Every year, there are peace ceremonies on the 6th, 9th, and 15th. There are moments of silence at the moments the respective bombs were dropped and at noon on the 15th. Officials and chosen student representatives make lofty, idealistic speeches about the preciousness of life and the importance of peace.
The problematic whitewashing of history* and the oversimplified nature of the wish for peace aside, it was important for me that I learned about what happened to civilians in my country during the war, how they suffered. That was the environment in which my grandparents grew up. And the words in the textbooks and the images in the documentaries flooding the channels around this time every year came alive from stories that my mother would mention (because my grandparents would never talk about their wartime experiences to me). Constant fear of American air raids. My grandmother in her teens, her education interrupted and forced into working at a factory with her classmates because that's where the girls were deemed to be needed. I can just imagine it: my sweet, frail, kind grandmother as a young girl, walking over bloated bodies to get out of the rubble after her city was bombed.
The suffering of the civilian population during the war has another personal dimension for me. The Christian middle school I attended was a Western mission-sponsored school that included a westerner's name. It's a wonderful school that taught me to be an independent person, the values of serving others, and (perhaps to the surprise of many Americans) solid liberal values, and let me forge friendships of a lifetime, but during the war, it was forced to change its name due to anti-English language sentiment. The images of Jesus in the beautiful chapel were replaced, under government pressure, with pictures of the emperor. I obviously wasn't there, but what the imperial government did to my beloved school is personal. The Japanese civilian population was experiencing this kind of suffering and more all across the country when Hiroshima and Nagasaki happened.
Yeah, sure, it was war, and I would be the first person to stand up and denounce the actions of the Japanese imperial government of the 1930s and 40s; and yes, Japan can do a much better job teaching and learning about the sufferings of other Asian people (more about this at a later time, hopefully). But it would be nice if more people outside of Japan recognized that Japanese civilians were victims of Japanese imperial policies as well. While Japanese civilians' (legitimate) victimhood does not justify Japanese failure to learn about the immense pain and suffering inflicted upon other civilians by the Japanese imperial government, it pains me a little that history textbooks in America (my adopted country) treat the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki simply as a necessary evil to end the war and/or to sound off a warning to the the soon-to-be evil Soviets. OK, fine, treat it as a necessary evil, but at least accompany that message with what that "evil" entailed. Not just the number of deaths but also the numbers of those who were affected by the radiation for the rest of their lives and how people were burned or incinerated or vaporized and the cries for water that were heard on the riverbeds. These were children and civilians. You can't really own up to a necessary evil without knowing what that evil is, can you?
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| "Please rest in peace, for we will never repeat our mistakes." |
A few years ago, I visited Hiroshima for the first time. It felt like a necessary trip for me, a trip I'd been waiting for for years. I would have gone when I was 16 for my school trip (the 10th grade trip was always to Hiroshima), but my father's fortuitous transfer brought me to suburban New York, and I missed out on that. I wouldn't have imagined at that age that I would be making my Hiroshima trip with my American then-boyfriend (now-husband). I saw the artifacts, the shadows burned onto the concrete, the images of the city before and after. It wasn't about self-pity or wallowing in victimhood. It was about being educated and being aware of the destruction that can be inflicted upon civilians in the face of war. It was about knowing the history of my people and renewing a commitment to standing up for peace even against those who are in power. And I was glad that the man with whom I intended to spend the rest of my life was there to share an important experience with me. It made me relieved that he would know what Hiroshima means to me as a person of Japanese heritage.
As briefly mentioned in the asterisk below, I don't believe that Japan educates its people enough about the extent of harm the imperial government did to the dignity and well-being of the other peoples of Asia. I was fortunate enough to attend a private middle school where teachers did not hesitate to teach us about the experiences of non-Japanese civilians who were subjected to violence and suffering at the hands of the imperial government. We read accounts of civilians in Nanjing, former "comfort women," and others, while also reading the familiar stories about the struggles of Japanese civilians.
The messages of peace are vastly important, now more than ever on the 70th anniversary of the end of World War II as the Abe administration attempts to push through an unconstitutional bill to "reinterpret" the meaning of Article 9 of the Constitution without the proper procedures of a constitutional amendment. As someone who identifies more with the active political culture of the United States, it is encouraging to see the normally reticent citizens of Japan take to the streets to raise their voices about a cause they believe in. That cause--protecting the "beloved" peace Constitution--is a little oversimplified for my taste. And it would be preferable if more people were more educated about the full extent of the suffering that the Japanese government caused others and would preach the importance of peace not only from the collective memory of suffering and "tragedy" but from the view of a people who allowed a destructive government to rise to power. I cannot help but feel that many Japanese persons who call for peace misunderstand what peace requires. Peace requires constant vigilance and cannot be achieved solely by idealistic speeches and educational messages about peace and the importance of human life. It requires constantly standing up for peace and being prepared to take hits for it.
This time of the year, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and collective remembrance of the war in general remind me of how fragile peace can be if the people are reticent and of my individual responsibility to speak up about how a democratic government can be usurped by destructive and jingoistic forces and bring great suffering on its own people and others. It's always civilians--particularly the most vulnerable in society--who suffer the most. And as someone who grew up with the idealistic message of peace from the Japanese education system and adopted the activism of American political culture, I believe that I at least owe it to the young girl that was my grandmother--who was forced out of her childhood and cheated out of her education--and to everyone that was ever involved with my beloved school--which was forced to give up its identity during the war--to say something in hope that at least one more person will be convinced to raise their voice.
*I fully acknowledge that every country whitewashes history to some degree, and that conservatives in any country flip out at attempts to present a comprehensive view of its country's history requiring critical thinking, alleging that any such attempts are "unpatriotic." But Japan needs to educate future generations more about the harm and suffering that Japanese imperial policies inflicted upon the other people of Asia. I'm guessing I'll probably write about Japanese history education at some point, so I'll reserve any further thoughts until then.
