Japanese Memories of the Asia-Pacific War: Analyzing the Revisionist Turn Post-1995 | The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus

Japanese Memories of the Asia-Pacific War: Analyzing the Revisionist Turn Post-1995 | The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus






Japanese Memories of the Asia-Pacific War: Analyzing the Revisionist Turn Post-1995
Akiko Takenaka
October 15, 2016
Volume 14 | Issue 20 | Number 8
Article ID 4967





This essay begins with three notable incidents of recent years, which are indicative of contemporary trends in the politics of war memory in Japan. The first is associated with the Abe administration’s 2015 passage of the Collective Self Defense Bill: an interpretation of Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution, which allows the Japanese Self Defense Forces to engage in military affairs when an ally of Japan is deemed to be under threat. The second is a part of the controversies on the “comfort women,” the systematic sexual slavery conducted at military brothels, which was implemented and managed by the Japanese military and government during the Asia-Pacific War (1931-45). The third concerns a municipal museum dedicated to the local experience of the Asia-Pacific War.

Incident 1: In October 2015, a Tokyo branch of national bookstore chain Junkudō was pressured into cancelling its “Fifty Must-Reads for Freedom and Democracy” book fair. This, in response to complaints that the selection was biased. The bookstore resumed the fair a month later with a new title “Forty-Nine Titles to Think About Democracy Today.” As many as forty of the original fifty books had been replaced with new titles. Among the books that were pulled were those by liberal intellectuals who had voiced concerns and criticisms of the ways that the Abe administration forced passage of the Collective Self-defense Bill.1

“Fifty Must-Reads for Freedom
and Democracy” book fair “Forty-Nine Titles to Think
About Democracy Today”
book fair




Incident 2: In August 2014, former Asahi newspaper reporter Uemura Takashi became embroiled in an intense controversy over several articles on the “comfort women” issue, which he had authored in 1991. The articles are considered to provide key evidences of the Japanese government’s involvement in the “comfort women” system. Conservative critics accused Uemura of fabrication. The controversy is still ongoing, and has cost Uemura an academic position. He and his family continue to receive death threats.2




Former Asahi newspaper reporter Uemura Takashi showing the “comfort woman” article from 1991




Incident 3: In April 2014, Peace Osaka, a municipal museum dedicated to the Japanese experience of the Asia-Pacific War, closed its doors in order to overhaul the entire exhibit. The museum had displayed, in addition to local experience of the Allied air raids, aggressive acts committed by the Japanese military in China. The transformation was a result of continuous attacks by the revisionist right, which argued that the museum must present a history that Japanese youths can be proud of. The museum reopened a year later featuring a narrative of the Asia-Pacific War completely devoid of Japan’s aggressions in Asia.3 Several other municipal museums dedicated to local experiences of the war have also removed displays of Japanese atrocities under similar pressure.




Activists protesting the “renewal” of Peace Osaka, April 30, 2015


The three episodes illustrate ways that memories of the Asia-Pacific War are politicized in line with resurgent nationalism in Japan today. In many of these cases, war memory has become a political position that one must take, polarized between two options: the Asia-Pacific War was a war of imperialism and aggression, or it was a war of self-defense from Western imperialism. How to remember this war has always been a politicized issue in Japan, but the trend has certainly intensified in the last two decades, especially since 1995, the fiftieth anniversary of the war’s end. In the cases of the bookstore and the museums, we see instances where the extreme right succeeded in pressuring municipal and private groups to alter their narrative portrayal of the past. The instance involving the former Asahi reporter demonstrates how issues associated with the wartime past have been reduced to a political position. There are many other situations where even personal memories of the war have been simplified into a black-and-white stance on whether Japan’s war was one of aggression.

This essay will analyze this recent trend in Japanese war memory through three avenues: 1) the 1995 paradigm: the conservative turn in the mid-1990s as a reaction to the series of official apologies that were issued by the Japanese government for the fiftieth anniversary of the end of the war; 2) “postmemory”: the shift in war memory in recent decades influenced by the rapid decrease in the number of war survivors; and 3) memory activists: an examination of whose memories—and what kind of memories—are actively being remembered today. Through these three themes, the essay explicates the unresolved nature of Japan’s relationship with its wartime past. In particular, the victimhood consciousness held by a large majority of Japanese, as well as the failure by relatively liberal administrations to systematically resolve the issues through research, outreach, and education, have hampered Japan’s efforts for reconciling with its history.




Displays that were eliminated with the “renewal”


Politics of Apology and the 1995 Paradigm

Japan has had to deal with the issue of official apologies since the end of the war. In the early postwar decades, apologies at the state level were only issued to specific nations such as Burma (1957) and Australia (1957), or on particular occasions such as the normalization of international relations (South Korea, 1965; People’s Republic of China, 1972). International scrutiny on Japan’s attitude towards its wartime past intensified in the 1980s alongside the increased focus on the Japanese government’s relationship with Yasukuni Shrine, the highly politicized institution where spirits of all military dead from modern Japan including fourteen Class A war criminals are memorialized.4 Prime Minister Nakasone Yasuhiro’s official visit to the shrine on August 15, 1985 especially raised concerns in Japan’s neighboring countries and brought attention to the issue of Japan’s war responsibility. Also in the 1980s, ways that the Asia-Pacific War—and especially the China campaign—was depicted in Japanese textbooks caused tensions between Japan and its East Asian neighbors.5 In the early 1990s, the issue of the “comfort women” reemerged, when Asahi newspaper reported on its front page that historian Yoshimi Yoshiaki discovered “comfort women”-related documents in the Ministry of Defense archives. The authors of the article urged the Japanese government to apologize and pay reparations to the women.6 Prime Minister Miyazawa Kiichi and Foreign Minister Kōno Yōhei issued several statements that included apologies to the women.

The shift in Japan’s political climate in the mid-1990s—the years leading up to the fiftieth anniversary of the end of the war in August 1995—also affected the government’s official stance towards war responsibility. The Liberal Democratic Party, which had consistently been the majority party since 1955, yielded its status first to the newly formed Japan New Party (Nihon Shintō) headed by Hosokawa Morihiro in August 1993, then to the short-lived Japan Renewal party (Shinseitō) of Ozawa Ichirō in April 1994, and finally, to a coalition government headed by the socialist Murayama Tomiichi in June 1994. Hosokawa and Murayama in particular issued several notable apologies, which included acknowledgement of the pain and suffering that the actions of the Japanese military inflicted on people of Asia, as well as admission of the Japanese government’s involvement in the “comfort women” system. Murayama established the Asian Women’s Fund, a private foundation whose goal was to pay reparations to the women and raise awareness of the issue.7 Opinion polls from the time reveal that the majority of Japanese approved these official statements.

Yet, these apologies were quickly overshadowed by the Japanese government’s sharp turn to the political right in succeeding years. As early as 1996, LDP lawmakers tied to conservative lobbyist groups assumed the premiership and other key government positions.8 These government officials resumed the practice of paying official tribute at Yasukuni Shrine. In 1997, they established the multi-party coalition “Association of Diet Members Who Jointly Pay Tribute at Yasukuni Shrine.” These were possible because there was public support for these lawmakers.




Association of Diet Members Who Jointly Pay Tribute at Yasukuni Shrine (photograph from 2013)


These neo-conservatives maintain that the history of modern and contemporary Japan should present the kind of narrative that Japanese youths can be proud of—that is, a narrative devoid of any wrongdoing by the Japanese state or the military. According to this narrative, the Asia-Pacific War for Japan was either a war of self-defense, or a war to liberate Asia from Western imperialism. There are several examples of institutional efforts to advocate this kind of history. In 1996, several scholars founded the Japanese Society for History Textbook Reform that sought to promote a nationalistic view through history education. Their version of Japanese history was cleansed of Japan’s war crimes and situated wartime Japan as the liberator of Asia from Western imperialism. 1997 saw the establishment of Nippon Kaigi, a “private organization for policy promotion and popular movement aimed at the reconstruction of a beautiful Japan that we can be proud of.”9 In 2002, Yūshūkan, the military museum owned and operated by Yasukuni Shrine, reopened its renovated and expanded facility with a brand new exhibit that featured a revisionist narrative of Imperial Japan.10 The popularity of publications by ultranationalist cultural producers such as the graphic novelist Kobayashi Yoshinori, commentator Sakurai Yoshiko, and writer Hyakuta Naoki illustrate the kind of narratives appreciated by many Japanese today.11 Attacks on museums such as Peace Osaka started in the mid-1990s. Mainstream popular culture, films in particular, typically do not go so far as to justify the war itself, but they often aestheticize sacrifice and honor without specifically addressing the political implications of the war or crimes and atrocities committed. The subtext here is Japan as a nation that all Japanese can be proud of—a narrative that presumably appeals to many who have grown tired of criticisms from the rest of Asia.

History and Civics textbooks published by
the Japan Society for History Textbook Reform


Following this shift to the right in the representations of Japanese history was the simplification of the issues associated with war memory. There have always existed debates about Japan’s role in the Asia-Pacific War. But by the 21st century, the points of contention in these controversies had shifted dramatically from the specific to the symbolic. For example, in the case of the “comfort women” issue, the original debate focused on the number of women involved, what kind of treatment they received, and, most importantly, whether or not the Japanese wartime government was involved in the setting up of the “comfort” stations and recruiting the women. The most heated debate that ensued in the recent years revolves not around issues, but rather, individuals—Japanese nationals who argue that there existed a Japanese state-controlled systematic sexual slavery in East and Southeast Asia during the war: Uemura Takashi, the former Asahi newspaper reporter who broke the news containing critical information about this systematic slavery, and Yoshimi Yoshiaki, the historian who uncovered archival evidence of state support of this system. The current debate is on the character and integrity of the two men, rather than on the issue itself. The debate has also extended outside Japan and Korea, to erecting memorials dedicated to the “comfort women” in expat communities in the United States and Canada, and to depiction of the subject matter in American textbooks.12 In the case of Yasukuni Shrine, focus of the associated controversies has shifted from specific issues such as the attempts of the Liberal Democratic Party to reinstate state support of the shrine, to more ambiguous ones including the alleged pain and suffering that a prime minister’s visit to the shrine has caused to specific individuals.13 While these debates are rooted in the historical past, it is also clear that the focus has shifted to matters that have little to do with specific occurrences in the past. Similar shifts can be observed in other controversial matters including Japanese military’s aggressive acts in Asia such as the Nanjing Massacre.

I suggest that this recent shift can be understood as a reaction to the period of apologies of the mid 1990’s—apologies that were, in the words of historian Yoshida Yutaka, “not backed by a solid understanding of the wartime history,” but rather, presented to support a necessary shift in Japan’s international policy.14 Yoshida argues that such apologies in particular, and popular opinion on Japan’s war crimes more generally, were not so much a result of changing historical consciousness as they were a reaction to international criticism.15 Just as the apologies were a political move in response to international pressure, the revisionist trend of recent years can be considered a reactionary move on the domestic level.

There certainly were geopolitical pressures that culminated in the 1995 apologies, the most influential of which was the collapse of the Cold War structure in Asia and the rise of China. During the Cold War, disagreements over war memory remained, for the most part, a domestic issue in Japan. But the demise of the global Cold War structure had profound implications for Japan, for it brought renewed attention to unresolved tensions with the Asian lands it had invaded prior to 1945. The 1989 death of Showa emperor, the supreme commander of the Asia-Pacific War who was nevertheless never tried in the Tokyo War Trials or deprived of his throne, also shifted the landscape of war memory in Japan.

By the 1990s, individuals (rather than states for whom issues of responsibility and compensation seemed to have been settled through war crimes tribunals and normalization of international relations) had begun to make claims in court for apologies and compensation.16 Former “comfort women” from South Korea began to speak about their experiences in the early 1990s leading to lawsuits against the Japanese government. Korean men also filed suits against Japanese corporations for their harsh forced labor during the war as colonial subjects. The 1997 publication of Iris Chang’s Rape of Nanking also highlighted Japanese atrocities in East Asia.17 International pressure, especially from China and South Korea, compelled Japan to contend with war memory from a global perspective. This provoked Japan to nationalize its war memory and to seek to impose a unified voice.

In this context, the mid-90s apologies can be understood as a strategy for improving Japan’s foreign relations with China and South Korea, rather than a full acknowledgement of wrongdoings in the wartime past. Another point worth considering is the ways that war memory was shaped immediately after 1945. The US-led Allied Occupation reframed Japanese war memory as one that can be described as “victim’s history”: by identifying individuals that were responsible for the war through the Tokyo Trials, and especially by allowing the emperor to evade prosecution, the Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP) created in Japanese society an environment that was easier for them to occupy and manage. In the process, however, a feeling of “being deceived (damasareta)” by the wartime government permeated the immediate postwar period, and allowed the general public to not only welcome democracy, but also leave issues of their own war responsibility unquestioned.18 Victim’s history has played a role of a powerful unifier in Japanese society, presenting a situation that demonstrates the timelessness of Ernest Renan’s apt observation on nationalism: that “shared suffering unites more than does joy.”19

The Japanese public, then, embraced the official apologies of the mid-1990s not because they felt responsible, but because the official apologies reinforced their understanding that it was the government’s responsibility to apologize, to compensate, and to work on reconciliation with its wartime foes. It is also worth mentioning that the Japanese government did not endorse their apologies domestically by educating, or having a dialogue with, the general public on issues of war responsibility. In this scenario, where the apologies occurred as more or less superficial measures, it is possible that the persistence of international criticism resulted in yet another reactionary response—a denial of war crimes more generally.

