How Japan Views History

With the end of 2015, a year of commemorating the 70th anniversary of the end of World War II, the curtain closes on another chapter in the recurring historical debates in Northeast Asia. Despite signs of a thaw in political relations between Japan and its neighbors, China and South Korea, deep differences in historical perceptions – and historical responsibility – have not changed.

It’s not surprising, however, that there’s no consensus on history among the three neighbors because there is no consensus within Japan itself. Historical narratives spark debate and controversy domestically, among society at large as well as within the political elite. Just as former Prime Minister Tomiichi Murayama, author of the famous Murayama statement, was attacked by right-wing critics for going too far in criticizing Japan’s wartime deeds, current Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has been attacked by left-wing critics for being an apologist and revisionist.

Behind the politics, behind the international disputes, there’s the central question of how modern Japan remembers history. And there’s no better place to start unraveling this monumental topic than by a visit to the site that, in many ways, has come to embody the controversy: Yasukuni Shrine, in Tokyo.

Yasukuni Shrine: Respecting the Dead

Yasukuni was established in 1869. From the beginning, it seamlessly blended the religious and the political: It was intended to honor those who died in the civil war that came with the Meiji Restoration. The Meiji Emperor, in a poem written in 1874, made a solemn promise to his supporters: “I assure those of you who fought and died for your country that your names will live forever at this shrine.”

Today, there are 2.46 million names enshrined in Yasukuni – including, most famously, 14 people who were convicted as Class A war criminals by the International Military Tribunal for the Far East in 1948.

Because of its enshrinement of these 14 souls, Yasukuni has become a lightning rod for criticisms of Japan’s attitude toward history, a symbol for those who accuse Japan and its government of “whitewashing” World War II. Visits to the shrine by Japanese politicians – including by Abe himself in December 2013 – are taken as evidence of recalcitrance on historical issues, or even as an expression of modern-day militarism.

Tomoaki Higuchi, the public relations chief at Yasukuni Shrine, objects to this understanding of Yasukuni. He doesn’t like to see Yasukuni discussed with a political agenda, he tells me. In his view, it’s simply “natural” for lawmakers to pray for the souls of those who served the country. Yet the shrine has made accommodations for the controversy: Because of the attention it attracts when top officials come by, Higuchi explains, they have a separate entrance to be used by the prime minister. But he assures me that, otherwise, Yasukuni treats all visitors the same – whether Abe himself or bereaved family members come to pray for their lost loved ones.

As for the war criminals, Higuchi says that in Japan there is no such thing, as proclaimed by a unanimous resolution from the Diet in 1953. Shinto culture is very generous toward those who have died, he adds, and he believes that even those who “did something wrong” are deserving of respect if they fought for their country. Besides, Higuchi doesn’t put much stock in the war tribunal’s judgment. In war, victorious countries shouldn’t judge anyone from losing countries, he says.

Higuchi explains that the shrine has two major missions. The most well-known is to enshrine the souls of those who died for Japan. But Yasukuni also seeks to respect and value the war dead, and to pass that respect on to later generations. It’s this respect, Higuchi says, that is often misunderstood to be historical revanchism. People criticize Yasukuni and its affiliated museum, Yushukan, for presenting a “wrong understanding of history,” when actually their goal is simply to exhibit, without comment, what the contemporary attitudes were toward the war. Understanding and explaining what Japan’s soldiers believed in the 1930s and 1940s is Yasukuni’s way of respecting their contributions to the country, Higuchi explains. 

Yushukan Museum: Honor and Glory

In Yushukan, then, the purpose is not to teach history, per se, but to honor the dead by passing along – without comment or critique – what they believed. That’s why the museum unabashedly describes World War II as a noble fight against colonization and the spread of communism. Higuchi accompanies me through the museum and narrates the exhibits, adding his own commentary. During the war era, Japan’s wish was for the prosperity of all of Asia, he says. Many Japanese who lost their lives in the war did so believing they were contributing to a bright future for Asia. Higuchi adds that the museum is not trying to justify the war – it is simply trying to make sure that the next generation understands what the beliefs were at the time.

It’s a fragile line to draw, between fostering understanding of and championing Imperial Japan’s talking points. By presenting the arguments without comment, the obvious implication is support for the views.

Beyond the text, the museum itself is designed to present a certain depiction of war. Here again, the distinction between honoring the war dead and honoring the war itself is blurred. In its entrance room, the museum showcases a Type Zero plane, a military train, and a tank – all restored to look shiny and new. The room also contains replicas of various vehicles used by Japanese soldiers to conduct suicide attacks, including submarines and planes.