Aircraft 731

By Andrew Salmon

The 20th century was the bloodiest in humankind’s experience. Scrawled in red ink across the records of those years, and seared deep into the darkest side of human consciousness, are the names of once-secret sites where appalling crimes were committed by calculating men with sinister agendas: Katyn; Babi Yar; Belzec; Treblinka; Sobibor; Auschwitz; Tuol Sleng.

Among them is Pingfang, outside the city of Harbin in Manchuria (or Manchukuo as it was in the 1930s and 40s). Here, a top-secret unit of the Imperial Japanese Army was based: Unit 731.

The unit’s task was chemical, biological and explosive weapons research. Inside its facility, several thousand live humans ― dubbed “maruta” (“logs”) ― were used by Unit 731 as fodder for human experiments. I’ll spare you nightmares and decline to detail these experiments. Suffice to say, what Unit 731 did constitute some of the most gruesome, revolting and fiendishly creative crimes in the annals of atrocity.

The Japanese, fully aware that what went on in this place was criminal, attempted to raze the facility as the Soviet juggernaut rolled into Manchukuo in the closing days of World War II. But enough material evidence and human testimony survived to tell Unit 731’s story.

Now, I am no Japan-hater. The xenophobic, do-or-die fanatics of the 1930s and 1940s are a totally different breed to the polite, quirky, globalized and democratic Japanese of the 21st century. Indeed, modern Japanese (from the Emperor on down) have made more than 50 official apologies to their Asian victims for their wartime misdeeds.

And I would suggest that that today’s Japan is a natural ally for South Korea; a country with a similar culture, lifestyle, economy and polity ― big picture issues that should logically trump emotional territorial and historical disputes.

Enter Shinzo Abe. Japan’s current prime minister has been lacerated by the media here as an “ultra-nationalist” for his alleged historical revisionism and reported desire to change the constitution to permit Japan’s armed forces wider latitude.

Reading the Korean media, it would seem that everyone from Park Geun-hye downward demands that Abe and his party adopt the “right” view of history. But what is “right?” History is not mathematics: Beyond certain basic facts, a great deal of history it is open to interpretation. And while few Koreans accept it, Japan suffered terribly in the war of its making.

Its cities were bombed into powder. Its most vulnerable young women were (alongside Koreans, Chinese and a handful of other nationalities) shipped to “comfort stations” across Asia-Pacific. Its menfolk forged a record of hopeless heroism that excels that of even the Spartans for suicide attacks and last stands.

So it is not unreasonable for Japanese ― assuming they acknowledge responsibility for the Pacific War, as all the Japanese I personally know do ― to memorialize their 2.5 million war dead.

Nor do I believe that a revived Japanese military would be a force for ill in the world. Japan today is a responsible democracy; anyway, the era of military-backed colonization has long passed.

Moreover, I have no issue with “Abenomics.” Currency gurus note that the yen has been overvalued for a decade, while global economists applaud Abe for kick-starting his long-moribund economy. While Korean columnists howl that quantitative easing is a “beggar thy neighbor” policy, this is myopic. If Korea’s exporters are forced to get more competitive, fine. Moreover, a revived Japanese economy is good, not bad, news for Korea.

In short, unlike many Koreans, I had no serious beef with Abe ― until 12 May. On that day he posed, grinning, in the cockpit of a Japanese Self-Defense Force jet trainer. So far, so good: A publicity stunt of the kind all politicians engage in.

But emblazoned on the fuselage of the aircraft was its service number: 731.

I have no idea how many jets are in the Japanese Self-defense Force inventory, but it seems an extraordinary coincidence that an aircraft with that number was chosen accidently.

Given the sensitivity of the photo opp and the importance of prime ministerial protocols, it is hard to believe that none of Abe’s aides or PR staffers failed to notice those glaring numerals.

Perhaps no three-digit number, in connection with Japan’s wartime past, is so freighted with memories of inhumanity and however wide certain historical issues may be to interpretation, it is impossible to whitewash or excuse Unit 731.

At best, this is a PR debacle that showcases crass ignorance and staggering insensitivity. At worst ― i.e. if persons in the SDF or in Abe’s entourage actually engineered it ― it is a calculated insult to the victims of some of the most hideous crimes in modern history.

Either way: Shame on you, prime minister.

Andrew Salmon is a Seoul-based reporter and author. Reach him at andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk.