Author: 戊

The importance of war memorials and shrines in honouring the war dead in Japan is a central issue to the themes of historical remembrance and narratives. Yasukuni Shrine is a Japanese Shinto shrine housing the souls or Kami of the war dead who laid down their lives for the Emperor of Japan extending back to the shrine’s creation in 1869. ¹ The shrine has become increasingly controversial due to its militaristic implications, I will evaluate these central issues to contemplate the politics of remembrance and memorialisation. 

The Yasukuni Shrine remains one of the most contended aspects of Japanese post-war memorialisation, and this alludes to how the shrine is identified as a representation of reviving Japanese militarism and also a symbol of Japan’s reluctance to redress its wartime atrocities.  ²   One of the prominent arguments of critics is that the souls of war criminals who were found guilty by the International Military Tribunal for the Far East are enshrined at the Yasukuni Shrine. ³ Consequently, rather than the shrine being simply a memorial to the Japanese war dead, it has become symbolic as a nationalistic centre for the right-wing by holding the souls of Class A war criminals. The right-wing referred to here tend to glorify Japans wartime past, and therefore they regard the shrine as a symbol of the continuity of Japans national identity and tradition, allowing them to remember those who died for the Japanese nation. ² In Japan, this issue is prominent, as since the end of World War Two there have been differing opinions over how to represent, memorialise and compensate for Japan’s deeds across Asia and the Pacific.

Many supporters of the Shrine have articulated that the government, alongside Japanese citizens, have a duty to contribute to the commemoration of the military war dead. ⁴ This is highlighted by how the act of remembering those who gave or lost their lives in war has traditionally been an act of citizenship and is often deemed a social responsibility, mutually “affirming the community at large and asserting its moral character”. ⁵ This explains why Japanese statesmen believe it is crucial to “normalize the post-war state’s relations with its war dead, even if this should strain bilateral relations with neighbouring countries”. ³ However, whilst the Japanese right-wing and conservative politicians have maintained that “Yasukuni is no different from the war cemetery at Arlington, Virginia, or the Cenotaph in London”, I would argue that there is a clear distinction. ⁶ 

Other nations have formed similar historical narratives that are resolute within public memory to venerate the war dead and to keep their memory alive. Yet the Yasukuni Shrine focuses on projecting a one-sided national identity and historical narrative. What makes the Yasukuni Shrine so different from the other multitude of Shinto shrines across Japan and other nations memorials is that “the Japanese war dead—including the Class A war criminals sentenced in the Tokyo trials—are revered as divine heroes”. ⁷ Therefore, the shrine lies at the centre of the deliberation over whether nations have the right to choose how they commemorate their historical past.

The politics of memory and remembrance continues to be disputed with regards to the Yasukuni shrine and its representation of World War Two, especially as it is debated that the shrine upholds the glorification of Japan’s past and its war dead. ³ The Yasukuni Shrine exposes and symbolises the contentious issues surrounding Japanese historical memory which continue today, as exemplified by current textbook divisions in Eastern Asia and the tension still associated with Japan’s approach to its wartime atrocities, all of which make the Yasukuni Shrine politically charged.

1. John Breen, Yasukuni, the War Dead, and the Struggle for Japan’s Past, (New York, 2008), p.8 [↩]
2. Daiki Shibuichi, “The Yasukuni Shrine Dispute and the Politics of Identity in Japan: Why All the Fuss?”, Asian Survey 45 (2005), p.198 [↩] [↩]
3. Yongwook Ryu, “The Yasukuni Controversy: Divergent Perspectives from the Japanese Political Elite”, Asian Survey 47 (2007), p.706 [↩] [↩] [↩]
4. Ibid., p.90 [↩]
5. Jay Winter, Sites of Memory, Sites of Mourning: The Great War in European Cultural History, (Cambridge, 1995), p.85 [↩]
6. Ian Buruma, The Wages of Guilt, (London, 1994), p.219 [↩]
7. Sebastian Conrad, “Japanese Historical Writing” in Axel Schneider and Daniel Woolf (Eds.) The Oxford History of Historical Writing: Volume 5: Historical Writing Since 1945, (Oxford, 2011), p.650 [↩]

When reading about the tensions across Eastern Asia concerning historical textbooks and narratives, I was intrigued by how discussing and interpreting what happened in the past is still an incredibly sensitive issue. In Eastern Asia specifically there are many disputes over historical remembrance, with countries unable to reconcile their differing interpretations of the past. Whilst there is acknowledgment of the need for reconciliation in order to resolve disagreements over past historical events, there are fundamental obstacles to achieving a resolution. Within this blogpost I will focus on the central issues of national identity and the impact of nationalistic politics on history writing, which highlights why textbooks are such a fragile issue across Eastern Asia. 