This all suggests a kind of reactionary nationalism: the reinterpretation of the past as a political position. If the apologies of the mid-1990s came as a result of international pressure, the succeeding turn to the right can be considered a response by frustrated domestic voices. War memory thus became politicized. In the process, the complex relationships that the Japanese had with the fifteen-year war—ranging from those who were indeed perpetrators, those who committed crimes under pressure, those who took advantage of the war for financial gain or promotion of their cause, those who truly believed that the war was a holy war including children who were thoroughly educated to celebrate Japan’s militaristic nationalism, and others who were simultaneously perpetrator and victim—have been reduced to political positions. One notable consequence of such political positioning is that those who supported one side or the other soon found themselves unwilling or unable to express critical views of methodologies or tactics utilized by those within their groups.

The Postmemory Generation and the Issue of War Responsibility

Over seventy years has passed since the end of the war, and the large majority of Japanese today have no firsthand experience of the war. This section focuses on the generations born after 1945—those with no experience of the war—in order to engage further with this problem of war memory. The ongoing, persistent international criticisms—especially those from China and South Korea—have had a particularly strong impact on the generations born after 1945, who feel that they should not have to be responsible for what happened before they were born. For example, in 1995, then member of the Lower House Takaichi Sanae, who was born in 1961, publicly asserted that she was under no obligation to contemplate (hansei suru) Japan’s war responsibility since she was not even alive at the time.20 Takaichi’s statement drew a variety of responses. Liberal media outlets, including the Asahi newspaper, condemned her point of view.21 At the same time, many Japanese from her generation—including those who acknowledge Japan’s wartime crimes—admitted to holding similar sentiments.22 This latter response suggests a trend more complex than that of a generation refusing to bear responsibility for something that had happened before they were born. Many who do acknowledge Japan’s war crimes believe that the Japanese state has an obligation to pay for its wartime injustices, but feel no need to take responsibility for the actions themselves as individuals.23 Such sentiments continue to fuel victim’s history.

Takaichi Sanae, as well as the majority of scholars, activists, and cultural figures who have been promoting revisionist views of Japan’s wartime past, belong to the generations that have come to know the war through what Marianne Hirsch has coined “postmemory”—a memory without experience that is inherited through the environment in which one grows up. Unlike their parents and grandparents, those who belong to the postmemory generation never directly experienced war. Rather, they have grown up “dominated by narratives that preceded their birth, whose belated stories are evacuated by the stories of the previous generation [and] shaped by the traumatic events that can be neither understood or recreated.”24 Hirsch, who has examined literature and other forms of culture produced by the children of Holocaust survivors, argues that the descendants of those who have “witnessed massive traumatic events connect so deeply to the previous generation’s remembrances of the past that they identify that connection as a form of memory, and that, in certain extreme circumstances, memory can be transferred to those who were not actually there to live an event.”25 But of course, received memory is different from that of actual witnesses and participants. And received memory continues to be reshaped by the society in which the recipients live. Or perhaps it is not memory that is received. Eva Hoffman, who has also examined children of Holocaust survivors, suggests that what the children inherit is not memory, but rather, what she calls “the emotional traces of the parents’ experiences.”26 Whether memory or emotional traces, what is received by the succeeding generation continues to be reshaped by the society in which the recipients live.

Hirsch and Hoffman are talking about the familial transmission of the Holocaust experience. But the transmission can also be social, as was the case in Japan. For example, those who experienced childhood in 1970s and 80s Japan typically grew up surrounded by narratives that situate Japan and the Japanese as victims of war. Required readings for summer vacations often presented narratives from Japan’s home front: war orphans, destroyed cities, Hiroshima survivors who feared the physical aftereffects of massive radiation, and animals that had to be sacrificed for the war effort. Television dramas featured young protagonists that had lost everything. Even the kinds of works problematized by conservatives such as Hadashi no Gen [Barefoot Gen] depict people as victims of the wartime government.27

These popular cultural representations, in turn, tied the young readers’ parents and grandparents’ narratives to a larger past that was the history of Japan. Narratives of those who experienced hardships and loss of the wartime home front, whose personal experiences were to serve as a lesson for peace, dominated the childhood of many Japanese. The primary voice was that of the former victim (those of the parents and/or grandparents’ generation) preaching that war is bad and therefore we must promote peace. The perpetrator was never identified in the original narrative—the war was something that came and went, like a natural disaster.

Through the experience of growing up surrounded by these narratives, the postmemory generation has come to inherit their parents’ generation’s trauma—the trauma of an all-out war, of hardship and loss. For the postmemory generation, however, this is an elusive trauma without a specific hardship or loss. Through this process of inheritance as postmemory, the war trauma has become the trauma of their people, which they too have come to embody through the environment that they have grown up in, a part of their identity. But the postmemory generation has also inherited another kind of legacy from the war—that of war responsibility. In the post 1995 society, they have encountered constant chatter about Japan’s war responsibility, of their war guilt. The inherited trauma of wartime hardship, then, is deeply intertwined with a pressure of guilt. In attempts to rectify the guilt and the resulting trauma, many have come to embrace the victim’s history in which at least ordinary Japanese are not to be held responsible. Others have turned to revisionist history that echoes the wartime state propaganda that asserted Japan fought the Asia-Pacific War out of self-defense, a narrative that absolves all Japanese, including political leaders, from war responsibility.

Of course the “postmemory generation” is not singular. And even among the supporters of revisionist history, the understanding of the fifteen-year war as well as of the current East Asian memory wars differ typically based on how far removed one is from the war. Unlike the generation that experienced the war, or that were personally acquainted with people who experienced the war, most who are in their thirties or younger today have not experienced specific, personal losses that can be acknowledged or compensated. For this generation, the issue is based on abstract concepts such as responsibility and guilt. As a result, they tend to welcome symbolic gestures that allow them to feel that they are not responsible.

Memory Activists and Victim’s History

One key reason for the persistence of the memory wars in East Asia is the presence of what I have been referring to as victim’s history. According to this history, ordinary Japanese not only do not bear any responsibility for any aspect of the fifteen-year war, but they were in fact victims of both their own government and the Allied air raids (or the atomic bombs or the land battle in Okinawa). The Tokyo Trials that identified war criminals reinforced this belief. But with the Trials long over and those who were found guilty no longer alive, there is no one left to take responsibility for the war. Of course this victim’s history is not really a productive way of thinking about the past. For, as historian Carol Gluck has argued, it takes more than the top political and military leaders (in the case of Japan, the emperor and the convicted war criminals) for a nation to wage a total war. In other words, all Japanese bear some degree of responsibility.28

But here, I would like to turn to the question of where and how this victim’s history emerged. Put another way, when the Japanese think of their wartime experiences as that of victims, whose voices were being heard, whose memories are now being remembered? Whose memories are we relying on now?

The primary way that the Japanese “remember” the war is as victims on the home front, especially of the Allied air raids, which destroyed nearly two hundred cities and killed approximately 330,000 people.29 A concerted effort to collect and preserve memories of local air raids began in the 1960s. In many cities, groups for collecting and recording survivor memories organized in the 1970s. The Tokyo Association to Record Air Raid Experiences (Tokyo Kūshū o Kirokusuru-kai), founded by four survivors of the March 10, 1945 Tokyo air raid—writers Saotome Katsumoto and Arima Yorichika, cultural critic Matsuura Sōzō, and historian Ienaga Saburō—began its activities on August 5, 1970.30 Similar groups quickly followed in several other cities. Most of these groups characterize themselves as the victims of the wartime government, believing that collecting and relaying their wartime suffering to succeeding generations translates to peace promotion.

One impetus for the collection of air raid memories was America’s war in Vietnam. News reports that American bombing on North Vietnam was creating numerous civilian casualties prompted the April 1965 establishment of Beheiren, or the Citizen’s Alliance to Bring Peace to Vietnam. In the midst of the war, in January 1970, Prime Minister Satō Eisaku allowed the Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security between Japan and the US [Anpo Treaty, originally concluded in 1960] to be automatically renewed, further fueling Japan’s anti-war movement. Since the treaty enabled the United States to use Japanese land and facilities for military purposes, many Japanese felt a sense of responsibility towards the war in Vietnam. Planes that bombed Northern Vietnam typically took off from American bases in Okinawa, and Japanese factories were produced weapons, ammunitions, and herbicides for the war, while forty percent of planes using Haneda International Airport in Tokyo at the time were chartered by the US military and three-quarters of wounded American soldiers received treatment in Japan.31 According to an Asahi newspaper poll of August 24, 1965, 75 percent of the respondents were opposed to the war in Vietnam, with only 4 percent in support, and 54 percent thought Japan to be in danger of entanglement in the conflict.32

For the men and women that had lived through the Asia-Pacific War, personal experiences of air raids were a powerful impetus to collect memories as a way to oppose the war in Vietnam and promote peace. Many who lived with vivid memories of running through incendiary bomb showers and witnessing mass death felt a particular obligation as well as authority to protest against the U.S. bombing of North Vietnam.33 Their sense of victimhood was key to their thought process. In order to promote real peace, they argued, it was necessary to fully understand the victim experience. In their view, those born after 1945 (the postmemory generation), who had grown up in an environment with no trace of the devastation caused by the war, especially needed to learn from their collection of victim memories before they could oppose the war in Vietnam. Air raid survivors were also apprehensive that memories of the Japanese war experience were fading (sensō taiken no fūka) alongside the dramatic societal changes during Japan’s high economic growth period of the 1960s. Many concurrently worried that war memories were starting to become aestheticized, as narratives lionizing Imperial Japan’s military death began to appear.34

At the time, however, there were multiple, competing interpretations of the war. For example, in 1966, Oda Makoto, novelist, chairman of Beheiren, and a child victim of the Osaka bombing of 1945, wrote a scathing critique of war experience narratives that were constructed from the viewpoint of the victim. He argued against victimhood consciousness and called for a “personal sense of involvement [in the war] and responsibility [for the involvement].”35 There also were generational rifts during this period, with some youths accusing the generation that lived through the war of collaborating with Japanese militarism. The notorious 1969 vandalism at Ritsumeikan University of the Wadatsumi statue, which commemorates fallen student soldiers, is one manifestation of this rift.36

At least during this time period, it was possible for generational differences in the remembrance of the war to coexist, and there were efforts to discuss, communicate, and reconcile these differences at least within Japan. There was no need for a unified collective Japanese narrative of the war in the Cold War geopolitical order. But what I want to point out here is that efforts were made to record and preserve numerous voices from the home front, of the air raids, and of Japanese suffering in the final months of the Asia-Pacific War.

In addition to the collection and preservation of memories, these memory activists took on the task of collecting artifacts associated with air raids. Many such collections developed into municipal peace museums, of which Peace Osaka mentioned earlier was one. Some wrote memoirs, children’s books, and novels based on their experience. War-themed commercial films and television dramas with a focus on the home front experience also began to receive attention in the 1970s and 80s. Other kinds of war stories, especially from the battlefields, existed, but for the most part, these were not personal narratives, but rather, popular military histories involving battle strategies, fighter planes and aircraft carriers. Primary voices came from the home front.37 Most depicted the air raids without identifying the perpetrator.

These home front narratives of air raid experience that situated the Japanese as victims ironically resonated with the way that the US framed Japanese war memory during the occupation period—the Japanese were the victims, of their own government, of aerial bombing of their cities. More specifically, the Japanese were the victims of “the war”—not the “Greater East Asia War,” as Japan’s wartime leaders called it, not the “Pacific War,” as SCAP renamed it, not the “Asia-Pacific War,” generally accepted today in intellectual communities, but a generic war. A generic evil.

The proponents of the victim’s history are also proud supporters of Article 9, as the non-war clause of the Japanese Constitution completes their redemptive myth. The generation growing up in the 70s and 80s was told that the peace and prosperity that Japan enjoyed came as a result of the suffering and loss experienced by the wartime generation. For Japan to rise up from the ashes like a phoenix, the war was necessary, they were told. The redemptive myth held strong, until Japan’s economic bubble burst in the early 1990s.

