Editorial

What friends are for

A generation later, a firm alliance

Who knew that the prime minister of Japan, Shinzo Abe, was a poet? Call it a Japanese tradition, painting a far-eastern picture with words, going beyond speech-making and bloviating to a second level of oration, to elevate the level of discourse. Oh, if only more in the West could learn the art! We'd have fewer Twitter wars and more edifying conversations. We can only imagine what it's like listening to a Japanese State of the Union address. That is, we imagine we'd be listening. Unlike so many American State of the Union soliloquies we've had to endure throughout the years, while our mind wondered as the president-of-the-moment droned on approximately forever.

This week, Shinzo Abe became the first prime minister of Japan to visit Pearl Harbor with an American president. It's been 75 years since the dastardly sneak attack on the harbor, which almost wiped out the American fleet in the Pacific and brought the United States into the war that would end with Germany and Japan in ashes.

Shinzo Abe did not apologize for the sneak attack. But then again, President Obama didn't apologize on behalf of America for dropping the atomic bomb when he became the first president to visit Hiroshima seven months ago. One imagines both had political considerations, and few Americans think there's anything for the United States to apologize for anyway.

What the prime minister of Japan did, however, was pay his respects and offer his condolences to those killed. And make an eloquent speech in front of friends that would make a good lesson in any class on rhetoric:

"I stand here at Pearl Harbor as the prime minister of Japan. If we listen closely we can make out the sound of restless waves, breaking and then retreating again. The calm inlet of brilliant blue is radiant with the gentle sparkle of the warm sun. Behind me, a striking white form atop the azure, is the U.S.S. Arizona Memorial. Together with President Obama, I paid a visit to that memorial, the resting place for many souls. It was a place which brought utter silence to me."

He continued:

"Listening again as I focus my senses, alongside the song of the breeze and the rumble of the rolling waves, I can almost discern the voices of those crewmen. Voices of lively conversations, upbeat and at ease, on that day, on a Sunday morning. Voices of young servicemen talking to each other about their futures and dreams. Voices calling out the names of loved ones in their very final moments. Voices praying for the happiness of children still unborn. And every one of those servicemen had a mother and a father anxious about his safety. Many had wives and girlfriends they loved. And many must have had children they would have loved to watch grow up. All of that was brought to an end. When I contemplate that solemn reality, I am rendered entirely speechless."

As were a lot of us on reading his speech.

"As the prime minister of Japan, I offer my sincere and everlasting condolences to the souls of those who lost their lives here, as well as to the spirits of all the brave men and women whose lives were taken by a war that commenced in this very place, and also to the souls of the countless innocent people who became victims of the war. We must never repeat the horrors of war again.

"This is the solemn vow we, the people of Japan, have taken. And since the war, we have created a free and democratic country that values the rule of law and has resolutely upheld our vow never again to wage war. We, the people of Japan, will continue to uphold this unwavering principle, while harboring quiet pride in the path we have walked as a peace-loving nation over these 70 years since the war ended.

"To the souls of the servicemen who lie in eternal rest aboard the U.S.S. Arizona, to the American people, and to all peoples around the world, I pledge that unwavering vow here as the prime minister of Japan."

If only American politicians were as eloquent and lucid, CNN and Fox News wouldn't be so hard to watch.

The prime minister did tip-toe into the passive voice on more than one occasion. For the record, the American servicemen at Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941, didn't "lose their lives." They were killed, and it wasn't their fault. They didn't misplace their lives. Japanese pilots killed them.

But that was so long ago now that even the few remaining survivors of the Pearl Harbor attack acknowledge that Japan is one of the United States' most trusted allies. Or as 96-year-old Alfred Rodrigues put it, he has no hard feelings. The Navy vet and Pearl Harbor survivor put it simply: "They were doing what they were supposed to do and we were doing what we were supposed to do."

And all these years later, a Japanese prime minister has taken another step toward acknowledging that country's responsibility.

Apologies will come. They might not come for another few generations and more than another few Japanese elections. We can even imagine one day, the United States electing another blame-America-first president, who'll apologize for ending the war over Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

But leave those controversies to our children and maybe their children. Today let us toast friends. Good friends and close allies. May our few disagreements never weaken our bonds.

Here's to friends.

Editorial on 12/30/2016

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