For various reasons I have been thinking about remorse for the war.
So I asked an AI, which country is the most remorseful about the war? and it generated an answer: "Germany. The reason is………" In other words, if a World Championship of War Remorse broke out, Germany is the predicted winner — but the dark horse, Japan, is pretty strong too, and if things went wrong it could even beat Germany and take the title.
Supposing we did hold a World Championship of Remorse, by what standard would remorse be measured?
We cannot adopt the simple-minded view that remorse means an important person apologizing. If a president apologized to me, all I would think is, who is this guy? And I think all of you, if a president suddenly came to your house to apologize, would think, whatever, just go home. Also, with this standard, some country might round up its legislators and stage a mass dogeza to win the championship. Some country would surely drag out the 98-year-old elder of a mountain village somewhere (super important in the village). In that case questions arise: which scores higher, ten legislators or one president; who ranks higher, a village's 98-year-old elder or a politician? A standard this vague can only be rejected.
What about competing on "number of remorseful people x quality of remorse"? This too has plenty of problems. Certainly, if about eighty percent of a country's people thought, we came to act as we did for such and such reasons, and we are remorseful, that would be convincing. But no country is in that state. It is also unclear how to handle the people with no remorse at all, and measuring it is a pain. Rejected as well.
Depth of remorse is no good either. It would come down to, what the hell is depth. Suppose one country puts forward a person who quietly looks back on the past to prevent a recurrence of war and does deep intellectual work; if another country fields an antiwar-peace shoulder-tackler, defeat is certain.
What is an antiwar-peace shoulder-tackler? He performs cold-water purification immediately on waking, prostrates himself before the great tree his great-grandfather planted, screams "Thank you for letting me live today as well!" and, praying for peace, delivers 1,000 shoulder attacks to the great tree. He is a favorite in the neighborhood and does peace work such as catching burglars with shoulder attacks, but he keeps declining certificates of appreciation. The tackler's great tree is one his great-grandfather planted before going off to the front, and the great-grandfather never came back. But the great-grandfather too must have done harm out there, so the shoulder attacks are for the atonement and repose of the whole family line — and since it is going to escalate until somebody dies, this standard is rejected too.
In the end, if remorse is to be turned into numbers, the only possible criteria are size and count, plus speed. It is an absurd standard, but taken deliberately as a thought experiment, Japan turns out to be one of the world's great remorse powers.
As a premise, the Japanese government's remorse is weak. It is feeble. If Germany showed up it would lose badly. But the private sector is overwhelmingly strong.
First, size. One of the forms remorse takes is the monument, so let us evaluate size as a remorse score. The San Jacinto Monument, said to be the tallest in the world, is 172.92 m, but PL Kyodan's Trans-Sectarian Great Peace Prayer Tower for the War Dead of All Nations reaches a height of 180 m. Since the Trans-Sectarian Great Peace Prayer Tower is taller than the world's tallest monument, in this category Japan's remorse is the best in the world.
The Trans-Sectarian Great Peace Prayer Tower is overwhelming in the scope of what it mourns, too: its purpose is "the memorial and repose of the spirits of all the war dead in history, without regard to race, ethnicity, nation, border, region, or religion, sect or creed". No country can beat Japan on size, one may say. Some may dismiss it as something built by a single religion, but there was an old man who looked at this tower and composed: "the countless victims of war — in this tower, transcending everything, rest for eternity." At the very least, this old man's remorse is genuine.
What about count? In Germany the "stumbling stones" (Stolpersteine) number over 100,000, overwhelming every other country. That one we cannot win. But Japan too had a period when self-publishing was a boom, and old men came out in droves saying that for the sake of world peace they would write down what they knew of the war. On the number of personal histories containing some element of remorse for the invasion, Japan is quite strong. In the peace-education line, the number of essays children were forced to write and the number of thousand-crane strings must be considerable. Though on the cranes, since they arrive from abroad too, we might have to reserve judgment.
On top of that there was the boom in memorial tours, and in this period old men came out in droves to apologize directly to local people. In terms of the number of people who took part in memorial tours, Japan is probably at the top. And the number of memorial monuments erected on these tours is considerable as well — over 400 within the Philippines alone, and quite a quantity once you include other countries. So on count too, Japan can be said to be among the world's most remorseful.
Let me give one concrete example of what these memorial tours were like.
I am abnormally fond of these old men, and since I would hate for them to get attacked, I am deliberately not disclosing my source: in 1991, a group of seventeen old men, the youngest 68 and the oldest 80, carried out an eight-day memorial tour of the battlefields of China. At a send-off party held before the trip, one of the old men explained the purpose of the tour to everyone. It is long, but here it is.
Whether we liked it or not we were dragged off as soldiers to the front line in China, where we came close to dying, lost many comrades, or were wounded, and we have piled up hardship — but the Chinese people have been made to suffer worse than we did, having their homes burned, losing their property, and having their families scattered. I myself have visited the actual places in China four times now, and not once have I said that I was a Japanese soldier; of course the people over there seem to have guessed, but this time I intend to go and declare plainly that I am a surviving former Japanese soldier.