The generation that came of age during and after the mid-1990s—the time of official apologies, the time when criticisms from East Asia crescendoed—never experienced the economic progress or the prosperity that Japan enjoyed for decades after the war. For many in this generation, Article 9 does not symbolize the redemptive myth, but rather, stands in the way of Japan’s path to becoming a “normal country” with its own military. This is not to say that all Japanese that belong to this generation support the revisionist narrative. Many from this generation consider Article 9 a source of pride, a quality that allows their country to be exceptional. But here, too, it is about political positions: Article 9 for the supporters symbolizes peace. Peace as a generic good; peace as an antithesis of war as a generic evil.

Postwar responsibility

The concept of “postwar responsibility” offers some possibilities for escaping this reactionary trend.38 This concept is concerned not so much with accepting responsibility for the war and its associated crimes, but rather, for the postwar responses. The “responsibility” in this approach is therefore not for the acts committed during the war, but for ending the present international tension resulting from the unresolved issues from the war, which can only be successfully executed through reconciliation. Of course the issue of who is responsible still remains unresolved and scholars differ on this point. Renowned historian and activist Ienaga Saburō, for example, has argued for a collective responsibility that transcends experience or age groups: that since the postwar generations have benefited from the peace and prosperity built on the Japanese war experience, it is necessary for all Japanese to bear responsibility.39 Others argue that responsibility is not based on nationality, but should be founded upon a critical assessment and understanding of Japan’s imperial past: that postwar generations should not be forced to inherit war responsibility without rational reasoning or acceptable explanation.40 While many scholars have actively, and often transnationally, contributed to the discourse on Japan’s war responsibility in recent years, it seems that the concept of people’s responsibility has yet to take hold among the general public in Japan.41 Further, there is no safe public space for education on war responsibility since the topic is always heavily politicized. War responsibility has become a political position rather than a problem that needs to be understood, acknowledged, and resolved.

Another way to think about war responsibility is through the concept of citizenship. Citizenship entails both rights and responsibilities. It is thus possible, on the one hand, to argue that as citizens, all Japanese—including those who were born after the war—need to bear responsibility for Japan’s wartime past. But on the other hand, it is also possible to argue that in wartime Japan, most people (and women in particular) were not full citizens of Japan, when we take into account the extremely limited nature of democracy prior to 1945. Or, perhaps we can think about the concept some political theorists call “individual national responsibility,” which is responsibility for acts performed by others (dead or alive) who belongs (or belonged) to the same nation.

In the summer of 2015, the seventieth anniversary of Japan’s defeat, tens of thousands of Japanese protested in front of the National Diet Building to oppose Abe’s reinterpretation of the Collective Self Defense Bill. The protest was led by the SEALDs, a student group that spearheaded a number of anti-defense bill activities. They were standing up against the conservative turn that had been the norm for two decades since 1995. The protest has now expanded into an anti-government and anti-war rally more generally.42 But this ongoing activism in its current form, in which protestors single out top lawmakers as the culprit, remains within the framework of victim’s history. The protestors merely criticize government policies and strategies and accuse lawmakers of deception without offering possible solutions or, perhaps more importantly, publicly engaging in a self-reflective analysis by asking the important question: “why and how did we arrive at where we are today?”

Nevertheless, this kind of activism has much potential to transform into a demonstration of postwar responsibility. What is needed here is a more inclusive approach to these anti-war protests—an approach that includes consideration for the pain of others, of people who might become enemies if Japan were to take up arms; an approach that includes a reflection on Japan’s past deeds. If Japanese people are not to take up arms because they do not want to go to war, or because they do not want their loved ones to go to war, the intent can and should also be expanded to potential opponents: an intent not to go to war because the act may inflict injury on citizens of other nations. And by extension, it is also possible to argue that Japanese people should not go to war so that they would not have to injure citizens of other nations, as they had done during the fifteen years between 1931 and 1945. An anti-war protest by Japanese youth that includes such demands is a much more powerful statement of acknowledgment and responsibility than any words a sitting prime minister can utter.




SEALDs (Students Emergency Action for Liberal Democracy)

Notes
1

Tokyo Asahi shinbun, November 5, 2015; November 13, 2015.
2

Uemura Takashi with Tomomi Yamaguchi, "Labeled the reporter who "fabricated" the comfort woman issue: A Rebuttal", The Asia-Pacific Journal, Vol. 13, Issue 2, No. 1, January 12, 2015.
3

Akiko Takenaka, “Reactionary Nationalism and Museum Controversies: The Case of ‘Peace Osaka’,” The Public Historian 36.2 (Spring 2014), 75-98; Philip Seaton, "The Nationalist Assault on Japan’s Local Peace Museums: The Conversion of Peace Osaka", The Asia-Pacific Journal, Vol. 13, Issue 30, No. 2, July 27, 2015.
4

Akiko Takenaka, Yasukuni Shrine: History, Memory, and Japan’s Unending Postwar (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2015).
5

Laura Hein and Mark Selden eds., Censoring History: Citizenship and Memory in Japan, Germany and the United States (Armonk, N.Y.: M.E. Sharpe, 2000).
6

Asahi shinbun, January 11, 1992.
7

The foundation closed on March 31, 2007 but still exists today in the form of a digital museum.
8

Hashimoto Ryūtarō, who succeeded the socialist Prime Minister Murayama Tomiichi on January 11, 1996, had—until shortly before he assumed premiership—been the president of the Japan Bereaved Families Association (Nippon Izokukai), the powerful lobbyist group with strong ties to Yasukuni Shrine.
9

From official website.
10

Takenaka, Yasukuni Shrine.
11

Kobayashi Yoshinori has authored a number of popular graphic novels that explain key postwar issues such as war responsibility, Yasukuni Shrine and the imperial family. Journalist and commentator Sakurai Yoshiko is a prolific author of texts that promote neo-conservative views of Japan. Hyakuta Naoki is the author of the best-selling novel Eien no zero, which depicts a young man’s journey to learn about the military life of his late grandfather who was a tokkō pilot. He is also known for his friendly dialogues with Prime Minister Abe Shinzō.
12

For more recent developments, see, Norma Field and Tomomi Yamaguchi, Introduction, '“Comfort Woman” Revisionism Comes to the U.S.: Symposium on The Revisionist Film Screening Event at Central Washington University', The Asia-Pacific Journal, Vol. 13, Issue 21, No. 1, June 1, 2015; Tomomi Yamaguchi and Normal Field, "The Impact of “Comfort Woman” Revisionism on the Academy, the Press, and the Individual: Symposium on the U.S. Tour of Uemura Takashi", The Asia-Pacific Journal, Vol. 13, Issue 33, No. 1, August 17, 2015.
13

The shrine was owned and operated by the Japanese state until February 1946, when it became a private institution to satisfy the SCAP issued Shinto Directive, which separated Shinto from the Japanese government. For details on the lawsuits that resulted from the “pain and suffering,” see Takenaka, Yasukuni Shrine.
14

Yoshida Yutaka, Nihonjin no sensōkan: sengoshi no naka no hen’yō (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1995), 7.
15

Yoshida Yutaka, Nihonjin no sensōkan, 7.
16

Carol Gluck, “Sekinin/Responsibility in Modern Japan,” in Gluck and Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing eds., Words in Motion: Toward A Global Lexicon (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2009), 97.
17

Iris Chang, The Rape of Nanking: The Forgotten Holocaust of World War II (New York: Basic Books, 1997).
18

Yoshida, Nihonjin no sensōkan, 55.
19

Ernest Renan, “What is a Nation?” lecture delivered at the Sorbonne on March 11, 1882.
20

Nihon keizai shinbun, March 17, 1995.
21

Tokyo Asahi shinbun, March 18, 1995.
22

“Editorial,” Kikan sensō sekinin kenkyū no. 11 (Spring, 1996), 2-9. Takaichi currently is Minister of Internal Affairs and Communications in the Abe administration. Her comment may have been a result of her conservative leanings, but the youths’ identification with her statement is worth noting.
23

According to a 2005 poll by the conservative Yomiuri newspaper, only 5 percent responded that the general public bore some responsibility for the war. A 2006 poll by the liberal Asahi newspaper yielded somewhat different results: 39 percent believed that the general public had some responsibility, while 43 percent responded that they were not responsible at all. But respondents to both polls placed the primary blame on the military and political leaders. Yomiuri Shinbun Sensō Sekinin Kenshō Iinkai ed., Kenshō sensō sekinin vol. 1 (Tokyo: Chūō kōronsha, 2006), 208-9; Asahi Shinbun Shuzaihan, Sensō sekinin to tsuitō vol. 1 (Tokyo: Asahi shinbunsha, 2006), 230-31.
24

Marianne Hirsch, “Past Lives: Postmemories in Exile,” Poetics Today (17.4): 659-86; here, 662.
25

Marianne Hirsch, The Generation of Postmemory: Writing and Visual Culture after the Holocaust (New York: Columbia University Press, 2012), 3.
26

Eva Hoffman, After Such Knowledge: Memory, History, and the Legacy of the Holocaust (New York: Public Affairs, 2004).
27

In 2012, Matsue City Board of Education made a recommendation to local elementary and junior high schools to remove the graphic novel series from school libraries in response to complaints from members of citizens group Zaitokukai, a group that seeks to eliminate what they consider as privileges extended to Korean residents of Japan. Similar requests also occurred in Tottori City and Izumisano City around the same time. Most schools initially complied to the requests, but subsequently returned the books to their open stacks.
28

Carol Gluck, “The Idea of Showa,” in Gluck and Stephen R. Graubard eds., Showa: The Japan of Hirohito (New York: W.W. Norton, 1992), 1-26.
29

Detailed information on the air raids is available at the online archive.
30

For the early history of the group, see here [last accessed August 1, 2014].
31

Oguma Eiji, “Minshu” to “aikoku”: sengo Nihon no nashonarizumu to kōkyōsei (Tokyo: Shin’yōsha, 2002), 588-589.
32

Oguma, “Minshu” to “aikoku,” 589.
33

Koyama Hitoshi, Nihon kūshū no zen’yō: Mariana kichi B29 butai (Tokyo: Tōhō shuppan, 1995), 252.
34

Oguma, “Minshu” to “aikoku,” 589.
35

Oda Makoto, Betonamu no Amerikajin (Tokyo: Gōdō shuppan, 1966).
36

On May 20, 1969, members of Ritsumeikan University Zenkyōtō (United Front of All Students) vandalized the Wadatsumi statue that commemorates the student soldier war dead arguing that the generation that lived through the war had collaborated with Japanese fascism. “If you were against war, why didn’t you throw away your guns? Why didn’t you run away from the battlefield?” they protested. Oguma “Minshu” to “aikoku,” 595.
37

For an analysis of personal war narratives from the battlefields, see Narita Ryūichi, “Sensō keiken” no sengoshi: katarareta taiken, shōgen, kioku (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 2010).
38

The word postwar responsibility has existed since the 1970s, but it has been mobilized in the last two decades to result in a flurry of publications that use the term in order to interrogate ways to conceive of innovative ideas for breaking through the stagnant postwar. For recent discussions on postwar responsibility, see, for example, Ōnuma Yasuaki, Tokyo saiban, sensō sekinin, sengo sekinin (Tokyo: Tōshindō, 2007); Takahashi Tetsuya, Sengo sekinin ron (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 2005); and Kōketsu Atsushi, Watashi tachi no sensō sekinin: “Showa” shoki 20 nen to “Heisei” ki 20 nen no rekishi teki kōsatsu (Tokyo: Gaifūsha, 2009).
39

Ienaga Saburō, Sensō sekinin (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 2002).
40

See, for example, Kōketsu Atsuhi, Watashi tachi no sensō sekinin (Tokyo: Gaifūsha, 2009), and Takahashi Tetsuya, Sengo sekinin ron (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 2005).
41

Examples of transnational scholarship include Daqing Yang et al. eds., Towards a History Beyond Borders: Contentious Issues in Sino-Japanese Relations (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 2012); Hasegawa, Tsuyoshi and Togo, Kazuhiko. East Asia’s Haunted Present: Historical Memories and the Resurgence of Nationalism (Westport: Praeger Security International, 2008); Kawakami Tamio et al. eds. Kaikyō no ryōgawa kara Yasukuni o kangaeru: hisen, chinkon, Ajia (Tokyo: Oruta Shppanshitsu, 2006).
42

SEALDs has announced its official dissolution on August 15, 2017, but members assert that they will continue their political activism in different forms.

Neonationalism, Religion, and Patriotic Education in Post-disaster Japan | The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus

Neonationalism, Religion, and Patriotic Education in Post-disaster Japan | The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus






Neonationalism, Religion, and Patriotic Education in Post-disaster Japan


Mark R. Mullins
October 15, 2016
Volume 14 | Issue 20 | Number 5
Article ID 4964








Source: Mie Network in Opposition to Forced Use of Flag and Anthem in Public Schools「日の丸・君が代」の強制を許さない三重ネットワーク


INTRODUCTION

Recent decades have seen a rise in religious nationalism around the world, and Japan is no exception. Over the past two decades there has been a significant rightward shift in Japanese politics and this trend is closely related to organized religion and its affiliated political efforts to “recover” or “restore” what had been destroyed during the Allied Occupation of Japan (1945-52). Our focus here is on the close connection between the Association of Shintō Shrines (Jinja Honchō) and many politicians belonging to the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP). This Association, which was organized in 1946, has some 80,000 affiliated shrines throughout the country and has been the base institution for Shintō nationalism throughout the postwar period.

According to Ueda Kenji, the beginnings of a “restoration movement” can be traced back to the early 1950s. The social status and “public character” of shrine Shinto had been undermined by the Shintō Directive issued by the Supreme Commander of Allied Powers (SCAP) in late 1945, and the strict application of Articles 20 and 89 of the postwar Constitution from 1947, which defined a clear separation of religion and state. As soon as the San Francisco Peace Treaty was concluded in 1952, Ueda points out, the Association of Shintō Shrines began to work actively on numerous fronts to “restore Shintō to its lost status and to revitalize the old tradition” (Ueda 1979, pp. 303-305).

In the following decades, the Association of Shintō Shrines nurtured the development of a number of affiliated groups to achieve its restoration goals. These groups, such as the Association for the Re-establishment of National Foundation Day (1957), the League Promoting Ties between Politics and Shintō (Shintō Seiji Renmei, 1969), which is known today as the “Shintō Association of Spiritual Leadership” (Shinseiren), the Association for Rectification of the Relationship between Religion and State (Seikyō Kankei o Tadasu Kai, 1971), and the Association to Preserve Japan (Nihon o Mamoru Kai, 1974), were all mobilized by Jinja Honchō in their efforts to reverse the various reforms that had been instituted by the government under the direction of the Occupation authorities.

These groups worked closely with the LDP to bring their political agenda and various initiatives to the Diet for action. One key concern was to renew support for the Emperor and the role of the Imperial Household in postwar public life. Two successful efforts related to this concern were the movements to restore National Foundation Day (Kenkoku kinen no hi; known as Kigensetsu in the prewar period), which was finally re-established in 1966, and the reign-name legalization movement, which was achieved with the passing of the Reign-Name Law (Gengōhō) in 1979.

In spite of these achievements, there were a number of equally important goals that were not reached during this same period. In addition to elevating the position of the Emperor and Imperial Household in national life, Shinseiren had clearly stated that its other high priorities were to revise the Constitution, to properly care for the enshrined Shōwa martyrs by renationalizing Yasukuni Shrine, and restore moral and patriotic education in the public schools.1 These were to become the focus of renewed attention after 1995.

NEONATIONALISM IN THE POST-DISASTER CONTEXT

As many observers have noted, the “double disaster” of 1995—the Awaji-Hanshin earthquake in January and the Aum Shinrikyō subway sarin gas attack in March—created a sense of social crisis and a situation that emboldened neonationalistic leaders (Mullins 2012; 2015). While traumatic at the time, the scale of this pales in comparison with the March 11/2011 “triple disaster”—earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown at the Fukushima Daiichi plant—which brought devastation to the Tōhoku region and overwhelmed the nation with a sense of loss. The religio-political right-wing has gained support for their restorationist vision and agenda in this seemingly precarious environment over the past two decades. During the administrations of eight Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) governments in the post-1995 context, one can document a renewed effort to pass legislation to restore and strengthen patriotic education in public schools, to promote “official” Yasukuni Shrine visits (kōshiki sanpai), and to revise the Constitution of Japan.

When considered in isolation, some of these developments may appear unrelated to religion—and they probably are without religious significance for many individuals whose lives are shaped by the new policies (in public schools, for example); however, when taken all together and seen in relation to the political agenda and goals of the Association of Shinto Shrines and its political arm, Shinseiren, they are clearly a part of a Shinto religious vision aimed at reshaping the whole of Japanese society and not just those individuals affiliated with Shinto institutions. Patriotic education, for example, may indeed be based on nonreligious foundations. In the case of Prime Minister Abe Shinzō, however, an active member and chairperson of Shinseiren, who pushed through the revision of the Fundamental Education Law in 2006, it is clearly rooted in the religious beliefs and values promoted by the Association of Shinto Shrines.

One indicator of the neonationalistic resurgence in the post-disaster context may be seen in the revitalization of an older organization like Shinseiren and in the formation of new organizations. One of the newer groups that should be mentioned here is the Nippon Kaigi (“Japan Conference”), which was formed through a merger of Nippon o Mamoru Kai with another nationalistic group, Nippon o Mamoru Kokumin Kaigi, in 1997. According to the group’s publications and homepage, its mission is to rebuild a beautiful and independent Japan, which necessarily includes restoring proper respect for the Emperor and Japanese traditions, patriotic education, revision of the Constitution, and support for official visits (kōshiki sanpai) to Yasukuni Shrine. It claims a nationwide network of some 100,000 members, including some 100 Diet members who are associated with branches in local towns and communities from Hokkaidō to Okinawa.2 This organization has gained support from across the spectrum of Japanese society and includes prominent leaders from the business, legal, and academic worlds. While it is not a religious organization per se, some 20 out of 54 board members are religious leaders drawn from well-known Shintō institutions—Yasukuni Shrine, Meiji Shrine, and the Association of Shintō Shrines—as well as representatives from such new religions as Reiyūkai, Sūkyō Mahikari, Gedatsukai, and Kurozumikyō.

Here it must be recognized that this newer organization is essentially providing a broader base of support for the central concerns and agenda that have been pursued for decades by Shinseiren and its supporters in the LDP. The number of LDP politicians affiliated with this older Shintō political organization has increased significantly in post-disaster Japan. In 1984, there were only 44 Diet members claimed by this association, but this grew to 204 by late 2013, and to 268 in 2014, which represents 37 percent of the total Diet membership of 722. The percentage of Shinseiren members in the Abe Cabinet in 2012 had reached 14 (73.7%), and it has increased again to 16 out of 19 members (84.2%) in 2015.3

Over the past two decades, religious and political leaders have renewed their efforts to restore key elements of the social order that preceded the Occupation period. While promotion of Yasukuni Shrine has proved controversial—both domestically and internationally—and efforts to revise the Constitution have only been restarted since the return of the LDP and Prime Minister Abe came to power in late 2012, some restoration goals related to patriotic education have already been achieved through legislation passed by the Diet. Today there are new laws and regulations in place, which clearly reflect the agenda of the groups and political leaders mentioned above. Many critics claim that “coercion” has been brought back into public institutions as a result of these legislative victories. Given their significant social impact, they deserve more focused consideration here.

PATRIOTIC EDUCATION

The restoration of patriotic education in post-disaster Japan is closely related to the legislation passed by the Diet in 1999, which made the Kimigayo (national anthem) and Hinomaru (national flag) the “official” symbols of Japan, and the revision of the Fundamental Education Law (Kyōiku kihonhō) in 2006, which reinserted patriotic moral education into public schools. Although widely accepted as Japan’s national symbols from years of use, the Kimigayo and Hinomaru had never been officially approved as such by any government administration. It was in 1958 that the Ministry of Education first instructed (gakushū shidōyōryō) public schools that it was “desirable” for the Hinomaru to be raised and the Kimigayo sung at official school events (entrance and graduation ceremonies). Under these “soft” guidelines, however, compliance rates were not too impressive.

Some political leaders reasoned that the problems surrounding use of these symbols in public institutions could be resolved if they were “officially” recognized by passing legislation in the Diet. Prime Minister Tanaka Kakuei expressed an interest in legislation to officially recognize these national symbols in 1974, but it would not be achieved for over two more decades. It was not until 1999, during the administration of Prime Minister Obuchi Keizō, that the Diet would finally—after considerable debate—approve the flag and anthem as the official symbols of the nation. At the time this legislation was being debated in the Diet, Prime Minister Obuchi assured the public that no coercion would ever be involved in public institutions if the bill were approved.4 In spite of such assurances, public intellectuals and representatives of Christian churches, including various Protestant denominations and the Roman Catholic Church, raised serious concerns about this legislation. Just four days before the legislation was passed, the Japan Catholic Council on Justice and Peace and several Protestant bodies issued a joint declaration addressed to the Prime Minister and representatives of the LDP and Kōmeitō —its coalition partner—to express their strong opposition to the legalization initiative. The declaration stated that if the legislation was passed, it would undoubtedly lead to coercion and a violation of the individual rights and freedoms—thought, conscience, belief—that are protected by the Constitution. In particular, it expressed concern for public school teachers who might be forced to provide leadership in the ritual use of the Hinomaru and Kimigayo against their will.

It turns out that these religious minorities had legitimate concerns. The action of the Diet strengthened the position of politicians and educators who felt it was their duty to have all teachers and staff lead students by example in singing the national anthem before the flag for important school ceremonies. Instructions were soon issued by the Ministry of Education for how these symbols should be integrated into the calendar and curriculum of public schools, particularly for official entrance and graduation ceremonies. The strict enforcement of these new policies soon followed in two major metropolitan public school systems under the authoritarian leadership of Ishihara Shintarō, the former governor of Tokyo, and, more recently, Hashimoto Tōru, the Mayor of Ōsaka.

Initially, there were many protests against these new policies by both teachers and students in various schools across the nation. Some members of the leftist teachers’ union, Nikkyōso, argued that these symbols were unsuitable for use in the schools since they had been used for the mobilization of both teachers and students in wartime Japan. As Okada (2013, p. 11) observes, many union members actively resisted the efforts to reintroduce the flag and anthem back into the public schools and rallied under the catch-phase “we will not send our students to the battlefield.” Even before the intensification of “guidance” from the Ministry of Education, a number of teachers had already been disciplined for failing to comply with the 1989 guidelines. The pressure on teachers to fall in line was intensified in the Tokyo schools from October 23, 2003, when the Tokyo Education Committee issued an order for all teachers and staff to participate in leading students in singing the Kimigayo before the Hinomaru for entrance and graduation ceremonies or face disciplinary action (the committee, of course, was under the direction of the well-known nationalist and hardliner Governor Ishihara).

Anticipating a range of disciplinary action for non-compliance to this order, 228 teachers launched a pre-emptive lawsuit (yobō soshō) in January 2004 against the Tokyo Metropolitan Board of Education to protect themselves. In their view, this educational policy was a clear violation of Article 19 of the Constitution, which protects freedom of conscience.5 The lawsuit asked the court to (1) clearly state that teachers had no duty or obligation to sing the national anthem, (2) instruct the Board that they should not follow through with the disciplinary action threatened in the October 23 statement, and (3) confirm that music teachers could not be compelled to provide piano accompaniment for the anthem at school ceremonies (Okada 2007, p. 14). The number of plaintiffs quickly grew to 401 teachers, and their concerns were represented by a group of some 50 lawyers over the course of 14 court hearings. The teachers could clearly see what was coming under Ishihara’s Board of Education. In March 2004, some 180 teachers in the Tokyo Public School system were reprimanded for failing to comply and properly guide their students in these patriotic events.

In 2006, a decision of the Tokyo District Court gave these teachers some temporary reassurance that their rights would be protected by the Constitution. On September 21, presiding judge Namba Kōichi found that the Tokyo School Board’s directive was invalid. As Lawrence Repeta’s) helpful review of this case notes, Namba acknowledged that the flag and anthem had been used in the recent past as a “spiritual support” for Japanese imperialism and militarism, and these symbols have not yet “attained a status of political and religious neutrality among the people” (2007, p. 3). In this context, he concluded, it would be a violation of freedom of thought and conscience to force a teacher to sing or provide musical accompaniment for the anthem against their will.

“CIVIC DUTIES” VERSUS “RELIGIOUS RIGHTS”

At least two Christian teachers were involved in this initial legal action and one (Okada) was called to provide testimony as a person of faith for why he opposed and refused the order to lead students in the anthem. In addition to appealing to Article 10 of the Fundamental Education Law, which prohibits the political intervention into education, and Article 19 of the Constitution, which guarantees freedom of thought and conscience, Okada and other Christians regard forced participation as a violation of Article 20, which guarantees religious freedom: “No person shall be compelled to take part in any religious act, celebration, rite, or practice.” For them, singing the anthem constitutes a religious act—ritual praise of the Emperor and his reign—and to participate would violate their personal faith.

Given the history of Christian churches in wartime Japan, these teachers are concerned that they are again being forced to compromise their faith through participation in the civil religious rites at schools. Some teachers have reached back to the Tokugawa period in search of other parallels, and compared their experience of required participation in these patriotic rituals to what was expected of Kirishitan in the Tokugawa period: The followers of the “foreign” and evil religion (jakyō) were forced to step on a sacred object (fumie) to deny their Catholic faith in order to survive (Takahashi 1998, p. 177).6 For these religious minorities, the use of the flag and anthem in this way has become a humiliating public “test” of their identity and loyalty as Japanese.

