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La Marseillaise
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Allons enfants de la Patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrivé! Contre nous, de la tyrannie, L'étendard sanglant est levé! L'étendard sanglant est levé! Entendez-vous, dans les campagnes, Mugir ces féroces soldats? Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras Egorger nos fils et nos compagnes! 1. いざ祖国の子らよ！ 栄光の日は来たれり 暴君の血染めの旗が翻る 戦場に響き渡る獰猛な兵等の怒号 我等が妻子らの命を奪わんと迫り来たれり [ Refrain ] Aux armes, citoyens ! Formez vos bataillons ! Marchons ! marchons ! Qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons ! ＜リフレイン＞ 武器を取るのだ、我が市民よ！ 隊列を整えよ！ 進め！進め！ 敵の不浄なる血で耕地を染めあげよ！ 6.
Amour sacré de la Patrie, Conduis, soutiens nos bras vengeurs ! Liberté, Liberté chérie Combats avec tes défenseurs ! Combats avec tes défenseurs ! Sous nos drapeaux, que la victoire Accoure à tes mâles accents Que tes ennemis expirants Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire ! (Refrain) 6. 復仇を導き支えるのは神聖なる愛国心なり 自由よ、愛しき自由よ 汝を守る者と共にいざ戦わん 御旗の下、勝利は我々の手に 敵は苦しみの中、我々の勝利と栄光を 目の当たりにするだろう [ Refrain ]
Aux armes, citoyens ! Formez vos bataillons ! Marchons ! marchons ! Qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons ! ＜リフレイン＞ 武器を取るのだ、我が市民よ！ 隊列を整えよ！ 進め！進め！ 敵の不浄なる血で耕地を染めあげよ！ 7. Nous entrerons dans la carrière Quand nos aînés n'y seront plus; Nous y trouverons leur poussière Et la trace de leurs vertus. Et la trace de leurs vertus. Bien moins jaloux de leur survivre Que de partager leur cercueil, Nous aurons le sublime orgueil De les venger ou de les suivre ! (Refrain) 7. 我々は進み行く 先人達の地へ 彼等の亡骸と美徳が残る地へ 延命は本意にあらず 願わくは彼等と棺を共にせん 取らずや先人の仇、さもなくば後を追わん これぞ我々の崇高なる誇りなり [ Refrain ]
Aux armes, citoyens ! Formez vos bataillons ! Marchons ! marchons ! Qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons ! ＜リフレイン＞ 武器を取るのだ、我が市民よ！ 隊列を整えよ！ 進め！進め！ 敵の不浄なる血で耕地を染めあげよ！ |
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2015年01月18日
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After World War II, Japan's DNA was shaped into a pacifist helix, reinforced by a constitution that renounces war altogether. The charter was imposed by the victorious Americans, who wanted to ensure that Japan would not repeat its imperialist rampage across Asia. In exchange, the U.S. charged itself with maintaining Japan's national security. Japan was free to achieve its postwar economic miracle.