Since history textbooks were created around two centuries ago, they have been shaped to cultivate a sense of national identity and nationalistic sentiment. Therefore, textbooks have become central in battle of historical remembrance, as are historical museums, statues, memorials and military cemeteries. ¹ Peter Duus writes that within East Asian countries it is not administratively achievable to have a common and agreed historical narrative, because “the teaching of history in many East Asian countries is clearly tied to building and strengthening national identity”. ²  This is a central obstacle amongst efforts for reconciliation, as each nation’s perception of the past is embedded in the public’s consciousness, as nations have worked to forge particular historical narratives, and these memories have come to heavily impact national identities. Consequently, there have been issues amongst these nations in their efforts to come to terms with their common histories. These tensions over historical remembrance and the writing of history textbooks highlight an important aspect of modern history writing, as this “underlines how profoundly historical writing and especially writing history texts is affected by nationalistic politics”. ³  Therefore, when discussing the centrality of nationalism to ‘history wars’ in East Asia, it is vital to recognise that history textbooks have come not just to involve the past but also the future, impacting the ability to write a common history.

The heavy involvement of the state within history textbook writing and in deciding the content of textbooks also highlights the issues with reconciliation over historical events. This level of administrative oversight has resulted in textbooks becoming a legitimate source of debate, as the contents are debated amongst the “competing forces within a nation and among nation states”. ⁴ For instance, in Japan, South Korea and China, the Ministry of Education has a direct impact over the writing of textbooks, and have the authority to alter and veto any undesirable elements. In China and Taiwan textbooks must concur with the key policies of the government to reinforce a singular historical narrative, as they must assist particular governmental and pedological aims. ⁵ This state influence is telling of the importance placed on historical narratives, and consequentially history textbooks have easily become diplomatic issues. Daniel Sneider supports this argument, as he argues that “textbooks are imbued with a powerful role, partly symbolic, in creating what some scholars have called the “master narrative” that defines a nation’s identity”. ⁶   

In conclusion, history textbooks have become a contentious issue, with national and nationalistic politics becoming interwoven within the writing of historical narratives. This has hindered the ability of nations to write a common history, as nations are divided in their perceptions of past events and these disagreements have resulted in diplomatic tensions because history textbooks are seen to define and impact national identity. Therefore, the textbook is recognised as heavily influencing which historical events are remembered and how they are remembered, allowing nationalistic politics to dominate and consistently have influence over their writing. 

1. Gi-Wook Shin, “History Textbooks, Divided Memories, and Reconciliation” in Gi-Wook Shin and Daniel Sneider (Eds.) History Textbooks and the Wars in Asia: Divided Memories (London, 2011), p.4 [↩]
2. Peter Duus, “War Stories” in Gi-Wook Shin and Daniel Sneider (Eds.) History Textbooks and the Wars in Asia: Divided Memories (London, 2011), p.101 [↩]
3. Gi-Wook Shin, “History Textbooks, Divided Memories, and Reconciliation” in Gi-Wook Shin and Daniel Sneider (Eds.) History Textbooks and the Wars in Asia: Divided Memories (London, 2011), p.7 [↩]
4. Daniel Sneider, “The War Over Words: History Textbooks and International Relations in Northeast Asia” in in Gi-Wook Shin and Daniel Sneider (Eds.) History Textbooks and the Wars in Asia: Divided Memories (London, 2011), p.246-7 [↩]
5. Shin, “History Textbooks, Divided Memories, and Reconciliation”, p.7 [↩]
6. Daniel Sneider, “The War Over Words: History Textbooks and International Relations in Northeast Asia” in in Gi-Wook Shin and Daniel Sneider (Eds.) History Textbooks and the Wars in Asia: Divided Memories (London, 2011), p.246 [↩]

Whilst reading the book Inventing the Way of the Samurai: Nationalism, internationalism and Bushidō in Modern Japan by Oleg Benesch, I was intrigued by his comments linking the ethic of bushidō to the concept of ‘invented tradition’, coined by Eric Hobsbawm. I thought it would be interesting to analyse whether bushido was an ‘invented tradition’ by discussing how bushidō was adopted into nationalistic discourse within Japan, in order to create a sense of national identity. Therefore, I will be discussing the modern rise of bushidō as a Japanese ethic and whether we can approach this ethic as an ‘invented tradition’. 