Although various denominations and churches issued letters of concern to the Prime Minister and government officials over the legislation passed by the Diet and the guidelines issued by the Ministry of Education, churches have been rather slow to become active supporters of individual Christians struggling with legal action in the Courts. A support group for Christian teachers—Hinomaru Kimigayo Kyōsei Mondai ni Torikumu Kai—was finally formed in July 2008 by the Human Rights Committee of the Tokyo Diocese of the Anglican Church. This was initially to encourage two church members and teachers employed by public schools in Tokyo: Kishida Shizue, an elementary school music teacher and pianist; and Iguro Yutaka, a teacher in a Tokyo Toritsu High School. In February 2010 this was expanded into an ecumenical trans-denominational support group, which included various Protestant churches and the Roman Catholic Church. These groups and other churches have been organizing special meetings in Tokyo and Ōsaka to raise the consciousness of Christians over the issues and to provide some moral support for teachers still involved in prolonged lawsuits and hearings over disciplinary action.

For the teachers on the frontlines, however, this is undoubtedly perceived as “too little and too late.” At one of the support group meetings organized by the Human Rights Committee of the Tokyo Diocese of the Anglican Church in 2011, I heard several teachers express exasperation at the lack of support from their own denomination or congregation. In spite of some official statements and letters of support from denominational officials, the vast majority of church members tend to embrace a more private and pietistic faith and avoid engaging social and political issues. They regularly admonish the “radical” teachers to be good citizens. Japanese Christians are divided over what constitutes legitimate grounds for resistance to government or public school directives. Some regard the civic rites simply as “religiously neutral” patriotic expressions and find no problem with going along; they have little sympathy for the Christian teachers stirring up trouble and siding with the radical elements of the Teachers’ Union. Most other religious bodies, including Buddhist institutions and New Religions, regard these patriotic rituals as religiously neutral and have largely remained silent on the issue.

REVISION OF THE FUNDAMENTAL EDUCATION LAW

It is not surprising that Governor Ishihara and the Tokyo School Board appealed the 2006 Tokyo District Court decision that supported the teachers. To the dismay of the plaintiffs, the Supreme Court ruled on 30 May 2011 that it was not a violation of the Constitution for a principal to instruct and require teachers and staff to stand and sing the Kimigayo in front of the national flag at school ceremonies. This Supreme Court decision is undoubtedly related to the revision of the Fundamental Education Law (Kyōiku kihonhō) by the Diet in 2006, which “restored” patriotic moral education as a central component of public education and legitimized the use of the flag and anthem in public schools.

The movement to revise the education law can be traced back to discussions that began in the 1960s, but it was Prime Minister Abe Shinzō, a well-known nationalistic leader and member of both Shinseiren and Nippon Kaigi (at the time, 12 of the 18 members of Abe’s Cabinet were also members of the latter group), who finally pushed the legislation through the Diet. His tactics alienated many, however. In an effort to raise public support for revisions of the education law, for example, the government collected opinions and comments from both specialists and citizens at large, and even organized “Town Meetings” to discuss the proposed revision. It turns out that this was not really “democracy” in action. As Hardacre reports: “When it emerged in late 2006 that the government had paid agents to speak in support of the revision proposal at these Town Meetings, Prime Minister Abe and others in his cabinet apologized and returned their salaries to the public purse. The Prime Minister declared, however, that the revision itself was not the problem, and the government pressed on to promulgate it” (2011, pp. 207-208).

In spite of his downfall and resignation in September 2007 due to a series of scandals, corruption allegations, and ineffective cabinet reshuffles, Abe nevertheless achieved significant results during his term in office and left behind a more regulated school system with a particular type of moral and patriotic education in place. Of course, the revision of the Fundamental Education Law was only one part of his larger vision for Japan that he laid out in a book entitled Utsukushii kuni e [Toward a beautiful country] (2006), a popular volume published just three months after the revised law was passed by the Diet. While Abe and his supporters firmly believe that this has laid the foundation for a “beautiful Japan,” critics maintain that the individual rights guaranteed by the Constitution have been undermined, and the revised law constitutes a radical shift in the educational system from one that seeks to nurture individual character to one aimed at cultivating individuals who will comply with the policies of the state.

While many may regard these patriotic rituals as religiously neutral, those promoting them are equally concerned to increase public support for Yasukuni Shrine, an institution registered as a religious corporation (shūkyō hōjin), by encouraging “official visits” (kōshiki sanpai) by government officials and through the development of educational materials for public schools. Shortly after the new Fundamental Education Law was passed by the Diet, an animated DVD entitled Hokori (“Pride”) was distributed to public schools under the auspices of the Ministry of Education in 2007. Produced by the Nihon Seinen Kaigisho as a part of the Ministry’s “Program for the Development of a New Educational System,” it was shown or scheduled for viewing in 93 different locations throughout Japan between February and June. This DVD contains a scene in which the spirit of a deceased soldier appears to a high school girl and invites her back to Yasukuni to remember those who died in defense of the homeland and for their love of country. The DVD as a whole essentially promotes the revisionist history as presented by Yūshūkan, the museum attached to Yasukuni Shrine. On May 17, 2007, Prime Minister Abe was questioned and criticized in the Diet by Ishii Ikuko, a member of the Communist Party, about this controversial DVD and his policies that allowed for it to be produced and distributed under the auspices of the Ministry of Education.7 This critical response appears to have been effective as public showings were apparently stopped and copies do not seem to be available.

It appears that disciplinary action against teachers in public schools is likely to continue and, perhaps, increase. On 5 June 2011—in an action resembling that of the Tokyo Education Committee in 2003—the Osaka Prefectural Assembly passed the Kimigayo jōrei, an ordinance that requires all teachers and staff employed by public schools in its jurisdiction to stand and sing the Kimigayo at all official school ceremonies. This ordinance, which was pushed through the Assembly by Governor Hashimoto Tōru, had the strong support of both the Osaka Ishin no Kai and Nippon Kaigi (Japan Conference) members. 8 Like Ishihara, the former governor of Tokyo, Hashimoto is another authoritarian figure and “enforcer,” a person who has little patience for those who disagree with his position. He also uses social media effectively to promote his views and belittle his opponents. During the time the Kimigayo jōrei was being debated in Osaka, media savvy Hashimoto “tweeted” the following message to his 1.18 million followers on Twitter:

What is beneficial for the students is more important than freedom of conscience for the stupid teachers (baka kyōin). The teachers at public schools are public servants of Japan. They make their living off of our taxes. If they don’t like the national flag and anthem, they should resign from their position. There is freedom not to stand and refrain from singing the national anthem, but only for citizens who are not public servants (kōmuin).9

The local ordinance passed under Hashimoto’s leadership in Osaka, of course, simply reinforced the directives from the Ministry of Education, but it was soon followed with additional action that laid out more clearly the punishments for those who failed to comply. As a result of the hard line stance taken in Tokyo and Osaka, many teachers have since been disciplined, fined, suspended, or reassigned to schools that require a longer commute.

It is ironic that in pushing this agenda through the school system, the LDP politicians and their network of supporting groups are in fact going against the expressed will of the Emperor, the very person who constitutes the raison d’être of the entire “restoration” enterprise. In 2004, when questioned by a member of the Tokyo Education Committee about the use of the flag and anthem in the schools, Emperor Akihito responded that it was preferable for it not to be a forced activity.10 As we have seen, however, neonationalists have continued to pursue a policy of coercion in public schools in spite of their expressed devotion to the Emperor. It is not just the issue of patriotic education that reveals the growing gap between the far right of the LDP and the Imperial Household. Emperor Hirohito’s own actions—avoidance of Yasukuni Shrine visits since the enshrinement of class A war criminals in 1978—and recent public statements by both Emperor Akihito and Crown Prince Naruhito,11 indicate both are concerned to remember the wartime suffering of Japan’s neighbors and share and a deep appreciation for the “Peace Constitution,” which puts them at odds with the larger neonationalistic agenda of Prime Minister Abe and his revisionist supporters. Sooner or later, this divide will have to be addressed.

LOOKING TO THE FUTURE: POST-3.11 DEVELOPMENTS

The unprecedented triple disaster of 2011—earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear accident—shocked the nation and overwhelmed the leadership of the governing Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ). The DPJ was already in trouble, but the scale of this disaster and inadequate responses by the national government paved the way for the return of the LDP. After the three-year hiatus under the leadership of three successive DPJ Prime Ministers, the LDP made a comeback in December 2012, and Abe Shinzō began his second tenure as Prime Minister. Although his initial focus has been on revitalizing the Japanese economy, it was clear from the beginning that there was more to his agenda than “Abenomics.” Abe quickly renewed the call for revision of the Constitution. As noted in many speeches, his homepage, and in his popular Utsukushii kuni e, he believes that Japan’s true independence and escape from the postwar regime will only be achieved when the postwar Constitution is revised (2006, pp. 28-29).

While revision of Article 9—the central pillar of the “peace Constitution”—is one key goal of Abe and his supporters, there are a number of proposed revisions recommended by the Liberal Democratic Party, which are a cause of serious concern for the leaders of a wide-range of religious groups.12 As we have seen, protest against the government’s initiatives for patriotic education was largely limited to the shrinking secular left, members of the Teachers’ Union, and a few religious minorities; opposition to the proposed revisions to the Constitution, however, will undoubtedly face more serious resistance. Given the impact of legalization of the flag and anthem in 1999 and the revision of the Fundamental Education Law in 2006, many more religious groups are troubled by the LDP’s proposed revision of Articles 20 and 89, which in their current form clearly define the separation of religion and state and protect religious freedom. The proposed changes in the current articles would have serious implications for the status and treatment of the controversial Yasukuni Shrine.

In its current form, Article 20 of the Constitution of Japan (1947) prohibits any state support, promotion, or coercion with respect to religious education or activities:

Freedom of religion is guaranteed to all. No religious organization shall receive any privileges from the State, nor exercise any political authority.

No person shall be compelled to take part in any religious act, celebration, rite or practice.

The State and its organs shall refrain from religious education or any other religious activity.

The draft proposal by the LDP suggests an additional phrase of qualification, that is, prohibiting any state support for religious activities that transcend “social ritual or custom” (shakaiteki girei mata wa shūzokuteki kōi no han’i o koeru). The language used here would clearly allow for some ritual activity in educational institutions redefined as a “social custom,” which approximates the strategy used by the government in relation to State Shintō until 1945. The same clause added to Article 89, which currently prohibits public funds being expended on or for religious institutions, would allow public money to be used in support of activities redefined as social ritual or customary practices.

Buddhist scholar and activist Hishiki Masaharu points out that the educational goal of nurturing “tolerance” in students will inevitably be subverted if things designated as “customs” are no longer subject to the constitutional principle of separation. It will create conditions that will allow “intolerance” to masquerade as “tolerance,” but coercion will become the new reality (2007, p. 62). If the revised law is ever approved, he explains, it will likely be used to identify such activities as jichinsai (land purification ceremony), as well as Yasukuni sanpai (official visits to the Shrine) as “customs” and outside of the application of the separation principle. Hishiki argues that if the ambiguous notion of religion embedded in this proposed revision is accepted, it will give the state the power to control the people, and the rights normally accorded to individuals—the right not to participate—will disappear (2007, pp. 64-65).

The Japanese Bishops in the Catholic Church are similarly concerned that this redefinition would provide a legal basis to again require children and teachers at schools, as well as employees at government institutions (kōmuin), to participate in jinja sanpai as a part of their official duties. Tani Daiji, the former Bishop of Saitama, argues that the LDP proposal is reintroducing the notion of “nonreligious Shintō,” which will lead to a situation in which coercion replaces freedom of conscience. He recalls that during the war shrine visits were redefined as a “nonreligious” civic duty, a duty required of Japanese as well as the colonized peoples in Korea, Manchuria, and Taiwan. Tani fears that shrine visits (sanpai) could again be treated like other official ceremonies at school events, which require standing before the Hinomaru flag and singing the national anthem, but students could be forced to participate regardless of conscience or personal religious commitment. Tani maintains that by redefining something as a “social ritual” or “custom” will allow religious activity and education to go on in public institutions. He also suggests that this revised article would be used to legitimize and legalize official visits (kōshiki sanpai) to Yasukuni Shrine—recategorized as a “social ritual” (shakaiteki girei) or “national ritual” (kokuminteki girei)—which is a strategy designed to eliminate lawsuits and legal conflict over visits to the shrine by the prime minister and other government officials (2007, pp. 20-25).

CONCLUSION

Given the pluralistic nature of postwar Japanese society, it is not surprising the range of neonationalistic initiatives promoted by Shinseiren, Nippon Kaigi, and LDP leaders have been widely contested by many intellectuals, the teachers’ union, and a variety of religious leaders and groups. In the wake of the 1995 Aum incident, we observed a serious concern for protection from deviant new religions. Over the course of two decades, we have seen this evolve into a concern for protection from coercion in public institutions and forced participation in a revitalized civil religion. There is clearly a clash between those who recognize individual rights and freedoms as fundamental to civil society and those who regard the rights of the individual to be secondary and subservient to the needs of the nation or group. In light of the impact of post-disaster legislation on the school system nationwide, one can appreciate the concerns of religious minorities and others who fear an expansion of coercion as political leaders and groups—guided by their essentialist understanding of Shintō and Japanese identity—seek to reshape public institutions.

This essay is adapted from“Neonationalism, Politics, and Religion in Post-disaster Japan,” in Mark R. Mullins and Nakano Koichi, eds. Disasters and Social Crisis in Contemporary Japan: Political, Religious, and Sociocultural Responses, Basingstoke/NY: Palgrave Macmillan Press, 2016, pp. 107-131.

REFERENCES

Abe Shinzō. 2006. Utsukushii kuni e. Tokyo: Bungei Shunju.

Breen, John and Mark Teeuwen. 2010. A New History of Shinto Shintō. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell.

Hardacre, Helen. 2003. “RevisionofAdministrativeLawasShortcuttoConstitutionalRevision.” InJapanesePoliticsToday:FromKaraoketoKabukiDemocracy.Eds. Takashi InoguchiandPurnendraJain, 201-217. NewYork:PalgraveMacmillan.

Hishiki Masaharu. 2007. Shiminteki jiyū no kiki to shūkyō—kenpō, Yasukuni Jinja, seikyō bunri. Tokyo: Hakutakusha.

Mullins, Mark R. 2012. “The Neo-nationalist Response to the Aum Crisis: A Return of Civil Religion and Coercion in the Public Sphere?” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies, vol. 39, no. 1, pp. 99-125.

_____. 2015. “Japanese Responses to ‘Imperialist Secularization’: The Postwar Movement to Restore Shintō in the ‘Public Sphere.’” In Multiple Secularities Beyond the West: Religion and Modernity in the Global Age. Eds. Marian Burchardt, et. al., pp. 141-167. DeGruyter.

Okada Akira. 2007. Shisō・Ryōshin・Shinkyō no jiyū ni tsuite kangaetekita koto—Toritsu Kōko ni okeru Kokki・Kokka kyōsei no naka de. Pamphlet No. 5, 2007.

_____. 2013. “Hinomaru・Kimigayo ‘kyōsei’ no mondai no kako・genzai・mirai.” In Kimigayo Kyōsei Hantai Kirisutosha no Tsudoi, ed. Shinkō no ryōshin no tame no tatakai. Tokyo: Inochi no Kotobasha, 2013, pp. 9-42.

Repeta, Lawrence. 2007. “Politicians, Teachers and the Japanese Constitution: Flag, Freedom and the State.” The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus, 14 February, pp. 1-7. [http://www.japanfocus.org/-Lawrence-Repeta/2355.

Shintō Seiji Renmei, ed. 1984. Shinseiren jūgonenshi. Tokyo: Shintō Seiji Renmei Chūō Honbu.

Takahashi Seiju. 1998. “Kyōsei no saki ni mieru mono.” In the Ryōshinteki ‘Hinomaru-Kimigayo’ Kyohi. Eds. ‘Hinomaru-Kimigayo’ Futō Shobun Tekkai o Motomeru Hishobunsha no Kai, pp. 176-179. Tokyo: Akashi.

Tani Daiji 2007. “Jimintō shinkenpō sōan o kenshō suru.” In Shinkyō no jiyū to seikyō bunri, Eds. Katorikku Chūō Kyōgikai (Catholic Bishops Conference of Japan), pp. 17-44. Katorikku Chūō Kyōgikai.

Ueda Kenji. 1979. “Contemporary Social Change and Shintō Traditions.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 6/1-2: 303-327.
Notes
1

For the early history of this organization, see Shintō Seiji Renmei, ed. (1984). Information on current activities may be gleaned from its monthly magazine, Kokoro, and website. For more detailed analysis of its membership and political agenda, see John Breen and Mark Teeuwen (2010, especially chapter 6), and Mullins (2012; 2015).
2

Here I am paraphrasing the information widely available in Nippon Kaigi publications and on the official homepage. The membership figures are drawn from here.

3For figures on Shinseiren membership and the Abe Cabinet, see “The Abe Cabinet: An Ideological Breakdown,” 28 January 2013, prepared by the Children and Textbooks Japan Network 21 [Kodomo to Kyōkasho Zenkoku Netto 21], an NGO organized in 1998 to critically engage the revisionist textbook movement (translated by Matthew Penny). This is available on both the NGO homepage and the Japan Focus site); for recent figures on Shinseiren and an overview of how representative religious groups line-up in relation to Abe’s political agenda, see “Abe Teikoku Shūkyō,” Shūkan Asahi 11 April 2014, 21. The Shinseiren membership in Abe’s current Cabinet for 2015 is based on data provided by the Shinseiren site and the official government site. 4For the original Japanese record of Prime Minister Obuchi’s explanation on 29 June 1999 see here. 5There are a number of accounts and collections of documents regarding the lawsuit; see, for example, Ryōshinteki ‘Hinomaru-Kimigayo’ Kyohi, eds. (2004), the accounts and explanations by Okada (2007; 2013), one of the few Christian school teachers involved in this legal action, and the homepage of the support group for the teachers involved in the legal action. 6This comparison with the fumie ritual is also reported by Isomura Kentarō (Asahi Shimbun, 8 August 2009) with reference to the words of Kishida Shizue, a music teacher supported by the Anglican Church in her legal struggle against the Tokyo School Board. 7The initial debate between Ishii and Abe can be viewed on Youtube. The Communist Party also produced some critical written statements about this DVD; see the article “Shinryaku seitōka e ‘sennō’: Monbushō saiyō no ‘Yasukuni DVD,’” 18 May 2007 Shinbun Akahata (accessed 8-30-2011). 8In fact, six of the fourteen local representatives who were initially responsible for submitting this proposed ordinance belong to the Nippon Kaigi (“Japan Conference”), the neonationalist group organized in 1996, which also actively supports the renationalization of Yasukuni Shrine and revision of the Constitution. 9Tweet posted on 19 May 2011. 10The original Japanese is “Yahari, kyōsei ni naru to iu koto de nai koto ga nozomashii;” reported in the Asahi Shinbun, 28 October 2004. A spokesperson of the Imperial Household Agency commented later that he thought the Emperor was trying to say that “it would be best if the flag was raised and the anthem sung spontaneously or voluntarily”. 11For example, see the Emperor’s 2015 New Year address. 12The latest version of the LDP proposal for Constitutional revision is available online at the LDP home page.

Nationalism, Pacifism, and Reconciliation: Three Paths Forward for Japan's “History Problem” | The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus

Nationalism, Pacifism, and Reconciliation: Three Paths Forward for Japan's “History Problem” | The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus





Nationalism, Pacifism, and Reconciliation: Three Paths Forward for Japan's “History Problem”
Akiko Hashimoto
October 15, 2016
Volume 14 | Issue 20 | Number 4
Article ID 4963





Benedict Anderson reminds us that modernity has been characterized by the emergence of nation-states that can mobilize the passion of young men to “die for the country” on a mass scale.1 Once mobilized, nationalist passion allows a soldier to believe “he is dying for something greater than himself, for something that will outlast his individual, perishable life in place of a greater, eternal vitality.”2 But after demobilization, this patriotic fervor withers, no longer fed or needed for everyday combat. In peacetime, the fervor that enabled death and destruction for national purpose no longer even has any social or moral legitimacy.

After modern wars that called up millions of conscripts, the tension between repudiating or lamenting the violent destructions of war and seeking something meaningful in the same violent destructions has been unresolvable. This tension is especially acute in defeated nations where, as Wolfgang Schivelbusch asserts, the desire to search for positive meaning in the national failure is a common and powerful need.3 The impulse to generate positive meaning from defeat often gives over to narratives such as the myth of the Lost Cause among the American Confederacy after the Civil War, and the myth of the Fallen Soldier in Germany after World War I.

The difficulty of overcoming devastating defeat lies at the root of Japan's struggle to define its political culture and identity seven decades after the end of World War II. As I show in my book The Long Defeat: Cultural Trauma, Memory and Identity in Japan (2015), how Japan reckons with this national trauma is crucial to understanding its contentious politics today. From disputes over revising the peace constitution to expanding military capabilities and increasing Japan’s global military role, different visions for Japan’s political future have clashed for many decades; they continue to clash in different arenas as we see today in the government’s swing to the right, and its declared intention to revise the peace constitution after dominating the 2016 upper house election. Characteristically, this contentious politics stirs up fierce passion on all sides precisely because “something much greater than ourselves” is at stake. In this context, Japan faces three broad choices for national policy and moral purpose in moving forward: nationalism, pacifism, and reconciliation.

Three Paths Forward beyond the Culture of Defeat

The three paths forward that I identify -- nationalism, pacifism, and reconciliation -- are preoccupied with different concerns and visions for Japan's future. They espouse different understandings of Japan's war, and propose different approaches for bringing closure to the long defeat. Similarly motivated by deeply engrained memories of humiliation, they nevertheless differ profoundly in their strategies to recover from them. These paths are embraced today to different degrees by different stakeholders, from state and business leaders to religious and civic groups, public intellectuals, political networks, social activists, and transnational movements. Ultimately they represent different approaches to repair the moral backbone of a society that has yet to effectively come to grips with the trauma of empire, war, and defeat.

In broad outline, the three paths can be described as follows. (1) The nationalist path is deeply concerned with erasing the stigma of defeat, and envisions a strong Japan to be reckoned with in the world. The proponents desire above all to enhance Japan’s power, wealth, prestige, and respectability, which align with Japan’s long-standing quest to stand shoulder to shoulder with world powers. (2) The pacifist path, on the other hand, is concerned with overcoming defeat by becoming a moral nation respected in the world for its principled commitment to non-violence. Its proponents seek to enhance Japan's moral standing against human suffering which aligns with a radical anti-military credo deeply ingrained in postwar popular sentiments. (3) Finally, the reconciliationist path differs from the first two in striving to inscribe Japan's dark past in national history, and build a contemporary identity based on regional reconciliation and integration. The proponents of reconciliation want Japan to earn the world’s respect by developing solidarity with former adversaries, based on goodwill and responsibility for past mistakes.

Clarifying and understanding these choices is more urgent today than ever. Japan is at a crossroads, embroiled in a politics of nationalism that will have wide ramifications throughout Japanese society. Internationally, the parallel horizons of the three paths were jolted into collision by the new realities of the new millennium when military threats and belligerence throughout the Western Pacific increased with a multitude of events: the missile launches from China and North Korea, the Gulf War followed by wars in Afghanistan, Iraq and elsewhere in the Middle East, 9/11 and the “war against terror,” and territorial disputes involving Japan with China, Korea, and Russia. Japan’s drive for peace and reconciliation suffered serious setbacks in the shifting geopolitics, as the nation’s tilt toward re-militarization began. At the same time, a new politics of nationalism emerged domestically, fueled by the economic downturn and anxieties of globalization, and contested by stakeholders in disputes such as the treatment of war guilt and war criminals at commemorations (“the Yasukuni problem”), the mandate to use patriotic symbols (the national flag and anthem),4 inculcating patriotism in schools, and the treatment of Japan’s atrocities (“Nanjing massacre”) in textbooks and popular culture.5 This escalation in the politics of nationalism is testing the core of Japan's postwar identity, and deepening the cleavage separating the nationalists, pacifists, and reconciliationists. In the following sections, I consider these three contending paths that are indelibly linked to the “history problem” in Japan’s political culture.

The Nationalist Path

The nationalist path subscribes to the notion that furthering the national interest is the best solution to overcoming the past. Thus the nationalist vision is to cultivate strong national belonging to move forward into the future. It emphasizes shared belonging and collective attachment to a historical community, and derives a social identity from that “traditional” heritage. People adopting this approach tend to use the language of national pride, and resent the loss of national prestige and international standing that came with defeat seven decades ago. They vary along a spectrum of intensity from aggressive hardliners to moderates in their search for respect, and vary from realist to idealist in seeking the competitive edge over other nations, like those in neighboring East Asia. Many proponents of this approach today are neonationalist public figures including politicians, intellectuals, and cultural critics.

From aggressive neo-nationalism to moderate civic and cultural nationalism, this approach partakes of a certain cultural resistance to cosmopolitanism.6 Recent Japanese prime ministers making official visits to the Yasukuni Shrine on commemoration day can be identified in this category, as well as those who passively condone traditional symbols of national honor like the national flag and the national anthem. Many of them favor revising the constitution, as Japan's Prime Minister Abe Shinzō described in a new year’s interview with the Sankei newspaper in 2014. Asked about his vision for Japan in the year 2020, the year that Tokyo will again host the Summer Olympic Games, he responded:


“[I foresee that by 2020] the constitutional revision will be done.