Now, under hawkish Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, Japan is expanding its military footprint and speaking out more forcefully against nations it sees as threatening its sovereignty, most notably China. For Abe and other conservatives in the ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), Japan's samurai spirit is just as integral to the national makeup as any paeans to peace. A rewrite of the constitution, which has been interpreted as forbidding anything but defensive military maneuvers, is difficult — any change requires a two-thirds majority in both houses of the legislature, then a public referendum. But this past summer, Abe said pursuing such an amendment was his "historic mission." Pacifism is still the reflexive stance in Japan — just look at all those kids automatically flashing peace signs in photos. At the same time, a real debate is emerging about whether Japan can finally evolve into a normal country with a normal armed forces. "The constitution says Japan doesn't possess an army, navy or air force," Shigeru Ishiba, secretary general of the LDP, tells TIME. "Is that true? Japan does have an army, a navy, an air force. We have lots of warplanes and tanks. Let's stop telling a lie. The constitution and the reality of Japan are different. I think it is now necessary to make our constitution reflect the reality of Japan." New Cop on the Beat Japan's sterner posture — no more deferential bows — comes at a time of shifting geopolitics in Asia. China has already claimed economic superiority over Japan, replacing it as the world's second largest economy three years ago. Now, with confident leadership in place, Beijing is flexing its muscle over everything from trade to territory. Meanwhile, the U.S., the historically pre-eminent — if geographically remote — regional policeman has promised to refocus its attentions on Asia by deploying 60% of its naval vessels there by 2020, up from 50%. But this "rebalancing" — as the Obama Administration is now calling what was originally sold as a "pivot" to Asia — depends on Washington's attentions not being dominated by the Middle East, as well as an American willingness to endure further overseas adventures. "When we think 10 years, 20 years or 30 years from now, the power of the U.S. will decline," says the LDP's Ishiba, noting the cuts in American military spending. Enter Japan. Buoyed by a rare electoral mandate in two consecutive elections, Abe and his LDP envision a world in which Japan can not only stand firm against rivals like China but also share with an ascendant continent its national values: Democracy! Peace! Love for cute stuff! Yet unlike the U.S., which has enjoyed relative goodwill in the region, Japan's relations with some of its neighbors are still poisoned by the decidedly unpeaceful, undemocratic way in which it tried to fashion a Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere more than seven decades ago. Animosity lingers because, unlike Germans, Japanese politicians can be equivocal about the nation's wartime guilt. Also, leaders in China and South Korea, countries especially brutalized by Japan, profit politically from stoking anti-Japanese public sentiment. "The phantom of militarism is rising once more in Japan," warned an August editorial in the People's Daily, a Chinese Communist Party mouthpiece. Even the U.S. — which is treaty-bound to defend Japan in case of attack, maintains military bases in the country and presumably isn't averse to someone else needling China for a change — seems wary. "U.S. policymakers have sent clear signals to Abe that a further drift to the nationalist side is not welcome," says Koichi Nakano, a politics professor at Sophia University in Tokyo. Still, Abe's combative stance has won him some surprising allies. He has strengthened economic ties with nations like India and Burma that are keen to hedge against China Inc. Southeast Asian nations are looking to Japan to counter China's growing military might, even if they once suffered under the boot of the imperial Japanese army. A Pew survey released this summer found that about 80% of Filipinos, Indonesians and Malaysians regard Japan positively. In July, Abe received a warm welcome in the Philippines, where Japanese soldiers had presided over the murderous 1942 Bataan death march. Manila is embroiled in its own territorial conflict with Beijing over disputed isles and shoals in the South China Sea, a vast waterway that China claims as nearly all its own. Abe came to town with promises of 10 cutters to upgrade the Philippine coast guard. In September, Japanese warships docked in Philippine ports, followed by U.S. armed forces who conducted joint war games with their Philippine counterparts. (In the early 1990s, U.S. military bases in the Philippines were closed because of local opposition, but the current government has indicated interest in a renewed American military presence.) "Japan has every right to enhance its military capability due to China's provocation," says Clarita Carlos, a former president of the National Defense College of the Philippines. "The Chinese are always playing the we-were-colonized-by-the-Japanese card. All of us have been there. We do remember, but we also know how to forgive." Security Fixation Besides forgiveness, Japan needs revival. The country has been wounded by more than two decades of economic stagnation, and was hit hard by the 2011 earthquake, tsunami and nuclear crisis that claimed nearly 20,000 lives. Abe, who during his first stint as Prime Minister in 2006 became the nation's youngest postwar leader, has projected himself as a bold changemaker. Since taking office again in December, he has launched a reform program, dubbed Abenomics, that aims to use monetary expansion and fiscal stimulus to goose Japan's long-deflated economy. In September, the national mood was buoyed when Tokyo was awarded the 2020 Olympics, despite international concerns over radioactive water leaking from a tsunami-damaged nuclear power plant. "I want to make the Olympics a trigger," Abe said, "for sweeping away 15 years of deflation and economic decline." In a February speech in Washington, he proclaimed: "Japan is back." Indeed, the LDP's slogan is "Restore Japan," and Abe has explicitly linked any economic recovery to Japan's ability to protect its sovereignty. "Japan's beautiful seas and its territory are under threat, and young people are having trouble finding hope in the future amid an economic slump," he said in September 2012, as the Senkaku-Diaoyu row with China heated up. "I promise to protect Japan's land and sea, and the lives of the Japanese people, no matter what." This year, Japan's defense budget increased for the first time in 11 years — by a paltry 0.8%, yes, but a clear signal from the Abe administration of the importance it places on national security. In August, the Defense Ministry requested a 3% rise in next year's spending, which would be the biggest jump in more than two decades. Despite the SDF's constitutional limitations on any offensive use of force, Japan already boasts the world's fifth largest defense coffers. This summer, the Defense Ministry unveiled the Izumo, Japan's biggest warship of the postwar era, which resembles an aircraft carrier; plans are afoot to form a new amphibious corps of soldiers and a fleet of surveillance drones. Abe is also pushing for the formation of a Japanese National Security Council. On Sept. 17, he made a plea for the rhetorically tortured concept of "active pacifism," or collective self-defense, in which Japan can come to the aid of its military allies should they come under attack. The liberal newspaper Asahi Shimbun editorialized: "[Collective self-defense] would represent a radical departure from the basic security policy principle of postwar Japan and a gross deviation from its pacifist creed." |
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Japan Rethinks Its Pacifist Constitution, Alarming Its Neighbors By Bill Powell / July 9, 2014 11:25 AM EDT In February 1946, just six months after two atomic bombs leveled the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, ending World War II in the Pacific, the General Headquarters of the Allied forces in Tokyo—at the initiative of its leader, General Douglas MacArthur—quietly put forward an idea so radical that upon its adoption nine months later, some conservative Japanese cabinet members “wept openly,” as the historian John Dower wrote in his Pulitzer Prize–winning 1999 book, Embracing Defeat.
MacArthur had insisted that Japan adopt a “peace constitution.” In its preamble it forthrightly renounces war, and in its famous “Article 9” the country formally commits itself to a pacifist course. The military constraints thus placed on Japan have for six decades always angered the more hawkish members of Japan’s ruling Liberal Democratic Party. Over the years, as Japan boomed economically, men like former Prime Minister Nobusuke Kishi have tried to boost Tokyo’s military without violating the constitution. Thus, in 1960—in the face of bitter opposition from the Japanese left (then a much more potent force politically than it is today)—Kishi struck the U.S. Japan Security Treaty with Washington, binding Tokyo to an active role in self-defense during the Cold War. Today, Nobusuke Kishi’s grandson, Shinzo Abe, is the prime minister of Japan, and he, too, is a hawk. And on July 1, he followed, in his own way, in his grandfather’s footsteps: He committed his cabinet to a “reinterpretation” of the peace constitution that will allow Japan to send troops and equipment to aid allies in times of war. “You can’t build a pacifist country just by preaching the phrase,” Abe said at a press conference. “I believe we owe it to efforts by our forebears who acted boldly in the face of changes in the international environment.”
The move had little to do with pacifism, and critics seized on Abe’s remark as the plainest evidence available of the hawks’ hypocrisy when it comes to the constitution. But Abe was undeniably right in indicating that the move comes amid real changes in the balance of power in Asia. Specifically, a rising China (with the increasing defense budgets to go along with its economic ascent) has begun to throw its military weight around in its own neighborhood. Beijing is in a persistently tense standoff with Tokyo over disputed islands in the East China Sea that the Japanese call the Senkakus and which the Chinese claim as the Diaoyutai. It muscled the Philippines in a dispute over another set of islands in the South China Sea, called the Scarborough Shoal. And it recently moved a massive offshore oil-drilling rig into waters off the coast of Vietnam, to the fury of Hanoi. During the Cold War and since, the Pacific has been, militarily and geopolitically, an “American lake.” But China’s rise coincides with uncertainty about what role Washington, Japan’s security guarantor, will play going forward. President Barack Obama has trumpeted a strategic “pivot” to Asia—and away from conflicts in the Middle East—but thus far that shift has been more rhetoric than reality.