And in the villages where we were stationed, let us take along a sho or two of sake, and plenty of candy and chocolate for the children, and hand them out. And let us say plainly the words of apology. Thinking of the comrades who died swallowing their bitterness, we may find it hard to bow our heads, but I would like us to worship at that Chinese Bukoshi (the Yasukuni Shrine, if it were Japan) as well, and to hold a memorial service at the South Gate for Battalion Commander Yokota and our other comrades. What do you say? I hardly think anyone is going to club us over the head in Changsha. Last time I went to Changsha, the Chinese guide asked us to pay our respects at the Bukoshi and went out of his way to stop the vehicle in front of it, and not a single one of us went in. As someone who fought the same war I understand that feeling painfully well, but now that half a century has passed since the war, is it not time to join hands with former Chinese soldiers too and talk?
And so let us worship at that Bukoshi and bow our heads before it and pray for the repose of the Chinese soldiers we killed as well.
The reason they had been unable to worship at the Bukoshi was the strength of their feelings for the comrades who had died. It is a hard sensibility to grasp now, but for instance there were many who could not, at the level of feeling, accept that the friends who had lost their lives on the same battlefield or died in the special attack units had been aggressors. That is, they thought that for their comrades' sake as well, they could not be the ones to apologize. It is a fact that this sensibility existed, but it is not something people today must understand. Thinking "ah, so that was a thing" is quite enough.
At any rate, because they held this sensibility, "a moment of silence fell" among the participants who had heard the organizer's speech. Before long the drink began to give them momentum, and in the end the old men were shouting one after another, "Agreed! Agreed!" and the matter was neatly settled. It is slapdash.
They handed out sweets and drink on the ground, and apologized. There was trouble along the way, though.
"That time, I was hurt by a Japanese soldier" — a shabby-looking fellow came flying out of the crowd and set upon Mr. xxxx of our party. Mr. xx, who had never been to China before, said in a fluster, in Tono dialect, "What're you on about, I don't know anything about it"
Then a man who looked like a public security officer came rushing over, soothed him, and led him off toward the back of the crowd.An old woman, as if to smooth things over,
"That man is cuckoo in the head"
she indicated, twirling her finger above her head and then flinging her palm open above it.
To be denounced to your face on a memorial and apology trip and settle it with "I don't know anything about it" and "he's cuckoo" is something in itself, but the idea of apologizing by handing out sweets and drink is also self-righteous and pretty slapdash. The mayors and prefectural office staff in China must have felt the pushiness in this band of old men's apology, but they were careful and accepted it, and the children innocently ate the sweets. And the old men prayed at the Bukoshi for the repose of the Chinese dead…… in that sense the memorial tours did contain a certain amount of apology.
Last comes speed, and here too Japan shows overwhelming strength.
At the provisional conference held when the Higashikuni cabinet was appointed, Ozaki Yukio, then 86, submitted an opinion paper, "Culture and War Cannot Coexist", saying something like: "as for territories such as Taiwan, Korea and Manchuria that were obtained with military force as their background, we should not wait for other countries to interfere, but of our own accord release them and let their belonging be decided by the free will of their inhabitants". As remorse it is weak in intensity, but I cannot suppress my astonishment that an 86-year-old Ozaki was operating at high speed.
The thing that boasts still greater speed than Ozaki, and combines number and depth besides, is Bon dancing. The essence of Bon dancing is the repose of souls, and for that you must think of the past.
That year, all across the country, a frenzied Bon dancing, as if in a fever, turned into the war's elegy.
*The Labor Movement As I Saw It* (Rodo Undo Mita Mama), vol. 1, Ronoo Kisha Konwakai, Jiji Press, 1947 < National Diet Library Digital Collections ↗
After the end of the war, the countryside had more food than the cities, and the young men's associations were functioning, so Bon dances were held all over. Of course the reactions varied.
The sound of the Bon drums went on for a good while even after August had passed and September had come; the farming villages had gotten through the two hundred and tenth day without incident, a good harvest for the first time in years was assured, and released all at once from the long endurance of the war years, defeat or no defeat, they were simply carried away and away in merriment
*Bundan* 1(2), Maeda Shuppansha, Maeda Shuppansha, 1947 < National Diet Library Digital Collections ↗
As you would expect, there were also easygoing, happy-go-lucky people.
Some days after the end of the war, someone said that if we could do anything we liked now, then let's have the Bon dance we hadn't been able to hold for so long, and with the young men's association at the center we borrowed a drum from the village shrine and held a slightly late Bon dance. We danced over and over to "I am the withered pampas grass on the riverbank" and the "Yagi-bushi" that goes, a samurai named Suzuki Mondo…, and "Moonlit Night on the Great Tone River". The association leader had a good voice, and a good face too, so the girls all went over to him, and I remember not liking that. But not a single one of the adults came.
