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Despite the relative obscurity of the Nanking massacre in the late 20th century, contemporary observers around the world are well aware of the atrocities committed by the Japanese in the city. Initially, Japanese newspapers even print photographs of dead bodies and relate stories of killing contests, characterizing both as sources of great national pride. Once reports from foreign correspondents reach Europe and the United States, however, international public opinion quickly turns against Japan. Japan’s reputation is further soured when it is revealed that the sinking of the USS Panay, an American ship carrying foreign nationals away from Nanking, was the result of a Japanese bombing attack. The author points out that the Panay sinking causes more outrage among the American public than the butchery in Nanking.
Facing universal condemnation from the international community, Japan seals off Nanking to foreign journalists. Over the next few weeks of the massacre, Japan devotes more effort to creating propaganda than to stopping the bloodshed by instilling stronger discipline in its troops. Soldiers clear the dead bodies from a handful of streets and march Japanese tourists and journalists through these blocks. On New Year’s Eve, Japan even stages a mock parade in which thousands of Chinese citizens are forced to march and carry Japanese flags. The country also blames the mass rapes and killings on a dozen Chinese agitators. In a letter to his wife, Nanking missionary Lewis Smythe writes, “Well, if they each raped from 100 to 200 women per night and day for two weeks and got away with the reported $50,000 they were pretty powerful Chinese” (151).
Frustrated by the propaganda, the missionaries and other Safety Zone Committee members smuggle out diaries and camera footage. As experienced orators who spend an inordinate amount of time contemplating hell, the missionaries are extraordinarily effective at describing the massacre to the outside world. A priest named John Magee makes copies of a movie reel depicting the suffering of victims at Nanking Hospital, giving one copy to Rabe and sneaking another out of the city in the lining of his coat.
Within six to eight weeks of the initial occupation, the worst of the violence subsides considerably. That said, life in Nanking is still brutal for the Chinese. The Japanese order corpses to remain in the street, the putrefying flesh reminding the Chinese of what will happen if they resist. Meanwhile, the city is a burned-out hull of its former self; the invasion causes nearly $1 billion in property damage in 1939 dollars, and a full third of the city is burned to ash by Japanese arsonists. Missionary Lewis Smythe estimates that 99% of the damage is caused by marauding Japanese soldiers, as opposed to the air strikes that precede the occupation.
Basic utilities like water and electricity are restored in spring 1938. Commerce resumes, but Chinese merchants are subject to onerous taxes owed to the new Chinese puppet officials installed by the Japanese to rule the city. Opium is effectively decriminalized, as the Japanese hope to keep the residents of Nanking desperate and docile. The author estimates that 50,000 people—roughly one-eighth of the remaining population—use heroin. Unjust killings persist, albeit on a smaller, less indiscriminate scale. For example, a woman at a textiles factory who uses a shoulder pad in the bathroom because there is no toilet paper is beheaded.
As the war goes on, the Japanese remove the blockade on food shipments, allowing Nanking to avoid the famines that devastate other parts of China during World War II. Between 1938 and 1942, the population more than doubles to 700,000 people before stabilizing. The city remains occupied until August 14, 1945, the official date of Japan’s surrender.
When the war ends, the United Nations establishes a subcommittee to investigate war crimes committed in the Far East and Pacific theaters. During the Nanking war crimes trials of 1946 and 1947, only five officers are tried; 28 others are tried at the concurrent International Military Tribunal for the Far East—including Matsui—for war crimes including but not limited to the Nanking massacre. As witnesses testify to details related to the Bataan Death March and the 100,000 forced laborers who die building the Siam-Burma Death Railway, it becomes clear to the trial’s 200,000 spectators that the cruelty and viciousness of Nanking is part of a pattern. According to American journalist Arnold Brackman, “The Rape of Nanking was not the kind of isolated incident common to all wars. It was deliberate. It was policy. It was known in Tokyo” (173).
Despite the deep personal remorse Matsui feels over the Nanking massacre, at the trial he serves as a scapegoat for the Imperial family. To trial-goers, his biggest regret appears to be failing the emperor by not offering sufficient guidance to the less experienced and less disciplined Asaka. Matsui, along with seven others, are sentenced to death. Meanwhile, Hirohito, Asaka, and the rest of the Imperial family are granted immunity as part of Japan’s surrender agreement. While former Nazis are barred from entering government office in postwar Germany, Hirohito remains on the throne, albeit with limited power. To the Japanese people, however, this signifies that there is no need for a serious reckoning with the war crimes committed by their countrymen.
