The Rape of Nanking

Whenever confronted with an atrocity on the scale of something like the Nanking massacre, it is natural to consider the ways such a catastrophe might have been averted. In identifying key moments on which the fate of the people of Nanking tilted, the author characterizes the last-minute replacement of Matsui with Asaka as critical. While she is careful not to speculate explicitly on the matter, the author implies that Matsui would have at least kept the Japanese soldiers in a state of stronger discipline, thus minimizing the extent of the slaughter. After all, the author writes that Asaka was sent to Nanking not as a reward for displaying valor on the battlefield or in public life but because the emperor believed the invasion would give his uncle an opportunity to redeem himself after conduct considered to be less than satisfactory. Moreover, while the exact genesis of the “KILL ALL CAPTIVES” (40) order is unclear, the message originated from Asaka’s headquarters. Finally, the author points out Matsui’s frustration upon learning of the reign of terror unleashed by the Japanese against the people of Nanking. The general also reportedly built a “shrine of remorse” (174) to honor the Chinese victims of the war.

Yet there are reasons to believe the massacre would have been equally destructive had Matsui remained in command. For example, historian Akira Fujiwara—one of the few prominent Japanese scholars to make an appropriate reckoning of the Nanking death count—argues that the internal justification for war crimes committed in Nanking and elsewhere in China came from Emperor Hirohito’s August 1937 ratification of a proposal to ignore international law when it came to the treatment of prisoners of war. Moreover, while perhaps no individual incident rivals the Nanking massacre in its scale and brutality, the historical record contains no shortage of Japanese atrocities during World War II, including the Bataan Death March, the Siam-Burma Death Train, and the Manila Massacre. Even before Asaka took command, little stopped the Japanese troops from murdering and looting Chinese villagers on the road from Shanghai to Nanking. Finally, the shrine Matsui built honored all lives lost during World War II and was not restricted to Chinese lives or victims of the Nanking massacre specifically.

Even the author is likely to agree that Matsui’s presence versus Asaka’s would have not been enough to overpower the deeper psychological and cultural forces at play within the Imperial Japanese Army as it invaded Nanking. Some of these forces were in place for half a millennium, rooted in bushido codes of honor held by samurai in the Middle Ages. The Japanese soldiers’ eagerness to die for their master—in this case, the emperor—marked a dramatic difference between the military cultures of Japan and China, a divide illustrated by Azuma’s experiences. According to the author:

The reluctance of the Chinese army to fight back stunned Azuma. To a man who came from a military culture in which pilots were given swords instead of parachutes, and in which suicide was infinitely preferable to capture, it was incomprehensible that the Chinese would not fight an enemy to the death (43).

Aside from ancient honor codes, more recent cultural developments also contributed to the Japanese soldiers’ attitudes toward the Chinese. During training exercises, Japanese recruits were subject to heavy anti-Chinese indoctrination. Exercises like “killing practice” (56) not only inured the Japanese toward barbarity against soldier and civilian alike, but it also framed violence as a game and form of entertainment. This approach to killing led to shocking displays of sadism once the troops broke through the gates of Nanking. Finally, the author points out the extent to which the Shinto-based hierarchy of Imperial Japan encouraged the dehumanization of foreigners. Within this system, one’s spiritual value was determined by proximity to the emperor. For a Japanese foot soldier on the frontlines, his value was miniscule. Yet for a foreigner who didn’t even worship the emperor, his or her value was virtually nonexistent. This isn’t to suggest that there was something inherently sadistic about Japanese people in the first half of the 20th century; rather, it highlights the complex web of social and cultural pressures that contributed to the barbarity of the Nanking massacre.

Meanwhile, if the Nanking massacre was all but unavoidable from the perspective of the Japanese, the author argues that the same cannot necessarily be said of the Chinese. Chiang’s decision to reject Tang’s truce proposal, only to order a chaotic retreat once the fighting commenced, is seen by the author as nothing short of disastrous. The retreat order succeeded in evacuating only a tiny portion of Nanking’s military and civilian population and rendered the remaining surrendered troops into sitting ducks. True, China’s military leadership could not possibly have conceived of the speedy deaths these tens of thousands of soldiers would receive in the hours and days after the surrender. Yet from a tactical perspective, it is unforgivable, and moreover a reflection of the half-measures and lack of boldness on the part of Chinese leadership that mar the defense of Nanking.

While it is crucial to remember where the blame lies for the Rape of Nanking—on the Japanese soldiers who perpetrated it—many historians agree with the author’s assessment of Chiang’s shared responsibility for the massacre. In an essay published by the Brookings Institution, East Asia policy scholar Richard C. Bush writes, “In view of Chiang’s strategic blunder, does he bear some responsibility for putting the defenseless people of East China—and Nanjing itself—in dire harm’s way? It is hard to avoid that conclusion.” (Bush, Richard C. “Thoughts on the Nanking Massacre.” The Brookings Institution. 1 Dec. 2007.) In fact, Bush further condemns Chiang, attacking him for escalating tensions following the Marco Polo Bridge incident and making poor tactical decisions with respect to the Battle of Shanghai. This reflects an inversion of the author’s preoccupation with state power and genocide. While powerful leaders often pave the way for perpetrators of genocide, as they did in Japan, leaders can also unwittingly put the victims of genocide in harm’s way through the outsized impact of their decisions.