At that stage, I want Japan to fully recover its prestige, and be recognized respectfully for its momentous contributions to world peace and stability in the region. Japan's higher prestige will restore the balance of power in the Asia region.”7

Emphasizing the recovery of prestige and respect, Abe makes clear that he wants to restore some fundamentals of nationhood that he believes were lost after defeat. His often-quoted ambition to “leave behind the postwar regime” (sengo rejiimu karano dakkyaku) is precisely about ending the long defeat, overcoming the cultural trauma of “a weaker Japan” that has been the subtext in postwar political culture, and gaining equal recognition in the world. In practical terms, this means strengthening Japan, and ending military disempowerment and Japan's one-sided dependence as a “client state” of the United States. This nationalist vision is encapsulated in the draft revised constitution (kenpō kaisei sōan) announced in April 2012 by Abe’s political party (LDP): It is a nativized, domesticated version of the constitution, emphasizing tradition, patriotism, and duties to the state; and significantly, it changes Article 9, replacing the renunciation of possessing a military force with the establishment of a National Defense Army (kokubōgun).8

The nationalists’ impetus to inculcate national pride and patriotism in the country is readily explicable when we consider the erosion of support for traditionalist sentiments over many decades. Surveys show that national pride has declined in recent decades from 57% in 1983 to 39% in 2008, and it is consistently lower for the younger generations.9 Japanese high school students, for example, have a lower sense of national pride compared to American and Chinese counterparts.10 Japan's younger generations born after the baby boom also report that they have no sense of attachment to the Emperor.11 The nationalists’ drive to cultivate patriotism in schools today actually emanates from a sense that their power base is eroding among the new generations who are disengaged and disinterested. In this sense, the mutual provocations that fan perceptions of threat in relations with China are effective tools to promote a stronger sense of national belonging and solidarity among these disengaged groups.

This approach to overcoming the past is also complicated. The accusation by the west that Japan is not doing enough to accept responsibility for World War II war crimes invites anger from nationalists who resent not being accepted as a member of the established western powers. Not being firmly established in the European order makes Japan’s path to shedding the stigma of defeat and asserting its established position more arduous than Germany’s. Taking account of this international stratification, the hurdle for recognition for non-western, non-white nations is doubly high and perpetually hard to clear.12 Nationalistic remembering is, then, not directed to reconciliation efforts but to gaining a position of moral and strategic superiority.13 In this sense, the attempt to achieve moral recovery from the long defeat takes the form of revising the script of defeat, questioning the legitimacy of the Tokyo Trial, the devaluing of the Yasukuni Shrine, and China’s victory in the Asia-Pacific War. From this vantage point, China is a country that exploits historical grievances to promote political gain. Relations with South and North Korea should also be “normalized,” that is, uncompromised by assumptions of Japan’s colonial and war guilt and uninhibited by constitutional constraints.



The LDP proposal to revise the constitution emphasizes tradition, patriotism, and duties to the state (2012)


The pacifist creed has long been an important counterweight to nationalism in postwar Japan, and its proponents reaffirmed that mission in response to Japan’s dispatch of its Self-Defense Forces (SDF) to southern Iraq to take part in its first “humanitarian recovery mission” in support of the US. In June 2004, nine prominent Japanese public intellectuals gathered in Tokyo to announce the founding of the “Article 9 Association” (A9A, Kyūjō no kai) to protect the constitution from the state’s intensified efforts to revise it. The high profile cast ensured that the group would draw wide public attention. All of the founding members were of the wartime generation and had well-established credentials as postwar pacifists: Oda Makoto and Tsurumi Shunsuke had been leaders of the anti-Vietnam war movement; Ōe Kenzaburo, the Nobel laureate, is known for his pacifist conscience and outspoken public criticism of the state evoking comparisons with Germany’s Günter Grass; Miki Mutsuko had been active in the movement to attain redress for “comfort women” and joined the Asian Women’s Fund in 1995. Others included Katō Shūichi, a leading public intellectual and Okudaira Yasuhiro a prominent constitutional scholar. The Article 9 Association’s manifesto reads:The pacifist path subscribes to the notion that promoting healing and human security is the best solution to overcoming the past. Thus the pacifist vision emphasizes a radical anti-military ethos and anti-nuclear creed to make a fundamental break from Japan's war history. This moral vision is a source of humanist pride as well as a collective identity that allows Japan to recover its moral prestige from the deviant past. As a people-centered vision, it focuses on all victims of war violence and nuclear threats and uses the language of human suffering and human insecurity wrought by military action. People adopting this approach vary along a spectrum of intensity from aggressive to moderate in their protest of military violence, and from national to international in their images of victims, including the victims of the atomic bombs and firebombings of the Asia-Pacific War and victims of current international wars such as Syrian refugees These proponents tend to be public leaders, from politicians to intellectuals and cultural critics who deeply mistrust the state as an agent for peaceful conflict resolution.

The Pacifist Path

The pacifist path subscribes to the notion that promoting healing and human security is the best solution to overcoming the past. Thus the pacifist vision emphasizes a radical anti-military ethos and anti-nuclear creed to make a fundamental break from Japan's war history. This moral vision is a source of humanist pride as well as a collective identity that allows Japan to recover its moral prestige from the deviant past. As a people-centered vision, it focuses on all victims of war violence and nuclear threats, and uses the language of human suffering and human insecurity wrought by military action. People adopting this approach vary along a spectrum of intensity from aggressive to moderate in their protest of military violence, and from national to international in their images of victims, like those killed by atomic bombs and air raids and the refugees in Syria. These proponents tend to be public leaders, from politicians to intellectuals and cultural critics who deeply mistrust the state as an agent for peaceful conflict resolution.

The pacifist creed has long been an important counterweight to nationalism in postwar Japan, and its proponents delivered on that mission months after Japan dispatched the SDF to southern Iraq to take part in its first “humanitarian recovery mission.” In June 2004, a group of nine prominent Japanese public intellectuals gathered in Tokyo to announce the founding of the “Article 9 Association” (A9A, Kyūjō no kai) to protect the constitution from the state’s intensified efforts to revise it. The high profile cast ensured that the group would draw wide public attention. All of the founding members were of the wartime generation and had well-established credentials as postwar pacifists: Oda Makoto and Tsurumi Shunsuke had been leaders of the anti-Vietnam war movement; Ōe Kenzaburo, the Nobel laureate, is known for his pacifist conscience and outspoken public criticism of the state evoking comparisons with Germany’s Günter Grass. Miki Mutsuko had been active also in the movement to attain redress for “comfort women,” and joined the Asian Women’s Fund in 1995. Others included Kato Shūichi, a leading public intellectual and Okudaira Yasuhiro a prominent constitutional scholar. The Article 9 Association’s manifesto reads:



“Let our Constitution Article 9 shine upon this [changing] world, so we may hold hands with our fellow pacifist citizens around the world. For this purpose, we must re-select Japan's constitution and Article 9 as sovereigns of this nation …. as it is our responsibility to shape the future of this country.

We appeal to the world to do everything possible to prevent the revision of this Constitution, and to protect it for future peace in Japan and the world.14

The popular response to this appeal was resounding: within a year and a half, more than 4,000 local citizens’ groups of the Article 9 Association sprang into action. Ten years later, there were more than 7,500 A9A groups of all imaginable constituencies throughout the country: A9A for film makers, poets, women, children, the disabled, patients, doctors, musicians, scientists, the fisheries business, trading companies, the mass media, Buddhists, Greens, the Communist Party, and so on, and local community groups that have sprouted by the thousands across towns, cities, and prefectures.15 An international petition drive ensued, organized by the Global Article 9 Campaign to Abolish War established by the youth movement Peace Boat (2005).

The accusation by the West that Japan is suffering from collective self-pity in its vow never to allow another war that would create more Hiroshimas and Nagasakis, misses the significance of pledging disarmament for a country with seven hundred years of military tradition and three victories in international wars. The pride in this radical break with the past is such that a citizen’s group nominated Article 9 for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2014.16

The popular appropriation of Article 9 as a form of civic identity was long in the making. Japan's postwar pacifism, historian Akazawa Shirō explains, was born out of a profound skepticism for the state-defined “justice” that wrought massive sacrifices and immoral acts of violence.17 As war memory fostered persistent antipathy for the military and mistrust of the government’s ability to control the military, Article 9 came to function as an important constraint on the government that allayed those fears. What emerged over time was an anti-war pacifism based on a desire for human security, regret for a violent past, and a pledge to be model global citizens in the future. Peace is therefore a civic identity and a strategy of moral recovery, expressing contrition as well as an aspiration for an elevated moral status in the eyes of the world. This multifaceted discursive practice of peace is therefore fundamentally different from an anti-war pacifism based on questions of war responsibility.

The A9A was a corrective to defy the resurgence of aggressive nationalism in the 2000s; it reasserted the pride in a pacifist identity that had become a standard moral framework learned in schools18 and historically found role models in both Christian pacifists – like Nitobe Inazo, Yanaihara Tadao, and Uchimura Kanzo – and atheist pacifists – like Bertrand Russell and Albert Einstein who led the Pugwash movement dedicated to eliminating "all weapons of mass destruction (nuclear, chemical and biological) and of war as a social institution to settle international disputes.”19 However, only six months after the A9A was launched, the Japanese government announced the new National Defense Program Outline (NDPO) that broadened and realigned the range of Self Defense Force activities to react rapidly and multi-functionally to domestic and international emergencies. In this policy, China and North Korea were identified as “potential threats.”20

More recently, high-profile civic organizations and networks have sprung into action to defend the integrity of Article 9 and the constitution in response to the cabinet’s decision to reinterpret Article 9 to permit SDF to participate in international collective defense (2014). Those civic groups, consisting of scholars, public intellectuals, students, activists, and other public figures who are mostly of the postwar generation, vow to safeguard constitutionalism and constitutional democracy, and hold the government accountable to them. Organizations such as “Save Constitutional Democracy” represent this updated brand of pacifism that seeks a broader constituency to hold off further challenges to Article 9 by the nationalists in government.21 In this perspective, constitutional pacifism embraced by popular, democratic choice constitutes the ultimate moral recovery from the long defeat.22




The Founding of Article 9 Association (2004)


The Reconciliationist Path

The reconciliationist path subscribes to the notion that enhancing transitional justice and moral responsibility in East Asia is the best solution to overcoming the past. This approach emphasizes rapprochement, an ethos of civil courage to face past wrongs, and prioritizes improved relations with Japan's regional neighbors. To different degrees, people in this category recognize that accepting responsibility for past wrongs is indispensable to moving forward, and the only viable way for Japan to build mutual trust in the global world in general, and among the victims of Japanese wars throughout the Asia-Pacific in particular. They use a range of language from human rights and redress to friendship and pluralism, and emphasize the requirements of good relations with regional neighbors. Embraced by an eclectic mix of internationally-minded leaders in politics, business, scholars, grassroots networks, and civic activists, people vary along a spectrum from aggressive to moderate in their quest for redress and justice, and from realist to idealist in pursuing rapprochement. This approach is cosmopolitan, presupposing justice as a universal value, whether it comes from religious belief, feminism, socialism, transnational intellectual sensibilities, or declarations of international agencies.

This reconciliationist approach to overcoming the past prioritizes international dialogue to build relations with regional neighbors with antagonistic histories, based on mutual respect and, ultimately, mutual trust. Japan's acknowledgement of its history of aggression is indispensable in this regard, together with an acceptance of responsibility and an effort to redress the wrongs. In the West German case, the effort to promote mutual understanding of the antagonistic histories with its neighbors started within years of the war’s end. Under UNESCO’s auspices, West Germany started an international dialogue first with France (1951), and then, with the advent of Ostpolitik, with Poland (1972). The joint textbook commissions carried out bilateral reconciliation work successfully by all accounts, and continue the efforts today with ongoing institutional support and state funding.23 By contrast, Japan's joint history research projects with South Korea and China started only in the 1990s and 2000s, and with limited institutional and supranational resources compared to the German case. During this period of joint research Japan carried out both state and civil projects with South Korea and China.24 One such effort was a tri-national joint history textbook called History That Opens the Future published in 2005 by a group of 54 scholars, teachers, and citizens from Japan, China, and South Korea; it was the first textbook of its kind in East Asia published in all three languages.25 The preface reads:


“[This textbook] is about the history of East Asia in Japan, China, and South Korea.

East Asia’s history in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries is scarred by the wounds of invasion, war, and human oppression that cannot be washed away.

But … East Asia also has a long tradition of cultural exchange and friendship as many people work across national boundaries, committed to building a bright future.

We can build a brighter, peaceful future on this beautiful earth by inheriting the positive assets of the past, while thoroughly reflecting (tetteitekini hansei) on the mistakes as well.