Firstly, what is bushidō? The popular view across Japan holds that bushidō or ‘the way of the warrior’ was a centuries-old code of conduct and honour embedded in the historical Samurai. However, it came to prominence as an ethic and was well integrated across Japanese society in the modern period. Therefore, Bushidō has become categorised as the “soul” of the Japanese people. ¹ The concept of ‘invented tradition’ on the other hand has roots in the historical works of Eric Hobsbawm, whose works became influential during the 1960’s. He argued that new nations which were forming at the end of the Nineteenth Century partook in the invention or re-appropriation of the past for a variety of end-goals. Hobsbawm argued that the concept of ‘invented tradition’ was a particularly contemporary development, because certain narratives were moulded to form an agenda for national renewal during the rise of the nation state. The notion of the ‘invented tradition’ is clear in the modern development of the nation and nationalism, as these traditions attempted to create a sense of unity by establishing a national identity. Eric Hobsbawm wrote that these traditions which “appear or claim to be old are often quite recent in origin and sometimes invented”. ²

It is interesting to ponder whether bushidō therefore can be recognised as an ‘invented tradition’. The formation of bushidō into a national ethic was a modern phenomenon within Japan, as central symbols were borrowed from the historical samurai in order to forge a distinct national identity based on the reverence of “the way of the warrior”. When reading the book Inventing the Way of the Samurai: Nationalism, internationalism and Bushidō in Modern Japan by Oleg Benesch, the author discusses how bushidō was embraced by Imperialist Japan as a cornerstone of loyalty to the state and was therefore utilised for progressive ends. For instance, it was senior military figures and those within the Japanese governmental sphere in the Twentieth Century who stimulated a form of bushido that emphasised obedience and honour, as it supported their ambitions to assert a more forceful foreign policy. This is evidenced by Oleg Benesch writing that those who created the modern concept of bushidō were “concerned less with Japan’s past than the nation’s future”, as bushidō became a useful tool for inspiring nationalistic devotion. ³ This highlights that bushidō was originally promulgated as a traditional samurai ethic, and only later became a defining trait of Japanese national character. 

The formation of bushidō echoes the idea that “communities often (consciously or unconsciously) partake in the invention and re-appropriation of the past for various ends”. ⁴  Analysing the transformation of bushidō shows that the majority of its legitimacy stems from its alleged historical roots. This is evidenced by the existence of a variety of differing interpretations of bushidō, because “modern theorists often carefully selected aspects of earlier history, philosophy, and legend to support their specific bushidō interpretations”. ⁵ For example, it is widely understood that the Meiji, Taishō and Shōwa governments utilised and modified bushidō as an ideology which helped to redirect devotion from feudal lords back to the emperor. 

However, this ambiguity has meant that bushidō has been endorsed as a timeless ‘way of the warrior’ and, consequently, this tradition is adaptable due to the lack of an exact definition or historic origin. Yet still it is the perceived historical origin of bushidō as a traditional ethic that has bestowed upon bushidō an amalgamation of legitimacy but also suppleness which has allowed it to be adapted and interpreted across a variety of different time periods and situations. In this way, we can understand how bushidō is viewed as an ‘invented tradition’ by historians who argue that the original concept of the ‘way of the warrior’ has been appropriated for Japanese nationalistic ends and to form a cohesive national identity. 

1. Oleg Benesch, Inventing the Way of the Samurai: Nationalism, internationalism and Bushidō in Modern Japan, (Columbia, 2011), p.1. [↩]
2. Eric Hobsbawm, Terence Ranger, The Invention of Tradition, (Cambridge, 1983), p.1. [↩]
3. Oleg Benesch, Bushido: The Creation of Martial Ethic in Late Meiji Japan, (Columbia, 2011), p.3. [↩]
4. James Shields, “Review: Inventing the Way of the Samurai: Nationalism, Internationalism and Bushidō in Modern Japan”, Journal of Japanese Studies, Vol. 43 (2017), p.448. [↩]
5. Ibid., p.449. [↩]

Within the dramatization of the tale of Mulan by Xu Wei, a Ming Dynasty intellectual, I found the emphasis on Mulan’s bound feet interesting due to the cultural symbols associated with foot-binding. By drawing attention to Mulan unbinding her feet, Xu Wei places Mulan at the centre of the male gaze. The cultural symbolism behind the sensuality of the bound foot is important to comprehend when understanding the references and motives behind Wei’s inclusion of Mulan’s bound feet into the play. Through an analysis of Xu Wei’s play ‘Female Mulan joins the Army in the Place of Her Father’ we can reflect on its focus on Mulan’s femininity, and on why the inclusion of bound feet is noteworthy within the play. 

