China's energy strategies have attracted a huge amount of attention, precisely because they have been so effective. Chinese energy companies - from global oil and gas giants, to new wind and solar power success stories as well as electric grid operators, not to mention rising Electric Vehicle (EV) producers - have all had an impact on the industry, and sometimes shaken it up. In solar Photovoltaic (PV) cells there are aggressive counter-moves being made by both the US (and potentially the EU) against Chinese subsidized exports. These threaten to spill over into related sectors, and could trigger an all-out trade war.

This essay introduces three different generations of artists whose works deal with experience, memory, and trauma derived from World War II. The first generation refers to artists who experienced the war: they are harsh critics of the wartime government for the victimization of both Japanese and non-Japanese citizens, such as Koreans. The second generation of artists were born in the 1940s and 50s. These artists do not have direct memories of the war, yet they challenge less-explored issues in relation to the time period, such as women's participation in the war effort. The third generation can be characterized by their desire to participate intergenerational and transnational dialogues with the older generations and with other artists and social-justice activists. The authors explain how these artists engage with viewers about the importance of remembering the war. Some older artists incorporate their direct war experience as a way to redress the atrocities imposed on their people while others reflect on family histories that were largely shaped by Japanese imperialism and war. Although they use different media and explore various issues, what binds them together is a message to the younger generation “not to forget” the brutality of war, and to critically reflect on their identity in relation to history. The essay also provides a number of images of relevant artworks with informative descriptions.

Owing to its diverse geology, geography and climate, Japan is a country rich in biodiversity. However, as a result of accelerated development over the last century, and particularly the post-war decades, Japan's natural environments and the wildlife which inhabit them have come under increased pressure. Now, much of Japan's natural forest, wetlands, rivers, lakes and coastal environments have been destroyed or seriously degraded as a consequence of development and pollution. Despite increasing awareness of the importance of preserving Japan's remaining natural environments and wildlife, habitat destruction (both direct and indirect), inadequately controlled hunting, and introduced species pose a threat to these. This paper explores these factors, and the underlying forces—political, legislative and economic—which have undermined efforts to preserve Japan's natural heritage during the post-war decades.

The documentary Yasukuni, directed by LI Ying, problematizes the enshrinement of war dead (including both Chinese and Koreans) in the Yasukuni shrine, formally a State Shinto shrine that became a private religious institution during the U.S. occupation period. It was screened in two dozen theatres in Tokyo in May 2008 but was soon removed due to enormous pressures from Japanese right-wing groups and a member of the Japanese legislature, the Diet. Li states that he did not intend to evoke anti-Japanese sentiment but was trying to explore conflicting feelings towards the shrine from ordinary people including families and relatives of dead soldiers as well as a 90-year-old sword-maker whose thousands of swords were used during the war. Nonetheless, the attacks from right-wing groups on the director as well as the theatres screening the film were threatening enough to prevent Li from producing any more films in Japan. Despite having spent nineteen years in Japan, after this controversy Li decided to move back to China where he continues his filmmaking to this day.

In this article, David McNeill introduces the documentary, Yasukuni, and its controversies, followed by an interview with Li Ying conducted by John Junkerman a few weeks before the film's cancellation from theatres. In the interview, Li presents the ideas that he used in the film and shares his experience of filming it in Japan.

This paper examines the construction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as signifiers of “peace” in postwar Japan. It offers alternate ways of understanding the impact and significance of “Hiroshima and Nagasaki” in historical context and argues that national readings of the history of the cities obscure nuances in the local narratives of the atomic bombs in each place.

Japanese war memory has diversified since 1945, but the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki have retained their importance.

Scholars and critics have written in detail about how Japanese neo-nationalists have attempted to whitewash or deny war crimes committed by Japanese troops across Asia. Less widely discussed, however, is the fact that their revisionist school textbooks have also given short shrift to Japanese wartime suffering, or the understanding of Japanese as victims. Notably, while the Atarashii rekishi kyokasho (New History Textbook) failed to give even tentative numbers of the victims of Japanese wartime violence, the editors of the controversial first edition also left out the number killed by the atomic bombs. Since the early 1990s, neo-nationalists have argued that the Japanese population suffers from heiwa boke—a sort of “senility” brought on by peace. Since most Japanese oppose an expanded military role for the country or the development of nuclear weapons, neonationalists accuse their countrymen of unrealistic idealism. Downplaying the atomic bombings and focusing instead on “heroic sacrifice” and “service to the nation,” as Kobayashi Yoshinori does in Sensōron, is a way of undermining what scholar Thomas Berger has described as postwar Japan's “culture of anti-militarism.”

This article explores the longstanding relationship between Buddhism and disasters in Japan, focusing on Buddhism's role in the aftermath of the Asia-Pacific War and the Tohoku disaster of March 2011. Buddhism is well positioned to address these disasters because of its emphasis on the centrality of suffering derived from the impermanent nature of existence. Further, parallels between certain Buddhist doctrines and their current, disaster-related cultural expressions in Japan are examined. It is also suggested that Japanese Buddhism revisit certain socially regressive doctrinal interpretations.

