終戦記念日という言葉The Word 'End of the War'

Among the many customs of Obon, August 15 on the modern calendar was long regarded as the most important day, but eighty years ago it underwent a profound transformation, and since then it has come to mark the end of the Second World War, with memorial ceremonies held across Japan under the name “Shusen Kinenbi” (終戦記念日, End of the War Memorial Day). The recognition of the day the war ended differed between the defeated Japan and the victorious Allied nations at the time, with the United States marking it as September 2, 1945, China as September 3, and other variations by country. Yet in Japan this day came to be called the “day the Second World War ended,” not because of any legal designation, but because over eighty years it became entrenched as custom. The Japanese phrasing itself reveals a striking attempt by the leaders of the time to evade responsibility, and over the next twenty years this very point will likely play a major role in shaping Japan’s future. In fact, this nuance is almost entirely unrecognized outside Japan, so here I will examine it in detail.

On August 15, 1945, at noon, a pre-recorded radio broadcast of Emperor Showa’s “Gyokuon Hoso” (玉音放送, Jewel Voice Broadcast) was aired, and the Japanese public learned for the first time that Japan had surrendered to the Allies. In reality, by the previous day the cabinet ministers had already decided to accept the Potsdam Declaration presented by the Allied powers and to surrender. However, when it came to making the announcement to the public, significant political calculation (self-preservation by the ruling elite) came into play, and it was ultimately decided that “a statement by Emperor Showa would be the most effective means to pacify the nation.” As I have mentioned before, the historical background of this can be most clearly understood through Kihachi Okamoto’s film Japan’s Longest Day (日本のいちばん長い日).

The Japanese government demanded that the military disarm, but Army and Navy units insisting “we have not yet been defeated” mounted fierce resistance. As a result, while the government acknowledged surrender to the Allies, it no longer had the power to contain the military. Political maneuvering then centered on how to suppress the rebellion and prevent the transfer of power to the military. Looking back eighty years, the acceptance of the Potsdam Declaration and Japan’s surrender were decisions made unilaterally by the government—while the Army Minister and Navy Minister participated, the soldiers on the front lines were not informed at all. The Army in particular, with its creed of “fighting to the last man,” had never entertained the idea of halting the war. This sensitivity toward the military is blatantly reflected in the use of the term “Shusen Kinenbi” (End of the War Memorial Day).

In reality, Japan, like Italy and Germany, was a defeated nation, so the day would ordinarily be called “Haisen Kinenbi” (敗戦記念日, Defeat Memorial Day). However, the leaders stubbornly rejected the word “defeat,” replacing it with “end of the war,” and maintained this terminology for eighty years. The reason is clear: to admit defeat would mean that someone had to take responsibility, but at that time not a single leader did so. Moreover, because the war also had aspects of a reaction to the pressures of international relations at the time, the authorities did not wish to use the word “defeat” with the public. Wars arise from reasons on both sides, and cannot be understood through the logic of one side alone. In particular, Japan’s situation in East Asia was far more complex than the wars within Europe involving Germany and Italy, making simplistic understanding impossible.

Against this backdrop, the leaders repeatedly evaded responsibility and ultimately placed Emperor Showa at the forefront, having his voice broadcast over the radio to create the impression that “the war had ended.” By using the term “End of the War Memorial Day” instead of “Defeat Memorial Day,” they shaped the nuance that it was not that Japan had been defeated by America, but that Emperor Showa had ended the war. This was the most important point for the leaders at the time, and its preservation was ensured in the postwar era. Even today, the government never uses the word “defeat” and continues to refer to it as “end of the war.”

By refusing to acknowledge the fact of defeat, a situation took hold in which no one bore responsibility. Even though the Tokyo Trials prosecuted certain individuals, they judged only persons, not Japan’s governing system itself. Consequently, the system survived the war and has revived in forms adapted to the times up to the present. Japan’s greatest problem is whether it can recognize the Second World War as a defeat; yet, after eighty years, there is no sign of this happening. If things continue as they are, the image of “the war ended by the Emperor” will grow stronger, and in the future, new forces will rise that exploit this perception.

Listening to the Jewel Voice Broadcast makes it clear that the Japanese-language nuance of Emperor Showa’s words varies greatly depending on the listener. For example, conservative factions that glorify the Second World War interpret the broadcast as “a temporary truce to allow Japan to rebuild its strength,” with the intent of eventually waging war again. This interpretation remains deeply rooted even today, though it has not been openly voiced for the past eighty years because of the strong influence of the postwar international framework.

Now, however, that framework is wavering, and over the next twenty years, by the time the centenary of the End of the War Memorial Day is reached, global conditions may have changed considerably. At that point, it is highly likely that some factions will once again claim that “Japan did not lose” the Second World War, framing it as “a war not yet finished, with a century spent regaining strength.” This is because, by 2045, no one who experienced the war will still be alive, and Japanese society will be composed of new generations with no direct sense of the war’s dangers or era. As I have often conveyed in Shitsurae, in the midst of worsening complex domestic issues—such as shifts in the population and the hardships of daily life—this narrative will likely find considerable support.

Japan’s next turning point will probably be the centennial of the Second World War in 2045, and even then the term “defeat” will likely be avoided in favor of “end of the war.” As a result, factions asserting that “that war is not over” may rise to prominence, adding militaristic elements such as rearmament and nuclear deployment, and may gain significant popular support. This is why the choice of words in Japanese is a matter requiring extreme care: this linguistic maneuver was hard to see from outside, so the structure went unquestioned and has survived quietly to the present day.

That said, even if Japan moves toward such a future, it no longer has the national strength it once did. Therefore, over the next twenty years, decisions previously unthinkable will have to be made.