Human rights for Yamashita

One of the gruesome items preserved in the National Museum of the Philippines is the noose used in the execution of Japanese Gen. Tomoyuki Yamashita on Feb. 23, 1946. Japanese is not my area of interest or expertise, because while I can read Katakana and Hiragana (without actually understanding anything), Kanji is way beyond me. When I have questions on the period, I resort to retired University of the Philippines professor Rico Jose, who is the preeminent authority on the subject.

Many years ago, I visited the Kiangan National Shrine that marks the surrender of Yamashita in September 1945. Since the facility was erected by the Department of Tourism rather than the National Historical Commission or the Military Shrines Service, it lacks historical authenticity. People who refer to it as the “Yamashita Shrine” are reminded that the Philippines does not officially erect monuments to its invaders. I was informed that there are two sites and two dates for the Yamashita surrender, both outside the Kiangan National Shrine. The first site is near the Kiangan Central School, where, depending on the source you are reading, the general surrendered or was captured on Sept. 2, 1945. Reminds me of the recent standoff in the Senate: did Sen. Jinggoy Estrada surrender or was he arrested? Another senator was quick on his feet and managed to run and escape arrest.

Yamashita’s formal surrender, complete with the signing of documents, was done in the United States High Commissioners Residence in Baguio (now the US Ambassador’s Residence). A 1951 painting of Yamashita’s surrender by National Artist Fernando Amorsolo now adorns the hall. I should make an effort to visit the US Embassy next time it sends an invitation. The surrender hall will remind me of the Japanese prime minister’s residence in Tokyo, a beautiful Art Deco structure inspired by the original Imperial Hotel designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. During a dinner there, many years ago, then Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe shared a piece of the residence’s history. “This is one of the few buildings left standing in Tokyo after the Second World War,” then, with a chuckle, he added, “the Americans needed a place where we could surrender.”

Rummaging through the Tokyo used bookstores, I stocked up on books on Yamashita that I have never read, with the exception of “The Case of General Yamashita” by A. Frank Reel, who was a member of Yamashita’s defense team in a court that had already made a decision even before they listened to opening arguments. What we know today is that Yamashita ordered a retreat to the mountains, knowing it was useless to defend Manila against the advancing Allied forces. The Japanese who were left in Manila had other ideas and went on a rampage of murder and rape of civilians that remains the underside of the 1945 Battle for Manila. Douglas MacArthur wanted a triumphant entry into Manila, if only to make public that he did good on his “I shall return” promise.

Reel’s book points out that after the Japanese surrender on the USS Missouri on Sept. 2, 1945, the same day of Yamashita’s surrender/capture, he was brought to Baguio to sign a formal surrender before British Gen. Arthur Percival. Why surrender to a British general who did not command any troops in the Philippines? An old score had to be settled, three years earlier, on Feb. 15, 1942; Percival was humiliated by the victorious “Tiger of Malaya.” Percival signed the largest surrender in British history to Yamashita.

Yamashita’s defense counsel was given three weeks to prepare and answer 64 counts of documented atrocities. As if that was not enough, two days before the actual trial, the war crimes office produced more documents, doubling the atrocities to 124 counts. To prepare an adequate defense, the team requested more time, but was refused because MacArthur wanted a speedy trial and a conviction. A Newsweek correspondent reported from the scene: “… the military commission came into the courtroom the first day with the decision already in its collective pocket.”

To cut a long story short for this column, none of the witnesses presented actually saw Yamashita give orders for the bloodbath that covered Manila. Yamashita found out about the atrocities only after his surrender. Despite an appeal to the Supreme Court, Yamashita was eventually sentenced to death by hanging. Two justices, who formed the dissenting minority, argued that all men, whether friend or foe, deserve the protection of law and the Constitution. Frank Murphy, who served as governor general in the Philippines before sitting on the bench, wrote:

“Indeed, an uncurbed spirit of revenge and retribution masked in formal legal procedure for dealing with a fallen enemy commander can do more lasting harm than all of the atrocities giving rise to that spirit.”

Murphy’s dissent is often cited to preserve human rights against “victor’s justice.” Eighty-one years since the end of World War II, can we look back and ask if the US committed a greater atrocity in the guise of a trial? That it may have won a battle, but lost its ideals?

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