JUSTICE AND RECONCILIATION: POSTWAR PHILIPPINE TRIALS OF JAPANESE WAR CRIMINALS IN HISTORY AND MEMORY

by Sharon Williams Chamberlain

BA, 1971, Bucknell University MA, 1979, University of Maryland

A Dissertation submitted to

The Faculty of The Columbian College of Arts and Sciences of The George Washington University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

January 31, 2010

Dissertation directed by

Shawn McHale Associate Professor of History and International Affairs The Columbian College of Arts and Sciences of The George Washington University certifies that Sharon Williams Chamberlain has passed the Final Examination for the

degree of Doctor of Philosophy as of November 24, 2009. This is the final and approved

form of the dissertation.

JUSTICE AND RECONCILIATION: POSTWAR PHILIPPINE TRIALS OF JAPANESE WAR CRIMINALS IN HISTORY AND MEMORY

Sharon Williams Chamberlain

Dissertation Research Committee:

Shawn McHale, Associate Professor of History and International Affairs, Dissertation Director

Daqing Yang, Associate Professor of History and International Affairs, Committee Member

Edward A. McCord, Associate Professor of History and International Affairs, Committee Member

ii

© Copyright 2010 by Sharon Williams Chamberlain

All rights reserved

iii Dedication

To Mary Morrow Chamberlain and Richard Williams Chamberlain

iv Acknowledgments

I wish to thank the chair of my dissertation committee, Shawn McHale, for his encouragement, good counsel, and thought-provoking insights as I undertook this long but satisfying journey. The (for me) entirely fortuitous decision to take Professor

McHale’s excellent graduate seminar on Modern Southeast Asia opened up possibilities beyond the study of Japan and led me to the exploration of Japan-Philippine relations and thence to the subject of this dissertation.

I am also very appreciative of the help I received from Daqing Yang, who acted as the de facto co-chair of my committee and was instrumental in encouraging my exploration into issues of memory and reconciliation. Edward McCord, the other member of my committee, offered not just helpful advice as my research began but also a thoughtful critique of my dissertation in progress. My thanks also to Professors Mike

Mochizuki and Gregg Brazinsky, who graciously agreed to serve on my defense committee and posed challenging and thoughtful questions.

Reaching the finish line would have been far more difficult without the financial and institutional support I received from The George Washington University. The many professors and staff members affiliated with the university’s History Department and the

Sigur Center for Asian Studies provided a collegial and academically satisfying environment in which to pursue my degree.

Searching archives overseas can be a time-consuming as well as exciting enterprise. Much of the credit for any eureka moments along the way must go to the many archivists and librarians who offered their expertise and enthusiastic

v encouragement during my many forays into their hallowed halls and dusty shelves. At

the University of the Philippines, University Librarian Salvacion Arlante and librarians

Christine Manglal-lan and Eimee Lagrama (among many others) opened library doors

and guided me towards collections important for my work. Likewise, librarians and

archivists at the National Library of the Philippines (especially director Prudenciana Cruz

and librarians Ellen Alfonso and Malou Mortil) and the National Archives of the

Philippines made possible my review of materials unavailable elsewhere. The staff of the

Diplomatic Record Office of Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs and National Diet

Library never failed to impress me with their helpfulness and efficiency as they guided

me towards needed materials.

I am also grateful to Professors Ricardo T. Jose of the University of the

Philippines and Nakano Satoshi of Hitotsubashi University for their willingness to

discuss my work and offer helpful suggestions for additional research materials, and to

Dr. Bernardita Churchill for her help and good counsel in suggesting avenues of research during my stay in the Philippines. Dr. Al Schmidt, Kathy Schmidt, and Dr. Paula

Newberg likewise each offered cogent advice and a sympathetic ear when I needed it.

The journey from start to finish may have been long, but it was never less than challenging and absorbing. It would have been less so without the support and friendship of my fellow graduate students. My thanks in particular to Matthew Russell and

Terrance Rucker, who shared the challenges of course work, language study and comps with grace and good humor. And I cannot say enough about the help and encouragement

I received from two GW professionals and friends—Takako Suzuki and Ikuko Turner, who found research materials and provided translating advice when I needed it.

vi The support of my family and friends has been invaluable. I am so very grateful and thankful for the unstinting love, support and encouragement I have received from my sisters Ann and Janice Chamberlain and brother-in-law Mark Schwarz, who never doubted that I would finish. Alice Donoghue, Sue Eby and Anne (Stuie) Oliver have been so generous with their encouragement—I cherish our ongoing email dialogue that has extended across years and continents. And finally, I cannot begin to express fully my appreciation to the members of my “Broadmoor family,” so many of whom offered frequent encouragement, sought reports on the progress I was making, and cheered the completion of my journey.

vii Abstract of Dissertation

JUSTICE AND RECONCILIATION: POSTWAR PHILIPPINE TRIALS OF JAPANESE WAR CRIMINALS IN HISTORY AND MEMORY

At the close of World War II, the United States and its allies made a commitment to mete out “stern justice” to all Japanese guilty of war crimes. The International

Military Tribunal for the Far East, established to try Japan’s military and civilian leaders, has been the focus of considerable debate; some have criticized it as a classic case of

“victors’ justice,” fraught with legal and procedural flaws. Much less well known or studied are the roughly concurrent trials, by individual allied governments, of Japanese charged with “ordinary” war crimes—violations of the laws and customs of war. As one of the conveners of these trials, the Republic of the Philippines, newly independent and still reeling from three years of a harsh wartime Japanese occupation, put 155 Japanese on trial, convicted 138, and sentenced 79 to death.

This dissertation, relying extensively on archival research in the Philippines,

Japan and the United States, traces the process by which the Philippine government assumed responsibility for trying war crimes suspects, the course of their trials, and the outcomes for individual Japanese. It focuses directly on issues of justice, memory construction, and reconciliation, and ultimately concludes that, as important as the question of the essential fairness of the trials may be in legal terms, the trials’ deeper significance lies in the larger purposes they served and the separate narratives they engendered in both Japan and the Philippines. Such narratives solidified, for both countries, divergent views of the trials but were not allowed to impede the eventual

viii restoration of a bilateral relationship. These judicial proceedings were a necessary, if insufficient, component of progress toward any sort of “reconciliation.”

ix Table of Contents

Dedication iv

Acknowledgments v

Abstract of Dissertation viii

Table of Contents x

List of Tables xi

Abbreviations xii

Introduction 1

Chapter 1: War Crimes Trials: Necessary Contexts 15

Chapter 2: War Criminals: Trials, Evidence, and Outcomes 47

Chapter 3: Awaiting their Fate: Sentence Reviews, Reprieves, and Executions 102

Chapter 4: From Retribution to Resolution: The Journey from Executions to Pardons 148

Chapter 5: Trials and Outcomes: Assessing Significance and Impact 207

Epilog 219

Bibliography 222

Appendix I 235

x List of Tables

Table 1: Military Defendants by Service and Rank 71

Table 2: Philippine War Crimes Case Verdicts 73

Table 3: Results of Sentence Reviews 110

xi Abbreviations

AFWESPAC Armed Forces, Western Pacific

IMTFE International Military Tribunal for the Far East

KALIBAPI Kapisanan sa Paglilingkod the Bagong Pilipinas

MAKAPILI Makabayang Katipunan ng mga Pilipino

NWCO National War Crimes Office

PCPI Preparatory Commission for Philippine Independence

PHILRYCOM Philippines-Ryukyus Command

SCAP Supreme Commander Allied Powers

xii INTRODUCTION

On May 14, 1998, an elderly Japanese walked out of Ninoy Aquino International

Airport and into the glaring sunshine of a stifling Manila afternoon. Fifty years ago a

Philippine military tribunal had convicted Shirota Gintar ō of war crimes and sentenced

him to death. Now he was back, intent on revisiting the prison in Muntinglupa where he

had been incarcerated for some five years before being granted a pardon in 1953.

On his journey back in time, Shirota and those from his home town who

accompanied him visited the hill near the prison where 17 Japanese war criminals had

been executed. There was no longer any trace of where the gallows had stood or the dead

had been buried. “Everyone cried. The war had been over for six years when these

young men lost their lives here, and one couldn’t help but cry and cry at how pitiable they

were.”1

Shirota may have been on a personal pilgrimage of sorts, but not necessarily one

of individual remorse or contrition. The writer who chronicled his return to the

Philippines focused not on wartime brutalities but rather the pathos and suffering of the

Japanese with whom Shirota shared prison life in the years following the end of World

War II. Shirota is portrayed as a victim of circumstance—convicted primarily by virtue

of his association with the Japanese military police headquarters at Fort Santiago, a

notorious place where Filipinos were tortured and killed. The Japanese committed

atrocities in the Philippines, but Shirota and the others in Muntinglupa were victims too,

made to take responsibility for the crimes of others including Japan’s wartime leaders. 2

1 Emiko Arai, “Montenrupa no Atsui Kaze,” Shio 475 (September 1998): 253. 2 Ibid, 248-255.

1 It is not particularly surprising that Shirota would, even at this late date, return to

the Philippines. Over the years, many Japanese veterans or their families have traveled

overseas to the sites of battles and memorials to pay their respects to their dead comrades

and loved ones. The Philippines has played host to a number of such memorials,

including the Caliraya Memorial in Batangas Province completed in 1973—a project

funded by the Japanese government with the approval of the Philippine government.

Numerous private memorials have been constructed in the Philippines over the years,

including a memorial stone near the site where Shirota’s fellow soldiers were executed.3

No, what is unusual about Shirota’s visit is the fact that he, a convicted war criminal, was personally invited to return by the mayor of Muntinglupa—the son of the prison superintendent who oversaw the welfare of the Japanese war criminals incarcerated there so many years ago. Superintendent Alfredo Bunye was, by a number of accounts including those of Japanese prisoners, a kind and thoughtful man who treated the Japanese with respect and consideration. In the son’s recollection, his father had believed in the innocence of the men incarcerated there; he was said to have shed many tears when the executions took place. And Shirota was not the first convicted war criminal to return to the Philippines. As early as 1977, then President Ferdinand Marcos extended an invitation to Japanese veterans to return to the Philippines. Some of the war criminals did in fact go back, although Shirota at the time could not bring himself to do so. 4

3 Satoshi Nakano, “The Politics of Mourning,” in Philippines-Japan Relations , eds. Setsuho Ikehata and Lydia N. Yu-Jose (Manila: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2003): 356-359. 4 Arai, “Montenrupa no Atsui Kaze,” 255; and Masayasu It ō et al., eds., Monten: Kikoku 30 Sh ūnen Tokush ūgo (Tokyo: Montenrupa no Kai, 1983): 157-162.

2 Shirota’s journey might be interpreted as one small bit of evidence that Filipinos and Japanese have achieved a kind of reconciliation for the events of the Pacific War, a reconciliation that has proved far more elusive for other countries in Asia. Certain anecdotal evidence supports such a point of view: the vocal expressions of outrage, in

China and the Republic of Korea, following visits of a Japanese prime minister to

Yasukuni Shrine, while not altogether muted in the Philippines, do not seem to resonate as strongly or have repercussions for Philippine-Japan bilateral relations, even though convicted war criminals like Generals Yamashita Tomoyuki and Homma Masaharu

(executed in Manila for crimes committed in the Philippines) or Mut ō Akira (a major war criminal sentenced to death in Tokyo, also largely for atrocities committed in the

Philippines) are surely enshrined there. 5 More than sixty years after the end of the war, newspaper articles tend to trumpet the economic relationship or mark the passage of key anniversary dates with tolerance. A lengthy two-part Sunday feature article in The

Philippine Star in 2006 focused first on a Filipino visitor’s recollections of early postwar

Tokyo and Japanese technological advances; it is only in the second installment that the issue of Yasukuni and the war surfaces. 6 One survey conducted in 2000 indicated that a solid majority of Filipinos born after the war agreed that “Japan must be forgiven for its wartime sins.” 7

Historian Nakano Satoshi has postulated a number of variables that might explain the pattern of “apology and forgiveness” leading to the reconciliation that he suggests has

5 Nakano, “Politics of Mourning,” 339-342. 6 See, for example, the Manila Bulletin , June 11, 2006, July 23, 2006, and July 24, 2006; and The Philippine Star , June 25 and July 2, 2006. See also Satoshi Nakano, “Lost in Memorialization?: Unmaking of ‘History Issues’ in Postwar Philippines-Japan Relations,” in Proceedings of the Symposium: The Philippines-Japan Relationship in an Evolving Paradigm (Manila: Yuchengco Center, 2006). 7 Bachtiar Alam and Wilfrido V. Villacorta, Perceptions of Japan and the Japanese by Filipinos and Indonesians: An intergenerational Study (Manila: De La Salle University Yuchengco Center, 2002): 20.

3 characterized the Philippines-Japan relationship beginning as early as the 1970s. Unlike the cases of China or Korea, Japanese forces in the Philippines were overrun and essentially destroyed by U.S. and Philippine military and guerrilla fighters, allowing

Filipinos a sense of victory and conquest over the enemy. A vigorous press provided an important outlet to express Filipinos’ emotional reaction to the war years. The country’s efforts to bring war criminals to justice and demand reparations added to the sense that the Philippines had come out the victor. Finally, Nakano notes that part of the explanation may lie in the Philippines’ national character, including the role of religion, however hard this may be to analyze concretely.8

And yet Nakano also suggests that reconciliation has been founded on a reciprocal willingness to avoid delving too deeply into the specific acts that have prompted Japanese apologies and Filipinos’ acceptance of them. Japanese traveling to the Philippines to memorialize their war dead might feel the need to apologize, but rarely in terms that admitted culpability, by they or their loved ones, for specific crimes; Filipinos, in a spirit of hospitality and the belief that the visitors understood the nature of Philippine wartime suffering, accepted those apologies uncritically. 9

In a parallel vein, the dwindling numbers of those who, like Shirota, experienced the war first hand continue to have—or at least to express—dissimilar memories and beliefs about what happened in the Philippines and the degree of personal if not national reconciliation that has been achieved. Author Ishida Jintar ō interviewed both Japanese soldiers who served in units responsible for mass civilian killings in places like Los

8 Nakano, “The Politics of Mourning,” 342. 9 Nakano, “Lost in Memorialization?”

4 Baños and Lipa and Filipino survivors of those massacres. The results are a striking mix

of accusations and denials, remorse and forgiveness. 10

All this hints at unsettled, if not unsettling, terrain. Have Filipinos, as well as

Japanese, engaged in a kind of “willful forgetting,” albeit from different motives? 11

Might such forgetting mask a continuing divide over matters of culpability or

responsibility for wartime atrocities? Or have the dead past buried the dead? These are

questions for the present, but they are grounded in the past.

And that past includes the efforts of the Philippine government to put men like

Shirota on trial for war crimes—to determine the responsibility of specific individuals for

atrocities committed against Filipinos during the Japanese occupation. The Philippine

war crimes trials stood just at this nexus between the perceived value (to Filipinos) of

bringing war criminals to justice and the perceived difficulty (for Japanese) in assigning

individual responsibility for particular atrocities. They also operated in particular social

and cultural as well as immediate postwar contexts that necessarily affected the eventual

outcomes and perceptions for victims and victimizers alike.

It is the central premise of this dissertation that an examination of these trials—

how they were envisioned, conducted and portrayed—can provide a better understanding

of how Japan and the Philippines perceived issues of wartime responsibility and justice

and the implications of those perceptions for the construction of a bilateral relationship in

the immediate postwar years. What did the trials achieve, or conversely fail to

accomplish? How were they perceived contemporaneously by both Filipinos and

10 Jintar ō Ishida, The Remains of War: Apology and Forgiveness—the Testimonies of the Japanese Imperial Army and its Filipino Victims (Quezon City: Megabooks Company, 2001). 11 Historian John Dower has written of this propensity, among Japanese in the years after the war ended, to remember those who committed atrocities while forgetting their crimes. See John W. Dower, Embracing Defeat: Japan in the Wake of World War II (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1999): 508-521.

5 Japanese? How, if at all, did they affect the postwar re-engagement between Japan and the Philippines? Did they, in fact, lead to a shared or “mutually acceptable” interpretation of Japanese behavior in the Philippines and the individuals who were culpable for such behavior? In short, did the war crimes trials in the Philippines matter, then or later, to the bilateral relations between the two countries and this broader question of “reconciliation?” 12

This dissertation traces the process by which the Philippine government agreed to assume responsibility for trying war crimes suspects, the course of those trials, and the outcomes for individual Japanese. It focuses directly on issues of justice, memory construction, and reconciliation, and ultimately concludes that, as important as the question of the essential fairness of the trials may be in legal terms, the trials’ deeper significance lies in the larger purposes they served and the separate narratives they engendered in both the Philippines and Japan. Such narratives solidified, for both countries, divergent views of the trials but were not allowed to impede the eventual restoration of a bilateral relationship. The pattern of generalized acceptance and acknowledgement of wartime atrocities that Nakano sees in modern Japan-Philippine relations conceivably had its roots in the way in which the issue of the war criminals was resolved.

The war crimes trials conducted by a number of allied governments, including the

Philippines, at the end of the Pacific War have received relatively limited attention by

12 The concept of reconciliation can be interpreted or defined in various ways. David Crocker, for example, has posited three meanings of reconciliation, on a scale of “thinner” to “thicker,” with the weakest being simple co-existence and the deeper modes involving the ability to reach compromise and finally forgiveness and/or mutual healing. Susan Dwyer sees reconciliation as a process that makes possible “a mutually acceptable interpretation (or interpretations)” of acts of conflict. See David A. Crocker, “Reckoning with Past Wrongs: A Normative Framework,” Ethics & International Affairs 13 (1999): 60- 61; and Susan Dwyer, “Reconciliation for Realists,” Ethics & International Affairs 13 (1999): 89-90.

6 scholars, particularly in any comparative way. 13 Two notable exceptions are Philip

Piccigallo’s 1979 survey of the trials convened by the various allied governments and

Hayashi Hirofumi’s more recent assessment of the trials—both provide country-by- country reviews. Added to these studies are more narrowly-focused accounts of trials in specific venues, principally those conducted by Great Britain and the United States. 14

Western and Japanese observers have tended to diverge in their assessments of these trials. Japanese scholars have noted the generalized perception, in Japan, that they were unjust. Hayashi Hirofumi has suggested that conventional wisdom has tended to view the trials as unfair on several grounds: the selection of defendants was arbitrary; judges and prosecutors were not impartial; rules of evidence favored the prosecution; and those put on trial were lower-ranking soldiers only following orders or, conversely, commanders were made to bear responsibility for crimes committed by their subordinates without their knowledge. Hayashi provides a more nuanced view, arguing that while there were many problems with the trials, in some respects the critiques represent an oversimplification; Hayashi also believes it is necessary to place the trials in a broader context to assess more fully their value. 15

13 Rather more focus has been directed to the International Military Tribunal for the Far East (the Tokyo Trial) set up to try Japanese military and civilian leaders. See chapter 2. 14 See Philip R. Piccigallo, Japanese on Trial: Allied War Crimes Operations in the East (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1979); Hirofumi Hayashi, BC-Ky ū Senpan Saiban (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2005); R. John Pritchard, “Lessons From British Proceedings Against Japanese War Criminals,” The Human Rights Review 3: 2 (Summer 1978): 104-121; R. John Pritchard, “The Nature and Significance of British Post-War Trials of Japanese War Criminals, 1945-1948,” Proceedings of the British Association for Japanese Studies : 2 (1977): 189-219; Hirofumi Hayashi, “British War Crimes Trials of Japanese,” Nature- People-Society: Science and the Humanities 31 (July 2001): 79-102; Robert W. Miller, “War Crimes Trials at Yokohama,” Brooklyn Law Review 15: 2 (April 1949): 191-209; Simon C. Smith, “Crimes and Punishment: Local Responses to the Trial of Japanese War Criminals in Malaya and Singapore, 1946-48,” South East Asia Research 5:1 (March 1997): 41-56; and L.C. Green, “The Trials of Some Minor War Criminals,” Indian Law Review 4 (1950): 249-275. 15 Hayashi, BC-Ky ū Senpan , 12, 19, and 200-214. For references to the general characterization of these trials as unfair, see also Madoka Futamura, War Crimes Tribunals and Transitional Justice: The Tokyo Trial and the Nuremberg Legacy (London: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group, 2008): 75-76; and Aiko

7 By comparison, Western assessments, particularly early ones, have tended (with key exceptions for specific trials—for example, critiques of the Yamashita trial in the

Philippines) to accept the view of these trials as generally fair and impartial. Piccigallo, for example, concluded that, despite the “occasional departures from the ideals of justice and ‘fair play,’” the trials’ “demonstrations of evenhandedness and compassion by far outnumber recorded instances of palpable injustice.” 16 R. John Pritchard, a staunch defender of the British trials, acknowledged the existence of some “lapses of impartiality” but nonetheless concluded that the British proceedings were conducted with

“wonderful fairness.” 17 (Pritchard was far less charitable about the American trials, which he castigated as marred by legal abuses but without providing any examples or evidence to support that claim.) 18

The Philippine government-led trials have received even less scrutiny. Piccigallo devotes a chapter to these trials, but its usefulness is constrained by the lack of access to archival materials (such as trial transcripts) that are now available to researchers. A few

Japanese language sources provide some discussion and statistics about trials in Asia, including the Philippines, but with limited analysis of the Philippine government-run trials. Only relatively recently has a Filipino historian, Ricardo T. Jose, provided a survey of the trials conducted by the Philippine government and raised issues related to the trials. 19

Atsumi, “Changing Japanese Views of the Allied Occupation of Japan and the War Crimes Trials,” Journal of the Australian War Memorial 30 (April 1997), www.awm.gov.au/journal/j30/utsumi.htm , accessed September 10, 2007. 16 Piccigallo, Japanese on Trial , 214-215. 17 Pritchard, “Nature and Significance of British Post-War Trials,” 200-201 and 211. 18 Ibid, 197 and 202. 19 Piccigallo, Japanese on Trial , 185-200; Hayashi, BC-Ky ū Senpan Saiban , 98-100; Yoshio Chaen, ed., BC-Ky ū Senpan Beigun Manira Saiban Shiry ō (Tokyo: Fuji Shuppan, 1986); Yoshio Chaen, ed., BC-Ky ū Senpan Firipin Saiban Shiry ō (Tokyo: Fuji Shuppan, 1987); Ricardo T. Jose, “The Philippine War Crimes

8 Jose’s work provides a useful framing of some of the critical issues surrounding the Philippine trials, but does not rely on the actual trial and sentencing documentation or the varied materials available concerning the Japanese perspective on the trials. Indeed, among the most helpful published accounts about the tribunals are those of contemporaneous Japanese observers and some of the war criminals themselves. This study draws heavily from these Japanese language memoirs and diaries, as well as the sets of trial transcripts and other archival materials at the National Archives of the

Philippines and the U.S. National Archives.

Much of the scholarly literature on the linkage of war crimes trials and reconciliation deals with efforts to redress intra-state abuses, and consequently might arguably be deemed less relevant to the war crimes trials conducted after World War II, let alone the specific trials held in the Philippines. Still, such studies suggest some useful signposts, or indicators, of the ways in which trials may, or conversely may not, assist in making progress towards reconciliation. In his analysis of the ways in which societies or states can deal with past wrongs, David Crocker describes a number of goals for this process, several of which have direct application in a discussion of the utility of trials. Of first importance is the documentation of abuses: “To meet the challenge of reckoning with past atrocities, a society should investigate, establish, and publicly disseminate the truth about them.” It is also necessary to provide a platform for victims to talk about and

Trials, 1947-1949, PSSC Social Science Information 33: 1 (Jan-June 2005): 33-44; and Ricardo T. Jose, “The Philippine War Crimes Trials, 1947-1949,” in Remembering World War II in the Philippines: Proceedings of the Conference ‘World War II in the Philippines: Remembering 60 Years After,’ Vol. II (Manila: National Historical Institute, 2007): 65-80. Also now available is the published compilation of Mainichi Shimbun news articles about the trials and their aftermath. See Mainichi Shinbun Seijibu, ed., Shinbun Shiry ō ni Miru T ōky ō Saiban, BC-Ky ū Saiban (Tokyo: Gendai Shiry ō Shuppan, 2000).

9 testify to their experiences. And, the perpetrators of crimes should be held accountable

and be punished. 20

Still other analyses tend to reject or dismiss any concrete linkages between holding war crimes trials and achieving reconciliation. Martha Minow has observed that

“reconciliation is not the goal of criminal trials except in the most abstract sense.”

Nonetheless, trials, fraught with difficulties though they may be, “can air issues, create an aura of fairness, establish a public record, and produce some sense of accountability.” In his analysis of the value of international war crimes tribunals (a study that does deal with inter-state conflicts), Gary Jonathan Bass does not include reconciliation among any of the purported arguments in favor of trials. But he too would stress the value of trials in establishing a clear and convincing record that can withstand any subsequent efforts to deny the commission of atrocities. 21 The considerable, and growing, body of scholarly

work on “transitional justice”—efforts of newly democratizing or post-conflict states to

deal with the effects of mass atrocities or human rights abuses—continues to debate the

relative merits of international, as opposed to national, strategies for dealing with war

crimes. 22

The conduct of war crimes trials in the Philippines did not, of course, take place

in a vacuum—the trials were shaped not just by the negative wartime experience but also

by the more positive pre-war dynamic and the anti-colonialist and nationalist pressures

sweeping Southeast Asia in the postwar years. Several works provide helpful context for

20 Crocker, “Reckoning with Past Wrongs,” 49-53. 21 Martha Minow, Between Vengeance and Forgiveness: Facing History after Genocide and Mass Violence (Boston: Beacon Press, 1998): 26 and 50; and Gary Jonathan Bass, Stay the Hand of Vengeance: The Politics of War Crimes Tribunals (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000): 302-304. 22 See, e.g., Helena Cobban, Amnesty after Atrocity?: Healing Nations after Genocide and War Crimes (Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers, 2007); Minow, Between Vengeance and Forgiveness ; and David A. Crocker, “Transitional Justice and International Civil Society,” in War Crimes and Collective Wrongdoing: A Reader , ed. Aleksandar Joki ć (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers Inc., 2001): 270-300.

10 understanding the broader canvas on which Japan-Philippine relations were writ during the critical prewar, wartime, and immediate postwar years.

A preeminent historian of the prewar period, Grant Goodman, has argued that

Japanese-Philippine prewar ties were close and getting stronger, right up until the attacks on Pearl Harbor and the Philippines in late 1941. He further suggests that the Japanese pursued a prudent and successful relationship with the Philippines during the prewar years, and that both sides were committed to a mutually beneficial economic relationship.

According to Goodman, Japanese prewar influence in the Philippines was strong, given the deep ties between Japanese business and diplomatic circles on the one hand, and the

Filipino business community and elites on the other. 23 Other scholars and researchers, including Japanese historians and memoirists, have focused on the Japanese community on Davao in the prewar years—its development, organization, and economic and social significance. 24 In various ways, these studies tend to reinforce the relative significance of the Japanese presence and their economic (as opposed to strategic) interests, not just in the Philippines but in Southeast Asia generally.

Examinations of the Japanese occupation period have focused, among other things, on the nature of Philippine collaboration and resistance and the character of the occupation itself. Goodman, and to a certain extent Alfred McCoy, have argued that the striking aspect of the Japanese occupation of the Philippines was not that it represented a break with the past but rather that it represented a distinct sort of continuity—that of the

23 Grant K. Goodman, Davao: A Case Study in Japanese-Philippine Relations (Lawrence, Kansas: University of Kansas Center for East Asian Studies, 1967) and Grant K. Goodman, Four Aspects of Philippine-Japan Relations, 1930-1940 (New Haven: Yale University, 1967). 24 See, for example, Kichiroku Shirota, Davao Imin no Eik ō to Zasetsu: Ichi Zairy ū Hōjin no Shuki Yori (Nagasaki: Nagasaki Shuppan Bunka Ky ōkai, 1980); Seraphin D. Quiason, “The Japanese Colony on Davao, 1904-1941,” Philippine Social Sciences and Humanities Review 23: 2-4 (June-December 1958); and Lydia Yu-Jose, Japan Views the Philippines, 1900-1944 (Manila: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1992).

11 elites who retained the political hegemony developed under American colonial rule and

successfully extended their reign beyond the occupation into the postwar years. 25 The

most recent study of the Japanese interregnum—The Philippines under Japan —brings

together an impressive series of essays focused on the significance of the occupation and

its political, economic, and social impacts. 26 And the most thoughtful examination of the

collaboration issue remains David Joel Steinberg’s Philippine Collaboration in World

War II , in which he explores the ways in which elites (particularly Laurel) coped during the war years and overcame charges of collaboration at the end of the war. 27

Historians of the immediate postwar years have focused on the bilateral

reparations negotiations which were a major preoccupation of most of the 1950s.

Notably this includes Ohno Takushi and Yoshikawa Y ōko, both of whom have described

the progress of the negotiations in great detail and analyzed their economic and political

content. The triangular relationship among Japan, the Philippines, and the United States

is a key focus of both these works. 28

None of the aforementioned works deals substantively or forthrightly with the

central question posed by this dissertation: what meaning and impact did the Philippine-

led trials have for the postwar Philippines and Japan? To answer that overriding question,

25 Grant K. Goodman, “The Japanese Occupation of the Philippines: Commonwealth Sustained,” Philippine Studies 36 (1988): 98-104; and Alfred W. McCoy, “ ‘Politics by Other Means’: World War II in the Western Visayas, Philippines,” in Southeast Asia under Japanese Occupation, ed. Alfred W. McCoy (New Haven: Yale University Southeast Asia Studies, 1980): 158-203. 26 Setsuho Ikehata and Ricardo Trota Jose, eds., The Philippines under Japan: Occupation Policy and Reaction (Manila: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2003). 27 David Joel Steinberg, Philippine Collaboration in World War II (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1967). 28 Takushi Ohno, War Reparations and Peace Settlement: Philippines-Japan Relations, 1945-1956 (Manila: Solidaridad Pub. House, 1986); and Y ōko Yoshikawa, Nippi Baish ō Gaik ō K ōsh ō no Kenky ū, 1949-1956 (Tokyo: Keis ō Shob ō, 1991).

12 it is necessary to examine, in far greater detail than has yet been done, the trials

themselves and how they were perceived and interpreted in both countries.

Organizationally, this dissertation follows a generally chronological structure—

tracing the trials from conceptualization to final outcomes. Chapter 1 provides the

necessary context for understanding the conduct of the war crimes trials in the

Philippines, with principal emphasis on the influence of the American colonial presence,

the significance of the pre-war relations between Japan and the Philippines and the

relevance of the postwar struggle to address the issue of collaboration. Chapter 2

explores the nature of the trials, focusing on matters of process, evidence, and verdicts.

Chapter 3 discusses the post-trial processes of sentence review and the outcomes for

individual prisoners; and Chapter 4 analyzes how the war criminals’ fate was negotiated

between the Philippine and Japanese governments. The final chapter seeks to situate the

Philippine trials in the broader context of the re-engagement of Japan and the Philippines, drawing on the preceding chapters to reach conclusions about the significance of the

trials and their differing meanings in both countries, as distinct from the issue of the

trials’ “fairness.”

Finally, a word on citations and nomenclature. In the matter of Japanese names, I have employed Japanese usage—that is, the family name precedes the given name. (The one exception is footnotes, where I have adopted the customary practice of placing authors’ given names first.) Further, English language records related to Japanese war crimes suspects occasionally misspelled the prisoners’ names or confused family and given names, and invariably did not transliterate Japanese characters using the now customary long ō or long ū. Wherever possible, I have made the necessary corrections to

13 achieve consistency, relying on available Japanese language documents and memoirs to do so. Thus, for example, a citation to the transcript of the trial of Chushiro Kudo renders the name as Kud ō Ch ūshir ō.

14 CHAPTER 1

WAR CRIMES TRIALS: NECESSARY CONTEXTS

Herein lies a fundamental element in Filipino attitudes toward Japan prior to the Pacific War: Japan was seen as another nation, that is, a place free from colonial control . . . It symbolized what the Philippines sought to become. 1 -- Vicente L. Rafael

The main purpose of this bill is to perpetuate a profound hatred for Japan and everything Japanese in this country. 2 -- note attached to bill drafted by a Philippine Congressman in 1945

The Philippines suffered enormous damage during World War II, both to its

people and to its economy. More than 1 million Filipinos lost their lives and the physical

destruction was initially calculated in the neighborhood of $1 billion; the Philippine

government was later to demand $8 billion in reparations from Japan to cover its estimate

of the damage. The capital city of Manila lay in ruins, and the reports of Japanese

atrocities inflicted on its inhabitants shocked those who heard or read about them. 3 After

over three years of a harsh Japanese occupation, Filipinos faced the daunting tasks of

rebuilding their country and holding accountable those who had contributed to its

devastation. Ordinary Filipinos could hardly be blamed for harboring deep resentments,

1 Vicente L. Rafael, White Love and Other Events in Filipino History (Durham: Duke University Press, 2000): 105. 2 Miguel Tolentino, Congressman, to Sergio Osmeña, President of the Philippines, March 31, 1945, Subject Files, Box 10, Folder “Bills, 2,6,7,27,” Series II, Sergio Osmeña Papers, Filipiniana Division, National Library of the Philippines, Manila, The Philippines. 3 A.V. H. Hartendorp, History of Industry and Trade of the Philippines (Manila: American Chamber of Commerce of the Philippines, Inc., 1958): 154-155; Ohno, War Reparations and Peace Settlement , 68-69; Office of the Resident Commissioner of the Philippines to the United States, Report on the Destruction of Manila and Japanese Atrocities (Washington, D.C.: 1945); and Free Philippines , April 19, 1945, found in “Newspaper file,” January 1945-September 1945, Manila Branch Miscellaneous File, 1945-1949, SCAP Legal Section, Investigative Division, Records of Allied Operational & Occupation Headquarters World War II, Record Group 331 (RG 331), National Archives at College Park, MD (NACP).

15 not just against the Japanese who brutalized them but the Americans who failed to protect

them and the elites who appeared to embrace the conquerors.

But the war did not, in important ways, offer Filipinos a clean break with their

colonial past, nor did it dislodge elites from their entrenched positions of political power, nor did it completely expunge memories of prewar Japanese-Philippine bilateral ties. All these elements influenced the ways in which the Philippine government approached the task of putting Japanese war crimes suspects on trial and deciding their ultimate fates.

Context, in effect, matters—to appreciate better the choices Philippine leaders made about the war crimes trials it is necessary to understand the prewar as well as the wartime contexts that shaped those choices and those who made them.

American Colonial Context

The fateful decision of the U.S. government to retain control over the Philippines

after the defeat of Spain in the Spanish-American War doomed the fragile republic that

Filipino nationalists had optimistically declared in 1899. After an armed and bloody

resistance that lasted over two years, Filipinos yielded to American colonial power.

Indeed, it has been argued that the acquiescence of elite Filipinos to American rule

presaged—or at least made more explicable—the relative willingness of these same elites

to collaborate with the Japanese invaders some forty years later. “Expediency in the face

of force rather than idealistic consistency in the face of risk was the historical heritage of

the elite during the late Spanish, American, and perhaps Japanese eras.” 4

The U.S. colonial administration was headed by an American Governor General,

who also served as the chairman of the Philippine Commission, an appointed body. In

4 Steinberg, Philippine Collaboration in World War II , 12.

16 the very earliest days of U.S. governance, the commission functioned as a lawmaking

body, enacting a host of laws dealing with the civil service, education, taxation, and

infrastructure. The colonial administrators also fundamentally shaped the character of the

Philippine judicial system that carried over into the postwar independent Philippines.

That system embodied the fundamental principle of separation of powers, with an

independently constituted judiciary comprised of the Supreme Court, courts of first

instance (the trial courts), and justice of the peace courts (which generally handled minor

civil cases). Early on, the Philippine legal system came to embrace the American concept

of judicial review, with the right of the courts to challenge the constitutionality of statutes

and executive orders. 5 The numbers of Americans who served as judges on both the

Philippine Supreme Court and the courts of first instance helped, through their decisions,

to shape the Philippine legal and judicial system. 6 American lawyers licensed to practice

in the Philippines, and the growing cadre of Filipino lawyers trained in the United States

or in U.S. law practices, reinforced the use of American legal principles and practices in

Philippine courts. 7 Court cases provided later precedents that Philippine military

tribunals and trial reviewers drew upon in their adjudication of war crimes trials. (See

chapters 2 and 3.)

The United States began relatively quickly to entertain some notions of increasing

self-rule for its colonial possession. After passage, by the U.S. Congress, of the

5 Jose P. Bengzon, The Philippine Judicial System (Manila: G. Rangel & Sons, 1968): 11-20; and Enrique M. Fernando, The American Constitutional Influence in Asia: Its Impact on the Philippine Legal System (Manila: Supreme Court, 1976): 100-101. This is not to suggest that the Americans completely eradicated the legal influences of the previous 300 years of Spanish colonial rule. See Joseph Ralston Hayden, The Philippines: A Study in National Development (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1950): 55-57. 6 Hayden, The Philippines: A Study in National Development , 240-242. 7 As just one example, wartime chief justice of the Philippine Supreme Court Jose Yulo reminisced fondly about the legal training he had received during his employment with an American law firm in Manila and his acquisition of the “fundamentals of corporate practice” from American lawyers. See McCoy, “‘Politics by Other Means,’”161.

17 Philippine Bill of 1902, the commission shared its legislative functions with a Philippine

Assembly whose members, all Filipino, were first elected in 1907. The result was, in

essence, the creation of a bicameral legislature, with the commission functioning as the

upper chamber and the assembly as the lower chamber. Nonetheless, real power was

carefully circumscribed. All laws enacted by the legislature had to be referred to the U.S.

Congress, which had the power to veto them if it so chose. 8 The Philippine Assembly

“was designed to consolidate the practice of Filipino collaboration, thereby rendering

more efficient and cost effective the running of the colonial state while containing all

remaining nationalist challenges to U.S. hegemony.” 9

Another step towards greater autonomy was taken in 1916. That year, the U.S.

Congress enacted the Philippine Autonomy Act (the Jones Act), which in its preamble

did, albeit with no concrete timetable, explicitly promise independence for the

Philippines upon the establishment of a “stable government.” The law also provided for

the establishment of an elected, completely Filipino, bicameral legislature to replace the

hybrid arrangement of the Philippine Commission and the Philippine Assembly. In this

new legislature, Manuel Quezon served as Senate president, while Sergio Osmeña held

the post of Speaker of the House. These two men would continue to dominate Philippine

politics in the ensuing decades, although Quezon came to eclipse Osmeña in their

political skirmishes. 10

8 Teodoro A. Agoncillo, A Short History of the Philippines (New York: Mentor Books, 1969): 149-155; and Fortunato Gupit Jr. and Daniel T. Martinez, A Guide to Philippine Legal Materials: A Text on Philippine Legal Bibliography, Philippine Legal History, Philippine Legal System, Legal Philosophy, Methods of Legal Research (Manila: Rex Book Store, 1993): 50. 9 Rafael, White Love , 26. 10 Agoncillo, A Short History , 170-171; George A. Malcolm, The Commonwealth of the Philippines (New York: D. Appleton-Century Company, 1936): 68; and Philippines Free Press ([Manila]: LR Publications, 1999): 37 and 69.

18 Less than twenty years after passage of the Jones Act its vague promise of

eventual independence finally took more concrete form with the passage of the Tydings-

McDuffie Act, which provided for the establishment of a Philippine Commonwealth and

a ten year transition period leading to full independence in 1946. Preparations for the

commonwealth involved a constitutional convention in the Philippines, a national

plebiscite to ratify the constitution, the election of members of a National Assembly, and

the election of a commonwealth president and vice-president. Those posts were won by

Manuel Quezon and Sergio Osmeña, respectively—both members of the Nacionalista

party, whose strength was such as to constitute essentially one-party rule during the

commonwealth era. The Commonwealth of the Philippines was officially inaugurated on

November 15, 1935. With its establishment, the post of U.S. High Commissioner

replaced that of the Governor-General. 11

In the November 1941 elections, Quezon and Osmeña were re-elected president

and vice-president, respectively. Elections were also held for members of a newly-

created upper chamber of the legislature—24 Senators from 12 designated senatorial

districts were elected on initially staggered terms; the eight gaining the most votes were

to serve for six years; the next eight for four years; and the final eight for two years. 12

(This congress was never actually seated—it was prevented from doing so as a result of the Japanese attack in late 1941 and the subsequent occupation that lasted over three years.)

11 Hayden, Short History of the Philippines , 192-194; Bengzon, Philippine Judicial System , 26-27; and Gupit and Martinez, A Guide to Philippine Legal Materials , 52-53. 12 Carlos Quirino, Apo Lakay: The Biography of President Elpidio Quirino of the Philippines (Manila: Total Book World, 1987): 59. The 1935 constitution had provided for a unicameral legislature and a single six-year term for president, but the constitution was subsequently amended in 1940 to establish a bicameral legislature comprised of an upper chamber (with six year terms for senators elected at large) and a lower house (representatives with four year terms) and to shorten the chief executive’s first term to four years and permit a second term. See Hayden, The Philippines: A Study in National Development , 55-57 and 167-168.

19 As the wartime as well as postwar years were to demonstrate, the U.S. colonial

presence continued to bind Filipinos and Americans together in complex ways, even as

colonizer and colonized dealt with the arrival of the post-colonial era (which arguably, given the continued patron-client nature of the relationship, was less post-colonial than some). Much has been written about the Filipino concept of reciprocal gratitude, the reliance on kinship and patron/client politics and the continuing political and economic power of Filipino elites, all dynamics that existed—and perhaps strengthened—during the American colonial era. 13 The nature of the Philippines-U.S. relationship in the years

leading up to the war enormously complicated the task of those Japanese who hoped to

persuade Filipinos of the promise the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere offered.