*Born in 1931: My Generation* (Showa Rokunen Umare: Waga Sedai), Kawade Shobō Shinsha, Kawade Shobō Shinsha, 1979 < National Diet Library Digital Collections ↗
Even if it is "I am the withered pampas grass on the riverbank", repose of souls is repose of souls. While cheerful Bon dances were being held, there were also regions where they were called off.
From the outbreak of the Japan-China Incident in 1937 the so-called emergency system came to be imposed, and with the subsequent plunge into the Pacific War the Bon dance lost its former splendor, though in some places it was still carried on in a small way. Before long came the defeat, and the Bon dance had no choice but to be suspended for a time.
*A History of Osaka City in the Showa Era*, vol. 7 (Culture), City of Osaka, City of Osaka, 1953 < National Diet Library Digital Collections ↗
In Noda in Karafuto, a lonely Bon dance was held on the night of August 15. Kudo, a woman teacher, learned of the defeat at school, where "the entire staff raised their voices and wept on the spot". On the way home she came upon the Bon dance. "The drumbeats had no strength in them, and only the ring of people swayed with hollow faces." Kudo's "head was empty too". She simply watched the Bon dance.
If you ask whether this is remorse, the answer is that it is memorial, and it is remorse.
The feelings of the people taking part in the Bon dance were all sorts. There must have been people who only drank and ate good food and sang and danced and had fun. There must have been people who, dancing merrily, thought of what they had lost and ended up in tears. It was a closed and complicated age. There would have been immigrants who looked down on Japan and did not take part, and Japanese-side communities that refused to let them take part. Then as now, there are all kinds of people.
But the Bon dance is equal. It gives repose to the people who died in that place, without picking and choosing. Trace the Bon dance back to the nembutsu odori and place is left far, far behind: it becomes a prayer that saves every soul across time, space and blood.
Judged this way, by the criteria of size and count and speed, it turns out that Japan is quite remorseful about the war.
If a Championship of War Remorse were held and other countries came charging in with "you people have no remorse", Japan could retort, "Count? Speed? Size? Which do you want? I'll let you choose, so make it quick" — but deciding the degree of remorse by count or size or speed is a pretty rude business. Beyond the remorse there are victims, and it is perfectly ordinary for the one who feels remorse to be a victim too.
And as for the Bon dance, the fastest remorse only happened because the defeat happened to fall on August 15. If it had been April, some other event would have been held; it is nothing but chance. There is no meaning in a contest decided by chance.
If you ask why I am writing all this, it is because I have been thinking about the boilerplate criticism, "Japan has no remorse for its war of aggression".
The first time I heard the "Japan is not remorseful about the war" line was, I think, in peace education. My reaction was, come on, there is remorse — but I was a child and it was hard to put into words. Now I think the "no remorse" line is the utterance of someone who has not thought about anything, and that using a word as vague as "remorse", one that risks trespassing into the depths of another person's heart, so casually, is the result of intellectual laziness.
The reason the "no remorse" line disgusts me is that I have read the writing of people who were remorseful, and I know those people exist. Since the start of this year I have read something like 160000 pages of books and magazines published between the latter half of 1945 and around October 1946, and naturally enough, there are huge numbers of people who were remorseful. When someone says "there is no remorse", I reflexively, emotionally think, why does someone like you get to pick at another person's remorse?
This applies to remarks made inside the country, though; criticism from outside is another matter. That Japan "appears not to be remorseful" as a whole, seen from the outside, I can understand. At the public level, as I wrote at the beginning, "the Japanese government's remorse is weak". At the same time, inside Japan this kind of remorse has been going on. How to express that and get it across, I do not know.
The one thing I can say is that remorse is complicated. Those slapdash old men, at the Bukoshi (Martyrs' Park) where "red, white and yellow flowers bloomed in profusion", "bowed their heads before the main hall and thought back on the war that had been hard on both sides. And in their hearts they apologized: we are sorry that we killed you." That is certainly one form of remorse, and it is a fact that these people thought "let us pray for the repose of the Chinese soldiers we killed as well" and carried it out.
From there they went straight on to the South Gate of Changsha and set out sake and cigarettes before a fallen stone pillar. The whole group lined up and pressed their palms together, and one old man chanted the Heart Sutra. The others recited it too, and "prayed for the repose of the many comrades sleeping outside the gate".
On previous tours they had not been able to hold a memorial service on site, thinking about a certain guilt, about the feelings of the local people, and about the possibility of trouble. But the old men had handed gifts of apology directly to the Chinese people and had bowed their heads to Chinese soldiers as well, so they reckoned they must have the right to hold a Japanese memorial service too.
So this time they were able to "pray for the repose of the many comrades sleeping outside the gate". Feeling a weight lifted from their shoulders, the old men held a karaoke contest that night, doubling as a farewell party for their Chinese guide. The next day the old men gave the guide ten thousand yen as a tip. The guide said, "It was a memorable trip to guide," and drove away.
This remorse is far too complicated. So it is not my place to butt in.