conflicts of history

In the last five years or so of my life, I’ve been to a few different countries around the world. I’ve been fortunate enough to travel, and among the places I’ve been, in addition to Japan, are Italy and Germany. While in all of these countries, I’ve marveled over and over about the fact that once, in a time that now seems centuries ago, these were The Enemy.

I think about this constantly; how my grandfathers, who both fought in World War Two, would feel about me not just living here but loving the place. If they would come visit. If they would show respect to the place. These questions are unanswerable, but it never stops me from pondering them. To think that the current emperor, Emperor Akihito, is the son of Emperor Hirohito, the man who ordered the attack on Pearl Harbor. Imagine if Fritz Hitler or some equivalent was President of Germany currently, or if Giuseppe Mussolini was in charge of Italy. Those would be inconceivable. But somehow, in this contradiction of a country, Akihito is the man in charge. I don’t take issue with this; the continuation of the Imperial Family was deemed necessary by MacArthur and it likely prevented a great amount of deaths and helped facilitate the transition to post-war Japan. I just find it interesting.

Recently, I was reading Flags of Our Fathers, a book about the American flagraisers on Iwo Jima, on the train into Shinjuku. The front cover of the book depicts the famous picture of the struggling Marines raising up the stars and stripes in a triumphant display of victory atop Mt. Suribachi on the sulfur island. As I was reading the book, I noticed an older gentleman sitting across from me. He looked to be in at least his 80s, and was sitting silently, reading the newspaper. I don’t think he noticed me (although, being the only foreigner on the train, I’m sure he did), nor do I think he noticed my book. Still, the concept that this man could conceivably have fought on Iwo Jima made my head spin. It was like seeing a time traveler, and not wanting to insult the man or call attention to his country’s loss, I stopped reading and put the book away. I’ve said before, this country never ceases to amaze and confuse me, but that’s not the whole story. It forces me to look at things a different way, and honestly I appreciate it.