Japanese Prewar Presence in the Philippines

The Japanese troops that arrived in the Philippines in late 1941 were met by a

sizeable and well-entrenched local Japanese community. Japanese residents in the

Philippines were mobilized to support the Japanese military, and many provided active

help. Japanese corporations in the islands took on added responsibility for the

exploitation and management of natural resources like rubber, copra and cotton. The

Japanese military administration recruited Japanese residents to serve as translators and

educators, while others operated as informal liaisons between the Japanese forces and the

13 See, for example, Alfred McCoy, ed., An Anarchy of Families: State and Family in the Philippines (Madison: University of Wisconsin Center for Southeast Asian Studies, 1993); Mina Roces, “Kinship Politics in Post-War Philippines: The Lopez Family, 1945-1989,” Modern Asian Studies 34:1 (2000): 181- 221; Benedict Anderson, “Cacique Democracy in the Philippines: Origins and Dreams,” New Left Review 169 (May-June 1988): 3-33; and Steinberg, Philippine Collaboration in World War II , 1-17.

20 indigenous inhabitants. With Japan’s defeat, the pre-war Japanese communities disappeared—most who survived the war were repatriated back to Japan. 14

Interactions between Japan and the Philippines have been traced back at least to the fifteenth century, but the modern narrative of the bilateral relations between the two nations dates to the late nineteenth century, characterized by a renewed Japanese interest in the Philippines and an influx of Japanese laborers and merchants. Filipino nationalists hoping to win independence in the face of Spanish and then American resistance looked to Japan for support, even if their appeals fell mostly on deaf ears. 15

It was the Americans who recruited the first major influx of Japanese to the

Philippines in the early twentieth century—laborers, mostly from Okinawa—to work on the “zigzag” Benguet road to Baguio in northern Luzon. These road construction workers joined the existing Japanese population in and around Manila—a small group of artisans, merchants, and “ karayuki-san ” (prostitutes). With the completion of the road, hundreds of Japanese workers stayed in the Philippines; most became farmers or plantation workers. 16

During the American colonial era, Japanese immigrants to the Philippines came to be concentrated in two main areas: Manila on the island of Luzon and Davao on

Mindanao, the southernmost island. In 1903, there were less than a thousand Japanese in

Manila; by 1930 that number had quadrupled and remained relatively steady in the

14 Yu-Jose, Japan Views the Philippines , 157-165; and Lydia N. Yu-Jose, “World War II and the Japanese in the Prewar Philippines,” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 27:1 (March 1996): 79-80. 15 In their struggle against the Spanish, revolutionary leaders like Emilio Aguinaldo and Artemio Ricarte had sought weapons and ammunition from the Japanese government and some individual Japanese rallied to the revolutionary cause. See Setsuho Ikehata, The Japanese Military Administration in the Philippines and the Tragedy of General Artemio Ricarte , trans. Elpidio R. Sta. Romana (National University of Singapore, 1991): 3 and 27; and Elpidio R. Sta. Romana and Ricardo T. Jose, “ ‘Never Imagine Yourself to Be Otherwise . . .’: Filipino Image of Japan Over the Centuries,” Asian Studies (Quezon City) 29 (1991): 65-94. 16 Quiason, “The Japanese Colony in Davao,” 217-219.

21 following decade. The Japanese population in Davao had climbed from around 5,500 in

1900 to over 18,000 by 1940. Patterns of immigration were not entirely steady; there was a drop in the numbers of Japanese living in the Philippines after the end of World War I.

Nonetheless, by the end of the war, Japanese in the Philippines represented the single largest contingent of Japanese nationals in Southeast Asia. 17

The Japanese who lived and worked in the Manila environs tended to be skilled laborers, entrepreneurs, merchants, or government officials. A Japanese consulate had been established in Manila in 1888 under the Spanish, and some of the major Japanese trading companies (Mitsui Bussan, Mitsubishi, and others) had established branch offices there by the early 1900s. Some small Japanese retail stores, catering to a Filipino clientele, had been opened by World War I, although at that time they handled far fewer

Japanese goods than their Chinese counterparts. That changed somewhat in the wake of the 1931 Manchurian Incident; Chinese retailers boycotted handling Japanese goods, forcing the Japanese to expand their own retail outlets. In was also in the 1930s that

Japanese manufacturing and investment expanded, affording employment for Filipinos in such enterprises as a beer brewery, shirt manufacturer, and bicycle firm. 18

Although Japanese residents in Manila did not live together in the kind of tight community that characterized their compatriots on Mindanao, a number of social and fraternal organizations helped them to retain a sense of Japanese identity. Clubs, newspapers, schools and Buddhist groups all flourished in Manila, and the Japanese

17 Serafin D. Quiason, “The Japanese Community in Manila: 1898-1941,” Philippine Historical Review 1970: 191; Motoe Terami-Wada, “The Manila Japanese (1888-1942),” Bulletin of the American Historical Collection 17: 1 (January-March 1989): 84-85; Y ōko Yoshikawa, “Jose M. Tagawa and the Japanese Commercial Sector in Manila, 1898-1920,” Philippine Studies 43: 2 (1995): 182-185; Goodman, “Japanese Occupation of the Philippines: Commonwealth Sustained,” 100; and Yu-Jose, “World War II and the Japanese in the Prewar Philippines,” 69-70. 18 Quiason, “Japanese Community in Manila,” 185-201.

22 Association of Manila, the “nerve center” of the entire community, had as its principal purpose “to coordinate the day-to-day economic and social activities of the widely scattered Japanese residents, and to foster cordial relations between the Japanese community and the other foreign elements of Manila.” 19

The Japanese community in Davao on Mindanao was well known for its strong

Japanese identity—it is frequently referred to by historians as a “colony” and had even acquired the nickname “Davao-kuo.” 20 It was marked not just by social cohesiveness but also exclusivity. “As the community grew, it became so organized that Japanese newcomers in the 1920s could arrive in Davao, start a living, and survive without any social contact whatsoever with a Filipino.” 21

The colony itself owed its presence and growth to the need for laborers to work on Mindanao’s hemp plantations and the shrewd business ability of individual Japanese entrepreneurs who had the sense to capitalize on the economic opportunities the plantations afforded. Ōta Ky ōsabur ō (hereinafter referred to as “Ohta”—the more common rendering of his name), a Japanese merchant who had immigrated to the

Philippines around 1900, took the lead in recognizing the economic potential of

Mindanao. 22

19 Ibid, 212-213. 20 Several noted historians of Japan-Philippine relations, among them Grant Goodman, Serafin D. Quiason, and Patricio N. Abinales, have written extensively about the Japanese colony in Davao; this discussion draws heavily from their accounts. See, e.g., Goodman, Davao: A Case Study ; Quiason, “The Japanese Colony in Davao,” 215-230; and Patricio N. Abinales, “Davao-kuo: The Political Economy of a Japanese Settler Zone in Philippine Colonial Society,” Journal of American-East Asian Relations 6: 1 (Spring 1997): 59-82. 21 Yu-Jose, Japan Views the Philippines , 71. 22 Report, Theodore Roosevelt, Governor General of the Philippine Islands to General Parker, October 12, 1932, File 6144/171½, 6-8, Records of the Bureau of Insular Affairs, Record Group 350 (RG 350), NACP; and Shinzo Hayase, “The Japanese Residents of ‘Dabao-kuo,’” in The Philippines under Japan , eds. Ikehata and Jose, 251.

23 Ohta initially facilitated the hiring of Japanese laborers looking for work (after the

completion of the road to Baguio) by plantation owners seeking workers for hemp

cultivation in the early 1900s. Ohta saw a further opening in the wake of the departure of

most of the American settlers who had become disenchanted with the harsh living

conditions and remoteness of Davao; by 1907 he had founded the Ohta Development

Company and acquired some 2500 acres of public land suitable for hemp cultivation.

Ohta’s success, spurred by the introduction of more sophisticated cultivation techniques

and expansion into the cultivation of other agricultural products like rubber and cotton,

encouraged other Japanese interests to invest capital, acquire more land, and expand

production. 23

By the late 1920s, the Japanese colony in Davao had become a thriving yet self- contained community with its own economic and social structures. Japanese settlers

(men and women, since Japanese tended not to intermarry with the indigenous inhabitants) could shop at Japanese stores, buy Japanese-language newspapers, see their health needs taken care of at hospitals staffed with Japanese doctors and nurses, and appeal for help to Japanese consular representatives stationed in Davao. 24

As historian Grant Goodman and others have pointed out, the growing Japanese

presence and investment in Mindanao did not go unnoticed. But early government efforts

to circumscribe the amount of land that could be legally acquired by foreign interests had

simply led to more creative strategies to gain control over cultivatable land. Prior to 1919,

Japanese corporations or individuals could evade existing limits on the purchase or lease

of public lands through subleases from American or Filipino landholders or by marriages

23 Goodman, Davao: A Case Study , 1-4; and Quiason, “The Japanese Colony in Davao,” 218-219. 24 Goodman, Davao: A Case Study , 6.

24 of convenience with native women who would hold title in their names. (Japanese could

also continue to purchase private lands, which were not then subject to any restrictions.) 25

After the enactment of the Public Land Act of 1919, which mandated that only

entities with more than 60 percent ownership by Americans or Filipinos could purchase

or lease land, the Japanese used dummy corporations or the pakyaw system to evade the

restrictions. The latter system involved the establishment of contractual arrangements

that provided for Japanese sub-leases and retention of most of the profits from land

cultivation and improvements. It was with the help of influential Filipinos that Japanese

corporations were able to successfully navigate the system and acquire control over

sufficient acreage to make hemp cultivation profitable. 26

In the wake of the 1931 Manchurian Incident, U.S. government observers did

raise concerns about the potential security implications of a concentrated Japanese

presence in Davao. As prospects for independence for the Philippines grew more certain,

so too did references to the “Davao problem” among Filipinos increase. But what

appeared to be concrete efforts by Philippine government officials just prior to the

inauguration of the Commonwealth government in late 1935 to roll back Japanese land

holdings in Davao (the Secretary of Agriculture and Commerce had gone so far as to

declare the pakyaw system illegal and to order the cancellation of Filipino leases on

which the system was based) eventually receded. Newly-inaugurated Commonwealth

President Manuel Quezon, after a “study” of Japanese activities in Davao, advised in a

25 Ibid, 4. 26 Goodman, Davao: A Case Study , 4-5; Quiason, “The Japanese Colony in Davao,” 220-221; and Abinales, “Davao-Kuo,” 76-78.

25 message to the new National Assembly that “There is nothing in the so-called Davao problem that should cause serious concern.” 27

Characterizations of relations between Japan and the Philippines prior to the outbreak of war in the Pacific differ depending on context and emphasis. Tensions undoubtedly existed: Japanese believed (with some justification) that immigration restrictions enacted in 1940 were directed at them; the 1935 attempts to curtail Japanese landholdings in Davao highlighted the conspicuous presence of Japanese in Davao; and the generally deteriorating relations between Japan and the United States contributed to rising concerns in the Philippines about Japanese intentions after the Philippines gained independence. 28 Historian Ricardo T. Jose has observed that in the commonwealth period many intellectuals worried about the Philippines’ vulnerability to a Japanese takeover after independence; others, particularly in the military, regarded Japan with genuine apprehension. 29

But other observers offer a more positive interpretation of the state of Japan-

Philippine relations. Goodman in particular has championed the view that relations between Japan and the Philippines were good and getting better throughout the decade of the 1930s, fueled by a mutual appreciation within the Japanese and Philippine governments about the potential vulnerability of a newly-independent Philippines in Asia.

Much of this goodwill has been attributed to Japanese efforts actively to cultivate Filipino

27 Goodman, Davao: A Case Study , 53-57, 63-73. 28 Yu-Jose, Japan Views the Philippines , 84-90 and 136-140; and Lydia N. Yu-Jose, “Philippine, American, and Japanese Relations as Seen through the Issue of Neutralization,” in Philippines-Japan Relations , eds. Ikehata and Yu-Jose, 63-69. 29 Ricardo T. Jose, “The Philippines: From Occupation and Japanese ‘Independence’ to Independence,” in 1945 in Europe and Asia: Reconsidering the End of World War II and the Change of the World Order , eds. Gerhard Krebs and Christian Oberländer (München: Iudicium, 1997): 272.

26 elites, especially in the years after the Philippines became a commonwealth, as well as to

a reciprocal embrace by Filipino elites of Japan:

Japanese officialdom and big business worked assiduously to develop the closest possible ties—economic, political, ideological—with the traditionally dominant segment of Philippine society. Strangely the latter sought alignment with the Japanese in large measure as further protection for their own position, especially in case of complete American withdrawal, just as the Filipino radicals for their part sought Japanese assistance against the same ruling group. 30

A small number of Filipinos were staunch Japanophiles. Benigno Ramos, leader

of the Sakdal party that mounted an abortive uprising in 1935, had sought support from

Japan (but with little success) and was actually in Japan at the time of the revolt. 31

General Artemio Ricarte—a leader in the unsuccessful Philippine nationalist struggle

against the Americans at the turn of the century—likewise turned to Japan and lived in

exile there for many years, refusing to pledge allegiance to the American colonizers.

(Ramos and Ricarte became the centers of two different pro-Japanese factions during the

war years.) Pio Duran, a professor of law at the University of the Philippines during the

1930s, advocated the advantages of alliance with, even annexation by, Japan rather than

continued domination by the United States. 32

30 Grant K. Goodman, “The Japanese Occupation of the Philippines: Successful Collaboration of Invading and Indigenous Power Elites,” The Journal of International Studies [Sophia University] 5:2 (December 1982): 36. 31 The Sakdal party was founded by Ramos as a peasant organization that championed the interests of the poor against politicians and landlords; the party advocated immediate independence as opposed to a commonwealth period, and the May 1935 uprising was intended to disrupt the plebiscite on the commonwealth constitution. After the revolt was ended, the Japanese government agreed to Ramos’ extradition and he returned to a jail sentence in the Philippines. See Agoncillo, Short History of the Philippines , 196-197; Steinberg, Philippine Collaboration, 24; and Hayden, Philippines: Study in National Development , 382-400. 32 Ikehata, Japanese Military Administration , 2-4, 9-10, and 12-14; Pio Duran, Philippine Independence and the Far Eastern Question (Manila: Community Publishers Inc, 1935): 119-164; and Theodore Friend, Between Two Empires: The Ordeal of the Philippines, 1929-1946 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1965): 37.

27 A larger group of elites, epitomized by Jose Laurel, derived concrete benefits

from their association and cordial relations with Japan. Laurel, as a lawyer in private

practice, acquired a substantial clientele from among Japanese businessmen; others,

including Duran, did the same. Manuel Quezon, arguably the most dominant politician in

the commonwealth era, proved adept at balancing between the American and Japanese juggernauts; to signal his interest in maintaining friendly relations with Japan he himself developed a number of friendships with Japanese businessmen. 33

For some, Japan’s appeal transcended the economic and political. University of

the Philippines president Jorge Bocobo, for example, reflected on the importance of

Japan’s spirit of bushido (a warrior code of ethics) in a 1936 speech in which he suggested that the Philippines would do well to learn from the study and embrace of such values. 34 Goodman has written extensively about the efforts between representatives of

both countries to deepen cultural ties, especially in the 1930s. Such efforts included

student and professorial exchanges; the creation of the Philippine Society of Japan and its

counterpart in Manila; and the encouragement of travel and tourism. 35 (The perceived

value of these approaches can be inferred from the fact that the postwar Japanese

33 Seitar ō Kanegae, The Path to Friendship: A Tale of a Japanese Immigrant in the Philippines , trans. Kaoru Shimamura and Teruyoshi Mizuno (Tokyo: Keis ō Shob ō Publishing Company, 1987 ): 136-139; Friend, Between Two Empires, 37; and Grant K. Goodman, “Consistency is the Hobgoblin: Manuel L. Quezon and Japan, 1899-1934,” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 14: 1 (1983): 79-81. 34 Bocobo’s championship of bushido and his admiration for Japan could not withstand his wartime experiences; suspected of collaboration after the war, Bocobo wrote bitterly of his postwar incarceration and raged at Japanese brutality and untrustworthiness. See Jorge Bocobo, “Trading with the Enemy,” undated, Index 1-32 and Prison Diary, 3, 18, 20 and 26, Index 11-19, Jorge C. Bocobo Papers, University of the Philippines, Diliman, The Philippines; and Grant K. Goodman, “Philippine Bushido,” in Nitobe Inazo: Japan’s Bridge Across the Pacific , ed. John F. Howes (Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, 1995): 121-122. 35 Grant K. Goodman, “A Sense of Kinship: Japan’s Cultural Offensive in the Philippines During the 1930s,” Crossroads 1: 2 (June 1983): 31-44; Grant K. Goodman, “Philippine-Japanese Professorial Exchanges in the 1930’s,” Journal of Southeast Asian History 9: 2 (September 1968): 229-240; and Grant K. Goodman, “The Philippine Society of Japan,” Monumenta Nipponica 22: 1/2 (1967): 131-146.

28 government embraced similar strategies in early efforts to re-engage with the Philippines,

sending students and athletes to the Philippines and energizing friendship societies.) 36

Wartime Occupation: Accommodation and Resistance

The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in the early morning hours of December 8,

1941 (Manila time) preceded only by hours the bombardment of Clark Field in the

Philippines. That attack was followed by the landings, on Luzon in mid-December, of

Japan’s Fourteenth Army commanded by Lt. General Homma Masaharu. The combined

American and Filipino forces, under the overall command of General Douglas MacArthur,

were forced to fall back, unable to prevent the Japanese advance toward Manila.

Members of MacArthur’s headquarters and certain Philippine officials, among them

President Quezon and Vice President Osmeña, fled to the island of Corregidor;

MacArthur’s troops retreated into the Bataan peninsula. As the situation deteriorated,

MacArthur received orders to leave for Australia; unable to hold out, the forces on

Bataan surrendered in April 1946 and those on Corregidor in May. 37

At American urging, Quezon and Osmeña had already left the Philippines,

making their way to the United States and establishing a government in exile in

Washington D.C. The men Quezon left behind—Jose Laurel, Jorge Vargas and others—

maintained afterwards that he had relayed guidance from MacArthur to cooperate with

the Japanese forces, refraining only from taking an oath of allegiance to the invaders.

36 See Asahi Shinbun , February 10 and April 27, 1952 and February 3 and February 5, 1953; and Mainichi Shinbun , February 14, March 16, September 2, October 31, and December 29, 1953. 37 Ronald H. Spector, Eagle against the Sun: The American War with Japan (New York: Vintage Books, 1985): 106-119 and 134-139.

29 (MacArthur later denied giving any such instructions and Quezon did not mention them in his wartime memoir.) 38

Japanese forces occupied Manila on January 2, 1942, and almost immediately the

Japanese authorities began to pressure Filipino elites to cooperate. In response, a group of some thirty influential men met informally, constituted themselves a provisional council of state, and advised the Japanese commander-in-chief, Homma, of their willingness to obey the orders of the Japanese forces. Under subsequent orders from the newly-formed Japanese Military Administration, Filipino elites formed the Philippine

Executive Commission, chaired by Quezon’s Executive Secretary Jorge Vargas, through which the Japanese administration intended to rule the Philippines indirectly. The

Executive Commission, which exercised both executive and legislative functions under

Japanese supervision, was comprised of six departments: the Department of Interior

(headed by Benigno Aquino Sr.); Department of Agriculture and Natural Resources

(Rafael Alunan); Department of Public Works and Communications (Quintin Paredes);

Department of Finance (Antonio de las Alas); Department of Education, Health and

Public Welfare (Claro Recto); and the Department of Justice (Jose Laurel). Jose Yulo served as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Somewhat later, Philippine political parties were dissolved, and a new, supra-organization formed to take their place: the

Kalibapi [ Kapisanan sa Paglilingkod the Bagong Pilipinas ]. Aquino was named the group’s director-general. 39

38 Steinberg, Philippine Collaboration in World War II, 32-33; Friend, Between Two Empires , 211-212 and 227; and Jose P. Laurel, War Memoirs of Dr. Jose P. Laurel (Manila: Jose P. Laurel Memorial Foundation, Inc., 1962): 4-5. 39 Steinberg, Philippine Collaboration in World War II , 34-37; Bernardita Churchill, “The Japanese Sponsored National Assembly & Post Liberation Congress,” in The Philippine Senate , eds. Rimigio Agpala et al. (Manila: Dick Baldovino Enterprises, 1997): 106 ; and Rommel C. Banlaoi and Clarita R. Carlos,

30 Quite soon after the initial occupation of the Philippines, the Japanese government

announced its intention to grant independence to the Philippines. By mid-1943, the

Japanese government decided to make good on that promise, driven by the exigencies of

war and the perceived need to counter the continued appeal of America among Filipinos.

Accordingly, the Japanese Military Administration instructed the Kalibapi to form a

Preparatory Commission for Philippine Independence (PCPI), which drew up a

constitution for the new republic. That constitution conveyed broad powers on the chief

executive, who was to be elected by a National Assembly; the assembly itself was

comprised half of members chosen from candidates handpicked by the Kalibapi and half

of appointed members. Laurel was named president of the republic and Aquino assumed

the speakership of the National Assembly. Various prominent Filipinos served in other

leadership posts: Recto as Minister of Foreign Affairs; Vargas as Ambassador to Japan;

Yulo as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court; and Camilo Osias as Minister of

Education. 40

Not all elites chose to collaborate with the Japanese, and not all those who

collaborated did so wholeheartedly—the black and white dichotomy of resistance or

collaboration resolved itself into greater shades of grey. On one end of the spectrum

existed genuinely pro-Japanese sympathizers—men like Benigno Ramos and Artemio

Ricarte and their supporters. It was from these groups that the Japanese, towards the end

of the war, eventually formed an armed cadre (the Makapili) who actively and willingly

fought on the Japanese side. On the opposite side were those who joined guerilla units

Political Parties in the Philippines: From 1900 to the Present (Makati City, Philippines: Konrad Adenauer Foundation, 1996): 94. 40 Satoshi Nakano, “Appeasement and Coercion,” in Philippines under Japan , eds. Ikehata and Jose, 23; Friend, Between Two Empires , 232-241; and Jose M. Veloso, “Collaboration as a National Issue: A Grave Government Problem,” The Lawyers’ Journal 10: 4 (December 31, 1945): 170.

31 that mounted an armed resistance struggle against the Japanese throughout the war—they included men like Tomas Cabili and Tomas Confesor (who both served as members of the postwar Osmeña cabinet). 41 Even within the ranks of the resisters, motivations were not necessarily clear cut; some were driven more by factional loyalties while others merely engaged in banditry. 42

The remaining population occupied the uneasy middle ground—Filipinos of all social levels, faced with a harsh Japanese occupation, had to make hard choices about the extent of cooperation or resistance they could or would embrace. Some of the more prominent politicians who participated in the occupation government maintained that they had no choice and, moreover, had been motivated by the desire to ameliorate, as best they could, the harshness of Japanese rule. As wartime Foreign Affairs Minister Claro

Recto saw it, “The men who served simply answered a call to duty—not duty towards the occupant, but duty to the nation and the people at a time when they were defenseless and abandoned.” 43 That interpretation has been challenged most directly by historian David

Steinberg, who has argued that some Filipino elites could and did avoid a significant role in the occupation without consequences. “The Japanese were remarkably tolerant toward those who chose not to serve.” 44

41 David Steinberg, “The Philippine ‘Collaborators’: Survival of an Oligarchy,” in Southeast Asia in World War II: Four Essays , ed. Josef Silverstein (New Haven: Yale University, 1966): 67-71; and Agoncillo, Short History of the Philippines , 252. 42 Alfred McCoy has written of the importance of prewar factional rivalries in the Western Visayas as a greater determinant of wartime behavior than the simple collaboration/resistance dynamic. See McCoy, “‘Politics by Other Means.’” 43 Claro M. Recto, The Law of Belligerent Occupation and the Effect of Change of Sovereignty on the Commonwealth Treason Law (Manila: n.p., 1946): 4. 44 David Steinberg, “Jose P. Laurel: A ‘Collaborator’ Misunderstood,” The Journal of Asian Studies 24: 4 (August 1965): 652.

32 War’s End: Counting the Cost and Shaping the Political Landscape

The Japanese military situation had become increasingly precarious by 1944, as

American successes in the Marianas and New Guinea foreshadowed the defeats to come.

Having successfully argued for a retaking of the Philippines on the way to the Japanese main islands, MacArthur returned in October 1944 with the invasion force that landed on the island of Leyte. After mounting a fierce, but ultimately unsuccessful, defense,

Japanese forces under Yamashita fell back into the mountains on Luzon to await the arrival of the Americans. Yamashita had ordered one of his army commanders, Lt.

General Yokoyama Shizuo (the same general who would later face a Philippine war crimes tribunal), to evacuate Manila, but the commander of the naval forces there had other ideas, and Yokoyama acquiesced, reinforcing the city’s defenses with some of his own troops. The result was carnage, as U.S. and Japanese forces engaged in heavy street fighting and Filipino civilians died in the crossfire and as a result of Japanese atrocities. 45

Japan’s defeat meant the return of the Americans and the reversion of the

Philippines to commonwealth status. Sergio Osmeña, vice-president of the

commonwealth government at the beginning of the war, had succeeded to the presidency

on the death of Quezon while still in exile. He returned with MacArthur to the

Philippines in 1944—a Philippines in desperate need of help to rebuild its shattered

economy and infrastructure. The Americans provided help in the form of aid for

reconstruction and development, but the assistance came with strings attached. In April

1946, the U.S. Congress passed the Tydings Rehabilitation Act, authorizing over $600

million in compensation for damages Filipinos had suffered during the war, but any

45 Spector, Eagle against the Sun , 417-428 and 511-531.

33 outlays in excess of $500 were conditioned on the Philippines’ acceptance of a trade

agreement as provided for in the Bell Trade Relations Act. 46

The Bell Act allowed for free trade between the United States and the Philippines

from the date of its independence (set for July 4, 1946) until 1954, at which time tariffs

would be applied and annually adjusted upwards for a subsequent period of twenty years.

In exchange, the law required “parity” rights for American interests in the Philippines—

that is, the right to exploit and develop agricultural, mining and timber resources and to

operate public utilities. Granting such rights would require the Philippines to amend its

constitution. Having no real alternative, the Philippines agreed, and the Osmeña

administration succeeded in persuading the electorate to accept the necessary

constitutional amendment. 47

The Filipinos were sick and hungry; the country was devastated; there was no one else to turn to. In their tragic hour, they found their friend for whom they had suffered and sacrificed exacting a pound of flesh in exchange for dollars. 48

In the political arena, after much debate and under pressure from MacArthur,

President Osmeña called the Philippine Congress into special session in June 1945. That

congress consisted of those who had won seats in the November 1941 elections, had

survived the war and were not in detention. 49 Osmeña and his supporters found

46 Agoncillo, Short History of the Philippines , 253-255. 47 Agoncillo, Short History of the Philippines , 254-255; and Friend, Between Two Empires , 258-259. 48 Agoncillo, Short History of the Philippines , 255. 49 Of the 24 members of the Senate elected in 1941, 13 attended the legislative session—9 others were under detention as suspected collaborators and 2 had died. Of the 98 representatives, 70 participated—17 others were under detention and 11 had died. See Churchill, “Japanese-Sponsored National Assembly,” 115-116.

34 themselves outmaneuvered by challengers led by Manuel Roxas, who was elected Senate

President. 50

At another special session, the Congress passed an elections law (signed into law by Osmeña in January 1946) that provided for general elections for president and vice- president, 16 senators (the terms of the remaining eight had not yet expired), and all members of the house of representatives. In the subsequent April 1946 elections, Roxas, running under the “liberal wing” of the Nacionalista Party, defeated Osmeña for the presidency; Elpidio Quirino won election to the vice-presidency under the same banner.

On July 4, 1946, Roxas, the last president of the Commonwealth, became the first president of an independent Philippines. 51

The rise of the Liberal Party (which formally split from the Nacionalistas after the

elections) under Roxas and Quirino ushered in a period of essentially two-party rule in

the Philippines, with the Nacionalista and Liberal parties contesting for power at the

presidential and congressional levels. But Philippine party politics during this period

could hardly be characterized as stable—Filipino politicians could and did swap parties

with apparent ease. 52

Roxas died in office of a heart attack in mid-April 1948, leaving his vice president,

Elpidio Quirino, to serve out his term. Quirino was elected to his own term as president

in 1949, but failed to win re-election in 1953. Quirino, the man who was to decide the

50 Roxas, an early supporter of Manuel Quezon who became Speaker of the House in the 1920s, was one of those elected to the new Senate in 1941. At the outbreak of war he served as a liaison officer between MacArthur and Quezon; arrested by the Japanese in Mindanao, he escaped execution and went on to hold an economic post in the Laurel government while resisting greater involvement. See Steinberg, Philippine Collaboration in World War II , 42, 73-74, 107, and 118. 51 Hartendorp, History of Industry and Trade , 209-213 and 225-227; and Churchill, “Japanese-Sponsored National Assembly,” 117. 52 Agoncillo, Short History of the Philippines, 255; and Bobby M. Tuazon, ed., Oligarchic Politics: Elections and the Party-List System in the Philippines (Quezon City: CenPEG Books, 2007): 13.

35 ultimate fates of all the Japanese war criminals sentenced to death by Philippine tribunals

(see chs. 3 and 4), had, as did many of his elite contemporaries, a long-standing career in

government and politics. Born in the province of Ilocos Sur, he studied law at the

University of the Philippines, became a law clerk with the Philippine Commission and

then private secretary to Manuel Quezon, and subsequently won election to the House of

Representatives and then the Senate. During the commonwealth era he held cabinet posts,

but with the re-introduction of a bicameral legislature he won a Senate seat in 1941.

Quirino managed to avoid any significant role in the Japanese occupation governments,

and his relatively brief incarceration by the kempeitai reinforced his non-collaboration

credentials. That, and a lack of strong competition, led to his selection as Roxas’ vice

presidential candidate in 1945. 53

Collaboration: Survival of the Elites

As U.S. forces gained control over more territory after their initial landing on

Leyte, investigators began to arrest those suspected of collaboration with the Japanese

forces. By war’s end, thousands had been interrogated and incarcerated in various

detention camps in the Philippines. In Japan, U.S. occupation forces took custody of

Laurel, Osias and the few other Filipinos who had been evacuated there in the latter

stages of the war. 54

President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s administration had signaled its interest in bringing collaborators to justice, and with the end of the war the U.S. government

53 Hartendorp, History of Industry and Trade , 288-280; and Quirino, Apo Lakay , 61-67 and 78-79. 54 Hartendorp, History of Industry and Trade , 213-214; and U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 27, July 17, 1946, Decimal 804.41, U.S. Embassy Manila Classified General Records, 1946-1961, Records of the Foreign Service Posts of the Department of State, Record Group 84 (RG 84), NACP.

36 pressured President Osmeña to prosecute collaborators for treason. But the Truman

administration chose not to directly intervene in the process, leaving it to Filipinos

themselves to sort out how to deal with those accused of giving aid and comfort to the

enemy. 55

The result was the creation of a special judicial process to deal with collaborators.

Commonwealth Act 682, enacted in September 1945, provided for the establishment of a

People’s Court to try Filipinos accused of treasonous collaboration with the enemy. No

judge who had served in the wartime Executive Commission or the Philippine Republic

was eligible to serve on the People’s Court. Decisions and final judgments of the court

were subject to review by the Philippine Supreme Court. 56

During its tenure thousands of cases were filed with the People’s Court, but the

process of adjudicating them was slow and cumbersome. In a snapshot provided in late

February 1947 the U.S. Embassy in Manila reported that, of the slightly more than 5,000

cases on the court’s docket, only 523 had been disposed of as of February 7, 1947. Of

these, 392 had been dismissed, largely for lack of evidence; 108 had ended in

convictions; and 23 had resulted in acquittals. Overwhelmingly, those found guilty had

been charged with such crimes as espionage, acting as informants for the kempeitai , or torture and murder. The one striking exception was Teofilo Sison, a member of the

55 Truman, receiving complaints from various sources that the Philippine government was not acting with sufficient dispatch in dealing with collaborators, instructed the U.S. Attorney General to conduct an investigation, but chose not to accept the resulting recommendation that the U.S. directly intervene in treason cases. See Grant K. Goodman, “President Harry S. Truman and the Problem of Philippine ‘Collaborators,’” Pilipinas 28 (Spring 1997): 131-136. 56 Bengzon, Philippine Judicial System , 33-37.

37 Executive Commission and Laurel government who was the first (and ultimately only)

high level political collaborator to be convicted of treason. 57

Those accused of political collaboration mounted effective challenges to the

charge of treason. The political elites who collaborated with the Japanese during the war

predicated their defense on the fundamental premise that not all collaborators were, a priori , guilty of treason. In fact, they argued that many who chose (or were forced) to serve in positions of authority were motivated by the desire to protect ordinary Filipinos from the worst deprivations of Japanese rule. Still others feared retribution if they did not serve. It was only collaborators who willingly gave aid and comfort to the enemy who deserved to be punished. 58 In a neat inversion, the collaborators laid claim to the mantle

of patriotism assumed by the guerrillas; in this version of events, it was more heroic to

stay behind and serve the people than flee to the hills. 59

Elites on either side of the collaboration/resistance divide drew their battle lines in

a series of articles in the Lawyers’ Journal published during the last months of 1945.

Francisco Delgado, a former resident commissioner to the United States, mounted the

case for legal retribution for collaborators. Officials who participated in the Executive

Commission or the Republic government; the “buy and sell tycoons” who aided the

Japanese war effort; those who engaged in pro-Japanese propaganda efforts; those who

participated in organizations like the Makapili or the Kalibapi; even composers of pro-

57 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 600, February 28, 1947, Decimal 804.41, U.S. Embassy Manila Classified General Records, 1946-1961, RG 84, NACP; and Steinberg, Philippine Collaboration in World War II , 128-139. 58 Claro M. Recto, Three Years of Enemy Occupation: The Issue of Political Collaboration in the Philippines (Manila: People’s Publishers, 1946): 62, 69-71, 74-77. 59 See, for example, the arguments presented by Recto in his Three Years of Enemy Occupation , 74-77. This inversion of wartime heroes and villains is also discussed by Vicente Rafael in White Love , 109-110.

38 Japanese songs—all were guilty of treason. It might not be appropriate or reasonable to

prosecute them all, but the leaders and key individuals should be put on trial. 60

Jose Velasco, a member of the National Assembly in the Japanese-sponsored

republic who was then interned as a suspect collaborator, vigorously challenged the

criticisms of those who “seem to claim a monopoly of patriotism.” He argued that the

vast majority of Filipinos had collaborated with the Japanese, but those who were “truly

willful collaborators” represented an “infinitesimal fraction.” Those who collaborated

had no choice and, indeed, served the nation by softening the impact of military conquest,

saving thousands from death, and promoting the safety and health of the people during a

harsh occupation. 61

The issue of how to deal with collaborators had been further complicated—to the

consternation of various Americans and Filipinos alike—by General Douglas

MacArthur’s preemptive strike in absolving Manuel Roxas of collaboration even before

the formal machinery of the collaboration trials geared up. By championing Roxas—who

had indeed taken some limited part, albeit less visible than Laurel or others, in the

occupation government—MacArthur made it more difficult for those who supported a

thorough cleansing of collaborators from positions of influence, let alone subjecting them

to prosecution. 62 Roxas himself cast the issue of collaboration in terms that were

consistent with the arguments of high level suspect collaborators like Claro Recto. In his

speech accepting the nomination for president, Roxas made this case explicitly:

60 Francisco A. Delgado, “Collaborators of the Japanese,” The Lawyers’ Journal 10: 2 (October 31, 1945): 50-60. 61 Veloso, “Collaboration as a National Issue,” The Lawyers’ Journal 10: 3 (November 30, 1945): 114-121; and The Lawyers’ Journal 10: 4 (December 31, 1945): 170-178. 62 Friend, Between Two Empires, 249-251.

39 We are the sworn enemies of collaboration. We condemn collaboration. But we do not believe that a man, merely because he occupied a public office during the Japanese occupation, is necessarily a collaborator or a traitor. We consider a collaborator the man who can be proven to have voluntarily given aid, comfort or sustenance to the enemy . . . 63

For Roxas and his supporters, his subsequent election to the presidency settled the matter.

In a radio address shortly after his victory, Roxas maintained that the charges of

collaboration “have been completely and unequivocally repudiated by the Filipino

people . . . I therefore, consider myself completely cleared of all taint of collaboration.” 64

Roxas’ election did not result in the immediate abolition of the People’s Court, but it spelled the beginning of the end of efforts to make political collaborators accountable in a court of law. By the end of 1946, the chief prosecutor, Solicitor General

Lorenzo Tañada, had articulated a series of concerns about the ability of the People’s

Court to effectively prosecute defendants. Tañada cited an “apparent waning of public interest” in the collaboration issue as the basis for an increasing unwillingness of witnesses to testify. It had also become increasingly difficult to persuade elites to testify against high level officials to whom they felt a sense of loyalty. Still other witnesses had been threatened or intimidated into retracting previous statements. Finally, Tañada cited the “growing suspicion” that the Roxas administration had not shown the same sympathy and enthusiasm for the court that had been given by its predecessor. Just a few months

63 Manuel A. Roxas, Speeches, Messages, and Other Pronouncements of President Manuel Roxas (Manila: Bureau of Print, 1947): 10. 64 Ibid, 13.

40 later, Tañada was gone—he resigned over the lack of support from the Roxas government. 65

The Roxas election did not just impact the prosecution of cases. It also presaged a dynamic shift in the legal process itself. “Roxas’ victory affected not only the prosecution but also the judges, who were as sensitive to the situation as anyone.” Judges on the People’s Court and the Philippine Supreme Court began rendering a series of opinions that collectively overturned the precedents established in the earlier Sison case. 66

The courts obviously had a sacred duty to preserve the rights of any defendant charged with the capital offense of treason. . . It has been argued, however, that the courts hid behind the restrictive provisions of the treason law to avoid having to face the fundamental substantive issue, especially in regard to political collaboration. The courts recognized the explosiveness of elite collaboration and avoided the issue whenever possible. 67

Certainly these developments gave encouragement to those, like Laurel and

Vargas, who mounted spirited defenses intended to delay final adjudication of their cases.

Their optimism was rewarded: on January 29, 1948, President Roxas transmitted to the

Congress for its concurrence, a proclamation granting amnesty to Filipinos accused of political and economic collaboration. Those accused of taking up arms, engaging in espionage, or engaging in criminal activity for the purpose of aiding the enemy were excluded. 68

65 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 506 and Attachments, February 7, 1947, Decimal 804.41, U.S. Embassy Manila Classified General Records, 1946-1961, RG 84, NACP; and Steinberg, Philippine Collaboration in World War II , 149. 66 Steinberg, Philippine Collaboration in World War II , 149-163. 67 Ibid, 155-156. 68 Roxas, Speeches, 606-607; and Steinberg, Philippine Collaboration in World War II , 146 and 159-163.

41 In the end, most Filipino elites who cooperated with the Japanese authorities

during the war paid no real political price for their actions. Roosevelt’s expressed desire

that collaborators be removed from authority and influence was never achieved, as those who served on the Executive Commission and in the wartime republic took their places in the political mainstream of the postwar independent Philippines. The feuding between the anti-collaborationist and Roxas camps—what historian Teodoro Agoncillo described as “a tumultuous cacophony of strident voices”—subsided with Roxas’ defeat of Osmeña in the 1946 presidential elections, although it did not completely disappear. 69

Jose Laurel became the Nacionalista party candidate for president in the 1949

elections and won election to the Senate in 1951. Camilo Osias, who held the education

portfolio in the occupation governments, was the only member of the Nacionalista party

elected to the Senate in the 1947 elections (while his collaboration case was still pending)

and subsequently served two terms. Other cabinet-level officials in the occupation

governments retained their hold on political power in the postwar years—for example,

Claro Recto, the wartime foreign minister, and Quintin Paredes, minister of justice in

Laurel’s government, each served two senate terms in the postwar years. Even Pio Duran,

that staunch and unapologetic Japanophile, was elected congressman in the 1949

elections. 70

This ability of Filipino elites to survive the wartime Japanese “interregnum” has

been a focus of historians’ scrutiny of Philippine politics. Alfred McCoy’s path-breaking

analysis of wartime behavior in the western Visayas suggested that Filipino loyalties did

69 Teodoro A. Agoncillo, The Burden of Proof: The Vargas-Laurel Collaboration Case (Manila: University of the Philippines Press, 1984): 150. 70 Nakano, “Appeasement and Coercion,” 24-25; Remigio Agpalo, “Under the Third Republic,” in Philippine Senate , ed. Agpalo et al., 129-131; and Agpalo et al., Philippine Senate , 233-234.

42 not break down cleanly along lines of collaboration or resistance. Rather, those in both

camps tended to cleave to prewar factional parties—one’s factional affiliation trumped

other considerations. 71

Of more direct import to the issue of the war crimes trials, the survival of particular elites had concrete consequences for individual Japanese as well as the eventual resolution of the entire issue. Men like Osias and Duran, to say nothing of

Laurel or other postwar survivors, took a direct interest in and played an active role in working to gain the release of Japanese convicted of war crimes and incarcerated in the

Philippines. Others, by their stance in the ongoing reparations negotiations, had a concrete influence on the timing of the war criminals’ release. The survival, indeed the flourishing, of such elites arguable presaged—or at least helps explain—the relatively benign outcome for many of the war criminals (see ch. 4).

More subtly, the conduct of the collaboration trials—as well as the outcomes for individuals, both those found guilty and those who believed themselves vindicated— produced narratives about fairness and justice that inserted themselves into the public discourse at the same time that the Philippine authorities began the process of putting

Japanese on trial. For Filipinos, trials of collaborators were far more problematic than trials of war criminals, and resolution proved far messier—distinctions between villains and victims were not nearly so clear cut. In the end, both sets of trials became part of the postwar experience that linked the Philippines and Japan.

