
diverse as France, the Netherlands, Great Britain, and the United
States (and the more typically vilified Germany, Italy, and Soviet
Union) but also that in the majority of cases, the offenders either
justified or rejected allegations of wrongdoing, and guilty parties
remained unpunished. However, Japan is in a somewhat unique
position in that it has benefited greatly from postwar reparations
itself. Following the inexcusable obliteration of Nagasaki and
Hiroshima, the United States helped rebuild the country’s
infrastructure, albeit with the cost of restricting Japan’s
degree of independence from American coercion.
This
position as a recipient of aid affords Japan an opportunity that it
chooses to routinely squander. The Japanese could take a
leadership role in promoting conscientious global citizenship and
distance themselves from other nations’ shameful evasions and
dismal human rights histories by formally apologizing in a manner
suitable to victims’ wishes (and not solely Japan’s own),
and by resolving, without the spur of legal action, prodding, or force,
to implement a compensation strategy that would be acceptable to
recipients and once and for all place old war crimes in the past.
To courageously renounce the international tradition of
disgraceful self-preservation that the rest of the world espouses and
to stand on the side of justice might usher in a new era of disclosure
and global commitment to humane principles. Viewed from an
interpersonal perspective, if an individual violates the law and, when
confronted, attempts to hide and lie about his actions to avoid
punishment, any moral system would condemn him as a villain and a
coward. By contrast, if such a person, regardless of his
transgressions, confesses his crimes, exhibits genuine remorse, and
accepts the consequences of his misdeeds, he regains at least a portion
of his integrity.
Yet,
instead of unburdening its collective conscience by assuming its
responsibility to its victims and willingly extending a hand of mercy,
Japan has, like a stubborn tortoise, withdrawn its compassion within an
isolating shell of nationalism, and in so doing has forfeited regional
stability and doomed the country’s own aspirations.
Concerning the perception of Japan among its Asian neighbors, a
2005 Kyodo News survey elicited responses from 1000 or more citizens
from each of three nations: China, Japan, and South Korea.
Researchers conducted the poll at a time when then Prime Minister
Koizumi was preparing to once again visit the Yasukuni Shrine; and the
results showed that both China and South Korea experienced a marked
increase in the number of citizens holding an unfavorable opinion of
Japan (83 percent and 75 percent respectively, both figures up from a
previous survey).3
Moreover, approximately half of all Chinese and South Korean
respondents felt that the resolving of historical tensions between
their respective countries and Japan would improve relations.4
Given that the survey was comprised of a rather modest sampling,
the outcome supports the notion that Japan’s conduct during World
War II continues to resonate as a factor in its reputation today, and
that reaching a final settlement on the war crimes restitution issue
would likely alleviate much of the friction in the region.
Unless
a country explicitly acknowledges its human rights abuses as unlawful
and rejects such actions clearly and emphatically without equivocation,
the message left unspoken, expressed intentionally or unintentionally,
is that such a nation privately grants itself the right to justify
similar behavior in the future. Until a country can submit its
behavior to the same justice that that state would wish for itself and
abide by the penalties deemed necessary, its relationships will suffer
from mistrust, residual bitterness from injured parties, and an eroded
level of international respect. The United States has yet to
learn this lesson, while Japan, though familiar with it, continues to
ignore it. The consequences of not squarely addressing inhumane
treatment matters is to risk appearing, directly or indirectly through
rationalization, to condone such criminal behavior, and to perpetuate
brutal and barbaric practices internationally by failing to promote
justice as a prerequisite of civilized society, even when that justice
balances its scales against one’s own country.
Ultimately,
Japan’s circumvention of extending any tangible monetary symbol
of regret to survivors of the Imperial Army’s aggressions
confounds the nation’s own ambitions. For example, Japan
has the aim of one day winning a position as a permanent member of the
United Nations Security Council but faces stiff opposition from the
Chinese government. In fact, in the same Kyodo News poll, 87
percent of Chinese and 85 percent of South Korean participants came out
against Japan’s bid for permanent member status.5
This resistance, one could argue, may not be unrelated to
Japan’s historical record. Likewise, more than half a
century after World War II and with a renewed sense of patriotism,
Japan wishes to revisit its constitution and rebuild its military to
strengthen the country’s ability to protect itself. One
need not be particularly creative to imagine the reaction of those
nations with victims still attempting to receive recompense for the
last time a patriotic Japan boasted a strong military presence.
If Japan chose to allay its neighbors’ anxieties by purging
itself of its past and paying survivors and their families, its desire
to shake off the shackles of postwar restrictions placed upon it, and
to do so without its prompting suspicion and antagonism from its
neighbors, might be realized. But Japan’s courts continue
to rule against reparation. Such decisions leave wounds open,
subtly excuse the Imperial Army’s barbarism, and reinforce
animosity. As a result, Japan secures for itself assured conflict
with surrounding countries whenever that nation displays an urge to be
more independent, to upright itself in strength, or to make any move
that may call to mind the ghosts of its former colonial will-to-power.
To
be sure, victims and their relatives have sought new approaches with
which to break through Japan’s fortress of defiance.
Survivors and those representing the deceased have undertaken
legal proceedings in their own countries, since Japan will not
recognize these cases within its own borders. Some plaintiffs
have investigated mirroring the successes of Jewish Holocaust survivors
by looking toward the United States’ courts to conduct
litigations. In light of Japan’s ruling against individuals
seeking redress for atrocities, however, the promise of such ventures
is dubious unless survivors can gain the notice and support of American
voters, who might then pressure their elected representatives to enact
legislation or persuade state officials to encourage more cooperation
from the Japanese government. As Chang suggests in The Rape of Nanking,
the late 1990s saw rising U.S. interest in holding Japan responsible
for its war crimes, and the surge in visibility culminated in HCR 126,
a House resolution intended in part to call for an apology from Japan
for the mistreatment of prisoners of war and other victims, such as the
“comfort women” and survivors of Nanking, and to force
Japan to pay restitution to all concerned.6 Despite being sponsored by 78 House representatives, the resolution failed.
Since
the United States is the country with perhaps the most influence on
Japan, strategies involving the U.S. may seem more viable to reach
survivors’ goals, although America’s current lack of
credibility with regard to questions of human rights may subvert our
country’s efficacy in engaging Japans’ sympathies.
Nevertheless, should tactics of negotiation not prove effective,
America’s clout in the world market and leverage in the U.N.
might prove useful tools where moral example fails. It should be
noted that the U.S. itself also entered into a treaty in 1951 that
absolved the Japanese of war reparations, thus not guaranteeing success
for those wishing to utilize the U.S. justice system. Immediate
legal solutions notwithstanding, perhaps the single best method of
causing Japan to reevaluate its position is to adopt the most potent
weapon wielded by the postwar Jewish population—to engage the
public imagination through the arts, and specifically film. The
sheer volume of material on the Nazi Holocaust has ensured that the
words and images depicting its tragedies will forever burn into the
public’s memory. To date there have been only three
films depicting the dramatic events of the Rape of Nanking, each
project meeting with mixed results, and all of them released primarily
to Chinese audiences. The power of film is that, when done well,
it most viscerally and instantaneously fuses ideas with raw emotions,
and transforms cold facts into images that reach people’s
hearts—and it is from the human heart and its compassion, its
outrage, its sorrow, that people can be moved to act toward positive
change.
One
thing is certain: to gain harmony in Asia will require more concessions
from Japan for its war crimes than simply rhetorical assurances.
The actions of Japanese higher courts have continually undermined
the sentiments expressed by passing administrations. To apologize
without offering assistance is an empty gesture. Unless Japan
looks forward to being dogged by decades-old disgraces, to being
greeted with misgivings by its neighbors, and to having its goals
thwarted into perpetuity by the begrudging descendants of its
uncompensated victims, its offerings of peace and good faith must be as
visible and real today as its reign of carnage was seventy years ago
within the walls of Nanking.