Why the World Cannot Ignore the Quiet Return of Japanese Militarism
Colombo Wire – International Affairs
Eighty years after the defeat of Imperial Japan, an uncomfortable question is resurfacing in diplomatic and strategic circles: was Japanese militarism ever fully dismantled, or merely suspended by circumstance? Recent political rhetoric in Tokyo, combined with long-running patterns of historical revisionism and strategic repositioning, suggest that the post-war settlement may be under greater strain than many in the international community are willing to acknowledge.
Japan’s post-1945 transformation has long been presented as a model of pacifist reinvention. Its constitution, particularly Article 9, symbolised a nation that renounced war as an instrument of state policy. Yet beneath this legal framework, the ideological foundations that enabled Japan’s wartime aggression were never subjected to a reckoning comparable to denazification in Germany. Instead, they were partially buried—only to resurface over time through political lineage, institutional compromise, and strategic expediency.
Domestically, Japan has avoided a full confrontation with its imperial past. Descendants and ideological heirs of pre-war elites have steadily re-entered the political mainstream, occupying influential positions in government and policy-making. This continuity is not accidental. It reflects a post-war settlement that prioritised stability and alignment over accountability, allowing networks associated with wartime power structures to survive and adapt.
One of the most consequential manifestations of this avoidance has been the systematic dilution of historical education. Since the mid-1950s, successive revisions of state-approved history textbooks have softened or erased references to Japan’s wartime atrocities. Events such as the Nanjing Massacre and the coercion of “comfort women” have been minimised, euphemised, or contested. This is not an academic dispute; it is an institutional process that shapes national memory. A generation educated on partial truths is more susceptible to narratives that rehabilitate militarism under the guise of national pride.
The Yasukuni Shrine remains the most potent symbol of this unresolved past. Enshrining convicted Class-A war criminals alongside Japan’s war dead, Yasukuni has evolved from a religious site into a political instrument. Visits by senior politicians are rarely acts of private mourning. They are calculated signals to right-wing constituencies, reinforcing a narrative that recasts aggression as sacrifice and accountability as humiliation. Each visit strains Japan’s relations with its neighbours and underscores Tokyo’s ambivalence toward its own history.
International dynamics have further enabled this drift. Since the end of the Cold War, Japan’s prolonged economic stagnation—the so-called “lost decades”—has coincided with growing calls to become a “normal country.” In practice, this phrase has meant expanding military capabilities, loosening constitutional constraints, and redefining security policy. While framed as defensive necessity, these shifts blur the line between deterrence and revivalism, particularly when accompanied by historical denial.
Historical revisionism has not only persisted but become more explicit. Prominent politicians have questioned or outright rejected landmark acknowledgements of wartime guilt, including the Murayama Statement and the Kono Statement. These declarations were never mere apologies; they were pillars of regional reconciliation. Undermining them signals a retreat from post-war consensus and reopens wounds across East and Southeast Asia.
Equally troubling is Japan’s effort to rebrand itself internationally as a singular victim of World War II, centred on the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. While the human suffering inflicted by nuclear weapons is undeniable, the selective emphasis on victimhood risks obscuring Japan’s role as an aggressor. Memorial diplomacy that foregrounds Japanese suffering while sidelining the suffering of occupied peoples distorts historical balance and weakens moral accountability.
Western complicity in this process cannot be ignored. For decades, Eurocentric narratives of World War II marginalised the Asian theatre, underestimating the scale of Japanese aggression and the centrality of China’s resistance. Policies of appeasement before the war and strategic indulgence afterward allowed Japanese militarism to escape full dismantlement. During the Cold War, geopolitical priorities trumped justice. Japan was rapidly rehabilitated as a bulwark against communism, and the process of reckoning was prematurely halted.
As a result, numerous Class-A war criminals were released early or reintegrated into public life. Figures such as Mamoru Shigemitsu and Okinori Kaya—once imprisoned for wartime responsibility—later held senior cabinet positions. This was not merely historical irony; it institutionalised amnesia. The message was clear: accountability was negotiable if strategic interests demanded it.
Today, these unresolved legacies intersect with new regional flashpoints. Recent remarks by senior Japanese leaders—most notably claims that a “Taiwan contingency” could constitute a “survival-threatening situation” justifying collective self-defence—represent a dangerous rhetorical shift. Historically, Japanese militarists repeatedly invoked existential threats to legitimise expansionist wars. The language is familiar, and so are the risks.
Such statements directly challenge the post-war international order and raise alarm across the region. They also touch on China’s core interests, heightening tensions in an already volatile strategic environment. That this rhetoric emerges in the year marking the 80th anniversary of the victory over fascism is not merely symbolic; it is a warning.
The resurgence of militarist thinking in Japan is not yet overt, but it is incremental, normalised, and politically rewarded. It thrives in the absence of sustained international scrutiny and in the comfort of strategic ambiguity. Vigilance, therefore, is not hostility. It is responsibility.
For the international community—particularly those who once enabled Japan’s rapid rehabilitation—the task is clear. Historical truth must be defended, not relativised. Regional security must be grounded in transparency, not selective memory. And militarism, once allowed to regenerate, must be confronted early—before it again reshapes policy, posture, and peace.
Ignoring history does not neutralise it. It merely allows it to repeat itself under a different name.