71 McCoy, “‘Politics by Other Means.’”

43 Broader Geopolitical Considerations

The war crimes trials, in the Philippines and elsewhere, took place amid the worsening relations between the United States and the Soviet Union. The resulting Cold

War had undeniable repercussions for American policy towards Japan and the

Philippines—in short, the United States became committed to, even driven by, the need to make sure that both Japan and the Philippines remained firmly in the non-communist camp. For Japan during the latter years of the American occupation, that meant the application of “reverse course” policies to ensure that Japan’s economy and governing institutions could and would sustain a healthy and pro-Western democracy. And with independence, it also meant being firmly drawn under the United States’ security umbrella. For the Philippines, it meant that the United States would provide a certain amount of economic and security assistance while keeping a nervous eye on the communist-labeled domestic Hukbalahap insurgency. 72

American Cold War policy also ensured that the U.S. government would retain an interest in strengthening bilateral relations between Japan and the Philippines, particularly economic ties. U.S. government officials, although sensitive to the difficulties caused by Filipino animosity towards any contact with Japanese in the immediate postwar years, continued to push for expanded trade between the two countries. 73 The U.S. government also exerted considerable pressure on the Philippines to accept the terms of the draft peace treaty for Japan, but with only partial success. (The

72 For a discussion of American Cold War policy as it relates to Japan and the Philippines generally, see, e.g., Michael Schaller, The Origins of the Cold War in Asia: The American Occupation of Japan (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985). 73 See, e.g., Secretary of State to U.S. Embassy Manila, Telegram No. 1482, December 7, 1949; U.S. Embassy Manila to U.S. Political Adviser, Tokyo, Japan, Telegram No. 2772, December 8, 1949; and U.S. Embassy Manila to Secretary of State, Telegram No. 2814, December 13, 1949, Decimal 510.1, U.S. Embassy Manila, Classified General Records, 1946-1961, RG 84, NACP.

44 Philippines refused to abandon the pursuit of reparations and even though the government signed the treaty, the Senate failed to promptly ratify it. See chapter 4).

Even so, U.S. officials do not appear to have played any key role in the specific resolution of the war crimes issue between the Philippines and Japan. That is, the United

States appears to have exercised little direct influence on outcomes (as distinct from the conduct of the trials themselves). President Quirino’s administration appears to have dictated the pace and results of post-trial sentence reviews and decisions on executions and pardons (see chs. 3 and 4), and such decisions were not always or necessarily in line with American policy decisions on the fates of war criminals in U.S. custody.

Conclusion

It is hardly a revelation that the prewar history of the Philippines continued to affect postwar government policy. But it is important to bear in mind that certain aspects of that prewar (and wartime) history had significant impacts on the course and outcome of Philippine trials of Japanese war crimes suspects in the immediate postwar years. At its most basic, the American influence carried over into the conduct of the trials themselves. The resumption of American colonial rule, at least briefly, meant that the

U.S. government exerted considerable influence on the initial efforts to bring war criminals to justice in the Philippines. More indirectly, the Philippines’ legal and judicial responses to war crimes were shaped by its colonial experience. Philippine trial procedures, rules of evidence, and court rulings relied on American jurisprudence as well as the specific procedures adopted by U.S. war crimes tribunals.

45 More profoundly, the survival of the Philippine elite power structure had

enormous consequences for the postwar Philippines. Inevitably, that meant that elites

(including but not limited to those with strong pre-war ties to Japan) dictated not just war

crimes policy but the economic and political interactions between Japan and the

Philippines in the immediate postwar years. This further suggests that Filipino elites

charted a course towards “reconciliation” with Japan, at least on state-to-state terms, even

if ordinary Filipinos retained some ability to influence the pace of that rapprochement.

It is with these prewar and wartime contexts in mind that the following chapters address the conduct of the war crimes trials in the Philippines and the ultimate fates of those put on trial.

46 CHAPTER 2

WAR CRIMINALS: TRIALS, EVIDENCE AND OUTCOMES

Japan . . . will certainly be interested to know that we have done fairly by her war criminals, guilty of atrocities against our people . . . 1 -- Philippine Judge Advocate General Fred Ruiz Castro

A young officer of twenty-seven years of age was put into the empty cell next to mine. He was sentenced to be hanged owing to the usual false testimonies of thirteen Filipinos . . . 2 -- Fujii Hajime, a condemned Japanese war criminal

The determination, by the United States and its allies, to prosecute Japanese for

war crimes committed during World War II led to trials in various venues in Asia

including the Philippines—trials that were meant to document the extent of atrocities

committed and to punish the perpetrators. The Philippine government-led trials that

began in mid-1947 took place soon after the cessation of U.S.-led trials in Manila and

overlapped with the ongoing trial of major war criminals in Tokyo. This meant that

Filipinos had ongoing exposure for over four years to the judicial efforts to make at least

some Japanese accountable. These Philippine tribunals offer the most direct evidence of

Philippine notions of justice and retribution for the abuses suffered during the war; unlike

other colonized peoples in Southeast Asia, Filipinos had the opportunity to conduct their

own trials. Likewise, contemporaneous reaction in Japan and the Philippines on these

1 Fred Ruiz Castro and Guillermo S. Santos, “A Report on War Crimes Trials in the Philippines,” The Lawyers’ Journal (Manila) 15: 10 (October 31, 1950): 471. 2 Report of Intercepted Letters from POW Fujii Hajime, Case #1486, 10 January 1947, Investigation Reports, 1945-1949, SCAP Legal Section, Investigative Division, RG 331, NACP. Fujii was sentenced to death by a U.S. military tribunal, but his sentiments about Filipino witnesses were common among those put on trial by the Philippine government.

47 trials offers the most telling insights into the evolution of differing perspectives on what

the trials accomplished and what they signified.

General Context: War Crimes Trials in the Far East

As World War II came to an abrupt end in August 1945 with the dropping of

atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, plans were already underway for the

occupation of Japan and the dismantlement of its wartime empire. The United States and

its allies, while committed to the Potsdam Declaration’s promise not to enslave the

Japanese people, affirmed that “stern justice shall be meted out to all war criminals,

including those who have visited cruelties upon our prisoners.” This formed the basis for

allied trials of Japanese war crimes suspects not just in Japan proper but other venues,

including Batavia, Canton, Darwin, Guam, Hong Kong, Manila, Saigon, and Singapore. 3

Most attention, then and now, has focused on the trial of the major war crimes

suspects (the so-called Class A war criminals). The International Military Tribunal for

the Far East (IMTFE), comprised of representatives from eleven allied countries, sat in

judgment of 28 Japanese leaders charged with crimes against peace and other criminal

acts. The trial, which began in Tokyo in May 1946 and ended in November 1948,

resulted in the conviction of all 25 remaining defendants, seven of whom were executed. 4

The Tokyo trial’s direct links to the Philippines were several: one of the justices (Delfin

Jaranilla) and one of the prosecutors (Pedro Lopez) were Filipino and one of the

defendants (Mut ō Akira) was accused of complicity in crimes committed in the

3 For general descriptions of the war crimes trials held in the Pacific theater, see Hayashi, BC-Ky ū Senpan Saiban and Piccigallo, Japanese on Trial . 4 Twenty-eight defendants were originally indicted, but two died during the trial and the third was declared incompetent to stand trial.

48 Philippines. During the Philippine phase of the trial, Lopez presented evidence of

atrocities by Japanese forces in Manila and elsewhere, and Jaranilla’s separate concurring

opinion at the trial’s end offered the most forceful attack on the culpability of the accused,

arguing that the sentences should have been even harsher. 5

The conduct of the Tokyo trial and the verdicts reached remain controversial to

this day. At the center of much of the debate has been the question of the legitimacy of

trying Japan’s leaders for crimes against peace—that is, the pursuit of aggressive war.

This, plus challenges to the trial on other grounds—violations of judicial conduct, the

failure to hold the emperor accountable, flaws in rules of evidence—gave voice to the

overall complaint that the trial represented nothing so much as “victors’ justice.” 6

Months before the Tokyo trial started, and continuing well beyond it, were the trials of “minor” war crimes suspects—those accused of Class B or C crimes. The

IMFTE Charter defined these categories of crimes as conventional war crimes and crimes against humanity, respectively, although in practice the distinction became blurred and the trials are now commonly referred to as B/C trials. Trials conducted by the United

States, Great Britain, France, Australia, the Netherlands, Nationalist China and the

5 Hitoshi Nagai, “Kyokut ō Kokusai Gunji Saiban ni Okeru ‘Shokoku’ no Tachiba: Firipin no Baai,” in Toinaosu Tokyo Saiban , ed. Ajia Minshu H ōtei Junbikai (Tokyo: Ryofuku Shuppan, 1995): 77-99 and Hitoshi Nagai, “The Tokyo War Crimes Trial,” in Philippines-Japan Relations , eds. Ikehata and Yu-Jose, 261-298. 6 The trial of Class-A war criminals has continued to receive critical attention and analysis, particularly among Japanese scholars. The landmark critical English language study is Richard H. Minear, Victor’s Justice: The Tokyo War Crimes Trial (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971). Much more recently, Totani Yuma has given needed focus to the conventional war crimes aspect of the Tokyo trial, as well as providing a thoughtful survey of Japanese writings on the trial. See Yuma Totani, The Tokyo War Crimes Trial: The Pursuit of Justice in the Wake of World War II (Cambridge: Harvard University Asia Center, 2008).

49 Philippines involved some 5,700 defendants and resulted in guilty verdicts for around

4,400; of these, over 900 were executed. 7

Various criticisms levied against the B/C trials—for example, those related to

judicial bias or selection of defendants—echo the complaints levied against the Tokyo

trial and reinforce the conviction that the B/C trials were also trials of the vanquished by

the victors. Even so, the main focus of these trials—conventional war crimes—has

presumably rendered them less susceptible to the charge of illegitimacy purely on legal

grounds. 8 Nevertheless, some trials have been criticized for employing the theory of

“negative” command responsibility—that is, the standard that a commander or leader

could be liable for negligence in failing to prevent war crimes. 9

American Trials in the Philippines

Pursuant to regulations issued under the authority of Supreme Commander for the

Allied Powers (SCAP) Douglas MacArthur in occupied Japan, U.S. military commissions

tried Japanese war crimes suspects in a variety of venues, primarily Yokohama and

Manila. 10 These courts, consisting of a minimum of three members, almost always military officers, heard evidence, rendered rulings on admissibility of testimony, and

7 Exact figures are difficult to come by, given limits on the availability of information from some countries and discrepancies in data reported in different sources. These numbers do not include trials conducted by the People’s Republic of China and the Soviet Union. See Hayashi, BC Ky ū Senpan Saiban , 61, for data cited herein. 8 Futamura, War Crimes Tribunals and Transitional Justice , 33. For a discussion of the international legal basis for crimes against peace, conventional war crimes, and crimes against humanity, see Totani, Tokyo War Crimes Trial , 78-97. 9 See, e.g., David Cohen, “Beyond Nuremberg: Individual Responsibility for War Crimes,” in Human Rights in Political Transitions: Gettysburg to Bosnia , eds. Carla Hesse and Robert Post (New York: Zone Books, 1999): 53-92. 10 The Yokohama war crimes trials conducted by the U.S. Eighth Army included some cases of alleged atrocities committed by Japanese soldiers in the Philippines; consequently evidence of war crimes in the Philippines was presented in at least four different venues: U.S. trials in Manila and Yokohama, Philippine trials in Manila, and the International Military Tribunal for the Far East in Tokyo.

50 issued verdicts and sentences. Sentences, which required a two-thirds vote of commission members, were subject to post-sentence review and required approval of the convening authority before being carried out. All death sentences had to be confirmed by

MacArthur himself. To address issues of fairness, the regulations stipulated that defendants be advised of all charges against them before trial, be represented by court- appointed or their own chosen counsels, and be permitted to present witnesses and evidence as well as cross examine prosecution witnesses. 11

In Manila, responsibility for the B/C class war crimes trials conducted by the

Americans was shared by different entities. Army Forces Western Pacific

(AFWESPAC) 12 acted as convening authority in appointing military commissions and defense counsel, reviewing sentences, and maintaining custody of war crimes suspects.

SCAP Legal Section/Manila Branch spearheaded investigations and the preparation of cases for trial. The commanding general of AFWESPAC reported to the Commander in

Chief of the Far East Command (MacArthur), whereas Legal Section/Manila Branch reported to Legal Section in Tokyo, a component of General Headquarters, SCAP. SCAP

Legal Section in Tokyo had been established as a special staff section in October 1945 and charged with the responsibility for advising MacArthur on policies and procedures concerning war crimes. Legal Section/Manila Branch actually had its antecedents in the

War Crimes Investigation Detachment established in Manila in June 1945 by the U.S.

Army Far East to begin investigations of reported atrocities against Filipino and

American civilians. The Manila office retained its identity as the War Crimes

11 Piccigallo, Japanese on Trial , 34-38. 12 AFWESPAC’s successor organization, the Philippine-Ryukyus Command (PHILRYCOM) maintained custody of war crimes suspects and convicted war criminals for a period of time after the U.S. trials were concluded.

51 Investigation Detachment until it was designated Legal Section/Manila Branch in July

1946. 13

Filipinos also contributed to the development and prosecution of war crimes cases

during the “American phase” of trials in the Philippines. Commonwealth President

Sergio Osmeña created a National War Crimes Office in August 1945 to collect evidence

of war crimes and to work with U.S. authorities to ensure the just punishment of those

Japanese guilty of atrocities. Although the Philippine government assumed no official

responsibility for the trials during this period, individual Filipinos served on U.S. military

commissions and acted as prosecuting attorneys. For example, General Basilio Valdes

sat as a commission member for the Homma case, while Manuel Lim (later Philippine

Solicitor General) served as one of the prosecutors in the same case. 14

Among the very first, and by far the most sensational, of the B/C trials conducted

in Manila under U.S. jurisdiction were the proceedings against Generals Yamashita

Tomoyuki and Homma Masaharu. These two trials, which resulted in the conviction and

execution of both men, showcased in particular the theory of command responsibility—

that is, that commanders could be successfully prosecuted for the actions of their

subordinates. Press coverage of the Yamashita trial bordered on the obsessive, as

illustrated by the almost daily front page stories offered by the Manila Times . On

December 8, the day after Yamashita was found guilty, the Times ran his picture over the

13 Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers, Monograph 5: “Trials of Class “B” and “C” War Criminals,” in History of the Nonmilitary Activities of the Occupation of Japan [Microform] (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources, 1989): 41- 43. 14 Castro and Santos, “Report on War Crimes Trials,” 471-72; and Jose, “Philippine War Crimes Trials,” 33.

52 caption “DOOMED” and the article opined that the verdict constituted a “precedent in

war criminology.” 15

Subsequent B/C class trials convened by the U. S. military in the Philippines focused on the mistreatment of prisoners of war as well as atrocities committed against

Filipino civilians. Between late 1945 and mid-1947 when the U.S. trials ended, U.S. military commissions had convened 97 trials, convicted 90 percent of all defendants tried, and sentenced 92 to death. After appeals, 69 were executed, all but two in the Philippines

(the other two were repatriated to Japan and executed there). As the U.S. trials concluded, war criminals convicted and sentenced to life or lesser terms were sent back to Japan to serve out their sentences in Sugamo Prison in Tokyo. 16

Handover of Trials to the Philippine Government

The Philippines gained independence from the United States on July 4, 1946. The

Philippine government did not, however, assume formal responsibility for the conduct of war crimes trials until mid 1947, and the first trial under Philippine jurisdiction did not begin until August 1947. Philip Piccigallo has suggested that the delay can be attributed to the Philippine government’s preoccupation with other more pressing matters, including

how to deal with collaborators and address the threat posed by domestic insurgents—the

15 See, e.g., Manila Times , October 9, October 10, October 30, November 4, November 20, December 1, and December 8, 1945. The Yamashita and Homma trials in particular have been a continuing focus of Western scholarly and popular attention, in part because of the issue of command responsibility that the trials raised and also because of the interest in the Bataan death march and other atrocities associated with the trials. See, e.g., Richard L. Lael, The Yamashita Precedent: War Crimes and Command Responsibility (Wilmington: SR Scholarly Resources Inc, 1982); A. Frank Reel, The Case of General Yamashita (New York: Octagon Books, 1971); and Lawrence Taylor, A Trial of Generals: Homma, Yamashita, MacArthur (South Bend: Icarus Press, 1981). 16 Hayashi, BC Ky ū Senpan Saiban, 83; Memo, Maj. Chas. E. Good, Manila Provost Marshal Command, September 15, 1948, Folder #11, Miscellaneous File, 1945-1949, Legal Section Manila Branch, RG 331, NACP; and Teletype Conference, Item #68, June 19, 1947, Radio Messages, 1945-1951, SCAP Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP.

53 Hukbalahap. 17 More concretely, Philippine reluctance also appears to have been driven by fears about the financial costs of assuming responsibility for trying Japanese war crimes suspects.

What is clear is that the U.S. government took the lead in pressing the Philippines to take over. As early as January 1947, a SCAP Legal Section memo outlined the goal of turning over the investigation and trial of war crimes suspects to the Philippine Republic, and noted among anticipated problems the need to “convince” the Philippine government of its responsibilities and the “desirable effect” of properly publicizing such a transfer.

At roughly the same time, the War Department, unhappy over adverse publicity associated with U.S. management of the trials (particularly allegations of staffing problems), began to press for closure of the Manila office. In early February 1947, SCAP

Legal Section chief Col. Alva Carpenter met in Manila with Philippine government officials to discuss the transfer of pending war crimes cases involving Filipino nationals.

Following that meeting, Philippine and U.S. military officials agreed to prepare briefs in support of the use of Philippine military commissions to handle the trials, apparently to head off the suggestion that the trials be transferred to civilian jurisdiction. On March 12,

1947, the Philippine government formally accepted the U.S. proposal to assume responsibility for war crimes trials. 18

17 Piccigallo, Japanese on Trial , 197-98. 18 Memo for Chief, Legal Section, January 27, 1947, File “War Crimes Philippines,” Decimal File, 1945- 1951, SCAP Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP; Check Sheet Memo, Legal Section to Chief of Staff, May 6, 1947, folder “War Crimes Trials in Manila,” Misc. Classified Files, 1945-1952, SCAP Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP; “Informal Discussion,” 2 nd Lt. Donald I. McPherson et al., February 24, 1947, Set-up Files, General & Administrative Records, War Crimes Branch, Records of the Office of the Judge Advocate General (Army), RG 153, NACP; and Teletype Conferences, February 20, 1947 and March 27, 1947, Radio Messages, 1945-1951, SCAP Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP.

54 However, during subsequent meetings between Philippine government officials

and SCAP Legal Section representatives, President Manuel Roxas made it clear, as

reported by U.S. officials, that “the financial condition of the Republic would not permit

it to conduct a war crimes program, successfully and expeditiously, unless the United

States provided the maximum of assistance.” At an April 11, 1947, cabinet meeting

attended by the Legal Section/Manila Branch executive officer, Roxas proceeded to

outline the specific assistance he had in mind. He asked that the U.S. Army retain

custody of Japanese war crimes suspects and deliver them for trial as required; that the

U.S. Army assume responsibility for the transfer to Japan and incarceration of those

Japanese convicted and given less than death sentences; that the Philippine government

be provided with Japanese interpreters and counsel to act as defense attorneys; that

facilities and equipment (including buildings, office furniture, and motor vehicles)

currently used by the Legal Section Manila Branch be loaned to the Philippine

government for use in its war crimes trial program; and that Legal Section Manila Branch

retain sufficient staff in the Philippines to advise the government on the conduct of the trials. On May 6, 1947, Legal Section chief Col. Carpenter recommended that Roxas’

demands be met, and by early July the necessary orders had been issued to accommodate

virtually all of the Philippine government’s requests. The Philippine government would

assume responsibility for trying the remainder of Japanese war crimes suspects in the

Philippines and the U.S. government would continue to provide some support. 19

19 Check Sheet Memo, Legal Section to Chief of Staff, May 6, 1947, folder “War Crimes Trials in Manila,” Misc. Classified Files, 1945-1952, SCAP Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP RG 331; and Memo, Legal Section, July 8, 1947, File “000.5C: War Crimes Philippines,” Decimal File, 1945-1951, SCAP Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP.

55 To implement the Philippine government’s responsibilities, President Roxas

issued Executive Order No. 68 on July 29, 1947. 20 E.O. 68 established a new National

War Crimes Office (NWCO) under the jurisdiction of the Judge Advocate General of the

Philippine Army and tasked it with collecting evidence of war crimes, bringing about the

“prompt” trial of the accused, and maintaining direct liaison with SCAP Legal Section.

The NWCO, initially headed by Major Eleuterio Fojas (succeeded by Captain Mariano

Yenko, Jr. on Fojas’ death in June 1948), consisted principally of the Prosecution

Division (led by Captain Nicanor Maronilla-Seva), and the Administrative,

Investigation-Apprehension, Records, and Interpretation and Translation divisions, all

also headed by Philippine military officers. As will be discussed later, a separate Defense

Panel was subsequently established under the direction of Captain Pedro Serran. 21

The executive order also outlined the specific rules and regulations governing the conduct of the trials, which were closely patterned after those used by U.S. military commissions. The commissions, to be convened under the authority of the President of the Philippines, would consist of a minimum of three members and render their verdicts by a two-thirds majority. The rights of the accused would include the right to have advance notice of the charges and specifications against them, the right to be represented by counsel, the right to testify in their own behalf, and the right to have their counsel

20 An earlier executive order, No. 64, dealt with Philippine cooperation in U.S.-led trials. Once the Philippines gained independence in July 1946, E.O. 64 became obsolete and was explicitly repealed by E.O. 68. Copies of E.O. 68 were included in the transcript record of each trial—see, e.g., Case #28, Philippines vs. Miyake Tomomi, Philippines Versus Various Japanese War Criminals, Case File, 1947-1949, SCAP Legal Section, Prosecution Division, RG 331, NACP. [Subsequent citations to individual cases are abbreviated to Case Number, Defendant and Record Group.] 21 Letter and attachments, S. Melville Hussey, Legal Section Manila Branch to Chief, Legal Section, March 24, 1948, Folder “Manila Correspondence,” War Crimes File 1945-1949, SCAP Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP; Jose, “Philippine War Crimes Trials,” Social Science Information , 33-34; Transcript, 221, Case #16, Philippines vs. Tone Seiichi, RG 331, NACP; and Manila Times , July 31, 1947.

56 cross examine adverse witnesses who personally appeared before the commission.

Commission members were given wide latitude in determining admissible evidence; such evidence could include any that the commission members believed would have probative value, including documents, affidavits, and diaries.

President Roxas issued an announcement to the press to accompany the issuance of E.O. 68. It noted, in part, that

It is only fitting and proper that our government exercise the prerogative of trying and punishing those guilty of war crimes against our people. In conducting these trials, we are taking our place with other nations of the world that have seen fit to bring the guilty to justice and to perpetuate on record, through fair and reasonable trials, the story of what happened to the innocent when the enemy ran berserk all over the world. 22

His statement provides a remarkably cogent articulation of Philippine motivations: to be viewed as a legitimate member of the international community; to be seen as capable of conducting fair trials; and to document the brutality of the Japanese occupation.

Although the Philippine government assumed full responsibility for the staffing and conduct of the war crimes trials, and any necessary further investigations of war crimes suspects, the Americans continued to monitor the trials and to provide advice, at least during the remainder of 1947. SCAP Legal Section Manila Branch remained open and two U.S. attorneys assigned to the office provided advice and guidance to the

Philippine government on policies and procedures related to the trials. Indeed, those on the ground in Manila found it difficult to resist continued involvement. In September, the head of Manila Branch advised Tokyo that he had “lectured” commission members of two forthcoming trials about such matters as rules of evidence, and (rather

22 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 1041, July 31, 1947, Decimal 740.00116 PW/7-3147, Central Decimal File, 1945-1949, General Records of the Department of State, Record Group 59 (RG 59), NACP.

57 condescendingly) found them to be quick-witted, “high type men.” He also recounted an

episode in which commission members had “fumbled” a ruling; he had “unobtrusively

passed” a note to them suggesting a recess, which allowed them to resolve the issue. 23

Perhaps in recognition of the need to set some boundaries over the continued involvement of U.S. personnel in the Philippine trials, SCAP Legal Section Tokyo had attempted to define the limits of U.S. participation before the handover. Manila staff members were instructed in late May 1947 to defer to NWCO chief Fojas on whether remaining outstanding cases were prosecutable. (In fact, Filipino prosecutors could, and did, bring cases against individuals previously cleared by American investigators. For example, Sat ō S ō and Isobe K ōzō were both recalled from Japan to stand trial; Sat ō was found guilty, and Isobe not guilty, in separate trials.)24 Tokyo issued a further warning in

March 1948, instructing Manila staff to avoid becoming actively engaged in helping the defense in Philippine cases. 25

Resolving Structural Issues: Legal Representation and Evidence Acquisition

The executive order that established the rules and procedures governing the

Philippine trials mandated certain safeguards to ensure due process for Japanese

defendants. Among them were the right to legal representation and the ability to present

evidence in their defense. In these two areas, the Philippine government met with some

difficulties and struggled to satisfactorily resolve how the Japanese defendants were to be

23 Teletype Conferences, February 4, 1948, September 4, 1947, and September 11, 1947, Radio Messages, 1945-1951, SCAP Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP. 24 Teletype Conference, May 29, 1947, Radio Messages, 1945-1951, SCAP Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP; Transcript, 335-337 and 551, Case #7, Philippines vs. Sat ō S ō, RG 331, NACP; and Transcript, 785 and Defense Exhibit P, Case #8, Philippines vs. Kita Heiji, et al., RG 331, NACP. 25 Check Sheet Memo, Legal Section Tokyo to Legal Section Manila Branch, March 18, 1948, Folder “Manila Correspondence,” War Crimes File 1945-1949, SCAP Legal Section Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP.

58 represented by legal counsel and how testimony in favor of the accused was to be obtained and presented. How each issue was resolved contributed to Filipino and

Japanese perspectives on the fairness of the trials.

The first Japanese defendant to face a Philippine military commission, Kud ō

Ch ūshir ō, the so-called “butcher of Bay,” entered the courtroom (described as an improvised structure behind the Normal School building in Manila) on August 1, 1947 and pled not guilty to charges of having ordered and permitted his men to torture and kill large numbers of civilians in the town of Bay, Laguna Province, in February 1945.

Described in a news account as “tall, thin-lipped and balding,” Kud ō was represented during his arraignment by two Filipino defense counsel—Lt. Col. Donato Mendoza Halili and Capt. Jose C. Castro. These counsel were considered “provisional,” however, and acted for Kud ō only until the arrival of Japanese lawyers who would take over the defense of all Japanese facing trial in Philippine tribunals. After a delay to allow the

Japanese lawyers to familiarize themselves with the case, the Kud ō trial resumed on

August 25 with attorneys Kosaka Ch ōshir ō and Tanamura Shigenobu representing Kud ō

(Castro continued to be listed as a defense counsel). 26

The use of Japanese lawyers to defend Japanese war crimes suspects had been part of the initial agreement reached between the governments of the Philippines and the

United States on the transfer of responsibility for conducting war crimes trials. This represented a departure from the U.S. war crimes trials in the Philippines, where Japanese

26 Transcript, 1-7, Case #5, Philippines vs. Kud ō Chūshir ō, RG 331, NACP; and Manila Bulletin , August 2, 1947.

59 defendants had been generally represented by American counsel, although the applicable regulations allowed for Japanese to be represented by other counsel if they so chose. 27

Japanese POWs facing trial in the Philippines had been leery from the start about the effectiveness of the defense they could expect in Philippine military tribunals.

Former Lt. General Yokoyama Shizuo, 28 writing on behalf of Japanese POWs incarcerated in LUPOW Prison Camp #1 in the Philippines, noted in a petition to

MacArthur on June 15, 1947 that he and his fellow POWs were “encouraged” that

Japanese defense attorneys would be made available and also expressed the hope that the

“most reliable American lawyers” might also be requested to assist in their defense.

Another earlier petition from the camp addressed to the SCAP Legal Section in Tokyo noted that the possible participation of American defense lawyers “made every one of us extremely happy and assured” in light of the fact that Japanese lawyers, even if they did come to the Philippines, would be faced with the disadvantages of the language barrier as well as an unfamiliarity with Anglo-American jurisprudence. Yet another petition to

SCAP Legal Section, Tokyo, dated 18 April 1947, explicitly noted the prisoners’

“uneasiness and anxiety,” commenting that “There is little probability that able Filipino lawyers will be available in the future trials because of emotional antipathy against the

Japanese.” 29 The Philippine Army Judge Advocate General, in receipt of similar requests from Japanese defendants for the appointment of American counsel but having made no

27 See USA Verses Japanese War Criminals, Case File, 1945-1949, SCAP Legal Section, Prosecution Division, RG 331, NACP for case files of U.S. military trials in the Philippines. 28 Yokoyama, one of the highest-ranking Japanese officers facing trial in a Philippine courtroom, had commanded the Shimbu Group under General Yamashita during the last stages of the war; he faced over 50 counts of having directed or permitted subordinates to commit atrocities on Luzon and was later convicted and sentenced to death. See Case #48, Philippines vs. Yokoyama Shizuo, RG 331, NACP. 29 Attachments to Check Sheet Memo, Legal Section to Chief of Staff,, July 8, 1948, Folder “War Crimes Trials in the Philippines,” Misc. Classified Files, 1945-1952, SCAP Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP.

60 financial provision for such an accommodation, sought and received an opinion from

Legal Section Manila Branch that international law required only the provision of

qualified counsel—which the Japanese lawyers were deemed to be by virtue of their

selection by the Japanese government. 30

As it turned out, the use of Japanese lawyers did not last long. A group of ten

attorneys and ten interpreters arrived in Manila in August 1947 and by the end of the year

all but one of the attorneys had been sent back to Japan. The immediate catalyst appears

to have been the reported bad behavior of some of the attorneys—dramatically covered in

the local press. In one well-publicized incident, it was reported in late November that

Capt. Maronilla-Seva, head of the NWCO prosecution division, had been attacked,

thrown to the floor, and kicked by several Japanese. At the time, according to news

reports, Maronilla-Seva had been attempting to explain his refusal to agree to a

postponement of a trial to the Japanese defense attorneys. A spokesman for the Japanese

group later denied Maronilla-Seva’s accusation that the defense was deliberately faking

the illness of the accused to gain a postponement of the trial. Editorial opinion in the

Philippine press was blistering. The Manila Post of November 22 argued that the

Japanese who “ganged up and mauled” Maronilla-Seva should themselves be prosecuted,

while the Liberty News of the same day suggested that the attack represented “the

collective efforts of the Japs who were quite intent in adding another victim to the

number of Jap atrocities.” 31

30 Teletype Conference, August 8, 1947, Radio Messages, 1945-1951, SCAP Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP. 31 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 1353, November 26, 1947, Decimal 740.00116 PW/11-2647, Central Decimal File 1945-1949, RG 59, NACP; and Memo, Legal Section to Chief of Staff, December 11, 1948, Folder “Manila, P.I.: Lawyers and Interpreters,” SCAP Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP.

61 The rocky position of Japanese lawyers had been highlighted a few days earlier in

the trial of Nakamura Hideichi and his co-defendants. According to the Manila

Chronicle , defense attorney Tanamura Shigenobu had been attempting to cross examine a

prosecution witness when he became exasperated with the repeated objections of the

prosecutor, all of which were sustained by the military commission. “Irked by the

attitude of the commission, the Japanese counsel, trembling with anger, hastily gathered

his papers on the table, dumped them into his portfolio and announced that if such was

the kind of treatment accorded the defense, he would resign as counsel. He hinted that

the defense was not getting a fair trial in the case at bar.” Tanamura was later persuaded

to continue. 32

The U.S. Embassy in Manila reported that a Filipino committee had investigated the Maronilla-Seva incident on behalf of the Philippine government and recommended that the Japanese lawyers be sent back to Japan. Responsibility for the defense of

Japanese war crimes suspects would be assumed by Philippine army lawyers. A Defense

Panel headed by Captain Pedro Serran was established and its lawyers included Captains

Jose G. Lucban and Artemio Alejo, professional lawyers as well as army officers. 33 In

ongoing trials, Filipino counsel replaced the Japanese counsel. At the first trial where a

Japanese defendant was defended from the outset by Filipino counsel, the commission

president rather defensively noted that “to my mind, the interests of the accused had

never been served better than when a Japanese accused is defended by a Filipino

attorney” and further commented on the skills of defense counsel Serran, notwithstanding

32 Manila Chronicle , November 18, 1947. 33 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 1353, November 26, 1947, Decimal 740.00116 PW/11-2647, Central Decimal File 1945-1949, RG 59, NACP; and Jose, “Philippine War Crimes Trials,” Social Science Information, 35.

62 Serran’s war service as a guerrilla and his reluctance to serve as a defense attorney. (The commission thereupon sentenced the accused to death.) 34

The initial reaction among the Japanese war crimes suspects to the use of

Filipinos as defense counsel was consternation. In another petition to Legal Section

Tokyo dated January 3, 1948 (with a similar petition addressed to the president of the

Philippines), Yokoyama noted that it was a “most regrettable affair” that the Japanese lawyers had been recalled to Japan and pled for the appointment of other Japanese counsel, “not for the direct purpose of defending the accused but for the purpose of legal liaison between the accused and Filipino defense counsel because we have had great difficulty conveying our ideas of the cases and to explain the matters legally and logically so that the lawyers can understand the cases in issue readily as to points of importance . . .” Yokoyama also argued that most of the current official court interpreters were incompetent and urged that the Japanese government send personal interpreters for the accused to address the anticipated greater translation burden with the assumption of defense responsibilities by Filipino army officers. 35 Yokoyama’s plea for the posting of

Japanese lawyers in a liaison capacity appears to have been accepted; in a lengthy report on the trials prepared in May 1949, the Japanese Foreign Ministry noted that at that time three Japanese lawyers had been posted to Manila. 36

In the end, it appears that the Japanese became more than resigned, even accepting, of the Filipino lawyers assigned to defend them. By August 1948 the Japanese

POWs were actually complaining about the then single remaining Japanese defense

34 Transcript, 581-582, Case #26, Philippines vs. Ogawa Eitar ō, RG 331, NACP. 35 Memo, S. Melville Hussey to SCAP Legal Section Tokyo, January 8, 1948. Folder 16, “Manila Correspondence,” Miscellaneous File, 1946-1949, SCAP Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP. 36 Memo, “Matter Concerning the Philippine War Crimes Trials,” May 6, 1949, Vol. 1, 118-124, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, Japan Diplomatic Record Office (JDRO), Tokyo, Japan.

63 attorney (Masutani Hideo). Legal Section Manila Branch reported that the dissatisfaction stemmed from “a complete lack of confidence in Japanese defense lawyers as contrasted with Filipinos acting in that capacity” and suggested that Masutani’s abrupt and forthright manner had offended the Japanese prisoners. 37 A few years after his conviction, former

Lt. General Kuroda Shigenori commented that the Japanese lawyers had suffered from several disadvantages, among them unfamiliarity with Anglo-Saxon law and a reliance on interpreters that prevented timely or effective cross-examination. The Japanese lawyers themselves were not unaware of their limitations; in his summation in the trial of Kodama

Yoshiaki, his counsel noted that they were “not familiar with the trial in the American way” and therefore were less competent than the prosecution. 38 In another case, the

Japanese defense attorney noted a second major drawback: it was too dangerous for him to travel around Manila seeking witnesses for the defense. 39

Individual Japanese war criminals commented favorably on the competence and dedication of the Filipino defense lawyers. For example, at the close of his trial

Matsuzaki Hideichi thanked his defense counsel for having overcome their natural antipathy towards Japanese and having “nobly defended” his cause. 40 General

Yokoyama’s wife, presumably on his behalf, observed in 1952 that Filipino lawyers

“overcame their emotions and defended [the war criminals] zealously” and had also visited the prison to comfort those who had been convicted. 41 Long after the trials were over, Sat ō Sō, who had received a life sentence, thanked his Filipino attorney in the

37 Check Sheet memo, August 20, 1948, Legal Section Manila Branch to Legal Section Tokyo, Folder “Manila, P.I.: Lawyers and Interpreters,” SCAP Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP. 38 Shigenori Kuroda, “Montenrupa: Hit ō Senpan Gokusha no Taikenki,” Daiyamondo 40:17 (May 1952): 130; and Transcript, 254-255, Case #6, Philippines vs. Kodama Yoshiaki, RG 331, NACP. 39 Transcript, 218, Case #1, Philippines vs. Fujita Takefumi, RG 331, NACP. 40 Transcript, 864-865, Case #18, Philippines vs. Matsuzaki Hideichi, RG 331, NACP. 41 Misayo Yokoyama, “Kansha no Kotoba,” in Nokosareta Hitobito: Hit ō Senpan Shikeish ū no Shuki , ed. Torao Okamoto (Tokyo: Sumashob ō, 1952): 2.

64 preface to his memoirs, convinced that the lawyer’s devotion [ nessei ] at his trial had

saved him from the death penalty. 42 The Japanese Foreign Ministry reached its own

conclusion that the Filipino defense lawyers were “zealous and capable” [ nesshin y ūnō] and that Captain Pedro Serran, chief of the defense team, was an “extremely able and honest lawyer.” The Filipino lawyers, “contrary to expectations,” had exerted themselves despite the pressures of Philippine public opinion. 43

One rather remarkable exchange serves to illustrate the extent to which Japanese prisoners were willing to assert their confidence in their Filipino defense counsel.

Former Army Major Harada Shimpei, having pled guilty to ordering or permitting his subordinates to torture and kill Filipino civilians, subsequently charged in petitions to the sentence review board and President Quirino that he had been pressured by his defense counsel (Lt. Perez) into offering a guilty plea despite his innocence. Moreover, his counsel “compelled [him] to testify falsely” during the trial. Not surprisingly, the head of the Philippine Defense Panel, Captain Serran, rejected Harada’s charges as unfounded. 44 But it was Japanese prisoners themselves—the over 100 war crimes suspects still awaiting trial—who voiced the strongest defense of Perez in a letter to the

Defense Panel Office:

42 Sō Sat ō, Onsh ū wo Koete: Hit ō B Ky ū Senpan no Shuki (Tokyo: Nihon K ōgy ō Shinbunsha, 1981): vi. 43 Memo, “Handling of Philippine War Crimes Tribunals, Especially the [name blacked out] Case,” April 4, 1949, Vol. 1, 104-109 and Report, “Matter Concerning the Philippine War Crimes Trials,” May 6, 1949, Vol. 1, 118-124, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO. 44 Specifications, Case #14, Philippines vs. Harada Shimpei et al., RG 331, NACP; and Harada Petition to Board of Review, August 1948, Harada Petition to President of the Philippines, December 17, 1949 and Check sheet Memo, Defense Panel Chief, September 20, 1948, Review File, Bundle #12, People of the Philippines vs. Harada Shimpei et al., Japanese War Crimes Records, Case Files, National Archives of the Philippines (NAP), Manila, The Philippines. [Subsequent citations to individual cases in the National Archives of the Philippines are abbreviated to Bundle Number, Defendant and NAP.]

65 We have been informed that some portion of the content of the petition submitted to His Excellency, the Republic of the Philippines, by Major Harada was contrary to what we always entertain. . . . That petition was written and submitted on the sole discretion of Major Harada as an individual and it represents in no way whatever the opinion of other war criminal suspects. . . . For the past nine months, Lt. Peres [sic] has been exerting all his efforts in the defense of alleged war criminals. His indefatigable fight to uphold justice is what everyone of us is very familiar with. Not only are we grateful for his unyielding efforts for our cause but we also place absolute confidence and trust in him as our defense counsel. 45

Linked to this first issue of defense counsel was the matter of the right of the accused to present witnesses and evidence in their defense. Concerns over logistics and expense had led to increasing resistance by the U.S. authorities in Tokyo to the idea of sending defense witnesses (generally former Japanese military who had served with those on trial in Manila) from Japan to testify to an alibi or the good character of the accused.

Instead, the idea emerged of taking witness depositions in Tokyo and transmitting them to counsel for use in the trials. In his January 3, 1948, petition, Yokoyama conveyed the prisoners’ dissatisfaction with this strategy, but having no say in the policy decision itself, urged that the process be improved to ensure the speedy and thorough preparation of necessary depositions and affidavits. The Japanese government was also concerned; the

Central Liaison Office (set up to provide coordination between the U.S. occupation authorities and Japanese government offices) sent a memo to GHQ/SCAP on 7

November 1947 raising the concern that the use of affidavits prepared in Japan for the defense might prejudice the proceedings, given that prosecution witnesses were freely available to testify at the trials. 46

45 Letter, Japanese Prisoner Stockade to Defense Panel Chief Capt. Pedro Serran, September 15, 1948, Bundle #12, People of the Philippines vs. Harada Shimpei et al., NAP. 46 Memo, S. Melville Hussey to SCAP Legal Section Tokyo, January 8, 1948, Folder 16, “Manila Correspondence,” Miscellaneous File, 1946-1949, SCAP Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP;

66 What eventually emerged after much discussion between Manila and Tokyo was

the formal establishment of the Philippine War Crimes Investigation and Coordination

Panel in Tokyo. The idea took shape initially as a result of a suggestion by Japanese

defense counsel in September 1947 (before their return home) that one of them be

allowed to return to Japan to obtain witness statements for a variety of cases—a more

effective procedure that relying on the submission of questions from Manila. Legal

Section in Tokyo deemed the request “logical” but feared that it would be abused by

Japanese seeking to return to Japan for personal reasons. By September 25, Tokyo had

accepted the idea of a defense counsel returning to Tokyo to conduct interrogations, but

Philippine NWCO Chief Fojas raised the ante by proposing that an investigation section

be permanently established in Tokyo, with defense staff in Manila submitting questions

and the resulting statements forwarded back from Tokyo for use in the trials. By early

October, Tokyo reported that Legal Section chief Carpenter had concurred with Major

Fojas that some sort of investigation staff should be set up in Tokyo under the

supervision of Legal Section. 47

Then a glitch occurred. On October 31, 1947, Legal Section Manila Branch,

relying on assurances that Carpenter had approved the concept, submitted a detailed

implementation plan based on conversations among the Defense Panel, NWCO, and

Manila Branch. The plan envisioned the establishment of a commission in Tokyo to take

depositions; the commission would consist of one or more Japanese attorneys to be

transferred from Manila; one or more Philippine army officers to take depositions for

and C.L.O. No. 8685, November 7, 1947, Folder “Manila, P.I.: Lawyers & Interpreters,” Witnesses File, 1946-1949, SCAP Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP. 47 Teletype Conferences, Legal Section Tokyo and Legal Section Manila Branch, September 25, 1947 and October 2, 1947, Radio Messages, 1945-1951, Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP.

67 prosecution witnesses and to cross examine defense witnesses; and an officer from Legal

Section Tokyo to serve as president of the commission and coordinate operations. The response was swift. In early November Legal Section Tokyo rejected the plan, principally on the grounds that Legal Section had no staff available to serve on such a commission and that it would create a bad precedent for other allied governments to seek similar support. 48

Finally the matter was resolved, possibly as a result of continued pressure from

Philippine government officials. On 15 December 1947 NWCO Chief Fojas advised

Legal Section Manila Branch that he and the Judge Advocate General of the Philippine

National Defense Forces wished to travel to Tokyo in January 1948 to confer with Col.

