Last Sunday, I visited the Yasukuni Shrine for the first time.
Yasukuni Shrine is located in the heart of Tokyo, a five-minute walk from the Kudanshita Metro Station. Established more than 130 years ago in the second year of the Meiji Era, Yasukuni Shrine presents itself as a peace memorial commemorating the spirits of those who sacrificed their lives for the enduring peace of Japan.
According to an English-language pamphlet handed to me by a woman dressed in a white Shinto robe, more than 2,460,000 spirits are currently worshipped as divinities in this shrine, which includes not only soldiers, but the spirits of military nurses, high school students and other civilians who gave their lives for their country.
This English-language pamphlet, decorated with cartoon mascots of the white doves that live on the grounds of Yasukuni Shrine, describe the other architectures found within vicinity. A smaller shrine located behind the main shrine is dedicated to the souls of all individuals who have died in all wars occurring everywhere in the world. A traditional Japanese garden with stone pathways circumscribing a waterfall and a koi pond is located on the northwest corner of the shrine grounds. On the way to the shrine museum, visitors pass a statue of a grieving war widow and her children.
The museum, called the Yushukan, is a sleek, two-story building with clear glass walls. In chronological order of Japan's military past from the Meiji era to the end of World War II, paintings, armors, weapons, letters, photographs and other articles of historical interest are exhibited behind glass displays.
In the first exhibition room, samurai swords are accompanied by eloquent haikus of past emperors and military leaders. This is followed by more wartime memorabilia of the ensuing years. Swords turn into rifles, which turn into warheads. Paintings of brave samurai warriors engaged in battle eventually turn into black-and-white photographs of young men who served as kamikaze pilots during WWII. Photographs of mourning families are shown bowing before the Shinto rituals that deified the souls of their deceased fathers, brothers and sons.
A 50-minute documentary plays every hour in a small theater on the second story of the Yushukan, urging viewers to never forget the sacrifices made by those who have died in the war. Elderly people with tears in their eyes lament that today's young people lack the bravery to die for their country. No matter what century it is, the main narrative is always the same: Japan is a country that must always defend its own independence and prosperity as a peaceful nation, even if it means war.
After being bombarded by room after room of wartime memorabilia, I was anxious to leave. I eventually left Yasukuni Shrine feeling frustrated, confused and - as strange as it sounds - dissatisfied.
What was the reason for my dissatisfaction? Secretly and childishly, I think I wanted my experience to fully embody the drama and controversy that surrounded Yasukuni Shrine every time it was mentioned in the media, usually about how the prime ministers' visits to this place angered neighboring Asian countries.
I wanted to see a row of ultranationalist conservatives in their black vans and mega-speakers on the shrine grounds bellowing their ridiculous, revisionist accounts of Japanese history to random visitors, like how the Nanking Massacre was a lie, or that the use of the comfort women was exaggerated, or how the Class A War Criminals deified within the shrine were true heroes who did absolutely nothing wrong.
Essentially, I wanted to witness something so distasteful and blatantly wrong that it fully justified my preemptive bias against everything that the Yasukuni Shrine stood for.
Instead, all I found was peace and quiet. I witnessed an ordinary Shinto shrine on an ordinarily beautiful day, where families bowed obediently before the altars, and a local Boy Scouts troop hosted an outdoor fair in the museum courtyard. I found a wonderful alternative universe where all soldiers were heroes and all grieving families selflessly accepted the sacrifice of their family members.
There was no need to besmirch this wonderful narrative with arguments of how the death toll of the Nanking Massacre was a lie, or whether or not Japanese soldiers used comfort women during WWII.
It was much easier to pretend that it all didn't exist in the first place.
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