In truth, America’s defense budgets are under pressure, and Obama plainly has no stomach for military engagements that can in any way be avoided. Only Beijing’s constant pressure on the Senkakus—and its higher military profile in the region more generally—prompted the president to stand next to Abe on April 24 and say the U.S. would live up to its treaty obligations and defend Japan in case of a conflict over the islands. (The U.S. had hoped to keep a fair distance from the conflict for fear of angering Beijing.) Beijing, in the form of a piece in the state-owned Xinhua news service, predictably labeled Abe’s “reinterpretation” as “dallying with the specter of war.” But China wasn’t the only neighbor watching closely. South Korea, occupied for decades by Japan until the end of the war—and with whom relations are, at best, cool—responded by simply saying that Tokyo could not send military aid to Seoul “without an invitation.” Coincidentally, South Korea was preparing to host Chinese President Xi Jinping on a state visit—the first time a People’s Republic of China president, on a visit to the Korean Peninsula, will go first to South Korea and then North Korea, Beijing’s only formal ally by treaty.
Still, the overall security environment in East Asia makes Abe’s move less controversial than it otherwise might have been. And for that, Beijing can only blame itself. In remarks delivered on June 30, Australian cabinet minister Malcolm Turnbull—a key ally of Prime Minister Tony Abbott—offered a scathing (and mostly correct) review of what China’s behavior in the region has wrought. Calling Beijing out for “muscling up” to each of its neighbors, he said its current foreign policy is “curiously counterproductive.” It “really is extraordinary,” he added, “to see the Vietnamese being pushed closer and closer to the United States in strategic terms. That’s quite an achievement for viewers of history.”
The increasing nervousness about Beijing in the region has meant that World War II–fueled wariness of Japan (stoked, to be sure, by Tokyo’s less than heartfelt apologies for war crimes, as well as the visits Abe and his cabinet have made to the controversial Yasukuni shrine, where the remains of convicted war criminals are interred) has begun to fade, at least relatively. Had Beijing been more restrained in its behavior in the East and South China seas, Abe’s announcement would have been more controversial in the region. “There’s no question about it,” says one Western ambassador in Beijing. Instead, today Tokyo and Canberra are rapidly ratcheting up their defense cooperation, and Philippine President Benigno Aquino said, in the wake of Abe’s July 1 announcement, that “nations of good will can only benefit if the Japanese government is empowered to assist others.” As recently as the 1990s, it was pretty much unthinkable that the leader of the country that was home to the infamous, Japanese-led “Bataan Death March” during the war would say such a thing.
Still, remember: Amid the dangerous flux now evident in East Asia, one thing that does not appear to be changing very much is the wariness of the Japanese people themselves regarding any significant change to their constitution. This was Abe’s second bite at the constitutional apple. When he was prime minister in 2006, he sought to formally amend the constitution, not just “reinterpret” it, to allow Japan to come to the aid of allies under attack. That was so unpopular, it helped cut short his time in office. This time, three separate polls in Japanese newspapers showed an outright majority opposing the reinterpretation, with just one-third or fewer of the respondents approving. That the Japanese people still like—and seek to maintain—their foreign-imposed “peace” constitution is, in its own way, remarkable. An awful lot of people, both inside and outside the country, believed that Tokyo, under pressure to become a “normal” nation, would someday cast the constitution aside. Indeed, it had long since become a trope of the left that the constitution would someday be rewritten. “A perilous debate has emerged in Japan over whether it isn’t time to jettison [it]” wrote Japanese-American author Norma Field in her 1990 book, In the Realm of a Dying Emperor. Such a path would be perilous, she believed, because those who sought to maintain it would be “outnumbered” by those who want to replace it with the reality of a powerful army, navy and air force. Japan today has a modern, powerful army, navy and air force. But it also still has its constitution, which—as Abe, the most hawkish prime minister since his grandfather, understands—will continue to constrain Tokyo’s deployment of military force, even with the “reinterpretation” of July 1. |
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