Carpenter on the establishment of an investigative panel in Tokyo to facilitate the taking of statements from Japanese prosecution and defense witnesses. As a result of that visit, and conferences with Japanese government representatives, it was agreed that the panel would be established, to consist of three Japanese lawyers, two interpreters, two clerk/typists, and one Philippine Army officer. Captain Ambrosio Dollete of the

Philippine Judge Advocate General staff was subsequently assigned as the first Philippine officer detailed to the Philippine War Crimes Investigation and Coordination Panel thus established in Tokyo. 49

48 Teletype Conference, Legal Section Tokyo and Legal Section Manila Branch, October 31, 1947, Radio Message, 1945-1951, Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP; and Letter, Maj. Theodore King to William Yard, November 4, 1947, Folder 16, “Manila Correspondence,” Miscellaneous File, 1946- 1949, Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP. 49 Memo, Chief of NWCO to Executive Officer, Legal Section Manila Branch, December 15, 1947, Folder 16, “Manila Correspondence,” Miscellaneous File, 1946-1949, SCAP Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP; Check sheet Memo, Legal Section to Chief of Staff, March 19, 1948, Folder “Manila, P.I.: Lawyers and Interpreters,” SCAP Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP; and Memo, Dollete to Reinhard, May 11, 1948, Miscellaneous Subject File, 1945-1949, Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP.

68 Even without formal authorization, some sort of defense office began functioning in Tokyo by January 1948. Attorneys Ogura Kiyoshi and Nakamura Kazunori, having returned to Japan by the end of 1947, drafted reports in January and February outlining their plans to take depositions and requesting equipment and support for the “Tokyo

Branch, Manila War Crimes Defense Office.” 50

In these two structural aspects of the trials—legal representation and witness testimony—the Philippine government attempted, in collaboration with U.S. officials, to find workable solutions that balanced the interests of the accused against practical considerations like costs and logistics. Initially uncomfortable with how both issues were resolved, the Japanese prisoners came to respect the efforts of Filipino defense attorneys on their behalf. The use of affidavits in lieu of witness testimony, however, remained a sore point. Although the Japanese Foreign Ministry was able to comment in mid-1949 that the lawyers—both Filipino and Japanese—assigned to manage the affidavit process were performing their duties fairly and capably, the prisoners themselves were not convinced. 51 In a private (later published) letter dated March 10, 1950, Yokoyama observed that it was very painful for the defendants not to be able to summon their superior officers or subordinates to Manila to testify on their behalf. 52

50 Memo, Manila War Crimes Defense Office, Tokyo to Major Fojas, Chief of National War Crimes Office, P.I., January 31, 1948, Vol. 1, 40-43; and Memo, Tokyo Branch, Manila War Crimes Defense Office, February 1948, Vol. 2, 28-31, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO. 51 Memo, “Handling With Regards to Philippine War Crimes Tribunals, Especially the [name blacked out] Case,” April 4, 1949, Vol. 1, 104-109, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO. 52 Shizuo Yokoyama, “Sono Goro no Gokus ō Seikatsu wo Kataru,” Sh ūky ō K ōron 23: 6 (August 1953): 4.

69 Trials: Defendants and Demographics

The first Philippine trial began on August 1, 1947 with the arraignment of the

accused, Kud ō Ch ūshir ō. Seventy-two other trials followed, with the last verdict issued on December 28, 1949. 53 All 155 defendants were arraigned on the overall charge of violating the laws and customs of war—that is, they were accused of Class B war crimes.

Most were charged with one or more counts (or “specifications”) of directly ordering and/or participating in the killing and torture of Filipino civilians, although there were some cases involving the theory of general command responsibility for atrocities (for example, the trials of Lt. Generals Yokoyama Shizuo and Kuroda Shigenori) or for failure to treat Filipino POWs humanely (the trial of POW camp commander Tsuneoshi

54 Yoshio).

Analysis of the transcripts of these 73 Philippine government-led trials shows that the trials were noteworthy in a number of respects, demographically and procedurally as well as substantively. The Philippine National War Crimes Office brought cases involving alleged crimes committed in over 20 provinces on islands throughout the

Philippines, from Luzon in the north to Mindanao in the south. Most of the charges involved atrocities (torture, rape and murder) committed against “unarmed noncombatant” Filipino civilians, although some of the victims were described as

Chinese and in some few cases the government brought charges of unlawful acts

53 Data on the Philippine-led war crimes trials are derived from Cases #1 through #71, Philippines Versus Various Japanese War Criminals, SCAP Legal Section, Prosecution Division, RG 331, NACP; and Case Files, People of the Philippines vs. Japanese soldiers, Japanese War Crime Records, NAP. Various sources (e.g., Hayashi, BC-Ky ū Senpan Saiban, 61; and Piccigallo, Japanese on Trial , 197) have provided conflicting data on the numbers of trials and defendants, but it is clear from Philippine Archives files that the Philippine government convened 73 trials, defined as a proceeding in which at least one defendant was arraigned, and that 155 defendants were arraigned in those trials. 54 Case #48, Philippines vs. Yokoyama Shizuo; Case #50, Philippines vs. Kuroda Shigenori; and Case #54, Philippines vs. Tsuneoshi Yoshio, RG 331, NACP.

70 committed against POWs or guerrillas—for example, execution without trial. One trial

that involved charges of atrocities against American POWs and internees as well as

Filipinos (Philippines vs. Kuroda Shigenori) was split into American and Philippine

phases and the former was handled by an American prosecutor. 55 Although conventional

wisdom has it that most atrocities were committed by Japanese troops in the final

desperate months of the war, some 40 percent of the Philippine cases involved at least

some charges for incidents that occurred between December 1941 and June 1944.

The Japanese military defendants ranged in rank from general to private, with

more than one-third junior officers—captains and lieutenants. Table 1 shows the

breakdown of the defendants by service and military rank. 56

Table 1: Military Defendants by Service and Rank

Rank Army Navy Total % of Total Defendants a Flag Officers 5 1 6 4 Field Grade Officers 9 4 13 9 Junior Officers 41 13 54 37 Warrant Officers 13 0 13 9 Non-commissioned Officers 33 1 34 23 Enlisted 27 0 27 18 Total 128 19 147 a 100 aExcludes eight civilians tried for war crimes

Most of the defendants served in the army, typically in infantry divisions or the

Japanese military police ( kempeitai ); one-fourth of the accused were affiliated with the latter. Three cases featured Navy personnel—one with a single defendant, Rear Admiral

55 Case #27, Philippines vs. Tanaka Hideo et al., Case #71, Philippines vs. Ogawa Somin et al., Case #17, Philippines vs. Mori Kenkichi, and Case #18, Philippines vs. Matsuzaki Hideichi, RG 331, NACP. Perhaps as a consequence of facing an American prosecutor, Kuroda had requested American, in addition to Filipino, defense counsel, but his request was denied. See Specifications, Special Orders No. 291, December 1, 1948, and Transcript, 1, Case #50, Philippines vs. Kuroda Shigenori, RG 331, NACP. 56 Source for military service and rank is It ō et al., Monten: Kikoku, 47-51.

71 Furuse Takeshi, another involving 15 of his subordinates, and the third two naval officers accused of atrocities in Davao. 57

The Philippine government also tried eight Japanese civilians for war crimes. In one of the earliest trials, for example, prosecutors accused Takahashi Sadakichi, a

Japanese civilian attached to the kempeitai garrison in Quezon City, of torturing and murdering Filipinos: “We propose to prove that [the accused], who came to the

Philippines to earn a living many years before the outbreak of the War, and who, throughout his stay in this country was never molested in his peaceful existence, drunk with power, singled out individuals who had been his neighbors, for the purpose of subjecting them to indescribable torture and unlawful deprivation of life.” Takahashi was found guilty and sentenced to hang; the sentence was later commuted to life in prison.58

Overall Trial Outcomes

Table 2 provides summary data on the numbers of cases, defendants, and verdicts rendered. Of the 155 defendants arraigned on one or more charges, verdicts were reached against 149 and the charges dismissed or cases suspended for the other 6. The National

War Crimes Office planned to bring charges against an additional 7 defendants in association with these cases, but these defendants were never arraigned, generally for reasons of illness or death. (See Appendix I for fuller information on defendants and sentences.)

57 Case #49, Philippines vs. Furuse Takeshi; Case #71, Philippines vs. Ogawa Somin et al.; and Case #31, Philippines vs. Shimamura Katsuji et al., RG 331, NACP. One other naval officer, a lieutenant, was included in the Nakamura case. See Case #12, Philippines vs. Nakamura Hideichi et al., RG 331, NACP. 58 Transcript, 8 and 556, Case #3, Philippines vs. Takahashi Sadakichi, RG 331, NACP; and Action of the Approving Authority, November 5, 1948, Bundle #63, People of the Philippines vs. Takahashi Sadakichi, NAP.

72 Table 2: Philippine War Crimes Case Verdicts

# SENTENCES CASES ARRAIGNED Death Life Term Not Guilty 73 155 a 79 31 28 11 aThe total includes two defendants who were each arraigned twice, in different cases.

Nineteen of the 155 Japanese arraigned for trial pled guilty, either at their arraignment or during the course of their trials. Commission members did not usually accept guilty pleas at face value, but instead questioned the accused, both to ensure that they understood the consequences of their pleas and to ascertain more clearly the nature of the offenses committed. Over half of those who pled guilty explicitly stated that they had committed the crimes on the direct orders of their superior officers. One of these officers (who also pled guilty) stated that he had ordered the killing of civilians because it was his duty to maintain order and that by so doing he was “contributing to win the war.” 59

One of the more striking examples of a defendant who pled guilty is Rear Admiral

Furuse. Furuse was charged with several counts of having ordered his subordinates to kill the inhabitants of various barrios in the municipality of Infanta, Tayabas (now

Quezon) Province during the months of April and May 1945. After the unsuccessful efforts of his defense counsel to object to the trial on various legal grounds, Furuse pled guilty to all counts. The commission took the unusual step of first sentencing Furuse to death by hanging and then changing the sentence to “death by musketry” in recognition

59 Transcript, 28-35, Case #14, Philippines vs. Harada Shimpei et al.; Transcript, 14, Case #28, Philippines vs. Miyake Tomomi; Transcript, 29-41 and 47-54, Case #31, Philippines vs. Shimamura Katsuji et al.; Transcript, 19, Case #34, Philippines vs. Hane Ch ōkichi; Transcript, 9, 16-22 and 41, Case #46, Philippines vs. Sat ō Ichir ō; Transcript, 16, Case #59, Philippines vs. Mizuno Akira and Ochiai Haruichi; Transcript, 9- 10, Case #62, Philippines vs. Deguchi Motoaki; and Transcript, 593, 652-653, 705-710 and 769, Case #64, Philippines vs. Hayashi Yoshihide and Kawaguchi Kiyotake, RG 331, NACP.

73 of the defendant’s willingness to accept command responsibility, the “attribute of a real

leader.” 60 (Furuse also attempted to deflect responsibility from his subordinates; during their trial he testified that in following his orders they bore “no responsibility whatever” for the acts with which they were charged.) 61

Conduct of Trials: Process

The 136 Japanese defendants who pled not guilty proceeded to trial. In

procedural terms, the trials followed a set pattern and appear, based on the trial transcripts,

to have adhered closely to the dictates of E.O. 68 in such matters as the appointment of

commission members, arraignments, and presentation of evidence. The military

commissions generally consisted of three to five men, one of whom was designated the

law member. Challenges to the composition of the tribunals were virtually non-existent,

with two striking exceptions. Prior to his being sworn in as a member of the commission

to hear the case of Lt. General Yokoyama, Col. Jose Gonzales Roxas (a doctor) stipulated

that he “did not wish to be instrumental” in imposing the death penalty on the accused.

As a result, the prosecutor challenged his appointment and Roxas’ swearing in was

deferred; ultimately he was not seated as a commission member. In a second case, a

commission member voluntarily stepped down after the defense counsel challenged the

panel members to disclose their prior incarceration, if any, in a POW camp that had been

run by the accused. 62

60 Transcript, 1-24, Case #49, Philippines vs. Furuse Takeshi, RG 331, NACP. 61 Transcript, 931, Case #71, Philippines vs. Ogawa Somin et al., RG 331, NACP. 62 Transcript, 373-376, Case #48, Philippines vs. Yokoyama Shizuo; and Transcript, 4-8, Case #54, Philippines vs. Tsuneoshi Yoshio, RG 331, NACP. The Yokoyama trial was unusual in another way; due to its length, some of the commission members were replaced during the proceedings.

74 Each trial began with the arraignment of the accused—acceptance of pleas and

confirmation that the defendants had received copies of the charges against them. The conduct of individual cases was often painstaking, with trials lasting weeks or months to allow the prosecution or defense to obtain and present evidence. In one case, commission members toured the site of alleged atrocities (Fort Santiago, the notorious locale of kempeitai interrogations) accompanied by the defendant in order to question him on the facilities, the location of prisoner cells, and the like. In fact, commission members took an active role during the trials—questioning witnesses and asking often detailed questions, presumably to test the credibility of those testifying. A good example is the case of Murata Masaaki, where commission members actively probed both prosecution and defense witnesses to discern areas of inconsistency and eventually found the defense witnesses more credible. Commissions also provided rationales for their verdicts in over a third of the cases, a percentage that compares favorably with the trial judgments issued by U.S. commissions. 63

Reasonably typical of the Philippine trials is the case brought against Ichimura

Isao and Owari Sabur ō. It illustrates the kinds of charges faced by Japanese defendants

and the nature of testimony by both prosecution and defense witnesses. The trial began

on August 5, 1948, and ended on October 14. As was customary, the defendants were

charged with violating the laws and customs of war. Each defendant faced one

specification, or count. Under specification 1, Ichimura, an army captain, was accused of

having “ordered, directed and permitted” Owari and others under his command to

conduct a punitive expedition against unarmed noncombatant civilians in Bauan

63 Transcript, 667-682, Case #8, Philippines vs Kita Heiji et al. and Transcript, 57-83, 376-387, 408-416 and 592-593, Case #22, Philippines vs. Murata Masaaki, RG 331, NACP; and Piccigallo, Japanese on Trial , 39.

75 municipality, Batangas Province, in February 1945. During that expedition, 400 civilians

“were shot, bayoneted, dynamited and burned to death.” Owari, a first lieutenant, was

charged in specification 2 with having participated in the expedition that resulted in the

deaths. 64

Both men pled not guilty, and the case proceeded to trial. In his opening

statement, the prosecutor stated that he would prove that innocent people of the town

were made to assemble in a church; the women and children were taken to a school, and

the men to a house that was dynamited. Those who tried to escape were shot; still others

were rounded up later and executed. The prosecution produced several eye witnesses

who had survived the attack, as well as witnesses who testified to their awareness of the

massacre. Defense counsel on cross examination sought to challenge the witnesses’

identification of Owari as present during the expedition. 65

The defense introduced the arguments that, first, the punitive expedition had been

mounted pursuant to superior orders and its mission was to deal with guerrillas and,

second, that neither of the defendants had killed nor permitted the killing of any unarmed

noncombatant civilians. Defense witnesses (all Japanese who were either awaiting trial

or had already been convicted of war crimes) testified that Ichimura had become sick in

January 1945 and been relieved of duty until March; consequently he had not ordered the

punitive expedition in question. In their own testimony, both Ichimura and Owari denied

involvement. Ichimura disavowed a previous statement made to investigators that he had

resumed command of his unit in February. Owari corroborated Ichimura’s claim of

illness and maintained that, although he had been ordered to go on the expedition, he had

64 Charge and Specifications, Case #32, Philippines vs. Ichimura Isao et al., RG 331, NACP. 65 Transcript, 9-11, 12-39, 58-63, 82-88, 100-157, 186-214, 917-992 and 997-998, Case #32, Philippines vs. Ichimura Isao et al., RG 331, NACP.

76 stayed in the Bauan municipal building and had taken no part in the killings. He had, he testified, even argued with Lt. Takemoto, the actual commander of the expedition, about the killings, to no avail. Neither defendant sought to deny that an expedition had taken place or that deaths had resulted—the emphasis was on denying their own individual culpability. The defense counsel’s reference to superior orders notwithstanding, Owari and Ichimura both chose not to rely on such a defense. 66

Commission members made short work of the case. Two days after hearing the summations of the prosecution and defense, it rendered its verdict. Ichimura and Owari were both found guilty and sentenced to hang. In this instance, the commission provided no rationale for its findings. 67

Trial Testimony: Prosecution and Defense Strategies and Witnesses

The Ichimura/Owari case was typical in at least one major respect: the strategies employed by both the prosecution and defense. Prosecutors built their cases overwhelmingly on the identification, by survivors and other eye witnesses, of those

Japanese who had allegedly committed the atrocities. The defense, in turn, sought to challenge witness identifications while introducing its own witnesses to produce alibis or other exculpatory evidence. Almost all the Japanese suspects on trial testified in their own defense.

The prosecution cases tended to follow a quite predictable pattern. A series of witnesses would testify to witnessing or experiencing torture at the hands of Japanese

66 Ibid, Transcript, 503-840. 67 The commission found the defendants guilty of the specifications as modified by reducing the number killed from 400 to 248. Transcript, 917-992 and 997-998, Case #32, Philippines vs. Ichimura Isao et al., RG 331, NACP.

77 soldiers, whom they would point to in court. (Prosecutors might also introduce

statements made by the defendants during earlier interrogations.) A Japanese translator

present at many of the trials later confirmed the often decisive impact of dramatic eye

witness identifications of defendants: “For example, an old woman, or perhaps a young

woman with a baby, would come to court and take the witness stand. The baby is crying,

and while the woman herself is crying, she looks at the defendant’s seat and points a

finger, saying ‘that man did it!’” 68

The trials produced ample testimony of terrible atrocities. Witnesses described

tortures that included beatings, electric shocks, and the “water cure.” 69 Others testified to

being stabbed with bayonets and left for dead, fleeing from burning buildings, being

raped or watching as others were brutally tortured and killed. Some described being

rounded up in a “zona” (short for “zonification”) and being paraded before a “magic

eye”—a hidden Filipino informant who pointed out those suspected of guerilla activities.

Those so identified would face harsh interrogations, beatings or worse. 70

It is not surprising that Filipinos testified in the Manila war crimes trials on behalf

of the prosecution—many came forward to testify to what they had seen and been forced

to suffer at the hands of the Japanese. Emotions ran high and some witnesses could not

control their anger. A woman described as the Chinese widow of a man killed in Fort

68 Yutaka Tsuji, ed., Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku (Tokyo: Asahi Shinbun Co., 1952): 196-197. 69 In addition to the simulated drowning of more recent notoriety, the Japanese also employed other creative approaches subsumed under the description “water cure,” including the use of hoses jammed down prisoners’ throats to pump water into the stomach and the application of forced pressure against the abdomen. See, e.g., Transcript, 82, Case #2, Philippines vs. Fujisaki Sabur ō; Transcript, 197-198, Case #11, Philippines vs. Morishita Tsuneo; and Transcript, 21, Case #58, Philippines vs. Koike Kaneyuki, RG 331, NACP. 70 See, e.g., Transcript, 9-24 and 71-83, Case #1, Philippines vs. Fujita Takefumi; Transcript, 75-88, Case #2, Philippines vs. Fujisaki Sabur ō; Transcript, 19-30, Case #21, Philippines vs. Miyamoto Shimao et al.; Transcript, 192-201, Case #23, Philippines vs. Teramoto Tukuji [Tokuji]; and Transcript, 9-31, Case #25, Philippines vs. It ō Masayasu, RG 331, NACP.

78 Santiago at the hands of the kempeitai , and who had herself been tortured, identified the defendants and then told the court “will you allow me, I want to hit them now,” a remark that created a furor in the gallery. 71

The defense strategy was, in some ways, just as predictable as that of the prosecution. In addition to efforts to discredit prosecution witnesses (see further discussion below), defense counsel attempted to produce their own witnesses to substantiate the testimony of the accused. In a substantial number of cases, Japanese defendants produced their fellow detainees to back up their claims of alibi or mistaken identity. And, in a somewhat surprising number of cases, the defense witnesses were

Filipinos.

Of course, many Filipinos were reluctant to testify or offer assistance to those defending Japanese accused of atrocities. Indeed, an American civilian attorney attached to the War Crimes Trials section in Manila, assigned as a defense counsel, observed that

“it was a rare day” when any Filipino was willing to assist in a Japanese defendant’s case.

In another instance, the defense attorney carefully kept from one of his witnesses the fact that his testimony was intended to support the accused; the witness, who thought he was testifying against a Filipino collaborator, stated he never would have participated had he known he was potentially helping a Japanese soldier. In another case, defense counsel apparently went to considerable lengths—even to the point of violating the rules of affidavits—to obtain witness testimony while obscuring his relationship to the defense.

In that same case, the defense counsel noted that two prospective witnesses had refused to testify for the defense because they feared retribution from their townspeople. In yet

71 Transcript, 105, Case #8, Philippines vs. Kita Heiji et al., RG 331, NACP.

79 another case, the defense in its written summation lamented the fact that various

“prominent” Filipinos had refused to testify “for political reasons.” 72

And yet some Filipinos did testify on behalf of defendants, and not merely on matters of fact or to provide routine information. In fact, the defense produced Filipino witnesses or their affidavits in over 30 cases. In several instances, Filipinos testified in support of the good character of Japanese defendants. In a case involving three Japanese members of the kempeitai accused of responsibility for the death, by suffocation, of over

400 Filipino prisoners at the Fort Santiago detention center, Mrs. Luz de Reyes testified that one of the accused, Lt. Kita Heiji, had helped gain permission for her to visit her son in prison, ensured that her son had medical attention when sick, and brought her family food. The prosecution attempted to soften the impact of her testimony by suggesting that

Kita was only motivated by propaganda considerations, but the witness held her ground. 73

Even more striking is the case of Matsuzaki Hideichi, former army major and commander of the San Fernando kempeitai , who was accused of ordering his men to torture Filipinos, including POW Fred Ruiz Castro ( postwar Philippine Judge Advocate

General), and to torture and kill over 60 other Filipino and American POWs. Castro testified that Matsuzaki had slapped and kicked him, and had him subjected to the water cure and other torture. To counter the testimony of Castro and other prosecution witnesses, the defense turned to witnesses like Manila police chief Antonio Torres and Jai

Alai manager Timoteo Evangelista, who testified to the sympathetic character of

Matsuzaki and his responsiveness to appeals for help in releasing incarcerated Filipinos.

72 Transcript, 390, Case #8, Philippines vs. Kita Heiji et al.; Transcript, 423, Case #10, Philippines vs. Shimizu Hisamitsu and Uemura Masao; Transcript, 30-49, 128-173 and 182, Case #17, Philippines vs. Mori Kenkichi; and Transcript, 1008-1009, Case #58, Philippines vs. Koike Kaneyuki, RG 331, NACP. 73 Specifications and Transcript, 555-587, Case #8, Philippines vs. Kita Heiji, et al., RG 331, NACP.

80 To cap these efforts, the defense submitted as an exhibit a letter from President Elpidio

Quirino in which he related his family’s successful appeals to Matsuzaki to have him

released from prison. Quirino said his family had praised the accused as “invariably

helpful and sympathetic to me and other Filipinos I know who had occasion to seek his

assistance in their difficulties during the occupation.” Matsuzaki was convicted and

sentenced to 20 years at hard labor. 74

In a few other cases, towns submitted petitions in favor of the accused. In the

case of Shimizu Hisamitsu and Uemura Masao, for example, Philippine Senator Ramon

Torres not only testified for Shimizu but also, at the request of defense counsel, took the

lead in obtaining signatures on a petition from the townspeople of Bago, Negros

Occidental Province. The petition, signed by over 300 people, attested to Shimizu’s

efforts to help Filipinos, thus sparing them from “more than their share of the

unhappiness, misery, bereavement and ruin that come in the wake of war.” In this case,

the prosecution attempted to discredit the petition by hinting at the possibility of forged

signatures and claiming that it represented the views of a minority, the “higher level”

among the inhabitants. Senator Torres countered that he was only expressing popular

sentiment with regard to the accused. 75

Other than efforts to use Filipino witnesses to good advantage, defense strategy

was striking in yet another respect: rarely did those defendants who pled not guilty

choose to make their cases on grounds of military expediency or following the orders of

their superiors. And in virtually no case did the accused or their attorneys deny that the

74 Transcript, 236-241, 269-275, 460 and 867, Case #18, Philippines vs. Matsuzaki Hideichi, RG 331, NACP. The Quirino letter was not included in the copy of the transcript in the U.S. National Archives, but was included in Transcript, Exhibit B, Bundle #35, People of the Philippines vs. Matsuzaki Hideichi, NAP. 75 Transcript, 285-286, 651-661, 667-670, and 689-690, Case #10, Philippines vs. Shimizu Hisamitsu and Uemura Masao, RG 331, NACP.

81 stated atrocities took place. Instead, most defendants opted to maintain their complete innocence, apparently in the belief that denying any involvement constituted their best chance of an acquittal or for the simple reason that it was, in fact, the truth. 76

It is impossible to know whether this defense strategy of relying on claims of alibi

or mistaken identity was encouraged or recommended by Filipino defense counsel or

whether it arose from the conviction among the defendants that this strategy would serve

them better than claims of duress, wartime circumstances, or fear of the consequences of

failing to obey orders. But in their private musings some of the accused did discuss their

strong belief that such considerations did and should matter. Lt. General Yokoyama

noted in a letter that some of his fellow prisoners argued that it was the fault of the

Japanese military system that made it impossible to avoid committing the crimes or they

had done the best they could under the circumstances or they had been victims of a

peculiarly wartime psychological situation. 77

In fact, the executive order (E.O. 68) governing the trials explicitly rejected obedience to superior orders as a legitimate defense, but did acknowledge that it could be considered a mitigating factor during sentencing. For example, Deguchi Motoaki pled guilty to ordering the execution, without trial, of presidential guard members suspected of guerrilla activities. He testified that he had received an order from General Yamashita to execute the men, and had relayed that order to a subordinate who had carried it out; had he not carried out the order, he would have been “disposed of.” The commission

76 See, e.g., Transcript, 503, 758, 836-840 and 917-933, Case #32, Philippines vs. Ichimura Isao et al.; and Transcript, 598, Case #5, Philippines vs. Kud ō Ch ūshir ō, RG 331, NACP. There were a few exceptions. For example, at his trial Sat ō S ō denied involvement in two of the charges against him, but argued that he was innocent of the third because it involved legitimate self-defense against a guerrilla attack. See Transcript, 274-372, Case #7 , Philippines vs. Sat ō S ō, RG 331, NACP. 77 Yokoyama, “Gokus ō Seikatsu wo Kataru,” 3-4.

82 sentenced Deguchi to life in prison, having taken into account as mitigating factors both his guilty plea and his having acted in obedience to superior orders. 78

Issues of Evidence and Witness Credibility

As has already been noted, Philippine prosecutors relied almost exclusively on the testimony of eye witnesses and survivors to make their cases against Japanese defendants.

Commission rulings and sentence review panels reinforced the legal validity of this reliance on eye witness testimony and its ability to trump an alibi defense. For example, the military commission, in issuing its verdict against Onoyama Masaichi and Nemoto

Takeji, rejected their alibi defense, citing a Philippine Supreme Court ruling that “oral evidence of alibi is so easily manufactured and usually so unreliable that it can rarely be given credence.” Another commission, ruling against the defendant, cited various court cases in noting that an alibi “cannot stand and prevail over the clear and convincing testimonies of credible witnesses and this is true in the present case.” 79

The sentence review board, in upholding the guilty verdict against Fujimoto

Takao, also cited previous Philippine case law that privileged witness identifications over claims of alibi. “When the defendants are identified by the witnesses for the prosecution by clear, explicit and positive testimony, [an] alibi will not be credited.” In another case, the review board cited further legal precedents for the view that “a defendant must not only show he was present at some other place but must demonstrate that it would have

78 Transcript, 1-16, Case #62, Philippines vs. Deguchi Motoaki, RG 331, NACP. 79 Commission Rationale, 11, Case #46, Philippines vs. Sat ō Ichir ō et al., RG 331, NACP; and Transcript, 676-677, Case #56, Philippines vs. Hatayama Yoshimi et al., RG 331, NACP.

83 been impossible for him to be at the scene of the crime. It must be proved

convincingly.” 80 (The sentence review process is discussed in more detail in chapter 3.)

Because eye witness testimony was so critical, the credibility of such witnesses

was a key factor in the trials, as was the perceived veracity of defense witnesses in

rebuttal. Naturally, both the prosecution and the defense sought to portray the other

side’s witnesses as mistaken, biased, or both. Defense counsel tried to challenge the

credibility of Filipino testimony as inaccurate at best and at worst biased by hatred of all

Japanese. In some cases the defense employed tactics to confuse prosecution witnesses

and invalidate their identification of defendants. Sat ō S ō, for example, donned glasses

during the prosecution’s case to tempt witnesses into pointing to them as an identifying

feature, while later testifying that he had never worn glasses during the war. In another

case, Tsuji Ch ōichi agreed to change seats with one of his fellow defendants during the

course of their trial in the hopes of rattling a prosecution witness. It worked—that

defendant was acquitted. 81

The prosecution in turn attempted to paint Japanese witnesses—particularly those

who served with the accused—as propounding rehearsed stories concocted to protect

their colleagues. Because defense counsel frequently relied for witnesses on Japanese

under suspicion or already convicted of war crimes, their testimony offered a ready-made

basis for challenge by the prosecution on credibility grounds. 82

80 Review Board Report, 36, Bundle #6, People of the Philippines vs. Fujimoto Takao; and Review Board Report, 30, Bundle #67, People of the Philippines vs. Teramoto Tukuji [Tokuji], NAP. 81 Transcript, 288-289, Case #37, Philippines vs. Satō S ō, RG 331, NACP; Transcript, 382-393, Case #61, Philippines vs Ainoda Hajime et al., RG 331, NACP; and Ch ōichi Tsuji, Yūhei Montenrupa (Tokyo: Senshi Kank ōkai, Hatsubai Seiunsha, 1984): 113-114. 82 For examples of defense strategy, see Transcript, 695, Case #1, Philippines vs. Fujita Takefumi and Transcript, 940-945, Case #12, Philippines vs. Nakamura Hideichi et al, RG 331, NACP. For examples of the prosecution’s strategy, see Transcript, 491-492, Case #13, Philippines vs. Uemura Eichir ō and Arai Hatsuyoshi and Transcript, 383-396, Case #19, Philippines vs. Nakanishi Shioji, RG 331, NACP.

84 Both prosecutors and defense attorneys found it useful to challenge witnesses on

the basis of their dealings with the Japanese during the war. In the case of Nakamura

Fumio, an army sergeant charged with the torture or killing of Filipino civilians in several incidents, the defense produced a number of Filipino witnesses who testified that the defendant was being confused with another Nakamura, a member of the kempeitai , who had been the perpetrator of the atrocities. In cross examination, the prosecutor showed that many of these witnesses had been accused or convicted of collaboration. For example, one witness who had testified that he knew both Nakamuras and had been present when the kempeitai Nakamura had arrested one of the men the accused was charged with torturing, admitted that he had been sentenced to life in prison as a collaborator. The commission sentenced the defendant to life, having apparently rejected the defense witness testimony as not credible. 83

One prospective defense witness in another case initially refused to testify,

arguing that he had only recently been freed from indictment as a collaborator and feared

public opinion in his home town should he testify on behalf of a Japanese. He appeared

only after being subpoenaed by the commission. In a yet another trial, prosecution

witness Segundo Lopez, a twenty-one year old farmer who had served as an interpreter at

a Japanese army garrison, testified that he had witnessed the accused Teramoto Tokuji

order the torture and execution of Filipino prisoners. Faced with this highly damaging

testimony, the defense counsel on cross examination asked the witness if he had been an

agent of the Japanese and questioned him on why he had done nothing to help those who

were tortured and killed. The next day of the trial, the prosecution announced that Lopez

83 Transcript, 253-418 and 611-612, Case #55, Philippines vs. Nakamura Fumio, RG 331, NACP.

85 had killed himself, unable to bear the stigma of implied collaboration. The shaken

defense counsel asked for and was granted an adjournment. 84

In many instances commission members discounted entirely the testimony of

Filipino or Japanese defense witnesses in favor of the eyewitness accounts of Filipinos

testifying against the accused. In the case of Philippines vs. Masaki Sh ōichi, et al., for

example, the commission found all of the defendants guilty, having apparently rejected

both the testimony of Japanese that two of the accused had been stationed with other

units than those involved in the crimes and the corroborative testimony of some Filipinos.

In yet another case, the prosecution presented a single Filipino witness to the presence of

the accused (It ō Masayasu) during the round up, torture and execution of Filipino

civilians in the municipality of Bay, Laguna Province in February 1945. The witness

testified that he was bayoneted by Japanese soldiers under It ō’s command, but survived

by feigning death and later fleeing. Two other prosecution witnesses corroborated parts

of the witness’ account but did not witness the killings. The defense presented numerous

Japanese witnesses and affidavits to show that It ō had not been in Bay and was therefore

innocent. In handing out its guilty verdict, the commission contrasted the prosecution’s

single eyewitness with “the battery of witnesses and volumes of affidavits” of the defense

but chose to believe the prosecution witness who had testified “with emphatic

positiveness and a reassuring tenor and with glowing truth evidently crystallizing from

his eyes and his speech.” 85

84 Transcript, 283, Case #42, Hatogai et al. and Transcript, 192-218 and 594, Case #23, Philippines vs. Teramoto Tukuji [Tokuji], RG 331, NACP. 85 Transcript, 374-379, 498-505, 632-640 and 714-717, Case #15, Philippines vs. Masaki et al.; and Transcript, 9-31, 57-62, 76-80, 88-193 and 365, Case #25, Philippines vs. It ō Masayasu, RG 331, NACP.

86 Explicit commission rejection of prosecution testimony when it was contradicted

by defense testimony was rare, but it did happen. Murata Masaaki was charged with

ordering and participating in the torture and killing of several non-combatant Filipino

civilians in Laguna Province in mid-1943. Prosecution witnesses testified to the presence

of Murata during arrests and interrogations, while defense witnesses testified to the

accused’s good character and lack of responsibility for the atrocities. In rendering its

verdict, the commission noted that, having carefully weighed the evidence presented “in

conjunction with the character, manner and demeanor of the several witnesses,” it was

“inclined to believe more the theory of the defense than that of the prosecution as the

theory of the defense would be more in consonance with truth, with justice, and with the

actualities of everyday human life.” The commission found the defendant not guilty.86

It is difficult to tell from the written trial record alone what motivated witnesses to testify and whether they were telling the truth. Witness motivations were undoubtedly complex: Filipino prosecution witnesses could be motivated by revenge for specific wrongs or a more generalized hatred of all Japanese. Filipino defense witnesses, accused collaborators or not, might have been influenced by a sense of obligation or gratitude to the Japanese for whom they testified. (Prosecutors on occasion tried to suggest that it was only the elites who testified for Japanese defendants out of just such a sense of obligation for favors received.) 87 Japanese witnesses had a powerful motive to save themselves or their comrades from death sentences, and prosecutors frequently charged

86 Transcript, 592-593, Case #22, Philippines vs. Murata Masaaki, RG 331, NACP. 87 See, for example, Transcript, 402, Case #22, Philippines vs. Murata Masaaki, RG 331, NACP. The notion that the Japanese were “nice” to elite Filipinos was also voiced by the American prosecutor in the Kuroda case. See Transcript, 3049-3050, Case #50, Philippines vs. Kuroda Shigenori, RG 331, NACP.

87 that the standard defense strategy was to claim an alibi, or mistaken identity, or to blame someone else, preferably someone already dead. 88

Two cases are particularly instructive. In both, it is impossible not to conclude that some witnesses were lying—Filipino prosecution and defense witnesses directly contradicted each other. In the case of Matsuda Ichiji, Vicente Tatishi, and Fujii Suehiro, the defendants, all civilian Japanese (Matsuda and Fujii were immigrants, while Tatishi identified himself as a mestizo with a Japanese father and Filipina mother 89 ), were accused of killing four Filipino civilians in Davao City, Mindanao in late 1941. Tatishi and Fujii were further charged with ransacking the house of another (the widow of one of those killed). The key prosecution witness (Napoleon Zapanta) testified that he had been tied up in a building of the Tibungco Lumber Office on December 28, 1941, where he witnessed the arrival of four other Filipinos who were later joined by Japanese soldiers and all three of the accused. The four Filipinos were taken to the wharf; he heard shots and saw Fujii and Tatishi firing at the prisoners while Matsuda appeared to be giving

88 For example, the prosecution in its closing statement in the case against It ō Masayasu disparaged the efforts of the defendant to produce an alibi as a common resort among Japanese war criminals. See Transcript, Prosecution Closing Statement, Case #25, Philippines vs. It ō Masayasu, RG 331, NACP. See also Transcript, 496, Case #13, Philippines vs. Uemura Eichir ō and Arai Hatsuyoshi, RG 331, NACP. 89 The Tatishi [“Tateishi” if using the Japanese character reading] family represents in microcosm the tangled circumstances and outcomes for Japanese civilians after the war ended. Vicente’s father Masajiro had immigrated to the Philippines before the war and, at the insistence of his future father-in-law, was baptized Raymundo Cantos before his marriage to a Filipina; the father retained his Japanese citizenship and died in a camp in Davao in 1945. Vicente’s older brother Teodoro Cantos was initially tried for war crimes by an American tribunal and sentenced to death; he appealed that conviction on the grounds that he was a naturalized Filipino citizen. Turned over to the Philippine government by the American authorities, he was subsequently convicted of treason and murder by a Philippine court and sentenced to death. His sentence was later commuted to life by the Supreme Court of the Philippines and he was released in July 1953 along with other collaborators as part of a general amnesty. Vicente used the name Tatishi and spent part of his youth in Japan before returning to the Philippines at age 14, but testified that he spoke only Visayan and learned Japanese only after his imprisonment. Transcript, 499-515, Case #53, Philippines vs. Matsuda Ichiji et al. and Transcript, 163-168, Case #63, Philippines vs. Takano Ch ōyō, RG 331, NACP; Review Board Report, U.S.A. vs. Teodoro Tatishi, USA Verses Japanese War Criminals, Case File 1945- 1949, SCAP Legal Section, Prosecution Division, RG 331, NACP; The Evening News (Manila), July 4, 1953; Manila Bulletin , December 18, 1946; and Republic of the Philippines Supreme Court, G.R. No. L- 1661, April 28, 1949, in re People of the Philippines vs. Teodoro Cantos.

88 orders. The bodies were dumped in the sea. Zapanta further testified that he had then

been released and warned not to say anything, although he told the victims’ relatives. In contradiction of Zapanta’s testimony, a defense witness testified that he had fled to the mountains with the coming of the Japanese and had seen Zapanta there from December

20, 1941 to January 12, 1942—so Zapanta could not have been where he said he was on

December 28, 1941. Two other Filipino defense witnesses testified that they had seen

Vicente Tatishi at a cockfight in another locale on the afternoon of December 28, giving

him an alibi. The commission found all three defendants not guilty of the murder charge,

citing the prosecution witness as not credible, but did find Tatishi and Fujii guilty of the

lesser charge. 90

A second case even more dramatically illustrates this clash between prosecution

and defense testimony. Shirota Gintar ō (the same Shirota who returned to the Philippines

many years later) was accused of having ordered his men to kill 21 unarmed, non-

combatant Filipino civilians and of having personally beheaded three others, in Cebu in

January 1945. He also faced another count of having tortured prisoners in Fort Santiago

during an earlier posting in 1943. Two prosecution witnesses testified that they had seen

Shirota, chief of the Mandawe, Cebu kempeitai sub-detachment, and his men come to the cell where they (the witnesses) were incarcerated and remove several prisoners including three women; they never saw these prisoners again. Another witness stated that, acting on a tip that the women were to be killed, he had arrived in Mandawe and actually seen the killings by Shirota and his men. Another witness corroborated his account. 91

90 Specifications, Transcript, 19-34, 262, 328, 378, 386-387, 499, 576-577, and 702-704 and Commission Rationale, Case #53, Philippines vs. Matsuda Ichiji et al., RG 331, NACP. 91 Transcript, 9-137, Case #60, Philippines vs. Shirota Gentar ō [Gintar ō], RG 331, NACP.

89 The defense produced witnesses who directly contradicted key elements of the

prosecution case. One witness testified that another officer (Sgt Major Tsukuyama), not

Shirota, was commander of the Mandawe sub-detachment and that Shirota had nothing to

do with the arrests of the victims. This same witness also stated that he had not seen the

prosecution eye-witnesses in the area after mid-1944 and that it would have been too

dangerous for them to have been in Mandawe in January 1945 as they claimed. Another

Filipino witness, a member of the Philippine Constabulary during the war, testified that

he had been with the patrol led by Tsukuyama that had arrested the women victims. And,

according to this witness, the tipster who had reportedly alerted the prosecution witnesses

to the planned killings had himself been killed in 1944—he could not have provided

information as alleged by the prosecution. Finally, the witness acknowledged having

made a statement to investigators about Shirota’s involvement, but stated that he had

done so only in exchange for promises of help (he was then an accused collaborator). He

later recanted because he felt guilty for having made a false statement against Shirota.

Other Filipino defense witnesses corroborated these accounts. Defense counsel also

attempted to show why the prosecution witnesses had perjured themselves—a Japanese

war criminal testified that he had met one of the witnesses in court who told him they did not know Shirota but had come to testify for the pleasure of seeing Manila and to get the expense money. 92

Without providing any rationale for their verdict, the commission members found

Shirota guilty on all counts and sentenced him to death. The lack of any explanation by

commission members makes it difficult to judge with certainty why they rejected the

defense testimony, but it is likely that witness credibility played a large part. During

92 Ibid, Transcript, 368-569 and 618.

90 cross examination and commission questioning, it was revealed that virtually all the

defense witnesses had been found guilty of treason (collaboration) and sentenced to life

in prison. 93

Finally, it is clear that Japanese witnesses also lied. For example, during his trial

on multiple charges of ordering and participating in the torture and killing of civilians,

Morishita Tsuneo attempted to defend himself against some of the charges by ascribing

responsibility for the deaths to fellow lieutenant Doi Kunio. Morishita, convicted and

sentenced to death, later recanted that testimony in the trial of Doi, who had been

repatriated to Japan but brought back to face charges. Morishita, under the mistaken

impression that Doi had been killed during the war, presumably thought that Doi could be

safely blamed for the killings.94

Another Japanese war criminal admitted after his conviction that he had lied to try

to protect his co-defendants. Sat ō Ichir ō pled guilty to the charge that he had ordered and participated in the massacre of 1500 civilians in Batangas Province in March 1945; two others, Nemoto Takeji and Onoyama Masaichi, were also charged with participating in the killings but pled not guilty. During the trial, Sat ō testified that neither Nemoto nor

Onoyama had been involved, but later acknowledged that he had tried to shield them.

Sat ō explained that because superior officers (who did not survive the war) had ordered the killings, it was not a crime for subordinates to obey those orders and he had attempted

93 Ibid, Transcript, 385-386, 452, 471-472, 500, 533-534, and 545-547. 94 Transcript, 506-509, Case # 11, Philippines vs. Morishita Tsuneo and Transcript, 209-224, Case #51, Philippines vs. Doi Kunio, RG 331, NACP.

91 to accept the entire responsibility for his company’s actions. Sat ō’s gesture was in vain;

both Nemoto and Onoyama were convicted and sentenced to death. 95

Philippine and Japanese Perspectives: Process vs. Justice

Filipino and Japanese perceptions of the trials were, perhaps unavoidably,

grounded in the differing emphases accorded due process versus outcomes. For Filipinos,

the trials represented a broader test of the Philippines’ legitimacy as a newly sovereign

state. Early press reaction to the Philippine government’s assumption of responsibility for war crimes trials combined pride with some nervousness. The Manila Bulletin observed on July 31, 1947, that “Recurrently it falls to the lot of the Philippines as one of the world’s newest republics to break with precedent and do something that has never been done before” but also worried that “as a test of national fairness it will not be easy to pass.” The Manila Tribune on July 30, 1947 editorialized that, contrary to fears by some

that the army would be unable to administer “true justice,” that was an unfair pre-

judgment of the army’s abilities. Still, the army should bear in mind that “all the world

will watch the event with interest.” By November 1947, the U.S. Embassy in Manila was

reporting that the local press had commented favorably on the conduct of the trials to date,

with the orderly process of the trials reflecting favorably on the Philippines. 96

For Filipinos associated with the trials—judges, prosecutors, and defense

attorneys—the proceedings constituted a means to affirm the Philippines’ commitment to

justice and a way of demonstrating Filipino adherence to the norms of behavior befitting

95 Okamoto, Nokosareta Hitobito , 221-224; and Specifications and Transcript, 9, 65, 203-204, and 339-341, Case # 46, Philippines vs Sat ō Ichir ō et al., RG 331, NACP. 96 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 1041 and Attachments, July 31, 1947, Decimal 740.00116 PW/7-3147, Central Decimal File, 1945-49, RG 59, NACP; and U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 1353, November 26, 1947, Decimal File 711.6, Manila Embassy General Records 1947, RG 84, NACP.

92 a civilized country. In some of the early trials, commission members were at pains to

emphasize the appropriateness of the proceedings. In both the Takahashi and Kud ō trials,

for example (where commissions sentenced each defendant to death), the commissions

praised the efforts of both prosecutors and defense counsel, noting in the former trial that their fairness and mutual cooperation reflected “credit to themselves and the governments to which they belong.” In its explanation of the verdict in the Takahashi case, the commission went even further, noting that it had not focused on the nationality of the accused so as to ensure that “posterity and the world at large will not find occasion to brand the Filipinos as a bunch of uncivilized, rancorous sadists seeking blood to quench their thirst for the sake of cheap revenge.” 97 In the trial of It ō Sabur ō, the prosecutor

reacted angrily to the notion that Filipinos were motivated by revenge, as had been

suggested by one of the witnesses.

It may be that some people still are resentful but here we are giving [the Japanese] a fair trial and that we are teaching them the tenets of democracy and we are showing to the whole world that we are not harboring anything against the Japanese. I feel insulted as a Filipino that another Filipino should say that the Filipinos are still resentful against the Japanese. 98

A defense counsel offered his own perspective on the internal conflict posed by

mixed feelings of anger and duty. During the trial of Hatogai Yoshimasa and Katayama

Sakae, Captain Reyes described a conversation he had with a prospective witness. “I told

him the embarrassing situation . . . for having been assigned by the Chief of Staff to

defend war criminals who wrought atrocities and gruesome cruelties” but “I explained to

him that personally I overlook and forget these things of the past and to look forward not

97 Transcript, 552, Case #3, Philippines vs. Takahashi Sadakichi and Transcript, 598, Case #5, Philippines vs. Kud ō Ch ūshir ō, RG 331, NACP. 98 Transcript, 452-453, Case #57, Philippines vs. It ō Sabur ō, RG 331, NACP.

93 for the benefit of any individual but for the benefit of the Filipino nation as a young

Republic.” 99 And Captain Pedro Serran, chief of the Defense Panel, told a newsman that

he was committed to giving the Japanese a fair trial—democratic justice was what he had

fought for as a guerrilla during the war. 100

In some sense, it became almost a source of national pride that Philippine

behavior would contrast so obviously with that of the Japanese during the war. The

Liberty News editorialist who commented on the behavior of the Japanese defense

attorneys in 1947 suggested that they deserved to be given the same treatment the

Japanese had accorded their Filipino victims during the war, but “our superiority to Jap

methods and ways forbids us to descend so low.” 101 The Philippines Free Press printed

“Letter to Madame Tojo” on December 11, 1948. In it, the writer said that his family

sympathized with Mrs. T ōjō on the impending execution of her husband (wartime prime

minister T ōjō Hideki had recently been sentenced to death by the Tokyo war crimes

tribunal) but contrasted the fair trial received by T ōjō (and by inference the fairness of the

trials conducted by the Philippine government) with the treatment meted out to Filipinos

by the Japanese army. The author’s brothers and thousands of others had been killed

without trial. 102 In an earlier commentary, a writer speculated that a Japanese about to be

executed must have been bemused at the trouble the Americans and Filipinos went to in

assuring a fair trial—had Japan won the war, there would have been no such “degenerate

democratic processes.” 103

99 Transcript, 283, Case #42, Hatogai et al., RG 331, NACP. 100 Teodoro Locsin, “Day of Reckoning,” Philippines Free Press , January 17, 1948. 101 Liberty News Editorial, November 11, 1947, attachment to U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 1353, November 26, 1947, Decimal 740.00116 PW/11-2647, Central Decimal File, 1945-1949, RG 59, NACP. 102 Philippines Free Press , December 11, 1948. 103 Locsin, “Day of Reckoning.”

94 The Japanese popular reaction to the trials during this period (1947-1949) is more

difficult to discern. Japanese newspapers, operating under U.S. occupation censorship

and limited by newsprint shortages and the inability to send correspondents overseas in

the early postwar years, at most reported the bare facts of verdicts as gleaned from wire

reports. Nonetheless, the overall impression began to be formed that the trials, however

well-structured in procedural terms, still represented demonstrations of undifferentiated

Filipino hatred towards Japanese, a hatred that resulted in unfair verdicts and sentences.

In letters to their families, Japanese defendants not infrequently protested their innocence.

For example, Owari Sabur ō, writing to his wife while in detention awaiting indictment,

urged her to believe that he was not to blame for any incidents for which he might be

charged. “I know of many people who died on the gallows because of the false

testimonies against them . . . in fact, practically all of the real perpetrators of the crimes

have now gone home while those unlucky but honest persons who have a stronger sense

of justice are left behind, made to shoulder and to die for the responsibility of others.”104

Some Japanese observers noted that an emphasis on process could not avoid

miscarriages of justice. Some concluded that the judicial process was flawed—fatally—

through its inability to distinguish truth from lies. Filipino witnesses, blinded by hatred,

had corrupted process to serve their thirst for revenge. Filipino prosecutors, perhaps

driven by similar motives, coached witnesses to gain convictions. 105

Former general and convicted war criminal Kuroda Shigenori, soon after

receiving a pardon, wrote that the trials followed regular procedures, so in that regard

104 Letter [translated], Owari Sabur ō to Kiyoko, undated, Bundle #17, People of the Philippines vs. Ichimura Isao and Owari Sabur ō, NAP. For other letters see Sugamo Isho Hensankai, ed., Seiki no Isho (Tokyo: Sugamo Isho Hensankai Kanko Jimusho, 1953): 575, 592, 594-595, 607-614 and 622. 105 See, e.g., Tsuji, Yūhei Montenrupa , 113-114.

95 could be considered “normal and fair.” Moreover, post sentence review was carried out extremely carefully. Still, “I think it is very difficult for the military of the victors to try these matters. It is not a lie that there were actual war crimes. But there is some doubt as to whether those who were charged with these crimes did them or not.” 106 Mineo

Shisuhiko, a former naval Lt. Commander convicted and sentenced to death in early 1949,

fretted that some more lenient sentences given to a few others might convey the mistaken

impression that the trials were actually fair, and reinforce to Filipinos that justice had

been served. 107

It was Owari Sabur ō who provided one of the more comprehensive indictments of

the Philippine trials from the Japanese defendants’ point of view. In an undated letter to

his brother written while he was awaiting trial, Owari complained that Filipino

prosecutors were “generally held to be vindictive against any Japanese whether innocent

or guilty” and charged that the specific prosecutor in charge of his case was biased

because he had once been head of the barrio where the alleged incident took place. Even

though there were exceptions, the American trials had been fair, but ever since the

Philippine government had assumed jurisdiction “not a single trial has been conducted

fairly and impartially by a Filipino military commission.” Prosecutors coached witnesses

to testify in support of the charges and the commissions would usually “give credit to

whatever false testimonies the prosecution witnesses made.” Owari lamented the fact

that it would be impossible for any subsequent reviewer of the trial proceedings to

discern, let alone prove, that justice had not been served. “Even if time came for Japan to

106 Kuroda, “Montenrupa,” 130-131. 107 Shisuhiko Mineo, Uminari ga Kikoeru: Hit ō Senpan Shikeish ū Kaigun Seinen Sh ōkō no Ikan (Tokyo: Fuesu Shuppan, 1966): 122-123 and 174.

96 raise questions regarding the absence of justice in the war crimes trials, these records are

so made that the government of the Philippines would be able to justify fully its stand.” 108

It is possible that correspondence as critical as Owari’s did not reach the intended recipients owing to screening by Philippine or U.S. occupation authorities. Nonetheless, enough information was filtering through to allow Japanese observers to form their own views of the trials. In a report prepared at the behest of the Prime Minister in May 1949, the Japanese Foreign Ministry commented on the increasing concern of the war criminals’ families and members of the public with respect to the treatment given the war criminals in the Philippines. These concerns, the report noted, stemmed in part from doubts about the fairness of the trials, specifically from criticisms that the verdicts had been rendered without sufficient evidence, that prosecutors had engaged in a “frame up” in the submission of testimony, and that as a result harsh sentences had been levied on the basis of lies or mistaken identifications. The report concluded that these outcomes were not surprising, given the extremely rampant anti-Japanese sentiment among Filipinos. 109

The case of Nakamura Hideichi and his 12 co-defendants (later to become a rallying cry in Japan) seemed to offer concrete proof, if any was needed, that the

Philippines had no commitment to justice. The 13 defendants were accused of committing acts of torture, rape and murder against Filipino civilians in Cebu in October

1944. All pled not guilty and at least half maintained their complete innocence, producing witnesses (their fellow defendants and other Japanese) to testify to their alibis and mistaken identifications by prosecution witnesses. It was to no avail—all of the

108 Letter [translated], Owari Sabur ō to brother, undated, Bundle #17, People of the Philippines vs. Ichimura Isao and Owari Sabur ō, NAP. 109 Memo, “Matter Concerning Report on Philippine War Crimes Trials,” May 6, 1949 and Report, “Matter Concerning the Philippine War Crimes Trials,” May 6, 1949, Vol. 1, 117-124, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO.

97 defendants were found guilty and sentenced to death. 110 One of the defendants, Abe Sueo, offered perhaps the bitterest denunciation of the trials. He charged that the Philippines was determined not just to stigmatize any Japanese as a war criminal but also to publicize to the world the barbarity of the Japanese military. Filipino witnesses lied; collaborators aided the prosecution to protect themselves; one prosecutor sanctioned perjured testimony despite the existence of evidence to the contrary. The trials, in short, were about revenge, not justice, and constituted a form of judicial murder. 111

One of the original Japanese defense attorneys who had since returned to Japan and helped with the gathering of affidavits for the accused was shocked by the verdict, and was described by a colleague as “resentful that the true facts of the Nakamura case were not properly assessed.” 112 The Japanese Foreign Ministry took the view that the case had been a “frame up” and further noted that petitions and appeals to Philippine authorities to rectify the injustice had been unsuccessful. 113

Many Japanese defendants remained convinced that no amount of procedural safeguards could prevent shocking miscarriages of justice. It was not just the Nakamura case—other defendants such as Kud ō Ch ūshir ō had been found guilty and sentenced to death despite the presentation of alibis. Sat ō Sō later castigated the lead Filipino prosecutor, Maronilla-Seva, as “wicked” [akuratsu ] and a “devil” [akuma ] who would do

110 Specifications and Transcript, 6, 378-900 and 1033-1045, Case #12, Philippines vs. Nakamura Hideichi et al., RG 331, NACP. 111 Sugamo Isho Hensankai, Seiki no Isho , 592-593. 112 Letter, Yoshimura, Chief of War Crimes Section to Captain Dollete, February 17, 1949, Vol. 2, 395-396, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO. 113 Although “Nakamura” is blacked out in the available Japanese Foreign Ministry memos and other documents discussing the case, it is clear from the context that it was the Nakamura case that was being discussed. See Memo, “Matter Concerning Letter to Philippine War Crimes Office Investigations Section Chief Dollete,” February 17, 1949, Vol. 1, 84-86, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO.

98 anything to win cases. Sat ō observed that the trials were simply political revenge

disguised as “justice.” 114

An outside (but clearly not disinterested) observer, the Reverend Eugene Hessel, pastor of a Presbyterian church in Manila, echoed the view that the trials were unfair.

Hessel, writing in The Christian Century issue of August 24, 1949, took up the case of one Japanese in particular (a naval doctor, Ichinose Haruo, found guilty and sentenced to death on the charge of killing Filipino and Chinese civilians) but did so as part of a much broader critique of the trials as a whole. 115 Hessel argued that the time elapsed since the crimes were committed made accurate witness recollections difficult; that fixing responsibility in cases of obedience to superior orders was morally challenging; and that commission members were predisposed to the idea of punishing the enemy. Prosecutions, moreover, tended towards the vindictive, and witnesses were often motivated by reasons other than telling the truth. In Ichinose’s particular case, affidavits supporting his case were completely ignored, while his counsel, his fellow Japanese prisoners, and even the prison superintendent were convinced of his innocence. In closing, Hessel described his attendance at the execution of one Japanese who maintained his innocence to the end, quoting him as saying “How can one believe in God when such injustices are done?” 116

114 Sat ō, Onsh ū wo Koete , ii, 41-42, 61, 75, 84, and 91-92. 115 Hessel’s article was contained in correspondence about the Ichinose case directed to the U.S. State Department. See, e.g., Letter, Evelyn Orne Young to Chester E. Merrow, U.S. House of Representatives, August 30, 1949, and associated memos, Decimal 740.00116 PW/9-849 and 740.00116 PW/9-2049, Central Decimal File 1945-1949, RG 59, NACP. 116 Ibid.

99 Conclusion

At the end of World War II, the Philippines, along with other allied governments, had to grapple with the ways and means of trying Japanese accused of war crimes. Not yet a sovereign state when the war ended, the Philippines relied on American tribunals to bring Japanese to justice for atrocities committed in the Philippines, a strategy that did not end immediately after the Philippines gained independence in July 1946. Little suggests that the Philippine government was eager to take on this task—to the contrary, it took American urging (and promises of support) before President Roxas agreed to assume responsibility for the trials.

Having done so, the Philippine government put much effort into ensuring that the trials proceeded in a manner seen to be obedient to the rule of law and sensitive to the legal rights of the accused. Circumstances necessitated some compromises, notably in the matter of legal representation for Japanese defendants and their access to witnesses for their defense, but those responsible for the trials hoped and intended that the conduct of the trials would reflect well on the Philippines. And yet, perhaps inevitably, Japanese differed from Filipinos in their conclusions about the fairness of the trials. The heavy percentage of guilty verdicts and the numbers of death sentences, coupled with what appeared to be outright miscarriages of justice (such as the Nakamura trial), only reinforced for those in the Japanese Foreign Ministry and elsewhere that anti-Japanese sentiment in the Philippines was too strong to allow for disinterested justice.

Central to the divide between Japanese and Filipinos on the trials’ ability to dispense justice was the role and significance of eye witness testimony. The military commissions, as a matter of legal precedent, gave considerable weight to survivors’

100 identifications of Japanese defendants as the perpetrators of the atrocities they had

witnessed or experienced. Contrary to the research now accumulated on the unreliability of such testimony, 117 Philippine jurisprudence of the time placed great reliance on its probative value.

With the conclusion of the last trial at the end of 1949, the Philippine government would still need to resolve the ultimate fates of most of those convicted of war crimes.

How it did so, and with what impact on this gap between Philippine and Japanese perceptions, is the subject of the next two chapters.

117 See, e.g., David Chuter, War Crimes: Confronting Atrocity in the Modern World (Boulder, CO.: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2003): 156-157; and Elizabeth F. Loftus, Eyewitness Testimony (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979).

101 CHAPTER 3

AWAITING THEIR FATE: SENTENCE REVIEWS, REPRIEVES AND EXECUTIONS

It is regrettable that I go to my death without the truth being known 1 -- Suzuki Mitsutada on his way to the scaffold

And [the Japanese in Muntinglupa] are all criminals, everyone of them, perhaps the most cold-blooded and hardened bunch the country has behind bars 2 -- Enrique B. Santos, commentator

In the initial months or years following their sentencing, Japanese war criminals in the Philippines waited to learn their ultimate fate. All of the prisoners found guilty at trial had their sentences reviewed; some were vindicated and three had been executed by the end of 1948. A very few received presidential pardons. In the Philippines, press accounts seesawed between broad condemnation of Japan and the Japanese people and individual stories of forgiveness. As time passed, the governmental review process slowed, although it retained its painstaking attention to detail. In Japan, after the attention riveted on the earlier U.S. trials of Yamashita and Homma, press and public attention stilled. This was a time when the prisoners in the Philippines saw themselves as the “forgotten Japanese” [ wasurerareta nihonjin ]. 3

And then the dynamic changed abruptly. Philippine President Elpidio Quirino authorized the execution of fourteen Japanese war criminals, and the executions were carried out on a single night that stretched into the early morning of the next day. After a hiatus of over two years, the Philippines had resumed the process of putting Japanese to

1 Sh ūnin Kagao, Montenrupa ni Inoru: Nippi Senpan Shikeish ū to Tomo ni (Tokyo: Fuji Shoen, 1953): 150. 2 Enrique B. Santos, “Conquerors No More,” This Week Magazine [Manila Chronicle ], December 3, 1950. 3 Sh ūnin Kagao, “Ikite Iru Hit ō Senpan,” Kaiz ō 32:7 (June 1951): 132-139.

102 death for war crimes. The question is, why? Why, after a significant delay, and with no fanfare or publicity, did the Philippine government reach the conclusion that more executions were necessary? And how much did the outcome depend on the judicial process itself, the relative invisibility of the men during their incarceration in prison, or the political environment in the Philippines? The choice the Philippine government made, whether calculated or not, to proceed with more executions demonstrated its commitment to follow an orderly legal process to its logical outcome. At the same time it further hardened Japanese views of Philippine notions of “justice” and set the stage for the subsequent galvanization of Japanese public opinion.

Post Sentence Review: Continued Attention to Judicial Process

In the case of the Philippine war crimes trials, as was true of the U.S. trials, all guilty verdicts and sentences were subject to post-sentence review. These reviews were mandated under Philippine Government Executive Order 68, the same order that established the rules and procedures for the conduct of the war crimes trials themselves.

Under E.O. 68, no sentence could be carried out without the approval of the Army chief of staff, who was given the authority to approve, modify, or overturn sentences but could not increase the penalties imposed at trial. In cases of a death or life sentence, one additional step was required: the president of the Philippines had to confirm the sentence before it could be carried out. Thus, no Japanese war criminal could be put to death without the express authorization of the president. E.O. 68 further stipulated that the

103 chief of staff was to create a board of review to assist him in carrying out his sentence

approval responsibilities. 4

Generally the sentence review process was as follows: the Office of the Judge

Advocate General, whose jurisdiction included the National War Crimes Office (NWCO),

forwarded trial documentation, including trial transcripts, to the board of review. The

board, after reviewing the material as well as any relevant letters or petitions, prepared a

written report for the chief of staff. The chief of staff, after reviewing this material,

would then issue his decision on the sentence, to be implemented through a separate

directive. In instances where the chief of staff approved a sentence of death or life in

prison, the review board’s report, and the trial records, would be forwarded to the office

of the president, through the Secretary of Justice, for confirmation of the sentence. (Later

the process was changed slightly to have the documentation forwarded to the Law Officer

in Malacañan Palace.) If the chief of staff overturned a death or life sentence, that

decision would not require presidential confirmation. 5

The case of Nakanishi Shioji illustrates this process quite well. Nakanishi had

been convicted and sentenced to death on August 13, 1948, for the execution of ten

unarmed Filipino civilians in the municipality of Antipolo, Rizal Province in September

1942. On August 25, 1948, the NWCO, through the Judge Advocate General, submitted

the records of the trial to the board of review through the office of the chief of staff. The

board concluded that the verdict and sentence were justified and prepared a report to that

effect, together with draft paperwork for the chief of staff’s signature. The board

4 The text of E.O. 68 was made a part of the official record of each war crimes trial; see, e.g., Case #28, Philippines vs. Miyake Tomomi, RG 331, NACP. 5 See, e.g., Bundle #3, People of the Philippines vs. Deguchi Motoaki and Bundle #10, People of the Philippines vs. Got ō Sh ōzō and Fujii Rokujir ō, NAP.

104 chairman routed these documents, and the trial transcript, back to the office of the chief

of staff. The chief of staff agreed with the board’s recommendation and approved the

sentence on November 28, 1948, but withheld execution of the sentence pending its

confirmation by the president of the Philippines. By letter of the same date, the chief of

staff forwarded all the case documentation to the president for his consideration and

recommended that the president confirm the sentence. 6

Judging from available documentation, the sentence reviews conducted by the

board of review were by no means perfunctory. 7 In fact, the board’s attention to detail

mirrored the painstaking approach generally followed by the military commissions

themselves. Take, for example, the case of Got ō Sh ōzō and Fujii Rokujir ō. Got ō and

Fujii had been convicted of participating in the killing of noncombatant civilians they had commandeered for convoy duty in early 1945, and were sentenced to death and life in prison, respectively. The two had denied involvement in the deaths, claiming they had been elsewhere at the time. In a report surprising for its punctilious effort to weigh precisely the degree of the defendants’ culpability, the board concluded that the evidence presented at trial was insufficient to sustain the harshness of the sentences imposed. The board agreed with the military commission’s judgment that Got ō was at the scene of the crime, but found no evidence that he had actually participated, “in the sense that with his sword he killed anyone of the 32 Filipinos” and surmised that at most he had relayed the orders of his superior to those who perpetrated the actual atrocities. The board consequently recommended that Got ō’s sentence be reduced to life in prison; using similar reasoning, it recommended that Fujii’s sentence be modified to a term of 20 years

6 Review File documents, Bundle #47, People of the Philippines vs. Nakanishi Shioji, NAP. 7 Records of the war crimes trials have been preserved at the National Archive of the Philippines, but not all of the case files contain post-sentence review documentation.

105 in prison. 8 This is a rather remarkable outcome, considering that the review board agreed that the defendants had lied in claiming an alibi and had actually been present at the scene of the killings.

In an even more striking case, the review board castigated a trial commission for its failure to adhere to basic standards of justice. Sat ō Mataz ō, an Army private, had been accused of participating in the killing of hundreds of Filipino civilians and the burning of some 500 houses as part of a punitive expedition in Batangas Province in February 1945.

Sat ō had made a “daring escape” from the stockade shortly before his trial began but had been recaptured. The prosecution produced eye witness testimony to Sat ō’s involvement and made much of his attempt to escape as proof of his guilt. The defense produced witnesses and documents (including Japanese government records) to show that there had been two soldiers named Sat ō Mataz ō and the other Sat ō had committed the crimes.

Without comment, the trial commission found the accused guilty and sentenced him to life in prison. 9

The review board report was scathing. It found that the trial court had “grossly disregarded the evidence presented and superimposed in its stead a finding of their own which finds no basis in the trial record.” Had the commission “not been so over-zealous of convicting the accused” it would have taken better notice of the “inherently improbable and inconsistent” testimonies of the prosecution witnesses. The board concluded that the defense evidence of an alibi for the accused was credible and

8 Board of Review Report, 22-23 and Recommendations, Bundle #10, People of the Philippines vs. Got ō Sh ōzō and Fujii Rokujir ō, NAP. 9 Specifications and Transcript, 12-14, 46-56, 87-93, 271, 314, 437-440, 531, 571-572, and 574 and Defense Exhibits A, C, and E, Case #44, Philippines vs. Sat ō Mataz ō, RG 331, NACP.

106 recommended that the accused be found innocent. Over the objections of Judge

Advocate staff, the Army chief of staff reversed the guilty verdict. 10

In at least one case the review board appears to have been swayed by petitions

friendly to the accused. Petitions and appeals submitted on behalf of prisoners were not

uncommon; the files contain many such letters and requests for mercy submitted by

friends and family, especially for those sentenced to death. In its review of the case

against army officer Shimizu Hisamitsu, who had been convicted of authorizing his men

to torture Filipino civilians and sentenced to 20 years, the board concluded that the

prosecution had failed to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt, and threw out the

verdict. The board went on to observe, based in part on petitions submitted by Filipinos,

that:

The members of the Board of Review are morally convinced that this case . . . is a rare and unprecedented one. Incontrovertible evidence proving [Shimizu’s] good moral character and reputation while a garrison Commander at Bago, Occidental Negros, has been adequately and positively established to sustain the improbability of committing the acts imputed to him. 11

It likely did not hurt that Shimizu’s case was championed by Senator Ramon Torres, who

had testified at Shimizu’s trial and arranged for petitions on his behalf, and had continued

to put pressure on Philippine review officials after Shimizu was found guilty. 12

In its review of Koike Kaneyuki’s case, the board’s judgment reflected a careful

attention to the nuances of evidence presented at trial. The board reversed Koike’s

conviction on three counts, in part because “the basis for conviction proceeds from a

10 Review Board Report, 24-33, Military Commission Orders No. 5, October 16, 1950, and Message, Board of Review to SGS, October 9, 1950, Bundle #55, People of the Philippines vs. Sat ō Mataz ō, NAP. 11 Board of Review Report, 44-45, Bundle #60, People of the Philippines vs. Shimizu Hisamitsu and Uemura Masao, NAP. 12 Transcript, 309, 338-339, and 651-698, Case #10, Philippines vs. Shimizu Hisamitsu, RG 331, NACP; and Letter, Torres to Army Chief of Staff Castaneda, January 28, 1949, Bundle #60, People of the Philippines vs. Shimizu and Uemura, NAP.

107 colored, fabricated, and prejudiced testimony.” But it upheld the guilty verdict on six

other counts, holding that the commission had been correct in rejecting Koike’s “self-

serving and uncorroborated testimony” in favor of the prosecution witness accounts.

Accordingly, the board concluded that the crimes encompassed in these six counts were

“sufficiently heinous” to support the trial sentence of death by hanging. 13

In rare instances the board of review’s findings were not unanimous. For example,

in the case of Harada Shimpei et al., the majority upheld both the verdicts and sentences

for all four defendants. The men had pled guilty; Harada, the commander, and one of his

subordinates (Tezuka Toshio) had been sentenced to death, while the other two

subordinates had received life sentences. One board member dissented in the matter of

Tezuka’s death sentence, arguing that if the other two subordinates had received life

sentences because of two mitigating factors (guilty pleas and following orders as

subordinates), Tezuka logically deserved a life sentence as well. (The other two board

members maintained that Tezuka’s sentence was justified by the particular brutality he

had demonstrated and the large number of his victims.) In a second case, one board

member disagreed with his two colleagues who had upheld the original sentence, arguing

that the defendant (Sat ō S ō) should not be held criminally responsible for participating in

a fight against guerrillas. 14

Even more unusually, the documentation in another case suggests that the army

chief of staff may not have concurred in the board’s recommendation, although the

evidence is not conclusive. In the case of Kobayashi Yusaku, Yamamoto Tukuz ō

[Tokuz ō] and Kobayashi Masatake, the board of review concluded that the sentences for

13 Board of Review Report, 50-55, Bundle #26, People of the Philippines vs. Koike Kaneyuki, NAP. 14 Board of Review Report, 8-14, Bundle #12, People of the Philippines vs. Harada Shimpei et al. and Board of Review Report, Dissenting Opinion, 2, 9, Bundle #56, People of the Philippines vs. Sat ō S ō, NAP.

108 all three defendants should be overturned on the grounds that the case had not been

proved against them. Kobayashi Yusaku and Yamamoto had been sentenced to life and

Kobayashi Masatake to death, for involvement in the killings of around 100 Filipino

civilians in Batangas Province in early 1945. The files also include a carbon (unsigned)

of an order by the chief of staff to disapprove the sentences. But only the sentence of

Kobayashi Yusaku was actually overturned. Since the sentences against two of the

defendants apparently were allowed to stand (they remained incarcerated until the

issuance of the general pardons in 1953), it suggests that the chief of staff did in fact go

against the recommendation of the board. 15

In many other cases, of course, the board and army chief of staff concurred

unequivocally in the judgments rendered by the military commissions. For example,

Nakano Shizuo had been found guilty and sentenced to death for directing a round-up

(“zona”) of the inhabitants of two towns in Cavite Province who were tortured and killed

by men acting under his orders. The board of review noted that sufficient evidence had

been presented at trial to show that the killings had occurred and to prove that Nakano

had been present and had actively participated in the zona. “His responsibility in this

case is due not merely because of the position he held as second in command . . . but also

because of his direct, active and personal participation in the commission of the crimes

charged against him.” The chief of staff approved the sentence and forwarded it to the

president for concurrence. 16

15 Board of Review Report and Action of Reviewing Authority (unsigned), May 20, 1952, Bundle #24, People of the Philippines vs. Kobayashi Masatake, Yamamoto Tukuz ō [Tokuz ō] and Kobayashi Yusaku, NAP; and Masayasu It ō et al., Monten: Kikoku 30 , 49. 16 Transcript, 5-6, 11 and 593, Case #4, Philippines vs. Nakano Shizuo, RG 331, NACP; and Board of Review Report, 26-27 and Action of the Reviewing Authority, April 10, 1948, Bundle #48, People of the Philippines vs. Nakano Shizuo, NAP.

109 In the end, the board of review appears to have recommended no changes to the

great majority of the sentences it reviewed. Of the 136 defendants (a figure that excludes

those who pled guilty) who were found guilty at trial, 14 (about 10 percent) had their

sentences changed as a result of the review process. Two men had their death sentences

completely overturned; four others sentenced to death had their sentences commuted to

life. Five other convicted war criminals (three sentenced to life and two to term

sentences) also had their sentences overturned. Table 3 compares the trial and post-

sentence review outcomes.

Table 3: Results of Sentence Reviews 17

SENTENCES Death Life Term Not Guilty Trial Verdicts a 79 31 28 11 After Sentence Review 73 31 27 b 18 aIncludes those who pled guilty as well as those who proceeded to trial. bIncludes two defendants whose original term sentences were further reduced.

What is most striking about the review process is how painstakingly it was conducted. The review boards’ reports were detailed and lengthy, with a clear effort made to outline the evidence presented at trial and the rationale used by board members to reach their decisions. The board members often cited Philippine case law to support their findings and conclusions. 18

Also notable was the apparent attention given to petitions submitted on behalf of the convicted war criminals. Board reports frequently noted the existence of such

17 Compiled from Case Files, War Crimes Records, NAP; Case File, 1947-1949, Philippines Versus Various Japanese War Criminals, SCAP Legal Section, Prosecution Division, RG 331, NACP; Press Release 7-6-6, Office of the President of the Philippines, July 6, 1953, Decimal 694.9624/7-653, Central Decimal File 1950-1954, RG 59, NACP; and Asahi Shinbun , June 28, 1953. 18 See, for example, Board of Review Report, 35-37, Bundle #6, People of the Philippines vs. Fujimoto Takao, NAP.

110 petitions and stipulated that board members had reviewed them carefully. Moreover, the process itself shows the care with which petitions were routed to either the board or, in cases where such appeals arrived after the board had concluded its review, to the president of the Philippines for his consideration. For example, in the case of People of the Philippines vs. Harada Shimpei et al., review documentation shows that a number of petitions from relatives and classmates of the defendants were directed to or found their way to the office of the president to be considered as part of the final presidential sentence review. 19

Available documentation on the review process also suggests that over time it

slowed considerably, although this does not necessarily mean that the review itself was

less thorough. For some of the earliest cases—those where verdicts were handed down in

1947 or the early part of 1948—the lapsed time between the verdict and a decision by the

chief of staff approximated 4 to 6 months; one case took only 2 months. The time period

lengthened significantly for later trials—two years, for example, in the cases of Shirota

Gintar ō and Yamashita Suekichi. 20 Insufficient information exists to estimate accurately

the length of time taken by the Secretary of Justice or the office of the president in cases

involving life or death sentences, although anecdotal data suggest that it too slowed

markedly. 21

19 Various Petitions, Review File, Bundle #12, People of the Philippines vs. Harada Shimpei et al., NAP. 20 See, e.g., Bundle #48, People of the Philippines vs. Nakano Shizuo; Bundle #49, People of the Philippines vs. Ogawa Eitar ō; Bundle #18, People of the Philippines vs. It ō Masayasu; Bundle #61, People of the Philippines vs. Shirota Gentar ō [Gintar ō]; and Bundle #72, People of the Philippines vs. Yamashita Suekichi, NAP. 21 For example, the Manila Chronicle reported on February 6, 1951, that as of that date the Secretary of Justice had forwarded [only] 10 cases to the president for his review.

111 Pardons: Mercy for the Few

President Quirino could have chosen to allow the judicial review process to

unfold and simply abide by its results. But in a certain few instances he opted to override or otherwise intervene in the recommendations of the review board and the judgment of the Army chief of staff. Between October 2, 1947 and July 4, 1953 (the period between the first Philippine trial verdict and the first general pardon, discussed in chapter 4),

Quirino commuted the death sentence of one soldier contrary to the advice of the board of review and the decision of the chief of staff, and also issued pardons to three other individuals.

It is not clear why President Quirino chose to overrule the chief of staff’s decision in the one case (at least) in which he appears to have done so. The board of review had recommended (and the chief of staff had agreed) that the death sentence for Sait ō Takao

should stand. Sait ō had been convicted, along with Kita Heiji, of culpability in the deaths

of prisoners in Fort Santiago. The case involved a particularly brutal incident in which

over 400 Filipino prisoners suffocated while in detention. But on February 8, 1952, the

president commuted Sait ō’s sentence to life. Because the president pardoned Sait ō’s fellow defendant Kita (see below) it may be that Kita’s fate in some way influenced the outcome for Sait ō as well. Available documentation does not provide any indication of the basis for Quirino’s decision or whether it might have been influenced by a recommendation from the Secretary of Justice. 22

In the case of the presidential pardons, much stronger inferences are possible. It is clear from available trial and pardon documentation as well as statements attributed to

22 Review File, Bundle #22, People of the Philippines vs. Kita Heiji et al., NAP; and Transcript, 1-7, 247, 367-369, and 782-784, Case #8, Philippines vs. Kita Heiji et al., RG 331, NACP.

112 President Quirino that he felt a sense of personal indebtedness to at least two of the men he pardoned. Matsuzaki Hideichi, a kempeitai officer, had been convicted of ordering his men to torture and kill numerous Filipino prisoners of war. (One of those abused happened to be Fred Ruiz Castro, then a captain in the armed forces, who became the

Judge Advocate General after the war ended.) As noted earlier (see ch. 2), President

Quirino assisted in Matsuzaki’s defense, submitting a letter in which he praised

Matsuzaki’s help to many Filipinos, including Quirino’s family, during the war.23

Quirino clearly felt a sense of obligation to Matsuzaki and issued him a pardon on

February 10, 1951—the first Japanese war criminal to receive one. Matsuzaki said later that Quirino had told him that the president’s wife and daughter, had they been alive, would have begged him to free Matsuzaki. Quirino’s biographer also mentioned

Matsuzaki by name, noting that he had befriended Quirino during his imprisonment.

Nonetheless, Quirino was apparently reluctant to acknowledge publicly his sense of indebtedness—the official notice in the Philippine Gazette merely noted that the pardon had been granted “following representations made by prominent Filipinos.” Castro reportedly resisted the idea of a pardon for Matsuzaki, but relented after Matsuzaki offered him a personal apology. 24

Two other Japanese received pardons from Quirino about a year later—Lt. Kita

Heiji and Lt. General Kuroda Shigenori. Kita, a member of the kempeitai , had been charged with allowing his subordinates to mistreat and torture Filipino prisoners at Fort

23 Specifications and Transcript, 183, 192-196, 282, and 867, Case #18, Philippines vs. Matsuzaki Hideichi, RG 331, NACP. 24 Nihon Keizai Shinbun , March 29, 1951; Quirino, Apo Lakay , 66; Nihon no Firipin Senry ōki ni Kansuru Shiry ō Ch ōsa F ōramu, ed., Nihon no Firipin Senry ō: Intaby ū Kiroku (Tokyo: Ry ūkei Shosha, 1994): 211 and 247-249; Republic of the Philippines, Official Gazette , 47:2 (February 1951): xiv; and Memo, “Information Concerning Philippine War Criminals Issue,” September 27, 1949, Vol. 1, 158-161, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO.

113 Santiago, leading directly to the death of hundreds. Kita’s attorney argued that Kita’s

superior officers, already tried and convicted by American tribunals, were culpable for

the deaths. A Filipino witness testified that Kita had intervened on behalf of President

Quirino’s brother-in-law Hector Syquia, then in custody, allowing visits from his sister

(the wife of the president). Kita was convicted and sentenced to 17 years at hard labor. 25

In reviewing Kita’s sentence, the board of review recommended that it be upheld, and the chief of staff agreed. Since the sentence was less than life, no presidential confirmation was required, which should have led to an order to formally implement the sentence. Yet no such order had been issued as of October 1950, some two years after the board made its report. What role, if any, the president played during this delay is unclear; what is certain is that he issued a pardon to Kita in February 1952. A Japanese newspaper reported that Kita had been pardoned because he had shown kindness to the president during the war. 26

General Kuroda, sentenced to life in prison for atrocities committed in the

Philippines during his tenure as commander of the Fourteenth Army, was frequently characterized as having been a friend to elite Filipinos during the wartime Japanese occupation. During his trial prominent Filipinos—Congressmen and Senators and high level occupation officials like Jose Vargas and Camilo Osias—testified or provided affidavits on his behalf. Kuroda received a presidential pardon in December 1951; if

25 Charge, Specifications, and Transcript, 49, 555, 578, 756, and 784-785, Case # 8, Philippines vs. Kita Heiji et al., RG 331, NACP. 26 Memo, Chairman of Board of Review to SGS, October 7, 1950; Memo, Nanadiego to Chairman, Board of Review, March 21, 1950; and Conditional Pardon, February 8, 1952, Bundle #22, People of the Philippines vs. Kita Heiji et al., NAP; and Asahi Shinbun , February 15, 1952.

114 news reports are to be believed, he spent one of his last days in the Philippines playing golf with Filipinos at an elite country club. 27

Thus, there is direct and convincing evidence that Quirino felt a sense of

obligation to both Matsuzaki and Kita, and he may well have felt a similar obligation to

Kuroda for the general’s overall actions towards other elite Filipinos during the war (or

might possibly have been importuned by them on Kuroda’s behalf). It was Kuroda’s own

belief that his Filipino friends had interceded with the president to obtain his release.

Moreover, Quirino did not just issue pardons to these three men—he went out of his way

to meet with them personally before they returned home. These meetings were widely

reported in both Philippine and Japanese newspapers. In Kuroda’s case Quirino stressed

that he had no love for the Japanese and their actions during the war but was acting out of

a sense of duty and Christian forgiveness. One news account also mentioned that Kuroda

had converted to Christianity, a possible factor in the president’s decision. 28

In extemporaneous remarks to the International Council of Christian Churches

Conference in early December, Quirino gave other indications of his thinking around this

time. He mentioned his own personal losses during the war and his understandable

antipathy towards Japanese, but also his recognition of the need to move beyond those

feelings.

27 Transcript, 1795-1796, 1899, 2010 and 2032, Case #50, Philippines vs. Kuroda Shigenori, RG 331, NACP; Mainichi Shinbun, March 10, 1952; and Manila Times , January 30, 1952. 28 Kuroda, “Montenrupa,” 133; Manila Times , January 30 and February 22, 1952; Manila Chronicle , January 30 and February 22, 1952; Asahi Shinbun , January 29, 1952; Mainichi Shinbun , January 30 and February 22, 1952; and Nihon Keizai Shinbun , March 29, 1951.