In many ways, Hollywood sets the tone for global cinema, at least of the blockbuster variety that big-budget war movies must almost inevitably become to justify their huge budgets. After 1998, many countries tried to produce their own Saving Private Ryan. Canada has the 2008 World War I melodrama Passchendaele. Russia, grappling with issues of national identity in the decade after the fall of the Soviet Union, has the “Great Patriotic War” epic The Star (2002). South Korea's Brotherhood (2004) was an attempt to understand the fraternal violence of the Korean War. While each of these national epics presents an account of war coherent with that country's memory culture, visual and narrative nods to Saving Private Ryan are evident in each.

Somewhat lost in the current heightened military tensions on the Korean Peninsula, following a quick succession of events that started with a South Korean live-fire drill on an island held by South Korea in the contested sea area near North Korea's coast. This prompted an artillery response by the North that killed four South Koreans (two soldiers and two civilians), and now a major 4-day US-South Korean maritime exercise (including maneuvers by a US aircraft carrier) in waters west of the Korean peninsula that has drawn strong complaints from China and North Korea.

Japanese popular culture has engaged with experiences and memories of WWII since the 1950s, starting with manga (comic books) and moving on to some of the most widely known and memorable animated war films that have been produced since the 1960s, such as Barefoot Gen (1983) and Grave of the Fireflies (1988). A number of animation artists have expressed loss and hope in their works on this subject. As Napier argues, Japanese animation has explored history and memory beyond simple entertainment and has presented important issues still relevant to the audience today. This essay analyzes two futuristic science fictions, one TV and one film series, made over two decades apart: Space Battleship Yamato (produced in the 1970s) and Silent Service (in the 1990s). Both explicitly refer to WWII: in Space Battleship Yamato, after having been sunk to the bottom of the ocean off Okinawa towards the very end of the war, the battleship Yamato is revived by the Japanese government in order to save humanity from an alien attack, whereas a constant battle between Japan and international communities over the ownership of a nuclear submarine occurs in Silent Service. After a brief introduction of the narratives of the two animation series, the author examines their reception at the time of their production, and discusses the ways in which they rework the memory of loss and vision of hope in response to contemporary national and international politics.

In the 1950s, residents of the small fishing village of Minamata on the southern island of Kyūshū began to fall ill with a disease (later named Minamata disease) that caused damage to the central nervous system, physical disfiguration, abnormal pregnancies, and death. Investigations revealed what is now one of the most well-known cases of environmental pollution in Japan's, and indeed the world's, modern history—from 1932 to 1968, the Chisso Corporation manufactured the chemical acetaldehyde, used to make plastics, with a mercury catalyst that it had been dumping as industrial waste into Minamata Bay. The chemical company's poisoning of the marine ecosystem of the Shiranui Sea and the residents of its fishing communities is a story not just of industrial pollution, but also of civic activism. The physically damaged victims and their supporters, angered by ongoing evasion of responsibility by both Chisso and the government, pressed for redress and humane treatment in a legal battle that has continued in some form until the present day. In his essay, Eric Johnston outlines the history of this effort and offers thoughts about the legacies and ongoing struggles of Minamata 50 years after the first case of Minamata disease was officially reported in 1956. He also suggests how the unfolding story of Minamata was shaped by the interests and power of various constituencies such as activist citizens, the Ministry of the Environment, and the Chisso Corporation, and how this past has influenced memories of the environmental and humanitarian disaster.

As the essays in this collection suggest, representations of war are varied and memories of war are expressed in many different ways. Apart from works that seek to represent the Asia-Pacific War directly, there are also examples of popular culture that refer to the conflict obliquely or even use fantasy or science fiction scenarios as a metaphor or allegory to address the historical conflict and its postwar ramifications.

The mercury discharged into the sea by the Chisso factory in Minamata, and the radiation released by the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant, are not entirely different “accidents,” although one was the result of a “natural disaster” and one not. Minamata offers hints of future developments as Japan attempts to respond to and recover from Fukushima.

TEZUKA Osamu (1928-1989) was one of the most important manga writers in Japan; his contribution to the popularization of manga and anime cannot be overstated. Tezuka's handling of the confrontation and reconciliation between human and machine, and his vision of humanity with a global perspective, for example, have fascinated many readers both domestically and internationally. Following his creation of a human robot character, Astro Boy (1951), Tezuka frequently wrote about the various impacts of science and technology on humanity. As Tanaka explains, Tezuka witnessed the destructive consequences brought about by the particular use of science and technology during the U.S. bombings of Japan during WWII, which in turn motivated him to explore themes such as war, peace, and humanity in his works. This essay introduces Tezuka's family background and his upbringing, and discusses how his history and personal experience of the war influenced him in the creation of manga heroes and narratives that are closely connected to real-world problems, such as the Vietnam War and nuclear issues. Focusing on Tezuka's early works, the author analyzes some of the most representative manga expressing the artist's observations and ideas about war and peace, as well as his imagination of the future.

Radioactive particles released after the accident at the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant continue to spread along the seashore and rivers of eastern Japan, creating underwater hotspots as far as Tokyo Bay, according to recent scientific studies. But the full magnitude and impact of the contamination, already considered the largest case of unintended marine pollution by radionuclides in history, has yet to be established.

By the Guahan Coalition for Peace and Justice – On February 25 the U.S. Air Force, U.S. Navy and units from the Japan Air Self-Defense Force (JASDF) were scheduled to wrap up Cope North, an annual military exercise run in Guam that is designed to improve US-Japan joint air operations in the Pacific.