“Just-removed, the half-folded Tiny Ripple-Riding Socks bindings… My family has a method for shrinking golden lotuses”

‘Female Mulan joins the Army in the Place of Her Father’¹

Within China in the Song Dynasty foot-binding became popular amongst the elite class, and by the Qing Dynasty the custom had been more widely adopted. The bound foot became the focus of female sensuality and a key cultural symbol. The play ‘Female Mulan joins the Army in the Place of Her Father’ includes a scene where Mulan is seen unbinding her feet, and discussing her apprehension concerning the impact of her unbound feet upon her marriage prospects. The text is full of common metaphors, which are utilised to both mystify and eroticise Mulan’s bound feet. ‘Golden lotuses’ is a central metaphor for feet that have been through the process of foot-binding, as it is meant to evoke the idea of “dancing on floating lotuses”, as women who have bound feet walk in mincing dainty steps.² This effect of bound feet was deemed desirable, as it became a standard of beauty to have petite and delicate feet. In this way, the manner Mulan’s bound feet are discussed in highlights how ‘golden lotuses’ were viewed as an intimate part of the female body and a representation of femininity.³ 

So why did Mulan’s feet become erotized in the play ‘Female Mulan joins the Army in the Place of Her Father’? There are notable scenes that display the sexualisation of Mulan’s feet. For instance, as the start of the play as Mulan dresses in male clothing to prepare for military service, she unbinds her feet and states her plan to re-bind them upon her return home so she will still be suitable for marriage. The author’s ambition to please his audience also had a role to play, as Xu Wei allowed Mulan’s feet to be unbound and discussed explicitly on stage, thus intensifying a voyeuristic indulgence for the presumably male audience. Howard Levy supports this, arguing that the process of foot-binding was a feminine mystic created for the male gaze, which transforms the bound foot into a critical manifestation of sensuality.⁴ Furthermore, it is important to note that Xu Wei gives Mulan bound feet despite the fact that the story is set in Northern Wei centuries before the tradition of foot-binding became a widespread social custom. The play is full of sexual implications due to its focus on Mulan’s feet which, given the audience was likely the male elite class, would have been considered erotic due to the connotations associated with bound feet particularly for upper-class men. Alongside this, the image of Mulan within the play reinforces her as a virtuous woman in Neo-Confucian times, as foot-binding became a manifestation of Confucian ideals and was deemed to be an essential aspect of being feminine. 

Another unusual aspect is the portrayal of Mulan openly discussing and unbinding her feet, as bound feet were traditionally kept private and never exposed, demonstrated by the fact that even erotic images of Chinese women usually portrayed the women with their feet covered by shoes or bindings. Concealment therefore is central to the mystical nature of bound feet. Which is why the authors decision to show Mulan unbinding her feet is particularly striking, as usually “women attended to their feet in the strictest privacy”.⁵ In this way, we can begin to unravel the reasoning behind the authors decision to give Mulan bound feet, as both a symbol of her feminine identity and in order to please his male audience who would have been shocked yet captivated by the open depiction of Mulan unbinding her feet. 

1. Wang, Zhuoyi, “Cultural “authenticity” as a Conflict-Ridden Hypotext: Muland (1998), Mulan Joins the Army (1939) and a Millennium-Long Intertexual Metamorphosis”, Arts 9 (2020), p.9 [↩]
2. Ibid., p.9 [↩]
3. Blake, Fred, “Foot-Binding in Neo-Confucian China and the Appropriation of Female Labor”, The University of Chicago Press 19 (1994) p.707 [↩]
4. Levy, Howard, Chinese Footbinding: The History of a Curious Erotic Custom, (London, 1969), p.37 [↩]
5. Blake, Fred, “Foot-Binding in Neo-Confucian China and the Appropriation of Female Labour”, The University of Chicago Press 19 (1994) p.688 [↩]