How can we learn from the lessons of history to build a future that guarantees peace, democracy, and human rights in East Asia? Let’s think about it together….26

A joint history textbook project presumes that a shared historical perspective is possible based on some shared universal values such as peace building, democracy and human rights, as this preface describes. The effort calls for a search for a common language, and as much as possible, also a shared framework of understanding and interpretation. The common language behind History That Opens the Future is Japan’s history of imperial aggression and its damage to modern East Asia. The language of perpetration ties the three national histories together in what might be considered a primer on the origins of Japan’s “history problem.” Here the perpetrators are delineated clearly (Japan), as are the heroes who resisted the incursions (China and Korea), and the victims who suffered (China, Korea, and Japan). It also provides a blueprint for a possible resolution, which is that Japan must offer a full “apology and restitution (shazai and hoshō)” for its imperialism, invasions, and exploitation if East Asia is to find true healing, justice, and long-term reconciliation.27

Finding this common language is central in reconciliation work, yet hard to attain.28 Sociologist Gi-Wook Shin points to four key areas of reconciliation in East Asia – apology politics, joint history research, litigation, and regional exchanges – where the search for common ground is necessary for progress to be made.29 At a pragmatic level, it means that former adversaries, former perpetrators and victims must set aside the hate and prejudice that have stewed for decades, and find a reservoir of patience and good will. This process is also complicated ideologically by the “universal” international norm that defines a common language of justice in the global arena: human rights, democracy, and international norms such as crimes against peace (wars of aggression) and crimes against humanity (genocide, torture, persecution etc.)30 It was precisely the failure to find common ground in the understanding of “justice” that eventually ended the government- sponsored bilateral history research committees of the 2000s.31

Recent polls show that only a small fraction of Chinese and South Korean people (less than 11%) actually believe that Japan embraces pacifism or is committed to reconciliation, while much larger proportions (one-third to half of respondents) believe that Japan upholds militarism. At the same time, many in China and South Korea point to Japan's “history problem” and the territorial disputes as obstacles that stand in the way of building better relationships.32

Indeed in the second phase of the trilateral scholars’ efforts to build international dialogue and mutual understanding in the 2010s, the political and social climate had grown considerably worse than in the 2000s. The follow up publication,33 which had set itself the ambitious task of providing an overarching regional history of East Asia, reflected this difficult climate. Finding common ground in the understanding of “justice” seemed strained, as evidenced by the failure to synthesize the section on collective memory that could have led to an understanding of the most pressing issue facing the three nations, the territorial disputes. Yet it is this type of painstaking and persistent work of cultivating civilian dialogue, however difficult it may be, that ultimately paves the way for future generations to pursue the task of East Asia’s reconciliation. These efforts join the assiduous work of many activist-scholars like Utsumi Aiko, Ōnuma Yasuaki, and others who have labored to achieve transitional justice and redress in Asia over the decades.34




History That Opens the Future (2005)


The Broader Picture

The nationalist, pacifist, and reconciliationist paths have been vying for dominance over the past decades. They do not coalesce into a unifying national strategy for overcoming the past, and imply different strategies for political legitimacy and politics of social integration. The pacifist approach has been particularly strong in the areas of family memory and schooling, as I show in The Long Defeat. Mending the broken fences and healing the deep scars of history, however, will take more than the advocacy and practice of pacifism, however well-intentioned and well-practiced. Moral recovery in the current geopolitics is achievable only when respect can be gained from past adversaries and victims. The new tensions between Japan, China, and the Koreas make this task even more difficult.

Moving beyond the 71st anniversary of the end of war, former adversaries of the Asia-Pacific War now face crucial choices for the future of the East Asia region. The mounting tension centered on war memory politics today among Japan, China, and the Koreas is not only about righting past wrongs, but also about jockeying for position in the shifting geopolitics owing largely to the rise of China, and the continuing belligerence of North Korea as well as Japan’s own foreign policy under the Abe administration. Japan's widely reported struggle today over remilitarization is fought precisely by these nationalists, pacifists and reconciliationists whose divergent understandings of Japan's war and defeat parallel different interpretive narratives of the war and different views on contemporary Japanese international policies.

The divergent paths of nationalism, pacifism, and reconciliationism outlined in this essay explain the current battles over the nationalist government’s brazen push to revise the role of the Japanese military – elevating the Self Defense Force to a full military. Many of Japan's current political problems – including its deteriorating geopolitical relations with China and the Koreas – continue to be fueled directly by the contentious meanings of defeat that remain unresolved.

This article is adapted from Chapter 5 of Akiko Hashimoto, The Long Defeat: Cultural Trauma, Memory, and Identity in Japan (Oxford University Press, 2015).


Notes
1

Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. Rev. and extended ed. London: Verso, 1991.
2

Rahimi, Babak. "Sacrifice, Transcendence and the Soldier." Peace Review 2005 no. 17 (1):1-8.
3

Schivelbusch, Wolfgang. The Culture of Defeat: On National Trauma, Mourning, and Recovery. Translated by Jefferson Chase. New York: Metropolitan Books, 2003.
4

The Act on National Flag and Anthem 1999 (Kokki Oyobi Kokka ni Kansuru Hōritsu) mandated the use of the national anthem and flag in schools.
5

Fujioka, Nobukatsu, and Jiyūshugishikan Kenkyūkai. Kyōkashoga Oshienai Rekishi Tokyo: Fusōsha, 1996.
6

Smith, Anthony. D. National Identity. Reno, University of Nevada Press, 1991, 11-13, 66.
7

Sankei shinbun. “Gorin no toshi, nihon wa? Shushō: ‘Kaikenzumi desune’” 1.1.2014. Accessed 1/1/14.
8

Higuchi, Yōichi. Ima, ‘kenpō kaisei’ o dōkangaeruka: ‘Sengo nippon’ o ‘hoshu’ surukoto no imi. Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 2013.
9

Kōno, Kei. "Gendai Nihon No Sedai: Sono Sekishutsu to Tokushutsu." In Gendai Shakai to Media, Kazoku, Sedai, (ed) NHK Hōsō Bunka Kenkyujo, 14-38. Tokyo: Shinyōsha, 2008; NHK Hōsō Bunka Kenkyūjo, Gendai nihonjin no ishikikōzō, 7th edition. Tokyo: NHK Books, 2010.
10

Japan had the highest proportion of people who are not proud of their country (48.3%) compared to USA (37.1%) and China (20.3%). See Nihon Seishōnen kenkyūjo, Kōkōsei no gakushū ishiki to nichijō seikatsu: Nihon, amerika, chūgoku no 3 kakoku hikaku. Tokyo: Nihon Seishōnen Kenkyūjo. 2004, 8.
11

Kōno, "Gendai Nihon No Sedai”; Kōno, Kei, and Takahashi Kōichi. "Nihonjin No Ishiki Henka No 35nen No Kiseki (1): Dai 8 Kai 'Nihonjin No Ishiki 2008' Chōsa Kara." Hōsō Kenkyū to Chōsa April (2009): 2-39. Kōno, Kei, Takahashi Kōichi, and Hara Miwako. "Nihonjin No Ishiki Henka No 35nen No Kiseki (2): Dai 8 Kai 'Nihonjin No Ishiki 2008' Chōsa Kara." Hōsō Kenkyū to Chōsa May (2009): 2-23.
12

Zarakol, Ayse. After defeat: How the East learned to live with the West, New York: Cambridge University Press 2011. 198, 243, 253.
13

Kosuge, Nobuko. Sengo wakai: Nihon wa kara tokihanatererunoka. Tokyo: Chuōkōronshinsha, 2005, 192.
14

Founding statement of the Article 9 Association, June 10, 2004.
15

Article 9 Association, accessed 4.22.2014. “Ōe Kenzaburōshi mo tōjō,” Sankei shinbun, 6.21.2014.
16

Alexis Dudden “The Nomination of Article 9 of Japan's Constitution for a Nobel Peace Prize” Japan Focus Apr. 20, 2014.
17

Akazawa, Shiro. Yasukuni jinja: Semegiau 'senbotsusa tsuitō' no yukue. Tokyo: Iwanami shoten. 2005, 7, 257-60
18

For example, see the ethics textbook Daiichi Gakushūsha, Kōtogakko rinri kaiteiban, 2010,192.
19

Pugwash Conferences on Science and World Affairs. Principles, Structure and Activities of Pugwash For the Eleventh Quinquennium (2007-2012).
20

Fujiwara, Kiichi. Heiwa no riarizumu. Tokyo: Iwanami shoten. revised ed. 2010.
21

“Scholars form ‘Save Constitutional Democracy’ to challenge Abe's 'omnipotence'” Asahi shinbun Asia & Japan Watch. April 18, 2014.
22

Okuhira, Yasuhiro, and Jiro Yamaguchi. eds. Shūdanteki jieiken no naniga mondaika: Kaishaku kaiken hihan. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2014.
23

Alexandra Sakaki. Japan and Germany as Regional Actors: Evaluating Change and Continuity After the Cold War. Florence, KY: Routledge 2012; Kondo, Takahiro. Kokusai Rekishi kyōkasho taiwa: Yōroppa ni okeru "kako" no saihen. Tokyo: Chūōkōronsha, 1998; Schissler, Hanna, and Yasemin Soysal, eds. The Nation, Europe, and the World : Textbooks and Curricula in Transition. New York: Berghahn Books, 2005.
24

Yang, Daqing, and Ju-Back Sin. "Striving for Common History Textbooks in Northeast Asia (China, South Korea and Japan): Between Ideal and Reality." In History Education and Post-Conflict Reconciliation : Reconsidering Joint Textbook Projects, edited by K. V. Korostelina, Simone Lässig and Stefan Ihrig, 209- 30. New York: Routledge, 2013.
25

This text has been described variously as a textbook, supplementary guide, or a teachers’ guide.
26

Nitchū-Kan 3-goku Kyōtsū Rekishi Kyōzai Iinkai. Mirai o hiraku rekishi: Higashi ajia 3-goku no kingendaishi [History That Opens the Future] Tokyo: Kōbunken, 2005.
27

History That Opens the Future, 199, 217.
28

Kasahara Tokushi. “Shimin karano higashiajia rekishikyōkasho taiwa no jissen: Nit’chūkan sankoku ni okeru ‘Mirai o hiraku rekishi’ to ‘Atarashii higashiajia kingendaishi’ no hakkō,” Sekai 2013 March No. 840, 45-55; Kim, Seongbo. “Higashiajia no rekishi ninshiki kyōyū e no dai ippo.” Sekai 2006 October, 225-234.
29

Shin, Gi-Wook. "Historical Reconciliation in Northeast Asia: Past Efforts, Future Steps, and the U.S. Role." In Confronting Memories of World War II: European and Asian Legacies, edited by Daniel Chirot, Gi-Wook Shin and Daniel C. Sneider, 2014, 157-85.
30

Park, Soon-Won. "A History That Opens the Future: The First Common China-Japan-Korean History Teaching Guide." In History Textbooks and the Wars in Asia: Divided Memories, edited by Gi-Wook Shin and Daniel C. Sneider, 230-45. New York: Routledge, 2011; Sneider, Daniel C. "The War over Words: History Textbooks and International Relations in Northeast Asia” in History Textbooks and the Wars in Asia, 246-68.
31

The reports of the official Japan-ROK South Korea Joint History Research Committee (2002-05 and 2007-10) are available here and here.

The reports of the Japan-China Joint History Research Committee (2006-09) are available here.

For an assessment of how textbooks contents differ on controversial events, see Yoshida, Takashi. 2006. The making of the "Rape of Nanking": History and Memory in Japan, China, and the United States. New York: Oxford University Press.
32

Genron NPO. “Dai 2 kai nikkan kyōdō yoron chōsa.” 2014; 2014. "Dai 10 kai nitchū kyōdō yoron chōsa kekka".

Those who thought of Japan as a pacifist society were 10.5% in China and 5.3% in South Korea; those who thought of Japan as a reconciliationist society were 6.7% in China and 3.9% in South Korea. Those who believed that Japan espoused militarism today were 36.5% in China and 53.1% in South Korea. In China, respondents believed that the “history problem” (31.9%) and the Senkaku/Diaoyu Islands (64.8%) were major obstacles for developing a good relationship; in South Korea, the respondents ranked Takeshima/ Dokdo Island (92.2%) and the “history problem” (52.2%) highly as major obstacles for building friendships.
33

Nitchūkan 3-goku Kyōtsū Rekishi Hensan Iinkai. Atarashii higashiajia no kingendaishi (jō): Kokusaikankei no hendō de yomu: Mirai o hiraku rekishi Vol. 1. Tokyo: Nihon hyōronsha, 2012. Atarashii higashiajia no kingendaishi (ge): Tēma de yomu hito to kōryū: Mirai o hiraku rekishi Vol. 2. Tokyo: Nihon hyōronsha, 2012.
34

Utsumi, Aiko, Yasuaki Onuma, Hiroshi Tanaka, and Yoko Kato. Sengo sekinin: Ajia no manazashi ni kotaete. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2014.