But something more must be involved. Japan has less to be apologetic about this month than it did, say, four years ago, during the fiftieth anniversary of the "Rape of Nanking." (At least 100,000 Chinese were killed in Nanking, as compared with fewer than 3,500 Americans at Pearl Harbor, and the Chinese were nearly all civilians. This anniversary passed almost unnoticed in Japan.) The way the Japanese Imperial Army fought was sometimes atrocious, and Japan's relations with China, in particular, are still colored by both sides' awareness of this record. Americans tend to lump the attack on Pearl Harbor with Japan's war crimes in Asia, and to equate Japan's aggression with Hitler's. Few people in Japan see it that way.
The U.S. complaint about Pearl Harbor involves one very specific and one sweeping charge. The specific complaint is that the attack began while Japanese emissaries in Washington were still purporting to negotiate in good faith. For this the Japanese government has freely apologized. The broader complaint is that Japan brought America into the war by striking first. The Japanese response to this charge is a much more complicated matter.
For provoking the United States to fight, Japanese officials have often expressed "regret. " The regret is understandable and sincere, since the consequence was a war that turned out, as Emperor Hirohito tactfully put it in his surrender message, "not necessarily to Japan's advantage." But there has been nothing like an outright "apology" for Pearl Harbor, and there is not likely to be one this month, because of the widespread Japanese view that the main thing to regret about the "Pacific War" is that the country unwisely took on a much more powerful foe.
Japan, of course, tried to occupy its neighbors by force in the 1930s, but it was hardly the first country to do so. As many Japanese writers emphasized at the time, the same countries the Japanese army was conquering had previously been conquered by armies from Britain, France, Holland, or, in the case of the Philippines, the United States. Japan's strategic ideal would have been to hold on to this empire without colliding head-on with the United States. Ben-Ami Shillony, an Israeli specialist in Japanese history, has said that if Japan had
taken the side of the Western Allies in World War II, as she had done in World War I, or had she remained neutral, as she had been before Pearl Harbor, her prewar attempts at establishing a regional hegemony and her wartime violations of human rights might have subsequently been condoned in the context of the Cold War, as was the case with many Asian countries.
Within the Japanese military government, the case for attacking Pearl Harbor was that America would sooner or later intervene to push Japan back in Asia. If war was inevitable, Japan's best chance lay with a first strike. Some Japanese strategists thought that even after Pearl Harbor the United States would lack the stomach for a long war, and would agree to a kind of demarcation line down the middle of the Pacific, separating Japanese and American zones of influence. For the Japanese, then, the tragedy of Pearl Harbor was that it indicated their inability to avoid a direct showdown with the United States, in addition to being a disastrous miscalculation of how America would respond to a sneak attack. Each of these was a failure for Japan; neither, in the general Japanese view, was an unpardonable sin. Even in the days of total humiliation immediately after the war, Emperor Hirohito expressed deep "regret" but declined to "apologize" to General Douglas MacArthur, saying, "It was not clear to me that our course was unjustified. Even now I am not sure how future historians will allocate the responsibility for the war."
Shortly after the United States finished pummeling Saddam Hussein's army, a magazine called Bungei Shunju, Japan's counterpart to, well, The Atlantic, published an article with the charming title "Victor Nation America, Do Not Be Arrogant: Japanese People Should Discard Their Blind Trust in White Man's Society." After the Second World War, it observed, the United States "passed judgment on Japan, saying that 'Whatever reason there may have been, the side which started the war is in the wrong.' Japan ... became stricken with shame."
A familiar chestnut holds that Japanese society is driven by shame more than by guilt—that people are more attuned to whether they are offending the sensitivities of others than to whether they are violating their inner "thou shalt not" rules. A sense that they are about to be subjected to a shaming ritual may account for the exaggerated countdown in Japan.
But perhaps the most powerful explanation lies in another Japanese instinct—the "victim consciousness," or higaisha ishiki, that governs many of Japan's relations with great powers from the outside world, which for the past century has meant the United States. Japanese leaders of the Tokugawa era felt victimized by Commodore Perry's arrival; the leaders of the 1930s felt victimized by American and British determination to deny Japan its place in the sun. Over the past twenty years the Japanese press has emphasized the country's victimization by American demands to open up the market. The preparation for Pearl Harbor is essentially a warning that Japan is about to be victimized again.