From Okinawa, a lesson on the courage to forgive

 

I recently watched a travel show about an amazing story of love, forgiveness and moving on, a story that should be a lesson to us all.

In World War 2, when American forces were advancing against the Japanese across the Pacific ocean, the island of Okinawa became a critical objective, the first piece of actual Japanese soil they would attack.

Okinawa had an airfield from which bombing raids on mainland Japan could be more easily launched compared to Guam and other captured islands further away. From Okinawa, US forces could island-hop north across the rest of the Ryukyu Islands to the Japanese mainland.

Tropical Okinawa was distinctly different from the rest of Japan. Its natives were a separate ethnic group, and they were only colonised by the Japanese in the late 19th century. While it has become part of Japan, it also remained slightly apart.

By the time the Americans reached Okinawa, Japan was in dire straits after a losing streak that had wiped out their earlier gains after their Pearl Harbor success. They were on their knees and fighting for their very existence rather than advancing any strategic goals.

The battle for Okinawa was vicious. The overwhelmingly superior American forces stood off the coast and bombarded the island with thousands of tons of shells and bombs, and followed up with the largest sea-borne invasion in the Pacific theatre.

The Americans suffered tens of thousands of casualties. The Japanese lost almost their entire force, either from the battle or in thousands of cases, through ritual suicide rather than surrendering.

Devastation of war

But the largest casualties were the Okinawans. Thousands were forcefully conscripted by the Japanese to defend the island, and most died. Even more civilians were killed by the ruthless sea and air bombardments and ground assaults.

All in all, more than half of the island’s population then of about 300,000 perished.

For context, imagine walking through the streets of Kuala Lumpur, or your own town or village, counting the number of people you see and telling yourself that every other person is dead.

And apply this to your own office, classroom, mosque, temple…or your own family and friends. Every other single person you see is dead.

It’s a scale of devastation we can scarcely imagine, even in the war-ravaged Ukraine, or even Gaza. Sure, there’ve been other big casualties in World War 2 too (a single night bombing of Tokyo killed 100,000), but this was almost total devastation.

Victors and vanquished

One of the surviving Okinawans later became its governor. He built a peace memorial where the names of over 243,000 people who died in the battle were inscribed on plaques: those of Okinawans, the Japanese colonial masters – and of the invading Americans too.

War memorials are pretty common, even if in almost all instances they commemorate the bravery and sacrifice of a nation’s own sons and daughters. They’re certainly not made to commemorate the “other” side.

This is unusual. This memorial was built by those who were victims of the worst of the horrors of war, yet decided to remember those who had perished, regardless of who they are, and to remind people – never again.

The generosity of their hearts is almost unfathomable, as is their sorrow. It’s easy to hate when bad things happen (or are imagined to have happened) to you, but it’s not so easy to love and forgive.

Battles on home soil

While Malaya, Sabah and Sarawak were spared the worst of the atrocities of World War 2 – our invasion battles were swift and casualties weren’t of the same scale – we had our share of losses too, whether directly or indirectly caused by the war.

When the Japanese invaded Malaya, my father found himself in the British Army, armed with a rifle and two rounds of ammunition. The invasion was over so quickly he never saw any action, and he quickly ditched his gun and uniform and fled back to his village.

He married my mother a bit later while under the Japanese Occupation. Their first born was a set of twin boys. Unfortunately, my brothers died soon after due to the vagaries of wars – lack of food, medicine etc.

It must have been devastating to my parents, as to any parents who lose their children. Yet I remember no bitterness from them. The names of my twin brothers were later given to my first two nephews, so in some ways, they lived on.

The courage to move on

When Vietnam was just opening up to the world, an American veteran who fought there in the 1960s visited the country with a lot of trepidation, but was pleasantly surprised to experience no enmity or hatred by the locals.

One explained to him – they’d been fighting the Chinese for centuries, the decades of fighting the Americans were just a mere blip in their history! They have moved on.

My parents, who strongly believed in fate, moved on too. Life was tough enough without forever carrying the burden of sorrow or hate. If that’s a test from God, then they believed it was their duty to pass such tests to prove they’re worthy of Him.

Many others suffered even worse fates than my parents. Many perished fighting the invasion, and many more during the Occupation. Some later also took arms against the Japanese and paid the ultimate price.

Hidden monster of hate

The Japanese too, especially the civilians in Japan, suffered horrendously and died in the hundreds of thousands, even before the mass killing by the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Did they deserve this for waging a war of such barbaric brutality to many parts of Asia, especially China? Should Nanking be forgotten because of the bombing of Tokyo, Hiroshima and Nagasaki? Certainly for many the pain is too much, and they can’t forget nor forgive.

It would be churlish for us to pass judgment on them, not having been in their shoes and suffered their loss.

However, the unfortunate fact is that regardless of how wars are sold, they are waged for economic reasons, with the cries of superiority or injustice – inflamed by nationalism, tribalism or religion – being merely convenient excuses.

We always admire the ‘fighters” in any conflict and especially in wars, and casualties are expected, even required, to further the justification narratives.

While we’ve gone three quarters of a century without a major global conflict, the hatred is never far beneath, and there are many who’d love to see it break the surface.

Russia-Ukraine is a case in point where it has broken the surface, and the destruction of Gaza shows how narratives can easily be massaged to suit your purpose.

No, it’s not the strength and courage to fight and kill others that is praiseworthy. Much more difficult is the strength and courage to forgive, to learn and to teach the right lessons from such tragedies, and to move on.

While wars may have victors, ultimately, all are losers. - FMT

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT.