Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Kamikazes and Zen Philosophy

Departure of a Kamikaze Unit From Tachikawa, artist unknown, Japan 1940s. Photo by Rex Features

"In contemporary Western memory, still stocked for the most part by wartime propaganda imagery of mad, rodent-like Japanese, those final weeks [of the Second World War] are a swirl of brainwashed fanaticism, reaching its apotheosis as hundreds of kamikaze planes slammed into the US ships closing in around Japan’s home islands. Three thousand raids and innumerable scouting missions were launched during the climax of the conflict, designed to show the US the terrible cost it would pay for an all-out invasion of Japan.
Yet the vast majority of planes never made it to their attack or reconnaissance targets; they were lost instead at sea. And war’s end failed to yield the apocalyptic romance for which Japan’s leaders so fervently hoped. By late 1944 and early ’45, the only ‘life or death struggle’ was the routine misery to which the empire itself had reduced its soldiers and civilians. Conscripts were trained and goaded to fire their rifles into their own heads, to gather around an activated grenade, to charge into Allied machine-gun fire. Civilians jumped off cliffs, as Saipan and later Okinawa were taken by the Allies. Citizens of great cities such as Tokyo and Osaka had their buildings torn town and turned into ammunition.
Nor do clich├ęs of unthinking ultranationalism fit the experiences of many kamikaze pilots. For each one willing to crash-dive the bridge of a US ship mouthing militarist one-liners, others lived and died less gloriously: cursing their leaders, rioting in their barracks or forcing their planes into the sea. A few took their senninbari – thousand-stitch sashes, each stitch sewn by a different well-wisher – and burned them in disgust. At least one pilot turned back on his final flight and strafed his commanding officers."

The rest of the article is a rather unconvincing (to me) attempt to connect the death throes of the Japanese Empire with the Zen Buddhist concept of absolute nothingness. It was interesting to me in part because my eight-year old asked me last night, "If the Universe is expanding, what is it expanding into?" His ten-year old brother gleefully gave him the answer -- "Nothing!"

1 comment:

  1. Mitsubishi EVO, baby:



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