In examining the role played by Japan’s central political and military leadership in allowing and perpetuating the Rape of Nanking, the author highlights the great lengths the country went to in shaping a false narrative around the massacre. In fact, she suggests that had Japan spent as much time and effort instilling discipline in its soldiers as it did on producing propaganda, the massacre may have died down far sooner, saving tens of thousands of lives. Moreover, the author argues that efforts by the Japanese government to cover up the brutality of Nanking emboldened soldiers. She writes, “The behavior of the Japanese soldiers grew worse when they realized that their actions would not be observed by the world media” (153). Once again, the author makes a compelling argument that individuals across the entire Japanese military and government apparatus were not only complicit in the Nanking massacre but directly responsible for it.
While the expulsion of journalists from Nanking was certainly a blow to efforts to publicize the massacre, the author suggests that the missionaries left in the city were arguably better suited to capturing the barbarity on display than reporters. After all, the scene resembled nothing even the most hardened journalists had seen in warzones and was more akin to the apocalyptic visions and underworld imaginings of the Bible. The author writes, “Finally, the missionaries had an additional advantage the Japanese did not foresee: they had spent their entire lives contemplating the true meaning of hell” (154).
It is telling that the average American living at the same time as the Nanking massacre knows more about the event than an American living during the mid-1990s, when the author writes her book. For example, footage from the Nanking massacre appears in director Frank Capra’s military-commissioned documentary series Why We Fight, which screened in theaters all over the United States. This reality speaks to the effectiveness of postwar efforts taken by Japan, China, and even the United States to erase the Rape of Nanking from the historical record.
Once a puppet government of Chinese collaborators was established, the massacre finally abated. At this point, the book becomes an examination of the occupation tactics of the Japanese. While the unchecked brutality finally ended, a more slow-burning horror unfolded in Nanking. Instead of employing a shock-and-awe strategy of extermination, the Japanese occupiers used fear and desperation to keep the Chinese from retaliating. For example, the Japanese soldiers’ insistence that the rotting corpses remain in the street was a horrifying way to remind the Chinese of what would happen if they resisted, as if they could possibly forget the massacre of the past few weeks. The occupation also reflects the devious manner in which the Japanese used post hoc arguments to justify the massacre. For instance, the fact that so many Nanking residents became addicted to heroin and therefore turned to crime to support their habits was cited by Japan as a reason for invading the city in the first place.
Yet despite the miseries of occupation, it may surprise some readers that Nanking did not fall into the state of famine that killed up to 3 million in China during World War II. Japan even eventually allowed food shipments to Nanking to resume. An examination of the historical record, however, suggests that World War II-era famines in China—particularly those to the west of Nanking in the Henan province—were likely as much the result of actions taken by the Chinese as they were a consequence of Japanese terror. While historian Rana Mitter is largely sympathetic to Chiang with regard to his role in causing famine, he blames corrupt local authorities who failed to enforce grain quotas and used whatever food was available for private use. Given the disease and cannibalism that wrecked the Henan province in 1942 and 1943, it is appalling to think that the Nanking massacre and occupation could have been even worse.
Finally, the author depicts the war crimes trials held in both Nanking and Tokyo. She points out that while only a small number of war criminals were tried in Nanking, the trials “gave the local Chinese citizens a chance to air their grievances and participate in mass catharsis” (170). While justice is preferable to mere catharsis, the power of such airings of grievances cannot be dismissed. In this way, the trials are akin to South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, created in 1995 to allow victims to confront the perpetrators of Apartheid-era crimes, even if no sentences were ultimately handed out.
The real outrage of the war crimes trials, according to the author, was the immunity granted by the United States to Emperor Hirohito, Asaka, and the rest of the Imperial family as part of the surrender agreement. In terms of Japanese war crimes, what Hirohito knew and when he knew it is the source of significant contention among historians. For the author’s part, she makes a compelling case that it is outlandish to believe these atrocities were committed without the emperor’s consent, even if he did not know their exact details. Unlike the Nazis, the Japanese destroyed any and all paper trails linking Japan’s political leaders to World War II-era war atrocities, leaving behind a series of blind spots for historians. Yet as the author points out, the earliest parts of the massacre were publicized by the Japanese themselves as sources of significant pride. One must assume that Hirohito didn’t read his own country’s top newspapers to believe he was unaware of the Nanking massacre. Hirohito’s awareness aside, however, the author states that perhaps the most unfortunate consequence of his escaping justice for Japanese war crimes was that it impeded the extent to which Japan took national responsibility for these atrocities. Quoting Hirohito biographer Herbert Bix, the author writes:
‘Many would find it difficult to believe that they had been accomplices in aggression and murder on a near-genocidal scale when the emperor whom they had served so loyally never had to bear responsibility for his own speech and actions’ (176).



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