115 I don’t want our children to inherit the hate that had been temporarily engendered in those days of torture, in those dark days before the liberation of the City of Manila. I have been waiting for an opportunity to express our friendship to Japan as well as to the others who had cooperated with her during those bloody times. . . . Not only officially but personally, I want to assure our friends, especially those from Japan, that following the example of the Lord, we cannot afford to nurture for an indefinite period that feeling of hate, that feeling of resentment, that negative spirit towards our neighbors . . . 29

Quirino’s timing in pardoning these men also warrants some scrutiny. Matsuzaki was issued a pardon on February 10, 1951; Kuroda in late December 1951, and Kita on

February 8, 1952. Matsuzaki’s release came less than a month after several of the war criminals were executed in a single night, an execution that created a furor in Japan (see ch. 4). Kuroda’s pardon, according to news reports, was timed to coincide with the

Christmas season; Quirino was also quoted as saying that he had planned to free Kuroda sooner but had decided to wait until after the signing of the peace treaty. Both Kuroda and Kita met with Quirino around the time of the first Japanese reparations delegation and the attendant publicity both in the Philippines and Japan. It seems plausible that their release provided Quirino with a means to reinforce to the Japanese delegates, if they needed any reminders, that, magnanimity aside, he had quite a few more bargaining chips still confined in Muntinglupa. To drive the message home, the president had back-to- back meetings with Kuroda and the head of the Japanese delegation on the same morning. 30

29 Extemporaneous Remarks of President Quirino to the Delegates to the International Council of Christian Churches Conference, Malacañan Palace, December 1, 1953, Republic of the Philippines, Official Gazette 47: 12 (December 1951): 6086. 30 Asahi Shinbun , January 28, January 29, and February 15, 1952; Mainichi Shinbun , February 21 and February 22, 1952; Nihon Keizai Shinbun , March 11, 1952; Manila Times , January 30 and February 22, 1952; and Manila Chronicle, January 30, 1952.

116 It is also likely not a coincidence that Matsuzaki, Kita and Kuroda were all

officers, and Matsuzaki and Kuroda were high ranking ones at that. As officers, these

men had opportunities to develop personal ties with Filipino elites during the war, which

gave them an advantage that lower-ranking soldiers did not have. On the occasion of

Kuroda’s departure, an Asahi reporter, who had described the general as “oddly popular among Filipinos,” suggested to a Filipino newsman (not for publication) that it would have been better if a subordinate instead of a general had been pardoned. After all, when a ship goes down it is the captain who is supposed to stay to the end. But he also noted that some of those remaining in Muntinglupa had been resigned to the unlikelihood of that eventuality. 31

In addition to the three pardons cited above, Quirino also freed four other

Japanese war criminals shortly after their death sentences had been commuted to life as part of the July 1953 general pardon (see ch. 4). All four men released at this time were officers (Capt. Koike Kaneyuke, Maj. Harada Shimpei, Lt. Tsubaki Takao and Lt.

Hamada Yoshio). Only one (Koike) was described as having any direct claim to

Quirino’s sympathies. Koike had testified during his trial that he had played some part in recommending the eventual release from Fort Santiago of Quirino as well as his brother

Antonio. Japanese news accounts reinforced the link, reporting that Quirino had earlier confided to Kita Heiji that Koike had treated him kindly and quoting Koike himself as having saved Quirino from “stern punishment” [ genbatsu ]. 32

31 The phrase he heard was “ Ishi ga nagarete ki no ha ga shizumu ,” literally translated “[when] stones float and leaves sink.” Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 20-25. 32 Transcript, 714-720, Case #58, Philippines vs. Koike Kaneyuke, RG 331, NACP; and Mainichi Shinbun , February 22, 1952 and July 10, 1953, evening edition.

117 Post-sentence review documents show that in Koike’s case, a pardon had been

seriously considered at least a year earlier. On March 3, 1952, some ten months after the

Chief of Staff had approved Koike’s death sentence and recommended presidential

confirmation, Judge Advocate General Fred Ruiz Castro sent a rather extraordinary letter

to the president. Castro not only forwarded Koike’s clemency petition and numerous

appeals from his family and friends, but took pains to outline several instances of Koike’s

“acts of benevolence towards Filipinos” during the war and his exemplary behavior since

incarcerated. Castro did not explicitly recommend that Quirino pardon Koike, but it was quite clear where his sympathies lay. 33

Certainly President Quirino intervened in a very small number of cases. To the

extent that he granted pardons to those he knew personally or to whom he felt a particular

degree of gratitude, it might be concluded that this represented no more than the classic

Filipino sense of indebtedness. But Quirino was assumed by many to hold a deep and

personal enmity towards the Japanese, owing to the fact that his wife, three of his

children, and his mother-in-law were killed by the Japanese forces during the last bloody

fighting in Manila in early 1945. Indeed, one of the war criminals eventually released in

the second general amnesty recalled long afterward that those in prison in Muntinglupa

feared Quirino’s election in 1949 precisely because they assumed he would, given the

deaths of his family, have no compunction about signing their death warrants. 34

33 Letter, Fred Ruiz Castro to President of the Philippines, March 3, 1952, Review File, Bundle #26, People of the Philippines vs. Koike Kaneyuki, NAP. 34 Arai, “Montenrupa no Atsui Kaze,” 250-251.

118 The First Executions: Public Fanfare

Elpidio Quirino, notwithstanding the few pardons he issued, was the only

Philippine president to confirm the sentences of all those Japanese war criminals put to

death in the Philippines who had been found guilty by Philippine military tribunals. The

army chief of staff had approved the death sentence for Kud ō Ch ūshir ō (the first war criminal tried by a Philippine tribunal) and forwarded that decision to Philippine

President Manuel Roxas for confirmation in mid-April 1948. But final review by the office of the president had not been completed at the time of Roxas’ death on April 15.

Quirino, his vice president, assumed the presidency and confirmed Kud ō’s death sentence on July 23, 1948, as well as all subsequent death sentences that were carried out. In 1950, the Law Officer in the Executive Office of the President confirmed Quirino’s unwillingness to delegate this responsibility to his vice president during his trips out of the country. 35

Three men were put to death in 1948. The first was Kud ō, who had been convicted of ordering the torture and killing of civilians in Laguna Province in February

1945. Kud ō’s trial began in August 1947, and his sentence was handed down on

November 6 of that year. He was hanged nine months later, on August 13, 1948. The

Manila Bulletin published a lengthy and vivid account of his execution—the result of a journalistic coup. The night before the execution a Bulletin reporter sneaked onto the grounds of the prison with two ex-guerrillas familiar with the facility and watched hidden from sight as Kud ō went to his death. The reporter’s eye witness account had Kud ō

35 U.S. Embassy Manila Airgram A-329, July 26, 1948, File 711.6 Japanese War Crimes Trials, Manila Embassy General Records 1948, RG 84, NACP; Philippines Free Press , October 2, 1948; and Manila #32, January 10, 1950, File “War Criminals Vol. VII,” Decimal File, 1945-1951, SCAP Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP.

119 bowing towards the east and singing the Japanese anthem Kimigayo before mounting the scaffold. 36

The execution was discussed at some length by other papers, in somewhat the same dramatic fashion. The Evening Herald noted the execution of the “former Jap terror” and his burial in a cemetery near the gallows. The Manila Times described the circumstances of Kudo’s death under a “gray angry sky” and the resulting rain that relieved “the tense feelings of a dozen people gathered in a desolate spot in Muntinglupa to witness the hanging.” The Times observed that Kud ō, although he appeared resigned to his fate, was “pale and perceptibly trembling” as he approached the gallows and proclaimed his innocence. The tone of the Manila Chronicle article was somewhat less lurid, but it described the death and subsequent burial on a “green knoll.” One of Kud ō’s fellow prisoners later observed that the Philippine government had deliberately chosen the ill-omened Friday the 13 th for the hanging as a way to make a public display of the

first execution. 37

A lengthy article in the Philippines Free Press in early October 1948 reflected

more deeply on the significance of Kud ō’s claim of innocence. The article noted that

“exhaustive studies” of the case by the review board and the president and his advisors

had been undertaken before Kud ō’s sentence had been confirmed. Nonetheless, Kud ō, in

numerous letters he had written to his family as well as President Quirino, had

maintained that he was innocent and had been made the scapegoat for another Japanese—

whom he named—who was the real guilty party.

36 Manila Bulletin , August 14, 1948; and Charge, Specifications and Transcript, 1 and 600, Case #5, Philippines vs. Kud ō Ch ūshir ō, RG 331, NACP. 37 Evening Herald , August 14, 1948; Manila Times , August 14, 1948; Manila Chronicle , August 14, 1948; and Sat ō, Onsh ū wo Koete , 80.

120

In the light of these letters, the question inevitably comes up—are the statements of a man about to die to be taken at their face value? Does the fact that a man is about to face his creator—or his honorable ancestor—give his last statements a special validity? Incidentally, it might be said that in the case of a number of Japanese war criminals given the death verdict by U.S. Army military commissions in the past, the same vigorous declarations of innocence were uttered in those critical moments before they plunged to their doom. So the question remains—Will a dying Japanese lie? 38

On November 9, 1948, two more men were hanged: Nakano Shizuo and

Teramoto Tokuji. The two men, both army officers, had been found guilty in separate

trials for ordering their men to torture and kill Filipino civilians. The Manila press again

reported on the executions, although this time apparently none of the papers could offer

an eye witness account. The Manila Times provided full coverage, including a picture of

Nakano, and noted that the “Beast of Cavite” (Nakano) and the “Terror of the Mountain

Province” (Teramoto) were hanged within an hour of each other. According to the Times ,

the two men read the “Buddhist bible” in their last moments and met their deaths

composedly. Nakano was reported to have thanked prison officials for their kindness,

while Teramoto was said to have shaken hands with Philippine officers at the foot of the

gallows. The Evening News offered a brief account under the headline “Two Japs Swing

at Muntinglupa,” while the Manila Bulletin and the Manila Chronicle also provided short

summaries of the executions. 39

By the end of 1949, Philippine military tribunals had sentenced 79 men to death,

but had executed only three. Prior to Kud ō’s execution, American observers had

38 Philippines Free Press , October 2, 1948. 39 Specifications and Transcript, 1062, Case #9, Philippines vs. Nakano Shizuo, RG 331, NACP; Specifications and Transcript, 593; Case # 23, Philippines vs. Teramoto Tukuji [Tokuji], RG 331, NACP; Manila Times , November 11, 1948; Evening News , November 11, 1948; Manila Bulletin , November 11, 1948; and Manila Chronicle , November 11, 1948.

121 apparently approached the Philippine authorities to discuss the reasons for the “delay” in

carrying out death sentences. The American embassy in Manila advised Washington on

July 9, 1948, that 27 Japanese had been sentenced to death by Philippine authorities but

none had as yet been executed “although as much as eight months has elapsed since

sentence was pronounced.” Another 50 to 60 cases were still pending. Philippine

Secretary of Justice Roman Ozaeta, when questioned, had stressed that delays were due

to the Philippine government’s painstaking care in reviewing sentences as well as the

“pressure of other important state business.” 40

Execution Hiatus: Prison Life While Waiting in Suspense

Following the three executions in 1948, no further deaths occurred for over two

years. During that period, those sentenced to death, as well as their comrades given

lesser sentences, remained incarcerated in the Philippines. As part of the original

agreement governing the transfer of responsibility for the trials to the Philippine

government, the U.S. military had agreed to retain custody of prisoners awaiting trial and

to assume responsibility for those Japanese convicted and sentenced to life or lesser

prison terms. It was envisioned that these men would be repatriated to Japan to serve out their terms in Sugamo Prison in Tokyo. Those receiving the death penalty were to be transferred to the custody of the Philippine government. 41

40 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 711, July 9, 1948, File 711.6, Manila Embassy General Records 1948, RG 84, NACP. 41 Check Sheet Memo, Legal Section to Chief of Staff, May 6, 1947, Folder “War Crimes Trials in Manila,” Miscellaneous Classified Files, 1945-1952, SCAP Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP; and Check Sheet Memo, July 8, 1947, File “War Crimes Philippines,” Decimal File, 1945-1951, SCAP Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP.

122 It was not until mid-1948, however, that the Philippine government took the necessary steps to accept custody of Japanese war criminals sentenced to death. On May

27, 1948, the chief of the National War Crimes Office, Maj. Eleuterio Fojas, sent a formal request, through the Secretary of Justice, to President Quirino seeking authority for the transfer of the prisoners. It was “absolutely necessary” to take this step because

“there are now more prisoners condemned to death than can be accommodated at the

Prisoners of War stockade under the custody of the United States Army.” The Justice

Secretary approved the request on behalf of the president, and by June 1 some twenty inmates (including the three executed later that year) had been transferred to New Bilibid

Prison. 42

The transfer of the remaining Japanese prisoners—both suspects and those sentenced to life or lesser terms—occurred by the end of 1948. Despite the initial arrangement that the U.S. military would retain custody of these men, the Philippine government eventually decided to assume responsibility for them. The deciding factor may well have been reports of U.S. consideration of an early peace treaty for Japan.

Japanese independence might have led to the resumption of Japanese control over any war criminals incarcerated in Japan and their release, a prospect unwelcome to the

Philippines. 43

In any event, the Japanese prisoners were leery about any change in their status.

A copy (unsigned) of a June 18, 1948 petition to MacArthur as Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers noted that the Japanese prisoners were “fortunate enough to remain

42 Correspondence, Folder “Transfer of Condemned Prisoners to New Bilibid Prison,” Miscellaneous File, 1945-1949, SCAP Legal Section, Manila Branch, RG 331, NACP. 43 This was, at least, the speculation of one Philippine commentator, who observed in early 1948 that convicted war criminals transferred to Sugamo Prison in Tokyo could be freed after Japan regained its independence. See Locsin, “Day of Reckoning.”

123 under the humane treatment of the American government” at the time of the transfer of the trials to Philippine jurisdiction, and requested that American custody be allowed to continue. The petitioners were careful to stipulate that they did not fear any deterioration in their treatment should they in fact be transferred to the custody of the Philippine government, but for “psychological and sentimental” reasons wished to be held by the

American forces to which they had initially surrendered. Their protestations notwithstanding, it seems likely that the Japanese did fear mistreatment at the hands of

Filipinos. 44

The prison chosen to house the Japanese war criminals, New Bilibid Prison, was located about 30 kilometers south of Manila near the town of Muntinglupa. Visitors tended to describe it as an imposing white structure in the Spanish style, with the visual impact of a castle perched on a hill. The prison housed not just Japanese but Filipino prisoners as well, although the two groups were generally kept separated, for obvious reasons. The two Filipinos most directly responsible for the oversight of the Japanese (as well as Filipino) prisoners were Director of Prisons Eustaquio Balagtas and New Bilibid

Prison Superintendent Alfredo Bunye, and both gained the respect and trust of the

Japanese. Bunye seemed particularly sympathetic, appearing to go out of his way on various occasions to ease conditions for the prisoners. 45

For the Japanese imprisoned in New Bilibid (often simply referred to as

“Muntinglupa”), the period of their incarceration proved difficult but not draconian, to judge from various accounts of the prisoners themselves. It is possible to glean, from

44 Petition, June 18, 1948, Petitions Folder, Investigative Reports for War Crimes, 1945-1948, SCAP Legal Section, Administrative Division, Investigative Reports for War Crimes, RG 331, NACP. 45 Arai, “Netsui Kaze,” 252-253; Sh ūnin Kagao, “Montenrupa no Namida,” Daih ōrin 20: 3 (March 1953): 6; Tsuji, Yūhei Montenrupa , 102; Kagao, Montenrupa ni Inonu , 109; and Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 135-138.

124 these accounts as well as press reports and comments from other observers, some details about their lives in prison. Those sentenced to death were housed on the ground floor of one of the prison buildings, in cells accommodating three men each. They wore blue uniforms to distinguish them from the other Japanese who wore red (although by 1952 two recently released prisoners reported that some had taken to wearing old U.S. army khaki shirts, without objection by the prison authorities). The condemned were not assigned work, but were allowed to walk around for an hour in the morning and afternoon.

To pass the time, some engaged in studying English or Spanish, while others wrote and shared poetry. 46

The men sentenced to life and lesser terms, and those awaiting trial lived communally in a large room in another building of the prison (they were later transferred to the same two-story building, or “brigade,” that housed the condemned prisoners).

They were assigned various tasks during the day, including kitchen duty and the tending of a garden devoted to the growing of Japanese and other vegetables. Prisoners described the work as not particularly arduous, and some made a point of contrasting their circumstances favorably with what they had heard of the lives of Japanese prisoners incarcerated on Manus Island by the Australian government. After returning home,

Kuroda Shigenori commented that the treatment of prisoners was “surprisingly lenient”

[odoroku hodo kandai ]. By early 1952, a Japanese news correspondent who visited the prison and met directly with the prisoners reported that they seemed clean and healthy.

46 Memo, Asia Bureau, “Matters Concerning War Criminals in the Philippines,” November 12, 1952, Vol. 1, 283-284, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO; and Kagao, “Ikite Iru Hit ō Senpan,” 134.

125 Their faces, and stories, revealed how desperate they were to return home, but they did

not complain of their treatment. 47

Nonetheless, there are some references to incidents and problems, particularly

during the first years after the transfer to Philippine custody. These included hints of

discord among the Japanese inmates themselves. A June 1949 report by the Japanese

Foreign Ministry, commenting on the difficulties in persuading Japanese translators to

stay in the Philippines, observed that some of the Japanese in prison in the Philippines

were likely “hoodlums” [ buraikan ] or yakuza which would explain incidents of violence

that had been reported. (In fact, one prisoner later admitted to a reporter that he had been

a yakuza before the war.) Testimony at the trials constituted another source of tension. In

his diary, Mineo Shisuhiko recounted his hatred toward Ichinose Haruo because Ichinose

had broken his promise and given damaging testimony at their trial (both men had been

sentenced to death; Mineo later reconciled with Ichinose). 48

Other problems centered on the interactions, however circumscribed, between the

Japanese and the larger Filipino prison community. A May 1949 report by Japanese

Foreign Ministry officials observed that the treatment given the prisoners had declined

from what they had received under American custody and there had also been incidents

of assaults, owing to anti-Japanese feeling among lower-level prison officials and

Filipino prisoners. 49

47 Memo, Asia Bureau, “Matters Concerning War Criminals in the Philippines,” November 12, 1952, Vol. 1, 283-284, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO; Tsuji, Yūhei Montenrupa , 102, 121, 132; Kuroda, “Montenrupa,” 131-132; and Asahi Shinbun , January 28, 1952. 48 “Report Concerning the Status of the Philippines War Crimes Trials,” June 9, 1949, Vol. 1, 148-149, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO; Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 70; and Mineo, Uminari ga Kikoeru , 195. 49 Report, “Matter Concerning the Philippine War Crimes Trials,” May 6, 1949, Vol. 1, 118-124, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO.

126 One particular incident in late May 1950 highlighted the Japanese inmates’ sense of vulnerability. Several Filipino prisoners staged an escape attempt, in the process seizing weapons from the prison armory. Although the armed outbreak was successfully contained after a few hours, two guards and all the Filipino escapees died. In the wake of this incident, some of the Japanese prisoners crafted a petition to the director of prisons highlighting their concerns. The petition noted the vulnerability of the Japanese inmates should another incident occur, and asked for consideration of the transfer of the prisoners back to Japan to serve out their sentences. Prison authorities tightened up security procedures, but needless to say did not accede to the transfer request. 50

The prisoners had other complaints. Food seems to have been a source of particular concern. In mid-1951 the Buddhist chaplain described the meals provided to the condemned prisoners as tasteless and unpalatable, improved only by the addition of powdered miso (soybean paste) and shoyu (soy sauce) sent from Japan. The rice contained sand and the bread had a tendency to make the men sick. One of the prisoners echoed these complaints about the food, and added that the soup provided as a food supplement smelled and was undrinkable; the prisoners’ health worsened in consequence. 51

Such complaints even created a bit of a diplomatic flare-up in 1952. Two released Japanese war criminals (Kobayashi Yusaku and Nakamura Fumio) on their return to Japan were quoted in the local press as having been “starved” while in New

50 Hirotada Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami: Mujitsu no Senpan Ky ūsai ni Hansei wo Sasageta Ueki Shinkichi (Tokyo: Mainichi Shinbunsha, 2008): 60-65; and Manila Times , May 27, 1950. 51 Kagao, “Ikite Iru Hit ō Senpan,” 137; and Tsuji, Yūhei Montenrupa , 102-104.

127 Bilibid prison. 52 The Philippine government (as reported in the Manila Times ), reacted quickly to the criticism, producing affidavits from high-level prisoners like Lt. General

Kuroda and Lt. General Yokoyama that the prisoners were well-treated and certainly not starving. The Japanese Foreign Ministry, alarmed that the reports might have an adverse effect on efforts to obtain the release of other prisoners, issued an aide memoire to the

Philippine government stating that an investigation had shown that the returnees had made no such comments—the newspapermen had operated on a “misunderstanding.” An internal memo provided a more nuanced account: the two men acknowledged in interviews with foreign ministry officials that the news accounts had been exaggerated, but maintained that the diet for prisoners, although better, could still stand some improvement. Nonetheless, they admitted that, overall, the treatment of the prisoners was good. 53

U.S. military officials in Tokyo, having received information from Japanese sources quite soon after the transfer that the prisoners were not being properly cared for, asked SCAP Legal Section Manila Branch staff to investigate. On March 1, 1949, the office’s Executive Officer reported back that he had spent considerable time talking with both condemned and term prisoners, who acknowledged they had no major complaints.

They appeared neatly dressed and in good physical condition. Nonetheless, they raised concerns about the lack of cigarettes and toothbrushes, sand in their rice, and the hardness of their wooden bunks. Nakamura Kazunori, a Japanese lawyer posted to the Philippines

52 Kobayashi, in subsequent testimony before a Diet committee, also complained about the quality of the food in prison. Testimony of Kobayashi Yusaku, November 13, 1952, Welfare Committee Hearing, House of Councilors, Japan National Diet. 53 Manila Times , November 5, 1952; and Aide Memoire, November 11, 1952 and Memo, “Matters Concerning War Criminals in the Philippines,” November 12, 1953, Vol. 1, 283-284 and 286, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO.

128 as legal liaison in early 1949 after the return to Japan of the other lawyers (see ch. 2) wrote to SCAP Legal Section Tokyo on March 27, 1949 that he had seen the Japanese prisoners who “were living a comparatively free life under the sympathetic and warm- hearted treatment given by the constituted authorities of the Philippines.” Nevertheless,

Nakamura urged that more attention be given to providing “comfort goods” such as cigarettes, soy sauce and tea as well as reading materials and even a phonograph. 54

An International Red Cross inspection conducted in August 1949 tended to corroborate the generally favorable reports of Philippine government treatment of

Japanese prisoners. The Red Cross representative reported that the prison’s housing was good and hygiene conditions were generally satisfactory. The food was good, and the prisoners’ state of heath was also good, although medical services did not seem adequate.

A majority of the prisoners worked in the machine shop, or were employed in carpentry, gardening, or cooking. They had access to a small library, were allowed an hour of outdoor recreation (some playing baseball, others tennis), and saw movies from time to time. The two concerns the investigator raised were the failure to provide the men with an allowance to make small purchases like cigarettes, and the lack of artificial teeth for a few men. 55 Overall, the report concluded that “living conditions are good and POW’s morale is high and satisfactory.” 56

54 Letter, Kazunori Nakamura to Maj. Charles W. Willoughby, Chief, Criminal Registry Division, Legal Section, SCAP, March 27, 1949, Folder #24, “Reports from Manila Defence” [sic] and Check Sheet Memos, SCAP Legal Section Tokyo, February 17 and March 1, 1949, Folder #26, “Policy,” Miscellaneous Subject file, 1945-1950, SCAP Legal Section, Administrative Division, RG 331, NACP. 55 It was the position of the Philippine government, concurred in by the U.S. government, that because the Japanese incarcerated in Muntinglupa were classified as war criminals or war crimes suspects, they were not entitled to the pay to which prisoners of war were ordinarily entitled. The failure to provide dentures was due to a lack of materials, a problem that was subsequently remedied by supplies from the Japanese Red Cross. See U.S. Political Adviser Tokyo No. 761, May 16, 1950 and Attachments, Decimal 694.9626/5-1650, Central Decimal File, 1950-54, 694.9626/5-1650, RG 59, NACP; and Check Sheet

129 Another observer, a member of the Ellinwood Church in Manila who conducted a

weekly bible class for Japanese Christian converts at the prison, provided a sketch of the

prisoners’ lives in 1951: the condemned prisoners, three to a cell, are allotted a bamboo

mat, blanket, two blue uniforms, and a cup, bowl and spoon. Each week they receive a

bar of soap and each month a ration of 70 cigarettes; they are permitted to write a letter

once a week. The doors to their cells remain open for much of the day, allowing the men

to mingle, play games like mahjong, and study languages or mathematics. They are

assigned no work except for cleaning the cells. In comparison, the prisoners given life or

term sentences live together in a communal room; receive no cigarettes at all; and may

write a letter every two weeks. They are assigned to various tasks such as cooking,

laundry or gardening and are able to walk freely within the confines of the prison. All the

war criminals are able to attend religious services of their choosing. 57

Spiritually, the Japanese war criminals were ministered to by both a Buddhist

monk and Christian ministers. A protestant pastor, Dr. Andrew Nelson, conducted

weekly services and led a bible study group; he spoke fluent Japanese, having served for

several years as a missionary in Japan before the war. 58 One Christian convert recounted

that in October 1949 he and sixteen other Japanese were baptized in a special ceremony;

a missionary estimated that over 50 percent of the Japanese inmates attended Christian

services of one form or another. 59

Memo, Legal Section, March 31, 1950, Decimal “War Crimes 000.5B, Decimal File, 1945-1951, Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP. 56 Office of the United States Political Adviser for Japan, No. 795 and Attachments, November 15, 1949, File 321.4 Japanese POWs, Manila Embassy Security Segregated General Records, 1949, RG 84, NACP. 57 Remorona Irude [phonetic rendering], “Hit ō no Nihonjin Senpantachi: Sono Seikatsu to Kokoro no Hi,” Ny ū Eiji 3:8 (August 1951): 16-20. 58 Nelson is much better known as the compiler of Nelson’s Japanese English Character Dictionary . Tsuji, Yūhei Montenrupa , 99; and Kagao, Montenrupa ni Inoru , 109-112. 59 Tsuji, Yūhei Montenrupa , 121-122; and Irude, “Hit ō no Nihonjin Senpantachi,” 20.

130 The Buddhist chaplain who arrived in November 1949, Kagao Sh ūnin, was

particularly beloved. Kagao, a member of the K ōyasan Tokyo branch temple of the

Shingon sect, had been sent as a replacement for a monk who had arrived only months earlier but had become ill. Kagao had wrestled with the decision to volunteer to minister to the men in Muntinglupa, fearful of the anti-Japanese atmosphere in the Philippines and his unfamiliarity with the language and situation there, but ultimately concluded that he had a duty to go. Kagao lived in the prison (in a small room of his own) and shared the prisoners’ food and living conditions. He conducted weekly teachings and often talked with prisoners who gathered in his room. He had been scheduled to leave the Philippines with the closure of the National War Crimes Office in March 1950, but appeals from the

Japanese prisoners and the support of prison officials led to the indefinite extension of his stay, despite the fact that he had developed a heart condition. 60

Climate of Opinion: Philippine and Japanese Attitudes

During and after the war crimes trials and the first executions, observers both in

and outside the Philippines continued to comment on the depth of Filipino hatred towards

Japan and the Japanese. Reports of any dealings between the two countries tended to

trigger angry reactions among ordinary Filipinos. It was as if any provocation reminded

the general population of wartime abuses and could incite popular anger.

One such provocation occurred with the emergence of proposals for increased

trade between the Philippines and Japan. As early as 1947, the Philippine government

under President Roxas had quietly agreed to a resumption of some commerce with Japan

60 Sh ūnin Kagao, “Montenrupa Shikei No Ichiya,” Daih ōrin 20: 10 (October 1953): 6-7 and 14; and Kagao, Montenrupa ni Inoru , 53-54.

131 under the direct control and supervision of the U.S. occupation authorities. But the May

1948 arrival of a SCAP delegation to discuss expanding bilateral trade triggered

widespread and heated debate. It did not help that the head of the mission, Maj. General

Daniel Noce, Chief of the Civil Affairs Department of the Army, made statements that

suggested, to Filipino audiences, that the United States hoped to enlist the Philippines in

the rehabilitation of Japan. One editorialist commented with disdain about U.S.

“officialdom” “concerned with wet-nursing the Japs back to Bushido.” In the end, after

much public comment and political debate, the Quirino administration announced its

intent to continue limited trade with Japan. Quirino himself in public remarks

distinguished between his own continued personal enmity towards Japan and his belief

that the Philippines needed to move beyond the war years and focus on encouraging

Philippine prosperity. 61

As indicated by the above controversy, many Filipinos continued to greet the

very idea of resuming any sort of contact with revulsion. In March 1947 the Philippines

Free Press summarized the responses it had received from readers on the question of

whether the Philippine government should re-establish trade with Japan. Of the 68

readers who had responded, 48 denounced the proposal with “varying degrees of

bitterness;” 18 favored it and 2 offered non-committal reactions.

61 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 550, May 28, 1948, Decimal 694.9631/5-2848; U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 793, August 4, 1948, Decimal 694.9631/8-448; U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 812, August 11, 1948, Decimal 694.9631/8-1148; U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 830, August 17, 1948, Decimal 694.9631/8-1748; and U.S. Embassy Cable No. 857, August 25, 1948, Decimal 694.9631/8-2548, Central Decimal File, 1945-49, RG 59, NACP; and Manila Times , May 6, 1948.

132 The refrain of those who oppose the resumption of trade relations with Japan shows little variation. The horrors of the Japanese occupation are fresh and vivid in their memories. Their reaction is emotional. To most the very thought of holding out a hand to the Japanese in friendship is abhorrent. 62

A second reader poll in a different newspaper revealed similar findings. La Union reported sometime in early 1948 that 70 of 75 readers queried voted “no” on resuming trade with Japan. 63 Other sources of reader opinion confirmed such views. A September

1948 letter printed in the Cebu La Prensa newspaper was signed “Gaston” and was directed to General MacArthur:

I only want to remind you of one thing. The Japanese are not human. They are the worst savages that the world has ever produced . . . Now you want to flood us with Japanese products. No, by God! . . . WE DON”T WANT ANYTHING JAPANESE IN THE PHILIPPINES! . . .You are committing a grave mistake. I repeat. The Japanese are not human beings. Let them live like beasts in the forests. Do not even give them an old knife; they will use it to stab you in the back in a few years to come. 64

Another letter to the same newspaper opined that President Quirino knew very well that most Filipinos had no desire to trade with “ex-murderers” but was bowing to pressure from the Americans. “Only the Filipino traitors and those who make money with

Japanese products are the ones who ask that these relations be resumed.” 65

And trade was one thing—the notion of a return of individual Japanese to the

Philippines was quite another. A Daily News column fairly dripped with rage at the very presence of three Japanese staying at a local hotel on a one-night layover.

62 Philippines Free Press, March 15, 1947. 63 Ibid, May 22, 1948. 64 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 925, September 14, 1948, Decimal 800/891, Manila Embassy General Records 1948, RG 84, NACP. 65 Ibid.

133

Just imagine. Three chimps each lolling in a lush Manila Hotel bed . . . If I had been hired to guide the Japs around, I would have taken them to a place in Tondo where some of the local thugs could take a good look at them. It would have been a most exciting time, both for the Nips and for the thugs . . . I would have taken them also to a local nightclub . . . There would have been a lot of broken glasses in consequence, but the three apes would remember the experience long and fondly, if they lived through it. 66

It was not just among ordinary citizens that anger remained palpable. Jorge

Bocobo, who had served as a justice of the Philippine Supreme Court during the war

years and for a time faced collaboration charges after the war ended, expressed his

continued hatred for Japan. In his speeches and articles, Boboco castigated Japan as

untrustworthy and undeserving of independence for another fifty years; he spoke bitterly

of the cold blooded slaughters by Japanese “outlaws” during the war. For Bocobo, Japan

remained a “barbaric and cruel empire.” 67 But Bocobo notwithstanding, there remained

those who believed that Filipino elites did not necessarily harbor the same degree of

animosity. A Japanese businessman commented in 1950 that he perceived no ill will

towards Japan on the part of “upper-class” Filipinos, but such sentiments still existed

among the lower and middle classes. The U.S. Charge D’Affaires in Manila also

distinguished between the “average” Filipino and “Filipinos at a higher level,” some of

whom were rabidly anti-Japanese but some who were more realistic or practical. 68

Even as overall public opinion, as expressed in news accounts and letters, remained bitter, a narrative of forgiveness also began to emerge, however slight and

66 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 781, September 12, 1949, Enclosure No. 2, Daily News , September 9, 1949, Decimal 350, Manila Embassy Security-Segregated General Records, 1949, RG 84, NACP. 67 Speech, “The Devil and the Deep Sea,” October 22, 1949 and Letter/Article for Herald newspaper, “Reparations from Japan,” November 15, 1949, Box 4, Jorge C. Bocobo Papers. 68 Tokyo No. 82, January 20, 1950, “Report of Ambassador Jessup’s Meeting with Japanese Businessmen,” section II(g), Official Chronological File, 1948-1953, Records of Ambassador-at-Large Philip C. Jessup, Lot File No. 53 D 470, Official Lot Files, RG 59, NACP; and U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 857, August 25, 1948, Decimal 694.9631/8-2548, Central Decimal File,1945-1949, RG 59, NACP..

134 tentative. The informal Philippines Free Press reader poll cited above concluded that the

12 responses favoring trade with Japan had been motivated by a “Christian spirit of

forgiveness.” Two letters printed in the same newspaper offered a concrete sense of the

journey some were making from hatred to tentative reconciliation. In the first, written in

April 1946, Rafael Bautista describes the prewar friendship he and his wife had with their

neighbors Mr. and Mrs. Nakashima. But the war made them hate all Japanese including

the Nakashimas, and now that the war is over he hopes they never meet again, because he

is not sure whether he would choose to renew the friendship or hold to his feelings of

enmity. In 1951, Bautista wrote again. He recounted that he had received a letter from

Mr. Nakashima “full of old time friendship and apology;” after reading it, his “heart was

literally melted—the old scar of anti-Japanese feeling seemed to have disappeared.” 69

Another reader wrote that despite Japanese brutality against members of his own family, “I still regard the Japanese as my Oriental brothers . . . Men must live together, or die separately.” In 1947 the paper described, in sympathetic tones, the case of two

“Japanese waifs” who had been taken in by a Filipino family. A second article profiled a courageous Japanese woman who had lived in the Philippines for many years and was

“universally loved and respected” for her courage in helping Filipinos during the war. 70

In mid-1948, at the height of controversy over the trade issue, Alvaro Basilides wrote:

The Philippines as a Christian nation should show true brotherhood and good neighborliness . . . The loss of my three children during the war and the sufferings I have experienced have given me reason to hate Japan and everything Japanese. But as the bitterness of these memories has been mellowed by the passing of time, I have thought that the only way of disentangling myself from the deadly clutches of hate and revenge, is to reconcile myself to the consoling Christian ideology, which is, forgiveness. 71

69 Philippines Free Press , April 27, 1946 and June 23, 1951. 70 Ibid, June 1, 1946, March 22, 1947, and June 7, 1947. 71 Ibid, June 12, 1948.

135 A Sunday news magazine article published in late 1950 conveys both the depth of

the continued hatred towards the war criminals confined in Muntinglupa and the ability

of some Filipinos to reach out to them. The author, having actually been granted

interviews with some of the men, sees them as now “docile” but once having been among

the “hordes of squat, yellow men who held sway over the life and death of 19 million

Filipinos.” Although there are those who maintain their innocence, many write letters to

the prison authorities apologizing for Japan’s behavior during the war. They keep their cells and barracks clean, “yet the familiar Jap stink permeates them.” The article goes on to note that these Japanese are not without friends among Filipinos, who pay visits and provide money for cigarettes or toothpaste. 72

If during this period feelings tended to run high in the Philippines, in Japan the

public mood remained quieter. Japanese families of the prisoners worked to ameliorate

conditions for their men and to persuade the Philippine authorities to commute the

sentences of those sentenced to death. They were aided in their efforts by the

Demobilization Bureau (an agency of the Welfare Ministry). In 1947 the bureau

designated Ueki Shinkichi as the person in charge of matters related to the trials of the

war criminals in the Philippines. This was the beginning of a concerted effort by Ueki to

monitor the situation in Muntinglupa and to open channels between the men in prison and

their families back home. Ueki laboriously compiled lists of those awaiting trial or

convicted, and in 1949 organized what eventually became Montenkai (the Muntinglupa

Society), whose members, both family members and friends, championed the cause of the

war criminals in the Philippines. A newsletter ( Monten ) published under the auspices of

72 Santos, “Conquerors No More.”

136 the society became an important vehicle for conveying news about the war criminals and

Ueki kept in regular contact with chaplain Kagao in order to report their circumstances. 73

Japanese news reports continued to provide some, albeit limited, information about legal decisions affecting the war criminals, but very little else, at least in the major dailies. One exception occurred in early 1950, when the Asahi Shinbun published an account of the claims of innocence of two men sentenced to death. It ō Katsumi, maintaining that the real killer in his case had died during the war, nonetheless pled guilty to allow his fellow soldiers being held in the Philippines to return home. Without elaboration, the article also stated there was evidence to prove another defendant, Sait ō

Tasuke, was innocent. 74 This narrative presaged one that would become far more prevalent in later years (see ch. 4).

Waiting Over: A Mass Execution

On the night of January 19, 1951, the uneasy wait for 14 Japanese condemned war criminals ended abruptly and with no advance warning. As chaplain Kagao headed to meet the prison superintendent for dinner, Nakamura Hideichi and 12 others of the

“Nakamura case” as well as Mihara Kikuichi were summoned from their cells. Kagao, not finding Superintendent Bunye where he expected, wandered outside and was vaguely surprised to see military jeeps and a soldier waiting there. It was only when he returned to Bunye’s office and was asked by Dr. Nelson, the protestant pastor, “how many are

73 The names of the society and the newsletter were not just a partial phonetic rendering of “Muntinglupa;” the characters “mon” [ 問] and “ten” [ 天] could be construed to mean “appeal to heaven.” The group went through several evolutions, beginning with a families’ association that later merged with a more tightly-knit group of prison returnees to form a broader organization that adopted the name Montenkai and then was later re-named Montenrupa no Kai for wider name recognition. Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 11-17, 24- 26, 36-37, 50-52, 226, 243, and 249-251. 74 Asahi Shinbun , March 2, 1950. Sait ō was among those executed, while It ō was eventually granted amnesty.

137 yours?” that he realized what was going on. Eight Buddhists and six Christians were to

be executed that night. 75

Kagao and Nelson followed the Japanese war criminals to a holding room outside

the prison not too distant from the actual site of the gallows. There, Director of Prisons

Balagtas read the official orders of execution signed by President Quirino; the men were

given time to write their wills and then an additional hour to receive spiritual comfort.

Some maintained their innocence; some talked of their families or their comrades and

directed the allocation of their belongings. Kagao offered a final teaching and prayers.

Superintendent Bunye urged Kagao, who had a heart condition, not to view the

executions, but one of the Japanese begged him to go, asking him to view their dead faces,

and so Kagao sought, and gained, permission to witness the deaths. He went with each

man as he was summoned, and while riding in the jeep to the gallows he offered what

comfort he could. Kagao later recounted that all were calm and composed to the end.

Mihara, the first to be summoned, called out “ tenn ō heika banzai” (“Long live his

majesty the emperor!”) By the time the last man had been executed, it was past 3 a.m. on

the morning of January 20. The bodies were wrapped in white blankets and taken to a

separate section of the prison cemetery to be buried. Kagao returned to the prison and, in

his room, broke down in tears. 76

Shock and dismay reverberated among the remainder of the convicted Japanese prisoners. Some of the men (those sentenced to life or lesser terms) had gathered and waited outside Kagao’s door to learn what had happened. The next morning, at the

75 Kagao, “Montenrupa Shikei No Ichiya,” 8. 76 Kagao, “Montenrupa Shikei No Ichiya,” 7-12; and Kagao, Montenrupa ni Inoru , 142-207.

138 insistent summons of those who waited in the condemned cell block, he went to the cells and held a meeting to describe the events of the preceding night. 77

Later, Kagao and others commented on how unexpected the executions had been.

According to Kagao, there had been no intimation that executions were imminent. In fact, he noted that influential Filipinos had hinted to him, albeit informally, that sentence commutations were in the offing; when he asked about repatriation, he was told it would be “very soon.” Even the growing predictions of a possible peace treaty were read at the time as a welcome sign. These sorts of signals, coupled with the lapse of time since the

1948 executions, appear to have lessened the anxiety among those sentenced to death and allowed them to settle into a routine of prison life while awaiting their hoped-for return to

Japan. Another observer commented that they had been lulled by the belief that the

Philippines, a Christian nation, was loathe to sanction executions. 78

In letters home, others echoed the lack of any advance warning. Hamada Yoshio, in a letter to his wife dated January 27, 1951, described the early evening of January 19 in some detail. He told of how, after dinner, he had heard that the men of the Nakamura case were to be summoned to a meeting with the prison superintendent, and he and other cellmates speculated their sentences were to be commuted. When none of the men had returned by morning they feared the worst. Still, it seemed that at least a few of the fourteen had been suspicious—one told his cellmates about the disposition of his things, while another returned quickly to put on new geta [shoes]. 79

77 Kagao, “Ikite Iru Hit ō Senpan,” 135. 78 Kagao, “Ikite Iru Hit ō Senpan,” 134; and Testimony of Jimb ō Nobuhiko, March 13, 1951, Hearing, Special Committee on Overseas Repatriation, House of Councilors, Japan National Diet. 79 Okamoto, Nokosareta Hitobito , 9-11; and Kagao, “Montenrupa Shikei No Ichiya,” 9.

139 Kagao also wrote of the profound effect the executions had on those still awaiting their own deaths. They wrote their wills and each night washed and clothed themselves in spare clean uniforms in anticipation of the feared summons. The English and Spanish language classes stopped; they had no heart to write in their diaries. And Kagao redoubled his efforts to find foods or other items that would bring them comfort. 80

Why Then and Why so Many?

Two central questions surrounding these executions have to do with the numbers executed and the timing of the deaths. What seems reasonably clear from the available documentation of the trials and sentence reviews is that Mihara Kikuichi and the thirteen men of the “Nakamura case” were, with slight exceptions, the next in line—thus accounting for the large number executed at the same time. The first three men executed, in 1948, were Kud ō Ch ūshir ō, Nakano Shizuo and Teramoto Tokuji—among the earliest sentenced to death. The next to receive the death penalty were Takahashi Sadakichi

(November 10, 1947); It ō Masayasu (January 21, 1948); Ogawa Eitar ō (February 10,

1948); Sait ō Takao (April 27, 1948); and then Mihara (May 22, 1948) and the Nakamura defendants (May 27, 1948). The sentences of both Takahashi and Sait ō were commuted to life in prison. By a strict adherence to the sentencing dates, It ō and Ogawa should have been executed before the fourteen who died on January 19 and 20, January 1951. It is possible, therefore, that a deliberate decision was made to execute a large group rather than the two or three (It ō, Ogawa, and Mihara) precisely next in line. More plausible, however, is the likelihood that the timing of the reviews for It ō and Ogawa was simply

80 Kagao, “Ikite Iru Hit ō Senpan,” 136-137.

140 slower. The unavailability of complete records of the sentence reviews in the It ō, Ogawa and Nakamura cases makes a conclusive determination impossible. 81

Why the men were executed in 1951 is even more difficult to determine with certainty. In the single volume of his published memoirs, 82 Quirino made no mention of the executions, let alone why he might have sanctioned them or whether he was simply acting on the recommendations of the board of review, the army chief of staff and the

Secretary of Justice. And others who might have been aware of the circumstances—for example, Secretary of Justice Jose Bengzon, Director of Prisons Eustaquio Balagtas or

Prison Superintendent Alfredo Bunye—apparently left no published accounts. What, then, might explain the timing of these executions, over two years after the initial three

Japanese were put to death?

Perhaps there is no mystery or deeper significance to the timing of the executions.

Quite possibly the review machinery had slowed so significantly that it was only in early

1951 that the reviews for the next in line were completed, thus allowing for executions for the first time since November 1948. If true, the documentation that is available indicates that the slowdown at that time occurred within the Department of Justice or the office of the president, not the army. In the cases of It ō Masayasu and Ogawa Eitar ō, for example, the Army chief of staff made his decision only a few months after their sentencing; the evidence shows that in the latter case, the matter had been referred to the

81 Bundle #63, People of the Philippines vs. Takahashi Sadakichi, Bundle #18, People of the Philippines vs. It ō Masayasu; Bundle #49, People of the Philippines vs. Ogawa Eitar ō; Bundle #22, People of the Philippines vs Kita Heiji et al.; Bundle #36, People of the Philippines vs. Mihara Kikuichi; and Bundle #46, People of the Philippines vs. Nakamura Hideichi et al., NAP. 82 Elpidio Quirino, The Memoirs of Elpidio Quirino (Manila: National Historical Institute, 1990).

141 office of the president by no later than December 1948. 83 If pressing matters intervened

to delay final action by the president on this and other cases for some two years, at a

minimum it suggests that execution of the Japanese war criminals was not a very high

priority.

The delay does suggest that it was not personal animosity on the part of President

Quirino that drove the decision to resume executions in 1951. A desire for revenge

would hardly have been surprising, given the deaths of his wife and three of his children

during the deadly fighting in Manila in early 1945. But Quirino himself, in statements as

early as 1948, discounted his own personal feelings when addressing the need for the

Philippines to re-engage with Japan. 84 Even more telling, if Quirino had been intent on avenging his family, why wait over two years to execute those waiting on death row?

Perhaps Quirino’s decision to authorize the execution of fourteen men in a single night was animated not so much by personal animosity as by the politically-felt need to respond to public opinion—a sop to the angry mob, as it were. (Indeed, a Japanese businessman had suggested as much back in 1949, when, on the basis of a conversation with the president, he quoted Quirino as feeling forced by the pressures of public opinion to carry out a certain number of executions.) 85 But if this was Quirino’s motivation in

1951, it is curious that no effort was made to announce the executions or take public credit for them, let alone fan public indignation over war crimes. Indeed, the secrecy surrounding the latest executions was striking, especially compared with the publicity

83 Action of the Reviewing Authority, May 18, 1948, Review File, Bundle #18, People of the Philippines vs. It ō Masayasu and Check Sheet Memo, Defense Panel Office to the President of the Philippines, December 7, 1948, Review File, Bundle #49, People of the Philippines vs. Ogawa Eitar ō, NAP. 84 Manila Times , May 6, 1948. 85 Memo, September 27, 1949, “Information Concerning Philippine War Criminals Issue,” Vol. 1, 158-161, Disclosure D’130 2-5-2, JDRO.

142 surrounding all three 1948 executions. Various Manila newspapers—the Manila Times , the Manila Bulletin , and the Manila Chronicle —had made no mention of the executions by early February, and only later did one of them make a passing reference in the context of reports coming out of Tokyo. An American missionary in Manila commented at the time that the executions were “top secret,” with nothing in the newspapers and no information being circulated either in the Philippines or abroad. 86

If something was going on besides mere bureaucratic process or payback for perceived grudges, what could it have been? Is it possible that the Quirino administration was under some political pressure, domestic or external, to resume executions? If so, it is not credible that the pressure was coming from the Americans. The U.S. government was hoping to persuade the Philippines to accept the terms of the draft peace treaty with

Japan, including a reparations clause that angered the Philippine government. It is hardly likely that at this juncture U.S. officials would have encouraged a step—more executions—that would have further complicated relations between Japan and the

Philippines. Nor does it appear that the Philippines gave any advance warning to the

Americans that executions were imminent. After receiving word of the executions,

Richard Ely, Deputy Director of the State Department’s Office of Philippine and

Southeast Asian Affairs expressed surprise that the deaths could have been kept so secret.

Ely moreover rejected any notion of future U.S. government intervention in the fate of the remaining war criminals, and it does not appear that Ambassador John Foster Dulles raised the issue at all in his early February 1951 meeting with Quirino. 87

86 Manila Bulletin, February 5, 1951; and Letter, February 9, 1951, John Nevin Sayre to Senator Herbert Lehman. February 9, 1951, Decimal 694.9626/3-551, Central Decimal File, 1950-54, RG 59, NACP. 87 Letter, February 9, 1951, John Nevin Sayre to Senator Herbert Lehman. February 9, 1951 and Letter, Assistant Secretary Jack McFall to Senator Lehman,, March 20, 1951, Decimal 694.9626/3-551 Central

143 But the timing of the executions—late January 1951—does suggest the possibility

that the Philippine government may have wanted to send a signal, either to the United

States or Japan, that its views on the peace treaty should be taken seriously. In

discussions on a draft treaty during the latter half of 1950, the U.S. government continued to urge members of the Far Eastern Commission to agree to release Japan from any obligation to pay reparations to countries like the Philippines that had suffered from

Japanese occupation. The Philippines strongly resisted the idea of relinquishing claims to reparations, and Philippine officials at this time spoke out passionately about the damage done to the Philippines and the need for Japan to provide adequate compensation.

Afterwards, Kagao himself speculated that anger over the draft treaty had fueled the decision to execute the men—that its terms had incited not just the people but especially the government. 88

Finally, it is quite possible that Quirino felt some domestic pressure, but from members of the Filipino elite rather than the general public. Evidence exists that influential Filipinos sought to intervene in the sentence review process and later in the general pardon decision, so it is not unlikely that pressure might have been exerted to implement delayed executions. While some elites eventually looked forward to and encouraged resolution of the issue of the war criminals, others, like Jorge Bocobo, might not have been so forgiving.

Decimal File, 1950-54, RG 59, NACP; and Memo of Conversation, Ambassador Dulles and Philippine President Elpidio Quirino, February 12, 1951, File 320, “International Political Relations,” Manila Embassy General Records, 1945-55, RG 84, NACP. 88 Yoshikawa , Nippi Baish ō, 23-25; Ohno, War Reparations and Peace Settlement , 36-43; and Kagao, “Montenrupa Shikei no Ichiya,” 8.

144 Conclusion

The increasingly lengthy sentence review process for Japanese found guilty of war crimes occurred within a broader political and economic context. On the one hand, the huge tasks of rebuilding a war torn country and grappling with an increasingly dangerous domestic insurgency understandably took precedence. What could otherwise appear as a reluctance to execute most of the Japanese waiting on death row might then have resulted from an understandable preoccupation with other priorities as well as an attention to the niceties of judicial process. In the interim, the war criminals remained, along with their comrades given lesser sentences, incarcerated in a Philippine prison.

Philippine sensibilities required that the prisoners receive comparatively humane treatment as well as the benefit of a painstaking post-sentence review process.

On the other hand, by 1950 elites and ordinary Filipinos alike had united in opposition to the notion that Japan might not be held accountable for wartime damage.

Growing resentment over the failure to win full support for the Philippine government’s reparations demands might have been enough to outweigh any reservations, if they existed, about completing sentence reviews or resuming executions. The decision to execute 14 men could simply have been the culmination of a bureaucratic process that prevailed in the absence of any incentives to halt it. Whether President Quirino signed the men’s death warrants as a result of active pressure, the power of his own convictions, or the passive result of a commitment to judicial process, the result was the same—a mass execution that echoed powerfully in Japan whether he intended it to or not.

Even so, it seems clear that elite calculations, whatever they might have been, had more impact on the fate of individual Japanese war criminals than the views of the

145 general public. The government may have been sensitive to the risks of re-invigorating public anger—hence the secrecy attached to the mass execution in January 1951—but influential Filipinos appeared willing to intervene on behalf of individual Japanese prisoners. Quirino himself eventually pardoned seven Japanese officers—and seems to have believed that Filipinos would understand the sense of obligation as well as Christian charity that prompted his actions. As a symbol of elite inattention to public sensibilities, it is hard to beat the image of the newly-released former Lt. Gen. Kuroda playing golf with Filipinos at a well-known country club.

Japan’s position in the years leading up to the 1951 execution was largely that of passive observer. The initial reports of atrocities committed by Japanese soldiers in the

Philippines, featured prominently in Japanese newspapers in September 1945, had engendered both shock and disbelief. But over time the fate of the war criminals in the

Philippines became principally the focus of their families and the Japanese government, which kept a watching brief and made some informal overtures to Filipinos (see ch. 4).

As verdicts were announced, the private pleadings of families and friends that their loved ones be spared reflected an overriding disbelief that the men they knew could have been capable of such acts. The outcomes in the Philippines war crimes trials only served to reinforce the perception, among those who paid attention, that Philippine justice, contrary to Philippine claims, had been found wanting.

The January executions validated and reinforced two competing and diverging views of the meaning of the trials and their outcomes. For Filipinos, the careful review process that preceded the deaths was consistent with the Philippines’ continued commitment to due process and the rule of law. For Japanese, the inescapable conclusion

146 was that Filipinos privileged process over fair outcomes—and had, indeed, embraced outright miscarriages of justice. That the review process did result in changed outcomes for some could not mitigate the outcome for the Nakamura defendants—and perhaps even reinforced the notion that the military commissions were capable of prejudiced judgments. The irony is that, had the Philippines placed more emphasis on a speedy process, and (as the Americans did) executed most of the convicted within months of their sentencing, the outcry in Japan would have been less sustained and, conceivably, far fewer Japanese would have been ultimately convinced of Philippine injustice.

147 CHAPTER 4

FROM RETRIBUTION TO RESOLUTION: THE JOURNEY FROM EXECUTIONS TO PARDONS

There is a slow lifting of the curtain of active hatred residual in the Philippines. It will not bear pushing too hard, or hurrying too much. 1 -- Manila Bulletin editorial, July 1953

The entire Japanese nation is jubilant and thankful for this magnanimous act on the part of his Excellency the President of the Philippines 2 -- The Japanese Government, on the occasion of a general pardon in July 1953

Philippine trials of Japanese war crimes suspects ended by the close of 1949. Of the 138 men convicted of one or more of the charges against them, more than three quarters were sentenced to death or to life in prison (79 received death sentences). And yet, a mere four years later, all but 17 had been repatriated and released. To be sure, those who did not return home had been executed. Their deaths notwithstanding, the outcome for the rest suggests a rather remarkable degree of forbearance on the part of the

Philippine government, with at least the acquiescence of the Filipino people. The contrast with American notions of justice for crimes committed in the Philippines is striking: of the over 90 Japanese sentenced to death by U.S. tribunals in the Philippines,

69 were executed. 3 Others found guilty by the Americans and sentenced to lesser

1 Manila Bulletin , July 1, 1953. 2 Press Release, Office of the President of the Philippines, July 6, 1953, Decimal 694.9624/7-653, Central Decimal File, 1950-54, RG 59, NACP. 3 When Philippine outcomes are compared with those for U.S. trials as a whole, the disparity virtually disappears. According to data cited by Hayashi, the United States executed 10 percent of all those it put on trial in the Asia theater for B/C crimes, compared with the 11 percent that were executed by the Philippine government. In fact, the United States and the Philippines executed the fewest Japanese, measured as a percentage of those tried. The British and the Dutch executed 23 and 22 percent, respectively, followed by China (17 percent), Australia (16 percent) and France (11 percent). See Hayashi, BC Ky ū Senpan Saiban , 61.

148 penalties remained incarcerated for longer periods in Tokyo’s Sugamo prison, with the

last few only regaining their freedom in 1957 or 1958. 4

What, then, might account for the Philippines’ decision to temper justice with

mercy? Perhaps the release of so many so soon after their convictions did indicate some

degree of softening in Philippine sentiment towards the Japanese. Certainly some

commentators thought so. But clearly that was not the case for many—Filipino elites

doubtless disagreed over questions of timing and leverage, and it is hardly the case that

popular sentiment shifted so markedly or so rapidly. Other factors, then—including

domestic politics, economic realities, and the interventions of government officials and

private citizens in both countries—arguably contributed to the outcome for Japanese war

criminals languishing in New Bilibid Prison in Muntinglupa. In the end, the Philippines

made a pragmatic choice to eliminate a roadblock to the renewal of bilateral ties,

apparently without any concrete assurances of Japanese reciprocity in the continuing

reparations negotiations. But even as the incentives to release the men prevailed, the

underlying positions of the two countries towards the issue of the war criminals and their

guilt remained unreconciled. And neither government chose to contest the narrative that

each of their citizens had created about the trials and the meaning of the verdicts.

4 Chaen, BC-Ky ū Senpan Beigun Manira Saiban Shiry ō, 6 and 162-180; Manila Provost Marshal Command, Prison Division, Headquarters, Philippine-Ryukyus Command, “Master Roster of Executed War Criminals,” undated, File “Lists of Executed and Cemetery Plots,” Miscellaneous File, 1945-1949, Manila Branch, SCAP Legal Section Investigative Division, RG 331, NACP; State Department Cable No. CA- 5302, March 25, 1954, Records Relating to Japanese War Crimes, 1943-1960, Lot File 61 D 33, Records of the Legal Adviser Relating to War Crimes, RG 59, NACP; Parole and Clemency Board Memo, January 7, 1957, “Japanese War Criminals;” Folder, “Disposition, 1954-57,” Records of the Legal Adviser Relating to Japanese War Crimes, RG 59, NACP; and U.S. Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1958-1960 , Vol. XVIII (Washington D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1994): 83.

149

Immediate Aftermath: Initial Responses to the 1951 Executions

Word of the execution of 14 Japanese on January 19-20, 1951, reached the

Japanese public in early February, when brief news accounts noted the deaths and

provided the names of those executed. The news itself appears to have arrived first in a

letter from Buddhist chaplain Kagao Sh ūnin, in which he related the circumstances and

described the executions. Kagao had been cautioned by Philippine prison authorities not

to discuss the executions, but chose to ignore the warning in the interests of informing the

Japanese government and the families of the dead. 5

The bereaved families were no less shocked than the chaplain and the inmates in

Muntinglupa that executions had been carried out after a delay of more than two years.

Word had filtered back to family members that repatriation of those held in the

Philippines was an increasing possibility—certainly there had been no counter-

indications of possible executions. Kagao himself acknowledged that he had

unintentionally misled the families in his letters home—the clouds had gathered unseen.

Immediately after word of the deaths reached them, representatives of the families

presented themselves to the Philippine mission in Tokyo with a petition for President

Quirino to halt further executions. 6

Their fears apparently were well founded. In mid-February Kagao learned from a

Filipino inmate at the prison (a former collaborator) that more graves had already been

dug. Some ten excavations awaited the remains of the next to die, with executions to

5Asahi Shinbun , February 1, 1951; Nihon Keizai Shinbun , February 1, 1951; and Kagao, “Montenrupa Shikei no Ichiya,” 13. 6 Kagao, “Montenrupa Shikei no Ichiya,” 26; Kagao, “Ikite Iru Hit ō Senpan,” 134; and Asahi Shinbun , February 3, 1951.

150 begin again in the very near future. Kagao reacted immediately, sending a telegram back

to Japan to alert the authorities and asking for petitions and appeals to be sent to the

Philippine government. A second report of several more graves, coming on the heels of the first, caused Kagao to renew his appeals for help to forestall any more deaths and resulted in a second flurry of messages and requests to halt further executions.

Meanwhile, those in Muntinglupa who knew about the freshly-dug graves (the chaplain and a few of the term/life prisoners) hoped to keep the news secret from those awaiting execution. 7

The remainder of 1951 saw an increase in Japan of informal efforts to persuade

the Philippine government to abandon any thought of further executions and to consider

repatriating the remaining war criminals. The mass execution proved to be a turning

point—it galvanized public sentiment in a population that had been seen as indifferent to

the fate of the “forgotten” Japanese in Muntinglupa. This was the beginning of mass

petition drives; eventually appeals signed by millions were directed to the Japanese and

Philippine governments. As early as February 6, 1951, a Manila newspaper reported that

clemency petitions continued to pour into Malacañan (the presidential palace), not just

from Japanese but Americans and Filipinos as well. 8

Various news accounts suggested that the appeals were having an effect. In

February, in the wake of the first outcries in Japan over the reported executions and the

arrival of the first petitions, Malacañan spokesmen emphasized President Quirino’s

7 Kagao, “Montenrupa Shikei no Ichiya,” 13-14; Ch ōichi Tsuji, “Y ūhei Montenrupa,” 152, 160-161; Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 230-231; Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami, 116-117; and Asahi Shinbun , February 3, 1951 and July 1, 1953, evening edition. 8 Draft text of Aide Memoire, March 5, 1952, Vol. 1, 255-257, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO; Asahi Shinbun , February 3, 1952, and June 28 and July 1, 1953, evening edition; Manila Chronicle , February 6, 1951; Nihon Keizai Shinbun , February 3 and February 5, 1951; Evening News , June 27, 1953; and Saturday Mirror , June 27, 1953.

151 intention to review personally the documents related to each case and his plan to give

“due consideration” to petitions for sentence commutations. The President had been and would continue to receive recommendations from the Secretary of Justice. A second positive signal came with the presidential pardon of Matsuzaki Hideichi the same month

(see ch. 3). 9

U.S. government representatives (at least those in Japan) also cautiously began to explore ways to influence the Philippine government. The Office of the U.S. Political

Adviser (the State Department’s office in Japan during the occupation that also served as

SCAP’s Diplomatic Section), having forwarded an appeal to the Philippine government from a Japanese politician, commented in April 1951 that any further executions “if carried out at a date now long removed from the war, when all plans are based on expectations of early peace treaty status for Japan, can serve only to raise animosities between the Philippines and Japan which the passage of time and events has helped to erase.” Accordingly, the office recommended that either the State Department or the U.S. embassy in Manila raise the issue informally with the Philippine government and suggest that it be resolved on humanitarian grounds. The office of the political adviser renewed its recommendation in September 1951. 10

In response, the State Department merely asked the Manila Embassy to obtain,

“discreetly and informally,” information from the Philippine authorities about the intentions of the government with respect to the war criminals. The embassy subsequently advised that the final disposition of the war criminals had been referred to

9 Nihon Keizai Shinbun , February 7, 1951; and Manila Bulletin , February 8, 1951. 10 U.S. Embassy Tokyo Cable No. 1441, April 16, 1951, Decimal 694.9624/4-1651 and U.S. Political Adviser, Tokyo No. 418, September 17, 1951, Decimal 694.9624/9-1751, Central Decimal File, 1950-1954, RG 59, NACP.

152 the office of the president; given the ongoing political campaign leading to the November elections, the embassy believed it was “highly unlikely” that any action would be taken before then or before the Senate took up ratification of the peace treaty. Unless further instructed, the embassy planned no further action. 11

It was also in 1951 that the wider Japanese public began to have access to direct accounts of those in Muntinglupa—reports that tended to reinforce the idea that these men deserved sympathy and support. Fujita Takefumi provided a particularly poignant account in the October 1951 issue of Bungei Shunj ū, a popular monthly magazine. He recounted a visit to the prison cemetery on the occasion of the Japanese Obon festival in

July. Fujita and five other term/life prisoners, together with chaplain Kagao, were granted permission to visit the graves of their fellow Japanese on a day traditional for paying respects to the dead. In the company of a single armed guard, the men made their way to the cemetery, where they tended the graves and watched as the chaplain buried a lock of hair sent by the wife of one of the executed men. Fujita commented that the graves were marked not by names but only numbers—evoking feelings of loneliness mixed with resentment. As they walked back to the prison, they passed the gallows, and

Fujita reflected on the feelings of his comrades who had gone to their deaths innocent, saying that if it had been him, he could not have suppressed his bitterness. The article noted briefly that Fujita, a former member of the kempeitai , was serving a life sentence, but did not add that he had been convicted of allowing his men to torture and kill Filipino civilians. 12

11 State Department Airgram A-313, October 4, 1951, Decimal 694.9624/9-1751 and U.S. Embassy Manila No. 514, October 5, 1951, Decimal 694.9624/10-551, Central Decimal File, 1950-1954, RG 59, NACP. 12 Takefumi Fujita, “Hit ō no Shikeish ū Bochi,” Bungei Shunj ū 29: 13 (October 1951): 126-134; and Transcript, 772-775, Case #1, Philippines vs. Fujita Takefumi, RG 331, NACP.

153 In the summer of 1951, chaplain Kagao wrote of the lives of the men in prison

and their feelings of despair in the wake of the January executions, which he described in

some detail. But he also wrote rather extensively of the sentiments of Filipinos towards

Japan and their tendency, in conversations of any length, to bring up atrocities committed

by Japanese during the war. He told of how he still encountered animosity when

shopping and sometimes heard derogatory Japanese words like “ dorob ō” [thief]— perhaps, he speculated, the only words ordinary Filipinos knew from their wartime contacts with soldiers. Still, Kagao’s primary concern remained the fate of the war criminals—he fretted that unmet Filipino demands for reparations and fears of Japanese rearmament would result in renewed anger directed towards the Japanese still in prison. 13

Government Efforts: Progress and Setbacks

Japanese government efforts to aid the war criminals and work for their eventual

release were generally characterized by cautious determination and a reliance on indirect

or informal approaches, at least during the early postwar years. Initially the focus was

twofold: ensuring that the men on trial had access to any exculpatory evidence (a process

carried out under the auspices of the U.S. occupation authorities) and finding ways to

check on and improve conditions in prison (see chs. 2 and 3).

During the occupation years the Japanese Foreign Ministry made continued

efforts to establish informal channels to improve the outlook for the convicted. In 1949 a

foreign ministry representative reported on his meeting with Imamura Eikichi, a

businessman who had recently returned from a trip to the Philippines where he had

testified at the trial of former Lt. General Hayashi Yoshihide. Imamura, who had lived in

13 Kagao, “Ikite Iru Hit ō Senpan,” 132-139.

154 the Philippines for thirty years before the war and had worked as a civilian consultant to

the Japanese army chief of staff in the Philippines during the war, was friends with men

like President Quirino and Jose Laurel (president during the Japanese occupation).

During his recent visit he had appealed to Quirino to commute the sentences of the

condemned prisoners. Imamura, having gained the goodwill of Filipinos, was viewed as

a useful contact for future dealings with the Philippines. 14

Foreign ministry officials also approached Murata Sh ōzō, ambassador to the

Philippines during the latter half of the Japanese occupation. Acting out of the belief that

anti-Japanese sentiment in the Philippines had to be addressed in order to achieve any

longer-term amelioration of the war criminals’ sentences, in 1949 foreign ministry

representatives asked Murata to form a group to work for the improvement of Philippine-

Japan relations. He agreed to do so, although it was not until 1951 that the Fuirippin Y ū

no Kai [Friends of the Philippines Society] was formally inaugurated with Murata as

president and Imamura as director. 15

By 1951 the foreign ministry had worked to develop other intermediaries: both

former Ambassador Koshida and Chinese General Ho Ying-chin were asked to approach

President Quirino to petition for sentence commutations; in agreeing to help, the general

noted that because it would be difficult for the Japanese government to take this issue on

directly, he was willing to intercede informally. 16 Former Army Col. Jimb ō Nobuhiko

14 Memo, September 27, 1949, “Information Concerning Philippine War Criminals Issue,” Vol. 1, 158-161, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO; Transcript, 362-366, Case #64, Philippines vs. Kawaguchi Kiyotake and Hayashi Yoshihide, RG 331, NACP; and Tsuji, Yūhei Montenrupa , 130. 15 Report, May 6, 1949, “Matter Concerning the Philippine War Crimes Trials ,” Vol. 1, 118-124, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO; and Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 148. 16 General Ho Ying-chin, a longtime military associate of Chiang Kai Shek, had received his early military training in Japan; at the end of the war he was sent by Chiang to accept the surrender of Japanese forces in Nanjing. Memo, April 11, 1951, “Matter Concerning Promoting the Commutation of Sentences of War

155 also did what he could, and he brought particularly striking credentials to the task: he

was credited with having saved the life of Manuel Roxas, Quirino’s predecessor, during the war. A Philippine newspaper reported in February 1951 that Jimb ō had sought the help of Defense Secretary Ramon Magsaysay in persuading Quirino to commute the sentences of those condemned to death. 17

With the coming of independence, efforts to gain the release of the war

criminals—or at least commutation of their sentences—intensified, and employed official

as well as less formal means. Because the Philippine Senate had refused to ratify the

peace treaty (largely because of opposition party objections to the reparations clause), the

two countries had not re-established formal diplomatic relations at the time of Japan’s

independence in April 1952. Nonetheless, official government-to-government contacts

were facilitated through offices maintained in each country that served in lieu of

embassies. In Japan, the Philippines had already set up, during the U.S. occupation, a

diplomatic mission accredited to SCAP, and it was this office that assumed the liaison

function after April 1952. Japan in turn established an office in Manila by October 1952,

in accordance with an agreement reached with Philippine government officials in

Criminals in the Philippines,” Vol. 1, 181-182 and Memo, April 17, 1951, “Concerning the Philippine War Criminals,” Vol. 1, 183, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO. 17 Manila Chronicle , February 4, 1951. Jimb ō’s story fascinated Filipinos and Japanese alike. By Roxas’ own account, Col. Jimb ō, then chief of staff of the commanding general of the Mindanao Military Area during the Japanese occupation, had interceded with General Wachi Takaji, the Director of Civilian Administration, to cancel the order for Roxas’ execution. After the war, Jimb ō retained his interest in the Philippines, eventually becoming president of the Philippine Fruits Import Association. See Prosecution Exhibit 7, Case #64, Philippines vs. Hayashi Yoshihide and Kawaguchi Kiyotake, RG 331, NACP; Typescript by Nobuhiko Jimb ō, “Ruler Roxas Revealed,” Folder “SG Occupation Papers,” Jorge Vargas Papers, Jorge Vargas Library and Archive, Jorge Vargas Museum, Diliman, The Philippines; and Nobuhiko Jimb ō, ed., The Philippine Banana Industry, 1962 (Tokyo: n.p., 1962).

156 September. Japan’s office was to have the same diplomatic status and privileges as the

Philippine government’s mission in Tokyo. 18

The Japanese government used these official channels to submit periodic appeals

to the Philippine government seeking the return of the war criminals. The first, presented

just prior to independence, asked for repatriation of the prisoners on humanitarian

grounds, noting the many appeals from their families and promising to pay the expenses

of their return. A second communication, in November 1952, again sought clemency and

repatriation of war crimes prisoners in the Philippines, reiterating an appeal made

verbally in August to members of the Philippine mission in Japan. The establishment of

the overseas mission in Manila also enabled Japanese representatives to check directly on

the condition of the prisoners and meet with prison officials. 19

But the Japanese government’s role in interceding on behalf of the war criminals

remained sensitive. Japanese diplomatic correspondence between Tokyo and Manila in

1952 and early 1953 evidences a consistent concern that unwarranted publicity could

damage efforts to get the men home. In a November 28, 1952 cable to the foreign

ministry, the head of the Japanese overseas mission in Manila, Nakagawa Toru, advised

that he had received permission from the Philippine authorities to allow the sending of

foodstuffs and other comfort goods to the prisoners from a families association

[Ry ūshuka Sewakai ]. But Nakagawa cautioned that any announcement should reflect the

“private” nature of the arrangements, since any connection to the government was being

18 U.S. Embassy Manila Telegram No. 838, September 18, 1952, Decimal 510, Manila Embassy Secret General Records, 1950-52, RG 84, NACP; U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 1240, December 9, 1948, Decimal 694.9631/12-948, Central Decimal File, 1945-49, RG 59, NACP; and Willard A. Hanna, “Japan’s Return to the Philippines,” AUFS Reports, East Asia Series 4: 12 (Japan): 20. 19 Draft Text of Aide Memoire, March 5, 1952, Vol. 1, 255-257, Draft Text of Note Verbale, November 6, 1952, Vol. 1, 278-279, and Manila Cables, November 5 and November 6, 1952, Vol. 1, 268-274, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO.

157 kept secret [ kibi ]. On another occasion a foreign ministry official suggested that it would

be better to avoid any impression that petition drives in support of the prisoners were

being directed by the government—therefore, petitions should be sent directly to the

Philippine government rather than channeled through the Japanese government. 20

The food controversy that flared briefly in late 1952 (see ch. 3) is another case in

point. Japanese foreign ministry officials responding to Japanese news reports of

prisoner “starvation” that had been carried in Philippine newspapers quickly sent a formal

explanation to the Philippine government downplaying the accusations and promising to

educate the newspapers to the error of their ways. The swiftness of the Japanese response

was a measure of Japan’s concern that the publicity in the Philippines might adversely

affect those still incarcerated in Muntinglupa. 21

In light of the sensitivity attached to its involvement in gaining the release of the

war criminals, the Japanese government also continued to seek ways discreetly to

influence the Philippine government through intermediaries both in and outside the

Philippines. Aware of the power of appeals to Christian sensibilities, Japanese

government representatives sought the intervention of the Vatican as well as other church

officials. In Manila, Nakagawa asked for the support and good offices of the Vatican’s

Philippine Ambassador on the matter of sentence commutations and repatriation, and in

early 1953 made a direct appeal to an Australian cardinal, a special emissary of the Pope,

20 Manila Cable No. 46, November 28, 1952, Vol. 1, 295 and Message, Asia Bureau Third Section Chief Tobu to Asia Bureau Chief, July 21, 1952, Vol. 1, 258-260, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. 21 Aide Memoire to the Philippine government, November 11, 1952, Vol. 1, 286 and Memo, Asia Bureau Third Section, November 12, 1952, “Matters Concerning War Criminals in the Philippines,” Vol. 1, 283- 284, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO.

158 during his visit to Manila. The Japanese Foreign Ministry also communicated with its

Ambassador to the Vatican to gain the direct intercession of the Pope. 22

Throughout 1952 and the first half of 1953, Japanese diplomats continued to press

for sentence commutations and repatriation. To judge from the flurry of diplomatic

correspondence between Manila and Tokyo during this period, Japanese officials were

uncertain about the possibilities for success up to the last. The Japanese government had

received various signals from Philippine officials beginning in early 1952 that president

Quirino had decided to postpone, if not permanently halt, all further executions. What

transpired between then and the June 1953 pardon announcement appears to have been a

series of contacts and promises that left the Japanese government hopeful but uneasy

about the ultimate outcome.

Early hints of a wavering on executions came in several private conversations. In

January 1952 Philippine Senator Felisberto Verano, then visiting Japan, stated that he had

obtained personal assurances from President Quirino that there would be no more

executions. Former Col. Jimb ō heard a similar message in February 1952; he had

returned to the Philippines to help in finding and persuading any remaining Japanese

“stragglers” to surrender. During their discussion on February 25, the president told

Jimb ō that he had postponed any further executions pending further review. He added

that he intended to pardon more prisoners in future, but cautioned that some had

committed grave crimes. Nonetheless, he hoped to return the war criminals to Japan as

soon as possible—keeping them in the Philippines was uneconomical. 23

22 Manila Cable No. 84, January 27, 1953, Vol. 1, 334 and Tokyo Cable No. 22, June 16, 1953, Vol. 1, 426- 427, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. 23 Asahi Shinbun , January 15, 1952 and February 26, 1952.

159 By mid-1952, Japanese government representatives were making cautiously optimistic statements in public. In May, Foreign Minister Okazaki Katsuo was able to state that he believed the war criminals in the Philippines would be spared their lives, although he later observed that the Philippine government (as well as the Australian government) might continue to detain the war criminals out of consideration for public sentiment and domestic politics. In June, the deputy foreign minister told a Diet committee that he believed no more death sentences would be carried out; a subsequent ministry clarification confirmed that although the government had received no promises, there had been various indications that President Quirino would not impose the sentences.

And in July, a Diet member visiting the Philippines said that Quirino had told her he was not contemplating taking the lives of the condemned, although their return home was far from imminent. Still, there were those who remained wary; the father of one of the condemned pointedly observed that the January 1951 executions had taken place at a time when no more were expected. 24

In December 1952, Foreign Ministry Asian Affairs Bureau Chief Wajima Eiji, visiting Manila on the occasion of the funeral of Ambassador Melencio (the chief of the

Philippine mission in Tokyo), reported back to the Japanese Foreign Minister on his conversation with Philippine Secretary of Foreign Affairs Joaquin Elizalde. Owing to the sensitivity of the issue, Wajima had waited to the end of their meeting before raising the subject of the war criminals; he then asked Elizalde about the prospects for repatriation.

Elizalde responded that it was possible that all but a very few could be repatriated even

24 U.S. Embassy Tokyo Despatch No. 215, June 12, 1952, Folder “Post Treaty-Japanese War Criminals, 1950-52,” Records of the Legal Adviser Relating to Japanese War Crimes, 1943-1960, RG 59, NACP; Asahi Shinbun , June 6, 1952; Mainichi Shinbun , June 20, 1952, evening edition and July 30, 1952; and Nihon Keizai Shinbun , July 31, 1952.

160 before ratification of the peace treaty. When Wajima pushed for commutation of death

sentences, Elizalde demurred, responding merely that he had nothing to report on that

score. 25 Subsequent leaks to the press in Japan on the possibility that the Philippines would agree to repatriation alarmed Japanese mission chief Nakagawa, given the sensitivity of the whole issue:

It is true that the attitude of the Philippine government on this matter continues to improve. But the hostility towards Japan among the general population remains quite strong, and it is not impossible that, depending on circumstances, the opposition party would use the war criminals matter as a political issue. 26

Accordingly, Nakagawa urged the foreign ministry to take steps to avoid any further publicity that might be reported in the Philippines, given the Philippine government’s expectation that the whole matter would be handled with particular care.

Still, Nakagawa argued for renewed confidential approaches to Elizalde to ensure the return of all, not just most, of the war criminals. With foreign ministry concurrence,

Nakagawa again met with Elizalde in early January 1953. 27

Nakagawa’s lengthy report of that conversation suggests a degree of ambivalence

as well as exasperation on Elizalde’s part. After Nakagawa made his appeal, Elizalde

responded that repatriation required a determination from President Quirino; that the

president had been tied up on other pressing matters and was tired; and that it would

therefore be inappropriate to raise the issue immediately. He asked Nakagawa to wait a

week. Elizalde then went on to assure Nakagawa that he intended to help and that he

25 Manila Cable No. 117, December 24, 1952, Vol. 1, 312, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. 26 Manila Cable No. 130, December 29, 1952, Vol. 1, 314, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. 27 Manila Cable No. 129, December 29, 1952, Vol. 1, 313, Manila Cable No. 130, December 29, 1952, Vol. 1, 317-318, and Tokyo Cable No. 84, December 30, 1952, Vol. 1, 315, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO.

161 thought something could be done in the near future; the timing had been delayed because

of some “political problems” [ seijiteki mondai ]. When asked about the possibility that

some prisoners might be left behind, Elizalde responded that this was under the

jurisdiction of the Secretary of Justice, but it was possible that some five to eight men

would remain in the Philippines. Asked further whether those who stayed might be

executed, Elizalde observed that the Secretary of Justice was a reasonable man, so he did

not think that executions would take place soon—probably the men’s repatriation would

simply occur later. But Elizalde also offered a telling personal example of the competing

pressures presumably complicating the issue: the wife of a cabinet member, an ardent

Catholic, had worked to convert two of the war criminals, while Elizalde himself had

recently discovered that it was one of the prisoners who had killed his brother. 28

Nakagawa closed his report with the observation that it looked like the Secretaries

of Justice and Foreign Affairs had already agreed on a policy of repatriation and were

simply waiting on a final decision by the president. But the return of a small number of

the prisoners had been complicated by the interventions of a few cabinet officials and

other influential people. Consequently Nakagawa recommended that Okazaki approach

Senator Camilo Osias, then in Tokyo, to see if he would be willing to intercede. 29

By late January 1953 Nakagawa was able to report that he had heard that

President Quirino had reiterated his pledge not to carry out any more death sentences. A

few days later Nakagawa, accompanied by a visiting Japanese Diet member, met with

Elizalde and again raised the issue. Elizalde advised him that, as promised, the matter

had been discussed with the president at the last cabinet meeting; he had no objection to

28 Manila Cable No. 2, January 2, 1953, Vol. 1, 317-318, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. 29 Ibid.

162 repatriation, so it had been agreed that the Secretary of Justice would submit specific

procedural plans for the men’s return home. In a subsequent meeting, the Secretary of

Justice expressed his hopes for the restoration of friendly relations between the

Philippines and Japan and his support for repatriation. Nakagawa, encouraged but by no

means completely confident, concluded that this meant the great majority of the war

criminals would be returning very soon, with the remainder to be granted amnesty when a

second opportunity presented itself. Still preoccupied with the risks of premature

disclosure, Nakagawa urged continued secrecy lest leaks reverse the improving

atmosphere. 30

The remaining months until the June general pardon announcement continued to follow this pattern—reports by Nakagawa of evidence of progress coupled with anxieties about the potential for failure. Thus in February Nakagawa suggested the advantages that might obtain from a personal message from Japanese leaders to President Quirino but in

March delayed delivery of the resulting message from Prime Minister Yoshida to Quirino in order to avoid giving the appearance of pressuring the president. June produced more disquieting news: Nakagawa reported learning from Elizalde that Quirino might release only a few men rather than the great majority as hoped. Contrary to the president’s expectations, ratification of the peace treaty had been postponed again and that news, coupled with the political risks of granting amnesty in an election year, had resulted in a more cautious stance. Still, the Japanese mission in the Philippines and the foreign ministry continued to press for the release of more, and in mid-June the foreign ministry

30 Manila Cable No. 84, January 27, 1953, Vol. 1, 334 and Manila Cable No. 88, January 30, 1953, Vol. 1, 330, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO.

163 expressed the hope, based in part on confidential information from the Philippine mission

in Tokyo, that the great majority, if not all, would be freed. 31

Reparations Negotiations: A Complicating Factor

The Japanese government’s quiet diplomacy on behalf of the war criminals took

place amid the ongoing, if intermittent negotiations between the governments of Japan

and the Philippines on the amount and kind of reparations Japan should pay for war

damage. Reparations, far more than the fate of the war criminals, loomed large in the

public discourse between the two countries in the years immediately prior to and after the

signing of the peace treaty in San Francisco in September 1951.

Article 14 of the treaty acknowledged that Japan should pay reparations, but

further recognized that Japan’s resources were not then sufficient to pay full

compensation while sustaining a viable economy. “Therefore, Japan will promptly enter

into negotiations with Allied Powers so desiring, whose present territories were occupied

by Japanese forces and damaged by Japan, with a view to assisting to compensate those

countries for the cost of repairing the damage done, by making available the services of

the Japanese people in production, salvaging and other work for the Allied Powers in

question.” 32

In accordance with the terms of Article 14, Japanese representatives met with their Philippine counterparts in Manila in early 1952 to discuss reparations, even before the Philippine Senate took up ratification of the treaty itself. At that time, Philippine

31 Manila Cable No. 109, February 13, 1953, Vol. 1, 338; Manila Cable No. 69, February 17, 1953, Vol. 1, 347-348; Manila Cable No. 122, February 20, 1953, Vol. 1, 350; Manila Cable No. 289, June 3, 1953, Vol. 1, 398; and Tokyo Cable No. 22, June 16, 1953, Vol. 1, 426-427, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. 32 Quoted in Ohno, War Reparations and Peace Settlement , 49.

164 negotiators articulated the Philippines’ demands: Japan should recognize the Philippines’ claim of $8 billion; the Japanese government should settle this claim within 10 to 15 years; and the Japanese government should pay interim reparations even before the conclusion of a reparations agreement or the Philippines’ ratification of the peace treaty.

In response, the Japanese delegation noted Japan’s moral obligation to pay reparations but maintained that the sum demanded was far beyond the ability of Japan to pay; that no commitment on an amount could be made before considering other claimants; and finally that Japan was under no legal obligation to pay reparations until the Philippines had ratified the peace treaty. The Japanese delegation left for home without making any commitment on reparations. 33

Later that year, the Philippine Senate refused to ratify the treaty, largely out of dissatisfaction with Article 14. The Quirino administration continued to push for treaty ratification; Under Secretary of Foreign Affairs Neri argued in October that failure to act would not result, as some argued, in a better deal on reparations. But the opposition

Nacionalista Party, bolstered by Senate gains in the 1951 elections, was able to block ratification. 34

By December, shortly before resumption of discussions with Japanese Asian

Bureau Chief Wajima, Foreign Affairs Secretary Elizalde expressed the hope that members of the opposition had become more amenable to compromise. Nonetheless, the

Philippines and Japan continued to disagree on the amount and kind of reparations Japan should provide. The Philippines embraced a more liberal interpretation of reparations

33 Ibid, 68-71. 34 Ohno, War Reparations , 58-59, 73-76 and 79-80; Yoshikawa, Nippi Baish ō, 57 and 92-93; and U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 394, October 3, 1952, Decimal 694.96/10-352, Central Decimal File, 1950-54, RG 59, NACP.

165 that envisioned cash and in kind payments; Japan insisted on a strict interpretation of

Article 14 that meant Japan should provide only services within its capacity to pay. As a consequence, the reparations negotiations remained at an impasse (except for an interim

agreement on vessel salvage concluded in March 1953) throughout the period that the

Japanese government was seeking return of the war criminals. 35

Acknowledgement of any concrete linkage between payment of reparations and

repatriation of the war criminals was a delicate business. Neither side wanted to

officially embrace such a crude formulation. However, these two issues remained the

single most compelling outstanding problems between the two countries—it was

impossible to ignore the fact that each side had something the other wanted: the

Philippines the maximum in reparations and Japan the return of the men imprisoned in

Muntinglupa. As a consequence, Japanese observers remained wary that the Philippines

would see the war criminals as bargaining chips and would seek to use them as leverage

to gain greater concessions. At a minimum, public pressure in the Philippines to force

Japan to pay a suitably large amount of reparations was seen as an impediment to the

release of the men in Muntinglupa.

In 1952 an Asahi Shinbun reporter summarized popular Filipino beliefs about this

linkage, based on what he had learned from talking with Filipinos of various

occupations—politicians, teachers, lawyers, and newspapermen. The consensus that

emerged, he reported, was that while there would likely be no more executions, it would

be a “minus” for the government to make such a promise officially. These Filipinos

believed that:

35 Letter, Secretary of Foreign Affairs Elizalde to President Quirino, December 12, 1952, File “Foreign Affairs, Office of the Secretary,” Box 19, Elpidio Quirino Papers, Filipinas Heritage Museum, Manila, the Philippines; and Ohno, War Reparations , 73-76.

166

The fate [of the war criminals] hangs on whether or not the Philippines ratifies the peace treaty with Japan. And, whether the Philippines ratifies the peace treaty hangs on whether Japan will pay reparations sufficient to satisfy Filipinos or whether Japan shows some sort of sincerity [ sei-i]. If Japan doesn’t show sincerity, ratification will be protracted, and if feelings towards Japan grow increasingly worse, it is impossible to predict what will occur. 36

The reporter concluded that even though the Philippines could not survive economically without Japan, the U.S. government wanted the Philippines to quickly ratify the treaty, and the Quirino administration was pushing for ratification, these incentives might not outweigh the increasing popular animosity towards Japan which was at the root of the demand for an enormous sum in reparations. “Japan cannot agree to pay that amount of reparations. And so the Philippines will not ratify the treaty. So long as they do not ratify the treaty, the war criminals cannot return home.” 37

Still, the issue of an explicit quid-pro-quo remained sensitive. A Manila Times editorial explained why in early 1953:

There is absolutely no connection between the war criminals now expiating their crimes, after having been submitted to due process of law, and the obligation of Japan to make good the destruction and pillage committed by her forces here. A war criminal found guilty of having committed atrocities, and sentenced in lawful form, must pay the price exacted by the sentence, whether or not his government arranges to pay for the damage and destruction committed here in the name of the Japanese government of the time. The Philippine government is not in the ransom business, and cannot be a party to an agreement that would set at naught the verdict and sentence of a duly constituted court of law.” 38

36 Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 133-134. 37 Ibid, 134. 38 Manila Times , January 5, 1953.

167 The same sentiment was echoed in a Nippon Times editorial of the same day,

which professed “great shock” at the idea of exchanging the war criminals for Japanese

concessions on reparations. Both editorials appear to have been responding to a report,

from unnamed opposition party Nacionalista sources, that the party would support

releasing the prisoners if Japan offered a satisfactory solution to the reparations issue.

But Nacionalista Senator Camilo Osias, visiting Tokyo to discuss reparations, was quick

to discount the charge that the Philippines would use the war criminals to gain greater

reparations. Even so, Osias was rumored to be the source of the original report. 39

Likewise, around the same time Secretary of Foreign Affairs Elizalde was at pains

to stress to Japanese officials that a presidential decision on repatriation of the war

criminals was entirely separate from questions of reparations or treaty ratification. The

decision should be viewed as a humanitarian act grounded in a spirit of Christianity.

However, Elizalde was less circumspect in private; in proposing cabinet consideration of

a recent Japanese government request for clemency, he noted that “it might be to our

government’s financial benefit if the Japanese war criminals still in the Philippines not

convicted of very serious crimes could be pardoned and repatriated to Japan.” Whether

he meant that better reparations terms could be extracted, or merely that the Philippines

could save on prisoner costs, is unclear. Regardless, Elizalde was not proposing return of

all the men. 40

The prisoners themselves had varying perspectives on the issue of reparations and

its implications for their eventual return home. Some of the men said they feared that

39 Nippon Times , January 4 and January 5, 1953; Letter, Elizalde to Quirino, January 19, 1953, Folder “Japanese Peace Treaty 1953,” Japanese Peace Treaty: Far Eastern Commission, Box 24, Quirino Papers; and Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 234. 40 Manila Cable No. 88, January 30, 1953, Vol. 1, 330, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO; and Agenda, January 16, 1953, “Cabinet Agenda, January – December 1953,” Box 75, Quirino Papers.

168 Japanese negotiators might give too much away in an effort to gain their release. And

rumors that the reparations talks might prove successful, leading to ratification of the

peace treaty and the repatriation of the prisoners, were greeted with a mix of joy and

misgivings. It was still possible, some feared, that repatriation of those sentenced to term

and life sentences would be accompanied by the swift execution of the remainder

sentenced to death. 41

The Prisoner Release Movement: Mounting Pressure

The actions of certain individuals complemented the Japanese foreign ministry’s

efforts to aid the war criminals. Of the various people who committed themselves to the

Philippine prisoner release movement, three Japanese in particular arguably had the

greatest impact. These men—a Buddhist monk, a lower level government bureaucrat,

and a newspaperman—approached their cause from very different backgrounds, but were

united in their efforts to get as many of the war criminals as possible safely home. Their

combined efforts amounted to a calculated strategy to win over public opinion and

channel it to pressure Philippine and Japanese officials alike to act.

Chaplain Kagao, of course, has already been mentioned for his efforts to minister

to the war criminals in Muntinglupa. But his efforts went far beyond the spiritual in his

relentless campaign to gain their release. After the January 1951 executions Kagao wrote

to various Japanese government officials, including the prime minister, to urge them to

greater action, and appealed to Diet members for help. At the same time he wrote

directly to General MacArthur. He maintained contact with the Japanese government

41 Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 223-224; Kagao, “Montenrupa no Namida,” 11; and Asahi Shinbun , January 28, 1952.

169 representatives eventually stationed in the Philippines and also met with the head of the

Japanese reparations delegation when it arrived in Manila in early 1952 to convey

personally his views on how the talks might affect the war criminals. In mid-1951,

Kagao guided five Diet members around the prison, the first such delegation to visit.

Since they were en route to a conference in Rome, he importuned them to ask the Pope to

intercede on behalf of the war criminals. 42

Kagao also cultivated members of the Filipino elite and sought their help and

advice. After the executions, he met with Philippine Senators Camilo Osias and

Felisberto Verano in Manila to obtain assurances about the fate of the remaining

prisoners, and also talked with a Manila Chronicle reporter. He met personally with

President Quirino on at least one occasion, and continued to greet what became an

increasing stream of visitors, both Filipino and Japanese, to the prison by late 1952 and

early 1953. He also shrewdly capitalized on the advantages of wider publicity in Japan

over the fate of those in Muntinglupa: he authored a number of articles that appeared in

Japanese periodicals that were clearly intended to garner sympathy and support for those

incarcerated. 43

Kagao has also been credited with the idea that sparked one of the more romantic

explanations for President Quirino’s decision to grant amnesty. Kagao reportedly

suggested to two of the war criminals—Shirota Gintar ō and It ō Masayasu—that they

write a song “that everyone can sing.” The resulting collaboration (Shirota wrote the

lyrics and It ō the music) was sent back to Japan, where it was recorded by a well-known

42 Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 150-151; Kagao, “Montenrupa Shikei no Ichiya,” 13-14; Kagao, “Montenrupa no Namida,” 7, 12-13; and Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 117-118 and 155-156. 43 Kagao, “Ikite Iru Hit ō Senpan,” 132-139; Kagao, “Montenrupa no Namida,” 6-13; Sh ūnin Kagao, “Montenrupa no Senpan to Tomo ni,” Fujin K ōron 38: 10, no. 437 (September 1953): 204-207; and Kagao, “Montenrupa Shikei no Ichiya,” 6-15.

170 singer and became a hit. The song (“Ah, the Night Is Deep in Muntinglupa”) not only

helped to further publicize the sad fate of men in prison so far from home, but also was

said to have personally influenced Quirino. As the story goes, Kagao presented a music

box with the song to the president who, upon hearing it, was so moved by the haunting

melody that his heart softened and he made up his mind to release the war criminals. 44

One of Kagao’s main correspondents back in Japan was Ueki Shinkichi, the

Japanese official in the Demobilization Bureau who had been given responsibility for monitoring the status of the war criminals in Muntinglupa. For Ueki, the fate of these men became a crusade, and he increasingly focused on ways to publicize their circumstances and thereby gain them greater sympathy among the Japanese public. It was Ueki who leaked the full account of the January 1951 executions to a Mainichi reporter. The resulting story raised the specter of innocent men being put to death and the prospect of more deaths to come. Ueki reasoned that unless the Japanese public could be roused to action, further executions were inevitable. With criticism of war criminals becoming generally less strident and with the emergence of discussions in the Diet about a prisoner release movement, increased publicity about the men in Muntinglupa might turn the tide in their favor. 45

In keeping with this strategy, Ueki also approached the editor of Bungei Shunj ū and persuaded him to publish Fujita Takefumi’s moving account of his visit to the graves of his comrades. Next, he convinced the Mainichi Shinbun to publish an account by

44 Arai, “Montenrupa no Netsui Kaze,” 252-254; Tsuji, Yūhei Montenrupa , 163-165; Montenrupa no Kai, ‘Aa, Montenrupa,’ Seiron 414 (September 2006); and Kazuko T ōjima, “Nippi Y ūkō no Ishizue ni: Montenrupa no Yoru wa Fukete,” Energy Review 20: 2, No. 229 (February 2000): 36. 45 Ueki’s leak did not go unnoticed by his superiors; his boss chastised him for putting the jobs of his colleagues at risk by possibly angering SCAP officials and directed him to apologize to the head of the bureau; fortunately for Ueki, the bureau chief supported him. Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 110-114; and Mainichi Shinbun , February 1, 1951.

171 Nakajima Sh ōhei (sentenced to death), which generated reader support in the form of letters to the paper and to the families. Through Montenkai and its newsletter (see ch. 3),

Ueki and Kagao were able increasingly to publish communications about and from the men in Muntinglupa. 46

Ueki was aided and abetted in his efforts to achieve the widest possible publicity and sympathy for the war criminals by the increasing access of newsmen to the

Philippines. It was Japanese newspaper reporters who provided the Japanese public with some of the first descriptions of the post-war Philippines and, in particular, the feelings of

Filipinos with respect to the Japanese. The Philippine government, which had barred

Japanese from entering the country since the end of the war, had by 1950 loosened the restrictions just enough to allow layovers not to exceed 24 hours, and at least one enterprising newsman took advantage of that fact to spend his limited time in Manila talking with Americans, Chinese and others to gain whatever appreciation he could of the

Philippine scene. 47

In late January 1952, a group of reporters was allowed to accompany the Japanese government delegation that had been invited to Manila to pursue provisional talks on reparations, and the result was a flood of stories and articles about the reporters’ experiences. As more opportunities for travel presented themselves, the coverage continued steadily, culminating in an outpouring of stories about the return of Japanese war criminals in mid-1953. 48

46 Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami, 11-17, 36-37, 50-52 and 143-146; and Sh ōhei Nakajima, “Shikeish ū no Inori,” Sunday Mainichi 30 (August 19, 1951): 3-8. 47 Asahi Shinbun , Feb 20, 1950. 48 See, for example, Mainichi Shinbun , February 3 and March 10, 1952, and July 12 and July 14, 1953; and Asahi Shinbun , January 28 and February 4, 1952, and July 9, 1953, evening edition.

172 Tsuji Yutaka was one of these reporters. Writing as a special correspondent for

Asahi Shinbun , Tsuji seems to have been remarkably committed to talking with Filipinos of all social and economic strata and asking about their wartime experiences and feelings

towards Japan. In his newspaper articles, and in a full-length book he edited that was

published in 1952, he wrote frankly and explicitly about Filipino hatred and what had

caused it—at times graphically describing the torture and casual brutality inflicted by

Japanese troops. In one moving segment of his book, he described how often Filipinos

would use the term “atrocities” in talking about the Japanese occupation and how, when

he would ask them what they meant, they would turn shocked faces to him, unable to

believe his claims of ignorance. A Filipino newsman to whom he posed his question,

after asking “you mean you really don’t know?” showed him the marks of his torture by

members of the Japanese kempeitai in Fort Santiago. He offered to take Tsuji to Fort

Santiago to show him, and Tsuji accepted. Tsuji’s account of that visit, and the descriptions his guide gave him of tortures like the water treatment and being hung in chains, provided a vivid and unflinching picture for his readers of what had happened during the war. 49

Still, Tsuji also introduced the idea that Filipinos, at least some of them, had begun to distinguish between the Japanese military and individual Japanese—or perhaps this was the message that Tsuji himself believed and wanted to convey. During his first postwar visit to Manila, he told of encounters with Filipinos and their willingness, at some point, to move past the war:

49 Tsuji , Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku, 101-117; and Asahi Shinbun , January 28, February 4, and February 11, 1952.

173 In actuality, those who began with forced smiles to speak, once the conversation had progressed a little ways said ‘let us speak frankly’ and then spoke of the atrocities of the Japanese military during the war. I had to just listen in silence. I was not a newspaper reporter [then]; I was a Japanese. Once they had poured out their hearts, they suddenly dropped the tone of their voices an octave, and smiled, saying ‘however, this is past for everyone. I personally don’t think that I have any more hatred for the Japanese.’ And from this point the real conversations begin. Filipinos are a good people. 50

Tsuji nonetheless came down squarely on the side of those still incarcerated in

Muntinglupa as not guilty, and it was this view that he communicated to his readers.

Tsuji himself had arrived in the Philippines without much awareness of Muntinglupa or its inhabitants. As he describes it, it was Senator Verano who called him up and suggested his first visit to the prison. What he saw and heard during this and later visits caused Tsuji to promise to do whatever he could for the men after he returned home. 51

Although Tsuji asks some of those sentenced to death about the atrocities they were charged with committing, he appears to accept their denials at face value. And he clearly becomes an advocate for their innocence. He quotes one Filipino who claimed that the Japanese in Muntinglupa were directly and specifically guilty of atrocities, but then Tsuji explicitly rejects this view. Based on what he was able to learn and speaking as a Japanese, he concludes that those imprisoned were not the perpetrators [ kagaisha ] of the acts of the Japanese military but rather victims [ higaisha]. By Tsuji’s calculations,

Japan sent about 400,000 men to the Philippines during the war; some 70,000-80,000 survived, and of these about 350 were tried as war criminals. Given the verdicts in these trials, it would appear that less than 200 men had assumed responsibility for the acts of

50 Asahi Shinbun , February 4, 1952. 51 Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 5-15; and Tsuji, Yūhei Montenrupa ,” 158-162.

174 400,000. Would it not be better, Tsuji asks, if responsibility for the acts of the 400,000

rested with those, the Japanese people, who sent them? 52

Tsuji reinforces this overall perception of the Japanese prisoners as “victims” of

the war by citing examples of specific cases where the defendants were wrongly found

guilty. In the case of “Y.H.,” for example, the accused was sentenced to death for

involvement in an incident in Batangas even though he was in Baguio at the time—a

clear case of mistaken identity. Tsuji expressed the view, quite commonly found in

Japanese accounts of the trials, that Filipino witnesses would point at any Japanese to

avenge the deaths of their loved ones. 53

Tsuji’s many articles and writings undoubtedly contributed to the mounting public

pressure, evidenced by the increasing flood of petitions and appeal to the Philippine

authorities, to bring the men home. Chaplain Kagao himself commented that the news

accounts and broadcasts, by Tsuji and others, contributed substantially to heightening

awareness among Japanese to the fate of their countrymen in Muntinglupa. Japanese

who learned about the men’s plight felt encouraged to help in whatever way they could.

In addition to signing petitions, individuals like Dr. Imai faithfully wrote letters and sent

“comfort articles” to the men. Miss Yamamoto, a student who had visited the war

criminals in Muntinglupa as a member of the Japan-Philippine Student Conference, pled

for their release. An artist made a sketch of family members to send to one of the

condemned prisoners. Three young people showed up at Ueki’s office bringing books

they wanted to send to the prisoners. 54

52 Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 27-39 and 120-121. 53 Ibid, 122-123. 54 Kagao, “Muntinglupa no Namida,” 7; Asahi Shinbun , June 28, 1953; Mainichi Shinbun , March 29, 1953; and Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 207-208.

175 These Japanese efforts on behalf of the war criminals were further aided by an

oddly assorted group of supporters from among Filipino elites, whose motives may have varied but who united around the notion of resolving the war criminals issue. Senator

Felisberto Verano figured prominently among them. According to Japanese diplomats,

Verano had experienced an epiphany of sorts during a 1951 visit to Japan. The senator, a former guerrilla leader and staunch member of the “anti-Japan” faction in Philippine postwar politics, met with various Japanese during his visit and at the end of his trip vowed to return home to work for friendly relations between the Philippines and Japan.

“I have realized the difference between the Japanese of my imagining and real

Japanese.” 55

When he returned to the Philippines, Verano made good on his promises. He visited Muntinglupa often. More than once, he appealed directly to President Quirino on behalf of the prisoners. Japanese observers were convinced of Verano’s sincerity, and frequently commented on his commitment to gain the release of the war criminals and to work for better relations between Japan and the Philippines. 56

An assessment by the American ambassador in Manila suggests a somewhat more

cynical explanation for Verano’s actions. In commenting on the possible reasons for the

senator’s decision to break a deadlock in the Senate between the Liberal and Nacionalista

parties over the selection of the Senate president in March 1952, Ambassador Raymond

Spruance analyzed the likelihood that Verano was either being blackmailed or,

alternatively, out for personal gain:

55 Memo, September 27, 1951, “Sentence Commutation for War Criminals in the Philippines,” Vol. 1, 252, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. 56 Kagao, “Ikite Iru Hit ō Senpan,” 139; Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 134, 137, 155, 161; Okamoto, Nokosareta Hirohito, 188; and Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 6.

176 A second explanation of how the Liberals convinced Verano to desert his Nacionalista colleagues is based on a persistent rumor that Verano, who is from Mindanao, has been or will be given a valuable lumber concession in that province. As the story goes, Verano, during a visit to Japan in early January, discussed the establishment of a paper mill in Mindanao with Japanese industrialists. It was agreed during these conversations that a dummy corporation would be established with ostensible Philippine capital and Verano as a principal stockholder, but with the backing of certain unnamed Japanese. The lumber concession, if this story is true, would be Verano’s contribution to the paper manufacturing venture. 57

If the “persistent rumor” reported by the ambassador was true, it suggests that Verano,

aside from any moral convictions, had a personal stake in finding ways to improve

Philippine-Japan relations.

Two other Philippine politicians—both prominent collaborators during the war—

embraced the cause of the Japanese war criminals. Congressman Pio Duran, well known

for his pro-Japanese sympathies before, during, and after the war, made periodic visits to

meet with the prisoners in Muntinglupa; on a visit to Japan in 1952 he met with their

families and promised his help. Senator Camilo Osias and his wife also supported efforts

to release the prisoners. Osias’ Nacionalista party had successfully blocked ratification

of the Japanese peace treaty in the Senate, but he had served in the Laurel government

during the latter part of the war and maintained cordial relations with many Japanese. In

any event, Osias made it clear where his sympathies lay. During a visit to Japan he and

his wife met with the families of the prisoners and, in one noteworthy exchange, he was

57 U.S. Embassy Manila Despatch No. 1241, March 20, 1952, Decimal 350, Political Affairs 1952, Manila Embassy Classified General Records, 1950-52, RG 84, NACP.

177 quoted in the Japanese press as having made an “apology” [ owabi ] to the families because their men still had not been allowed to come home. 58

Osias was just as forthright back in Manila; in February 1952, he suggested to

Philippine government leaders that newspapers should avoid use of the pejorative “Jap” and also advocated the early repatriation of the war criminals both as a gesture of goodwill and to save the expense of housing them. Osias and his wife made periodic visits to Muntinglupa to meet with the war criminals and the chaplain. 59 Whatever his motives, Osias clearly feared no retribution, political or otherwise, from championing the cause of the war criminals.

Still others figured in Japanese government calculations of those sufficiently influential to be of use in persuading President Quirino to release the war criminals.

Quirino’s brother Antonio likely headed the list. Described by one American official as a

“sinister figure who seems to be mixed up in all sorts of dubious transactions in the

Philippines,” Judge Antonio Quirino was believed to have the president’s ear and trust.

After the July 1953 general amnesty, Japanese newspapers commented on the influential role that the judge played in the release of the war criminals, as did Japanese diplomat

Nakagawa. 60

An obvious potential supporter of fostering good relations between the

Philippines and Japan, former president Jose Laurel, appears to have remained more in

58 Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 161; Asahi Shinbun , January 1, 1953; Mainichi Shinbun , January 11, 1952 and July 4, 1953; and Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 243-44, 246-247. 59 Asahi Shinbun , February 16, 1952, Manila Times , February 16, 1952; Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 241; and Kagao, “Montenrupa no Namida,” 7, 12. 60 Antonio Quirino, the president’s youngest brother, had been a judge on the People’s Court, the court established to try Filipino collaborators. Steinberg, Philippine Collaboration in World War II, 139; Memo, March 30, 1950, “Current Problems in the Philippines,” Folder B-2-D, Subject file 1948-57, Records of the Office in Charge of Philippine Affairs, Lot Files 58D312 & 61D26, RG 59, NACP; Asahi Shinbun , July 7, 1953; Mainichi Shinbun, July 4, 1953; and Manila Cable No. 329, June 27, 1953, Vol. 1, 502, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO.

178 the background, although some Japanese remained convinced of his sympathies.

Japanese businessman Imamura Eikichi (the former long-term resident of the Philippines) told the Japanese Foreign Ministry back in 1949 that Laurel had said that if he won the upcoming presidential election he would suspend executions indefinitely and look for an opportune time to release all the prisoners. A Mainichi reporter who interviewed him in mid-1951 reported that Laurel had claimed to be working for the repatriation of the

Japanese and had expressed disappointment in the failure, thus far, to achieve that goal. 61

Still, given the ongoing enmity between Laurel and Quirino stemming from their bitter fight in the 1949 presidential election, it seems unlikely that Laurel was in a position to influence the president directly.

There were also private individuals in the Philippines who joined in the struggle to gain the release of the Japanese war criminals. These included members of the

Christian community who not only made periodic visits to the prison but also championed the cause of the prisoners. Dr. Nelson, the Seventh Day Adventist pastor and president of Union College who was present along with chaplain Kagao at the executions, made his own appeals to members of the Philippine government. According to Kagao, Nelson led the Christian movement in the Philippines in support of amnesty for the war criminals. These Christian groups and committees presented numerous petitions to the Philippine government and visited President Quirino to appeal to him personally, as well as working to gain the sympathy of the Filipino people. Nelson also actively intervened in the cases of individual prisoners; on one occasion he wrote to Malacañan to

61 Memo, “Information Concerning Philippine War Criminals Issue,” September 27, 1949, Vol. 1, 158-161, Disclosure 14, D’130 2-5-2, JDRO; and Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 140.

179 provide documentation to show that Hamada Yoshio, convicted and sentenced to death,

had been mistaken for another Hamada. 62

Success: Going Home

On June 27, 1953, sooner than expected, the Philippine government officially

announced that it intended to repatriate all Japanese war criminals still incarcerated in the

Philippines. The men serving life or term sentences would be granted their freedom

immediately; those sentenced to death would have their sentences commuted to life.

President Quirino’s amnesty proclamation, effective July 4, meant that 106 war criminals

would be allowed to return home. It also meant pardons for some 300 Filipino

collaborators still in prison. 63

Official statements from Malacañan stressed Quirino’s humanitarian motives,

his desire for the early restoration of normal relations between the Philippines and Japan,

and his hope that the Japanese people might yet be friends. 64 According to Japanese

mission chief Nakagawa, the statement issued by the office of the president expressed

Quirino’s hope that the gesture would lead to progress in resolving outstanding issues

between the Japan and the Philippines, particularly reparations, and would be a basis for

the restoration of formal relations between the two countries. Foreign Affairs Under

Secretary Neri privately reiterated this formulation to Nakagawa two days later; he noted

62 Kagao, Montenrupa ni Inoru , 110-111; Kanichi Nishimura, “Montenrupa no D ōfuku wo Tazunete,” Ny ū Eiji 5:4 (April 1954): 60-64; Irude, “Hit ō no Nihonjin Senpantachi,” 16-17; and Letter, A.N. Nelson to Marciano Roque, May 11, 1951, Bundle #32, People of the Philippines vs. Masaki Shiochi et al., NAP. 63 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 3904, June 30, 1953, Folder “Post Treaty—Japanese War Criminals, 1953,” Records Relating to Japanese War Crimes, 1943-1960, Records of the Legal Adviser Relating to War Crimes, Lot File 61 D 33, RG 59, NACP; and Manila Cable No. 332, June 28, 1953, Vol. 1, 506, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. As one Manila newspaper noted, the presidential action was not technically an “amnesty,” which would have required congressional concurrence, but rather a decision to grant individual pardons. Manila Bulletin , July 7, 1953. 64 Republic of the Philippines, Official Gazette 49: 7 (July 1953): xcvii-xcix.

180 that while Quirino had been motivated by Christian and humanitarian principles, it was hoped that the pardons would have a desirable impact on solving pending questions, particularly reparations. 65

Clearly, at this point Philippine officials were willing to signal that they expected

to see some reciprocal gesture on Japan’s part. A Manila Times editorial delicately

conveyed similar sentiments soon after the pardon announcement: while the Philippine

government likely had some thought of reparations in mind, the major motive was to

demonstrate good faith in the pursuit of better relations; Japan should respond with an

equal demonstration, with adequate proof, of Japanese good faith. Japanese Prime

Minister Yoshida’s statement to the Diet on June 29 that Japan was prepared to consider

reparations in forms other than services was widely interpreted as just such a gesture.

However, Yoshida’s statement was followed quickly by a “clarification” from the foreign

ministry that essentially denied any substantive change in Japanese policy. 66

President Quirino’s decision triggered a series of subsequent steps and

arrangements required to implement the pardon decree. The Philippine government made

it clear that some conditions applied. The Japanese government must accept the

judgments of the Philippine war crimes tribunals. Those term and life prisoners granted

their freedom would have to promise never to return to the Philippines. Those whose

death sentences had been commuted to life in prison would be required to serve out their

sentences in a Japanese prison. Any decision to grant clemency, reduce sentences, or

parole such prisoners would require the agreement of the Philippine government as well

65 Manila Cable No. 332, June 28, 1953, Vol. 1, 506 and Manila Cable No. 334, June 29, 1953, Vol. 1, 527, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. 66 Manila Cable No. 336, June 30, 1953, Vol. 1, 534, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO; Manila Times , June 30, 1953 and July 3, 1953; Manila Bulletin , July 1, 1953 and July 22, 1953; Philippines Free Press , July 4, 1953; and Yoshikawa, Nippi Baish ō, 133.

181 as the recommendation of the Japanese government. The costs of repatriation and

imprisonment were to be borne by the Japanese government. The Japanese government

accepted all these conditions. 67

Some confusion arose concerning the fates of specific individuals on the master

pardon/commutation list, which had included the names of 114 individuals. A few on the

list had actually already returned home, their sentences overturned or their terms served.

Further, Japanese government officials had apparently received word that four of the men

whose sentences had been commuted to life were supposed to have received outright

pardons. Paperwork for these four (Koike Kaneyuki, Harada Shimpei, Tsubaki Takao

and Hamada Yoshio) was eventually completed and the men released, three by the end of

July and the fourth in September. 68

On the afternoon of July 15, the Japanese ship the Hakusan Maru left Manila bound for Yokohama, Japan. It carried a total of 111 Japanese leaving the Philippines:

106 war criminals sentenced by Philippine military tribunals; 2 Japanese who, having taken Philippine citizenship at the end of the war, were tried and convicted by civilian courts; 2 Japanese stragglers who had recently surrendered; and the chaplain. The voyagers also included Ueki, who had been permitted to join the official group traveling to the Philippines to escort the men home. Japanese reporters ultimately were not

67 Press Release No. 7-6-6, July 6, 1953, Office of the President of the Philippines, Decimal 694.9624/7- 653, Central Decimal File, 1950-1954, RG 59, NACP; Note, Acting Secretary of Foreign Affairs Felino Neri to Chief of Japanese Mission Nakagawa Toru, July 4, 1953 and Note, Nakagawa to Neri, July 4, 1953, Vol. 1, 580-583, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO; and Asahi Shinbun , July 6, 1953, evening edition. 68 The reasons for the mix-up, if there was one, and the subsequent timing of the men’s release are not entirely clear. Press reports vary on the timing of the pardons, and in the relevant diplomatic correspondence the names have been blacked out. See Manila Cable No. 353, July 6, 1953, Vol. 1, 594; Manila Cable No. 391, July 18, 1953, Vol. 2, 8; Letter, Chief of Philippine Mission Jose Imperial to Minister of Foreign Affairs Okazaki, July 22, 1953, Vol. 2, 22; and Communications Relating to Pardon, September 28, and 30, 1953, Vol. 2, 74-76, Disclosure 14, D’130, 3-1-1, JDRO; Manila Bulletin, July 22, 1953; Asahi Shinbun, July 6 and July 16, 1953; and Mainichi Shinbun , July 4, July 6, July 10, and July 16, 1953.

182 allowed to make the trip, likely to the satisfaction of Nakagawa, who had feared that

some of the returnees might make derogatory comments to the press about the fairness of

their trials and sentences, with consequences for Japan-Philippine relations. 69

The ship bore not just the living but the ashes of the dead. Soon after the amnesty

decision had been announced, the Japanese government had petitioned for the return of

the remains of the 17 men previously executed and buried in the prison cemetery. Even

before the formal request was made, a Manila paper editorialized on the appeal:

This is a request that should be granted before it is even asked . . . The men in whose memory this is asked have wiped out their obligations. By their lights, they did their duty as long as the breath of life was in them. So their people revere their memory, and want, their mortal remains to rest in their homeland. No man of soul and of conscience—qualities in which this Christian nation is rich—will fail to understand this desire. No government animated by the spirit of such a people will fail to respond to this desire. 70

The Philippine government did approve the request at a cabinet meeting on July 7,

but apparently not without some reservations. In reporting that the request had been

granted, Nakagawa also noted that he had learned confidentially of fears that the remains

of the executed might be given some sort of military honors or treated as “heroes.” To

allay these concerns, Nakagawa took it upon himself to assure Philippine Under

Secretary of Foreign Affairs Felino Neri that the remains would be treated as general war

dead and given no special honors. The bodies of the dead were exhumed and cremated,

and the ashes accompanied the returnees on their voyage home. 71

69 Asahi Shinbun , July 15, 1953, evening edition; Manila Bulletin , July 23, 1953; Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami, 270-272; and Manila Cable No. 366, July 8, 1953, Vol. 1, 455 and Manila Cable No. 384, July 14, 1953, Vol. 1, 492, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. 70 Manila Times , July 5, 1953. 71 Manila Cable No. 361, July 7, 1953, Vol. 1, 441, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO.

183 In a revealing coda, the Japanese government sought, but failed, to obtain the ashes of the men tried and executed by the Americans in the Philippines. The remains of

Yamashita, Homma and 65 others had been buried in numbered graves in the Philippines, but in 1948 the U.S. army issued orders that any remains in U.S. custody be secretly exhumed, cremated and disposed of at sea. The action was precipitated by the impending relinquishment of responsibility for maintaining cemeteries not just in the Philippines but also Japan, and the concurrent fear that if Japan acquired access to the remains it might lead to unwanted glorification of war criminals. The orders were apparently carried out by the end of 1949; a subsequent investigation at the behest of the State Department found no trace of the bodies. 72

The Hakusan Maru arrived in Yokohama on the night of July 21, 1953, and the men disembarked the next morning. Thousands of people thronged the harbor to greet the ship and welcome the men home. The newspapers had been filled with stories of the men’s impending return and moving accounts of their families awaiting them. The news reports of their arrival combined the joys of homecoming with solemn descriptions of the men descending the gangplank carrying the ashes of their dead comrades and the departure to prison of those now under life sentence. 73

Pardons for those headed to prison were in fact not long delayed. The Japanese officials who had gone to Muntinglupa in June to tell the men they would be going home

72 Memo, “Final Disposition and Policies Governing Burial and Graves Registration of Executed War Criminals,” Col. R.M. Levy to Commanding Generals, Eighth Army and Philippine Command, August 13, 1948 and Memo, Chief, Quartermaster, August 6, 1948, File “War Criminals,” Decimal File 1945-1951, SCAP Legal Section, Law Division, RG 331, NACP; U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 114, July 14, 1953, Folder “Post Treaty—Japanese War Criminals, 1953,” Records Relating to Japanese War Crimes, 1943- 1960, Records of the Legal Adviser Relating to War Crimes, Lot File 61 D 33, RG 59, NACP; and Asahi Shinbun , July 15, 1953. 73 Asahi Shinbun , June 28, June 28, evening edition, July 4, July 12, July 15, July 16, and July 22, 1953; Mainichi Shinbun , July 14, July 16, and July 22, 1953; and Dower, Embracing Defeat , 515.

184 also predicted that those whose sentences had been commuted to life would regain their

freedom quite soon. They were right. On December 28, 1953, as virtually his last act

before leaving office, President Quirino issued pardons for the remaining 52 war

criminals incarcerated in Sugamo Prison in Tokyo. 74

A month earlier, the Quirino administration had signaled its willingness to

consider pardons. On November 24, Ohno Katsumi, who had replaced Nakagawa as

chief of the Japanese mission in Manila, reported that the president’s brother Antonio

Quirino had told him the preceding day that the president, when presented with an

opportunity, would leak the news that he might pardon the remaining war criminals by

Christmas. Quirino added that either Foreign Minister Okazaki or Prime Minister

Yoshida should send a request for pardons to the president. It appears that Philippine

officials were doing some obvious hinting. An Asahi Shinbun article of the same date quoted a presidential spokesman as denying that, at present, Quirino intended to pardon the war criminals in Sugamo—prior to taking any such action, the Japanese government would first have to make a recommendation for clemency, and no such recommendation had been received. (The Asahi news item went on to suggest, based on foreign ministry sources, that the Japanese government was dragging its feet because it feared that the release of the men, presumed supporters of militarism, would strengthen the political right-wing faction.) 75

The Japanese government got the message, and responded accordingly, although not before Ohno fired off some anxious cables urging fast action lest the moment be lost.

In a letter dated December 11, 1953, Japanese Prime Minister Yoshida formally

74 Asahi Shinbun, June 30, evening edition and December 29, 1953. 75 Manila Cable No. 548, November 24, 1953, Vol. 2, 83, Disclosure 14, 3-1-1, JDRO; and Asahi Shinbun , November 24, 1953.

185 requested presidential pardons for the war criminals in Sugamo sentenced by Philippine

military tribunals. The accompanying report by a Japanese government commission

recommended clemency on several grounds, including the prisoners’ commitment to

rehabilitation and cordial relations between Japan and the Philippines; the hardships of

their families; their good records while in Sugamo; and the sufficiency of their suffering.

Yoshida’s letter and the commission’s report focused on the hoped-for magnanimity and

humanitarian generosity of President Quirino and the prospects for better relations

between Japan and the Philippines; neither discussed the crimes for which pardons were being sought. 76

Ohno’s anxieties were well founded. By the time Yoshida’s letter arrived,

prospects for release of the remaining war criminals appeared to have dimmed, for

reasons explicitly tied to dissatisfaction with the reparations negotiations. In early

December, Ohno had presented a proposal that Philippine negotiators viewed as reneging

on an earlier verbal commitment from Foreign Minister Okazaki. On December 10,

Acting Secretary of Foreign Affairs Neri went public with his objections, while also

voicing his belief that the reparations issue had to be resolved before any pardons for war

criminals could be considered. The Mainichi Shinbun commented that this represented the first time that the Philippine government had formally linked the issues of reparations and the war criminals. 77

76 Manila Cable No. 559, November 27, 1953, Vol. 2, 86; Manila Cable No. 577, December 5, 1953, Vol. 1, 95; Manila Cable No. 588, December 8, 1953, Vol. 2, 96; English text of Yoshida letter, December 11, 1953 and Report, “Decision Concerning Recommendation for Clemency,” December 2, 1953, Vol. 2, 106- 110, Disclosure 14, 130 3-1-1, JDRO. 77 Yoshikawa, Nippi Baish ō, 136-141; Manila Times , December 11, 1953; and Mainichi Shinbun , December 11, 1953.

186 Neri conveyed his concerns directly to Ohno on December 12. According to

Ohno, Neri mentioned the atmosphere produced by Japan’s “extremely unsatisfactory

response” on reparations, making it difficult to persist with release of the remaining war

criminals. In response, Ohno cautioned that any attempt by the Philippine government to link the war criminals with reparations could result in an adverse public response in Japan and urged that the two issues be kept separate. 78

The agenda for the Quirino administration’s last cabinet meeting in late December

indicates that Neri planned to maintain his opposition. In forwarding the Japanese

government’s request for clemency for discussion at the meeting, Neri observed that “it

may not be timely or advisable at this particular time to consider the recommendation of

the Japanese Government favorably because it may distract or divert the attention of the

Philippine Government from the reparations question and because a grant of clemency

coming so soon after the receipt of the [latest] Japanese reparations offer may be

misinterpreted in Japan even in the slightest degree as an indication of lack of strong

opinion in the Philippines on the inadequacy of the Japanese reparations offer.” 79

Worried that the objections of the Department of Foreign Affairs were causing

Quirino to vacillate on amnesty, Ohno met again with Neri on December 22, prior to the

cabinet meeting. Ohno pled for Neri’s support. According to Ohno, after a long pause

Neri agreed to reconsider and urge Quirino to release the remaining prisoners, citing the

receipt of a letter from Prime Minister Yoshida. Ohno continued to monitor

78 Manila Cable No. 604, December 12, 1953, Vol. 2, 126, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. 79 Agenda, December 23, 1953, Cabinet Agenda, January – December 1953, Box 75, Quirino Papers.

187 developments, and finally was able to report that Neri had telephoned the news that the

president had signed the pardon documents. 80

Pardons and Political Fallout

President Quirino issued pardons to the war criminals in Muntinglupa during an

election year. Quirino’s Liberal Party and the opposition Nacionalista party had sparred

for two years over ratification of the peace treaty with Japan, and reparations was one of

several issues raised during the hotly contested 1953 presidential campaign. The power of the reparations issue to move the electorate had been clearly demonstrated in the 1951 senatorial elections—all the Nacionalista candidates, who ran on a platform of satisfactory reparations as a condition of treaty ratification, won. 81

Nonetheless, it is not at all clear that the July 1953 pardons—as distinct from the

reparations negotiations—had any material effect on the outcome at the polls. For one

thing, although some Nacionalista Senators—notably Claro Recto—reportedly opposed

the pardons, Congressman Duran and Senator Osias had for some time been actively

working to gain the release of the war criminals, and the evidence suggests that the most

prominent Nacionalista politician—Jose Laurel—was also sympathetic. To further

complicate matters, Osias, in one of those maneuvers characteristic of Philippine politics,

had made common cause with the Liberals to gain the Senate Presidency in April 1953

80 Manila Cable No. 630, December 23, 1953, Vol. 2, 128; Manila Cable No. 636, December 26, 1953, Vol. 2, 135; and Manila Cable No. 642, December 28, 1953, Vol. 2, 136, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. 81 Jorge R. Coquia, The Philippine Presidential Election of 1953 (Manila: University Publishing Co., 1955): 97-99 and 159-161; and Ohno, War Reparations , 58-59.

188 (only temporarily, as it turned out). He was attacked by his Nacionalista colleagues, and retaliated by backing Quirino in the upcoming election. 82

Japanese diplomats occasionally expressed the fear that Quirino would not be willing to jeopardize his re-election by sending the Japanese war criminals home. If political calculations did figure in Quirino’s decision (which would hardly be surprising), he obviously concluded that whatever risk existed was manageable. That was the interpretation of one Manila newspaper editorialist, who commented that the president would not have been likely to do anything in the midst of a campaign that would cost him votes—he would not have dared “risk national displeasure” by freeing the war criminals—hence the logical conclusion that Filipinos would not be too exercised over the decision. 83 Of course, Quirino did lose the election, but as a result of turmoil within the Liberal Party and the success of the Nacionalistas in persuading Quirino’s Defense

Secretary Ramon Magsaysay to bolt the Liberals to run under their party banner.

The political fall-out, when it did come, occurred after the election and in the context of a more general attack on Quirino’s use of his pardon power. With the

Nacionalistas in control of the presidency and the Senate, the Senate designated a blue- ribbon committee to conduct an investigation in early 1954. The pardons for the

Japanese prisoners were included in the general indictment, but the resulting report focused more on Quirino’s pardoning of other prisoners. The committee concluded that the previous administration was guilty of “carelessly and lavishly” bestowing pardons on the undeserving. In its summation of the Japanese pardons, the committee focused on the

December pardons, which had been granted despite the opposition of then Acting

82 Yoshikawa, Nippi Baish ō, 133; and Coquia, Philippine Presidential Election of 1953 , 68-70. 83 Manila Bulletin , July 1, 1953.

189 Secretary Neri. The report concluded that the pardons for all the Japanese war criminals

“were granted without regard to the merits of each particular case and under

circumstances impressing upon them the nature and character of amnesty which under the

Constitution could not have been granted without Congressional sanction.” 84

Impact of Public Opinion: Different Trajectories in Japan and the Philippines

The pictures of the crowds that met the returning Hakusan Maru in July, and the

outpouring of news stories chronicling the joy of their families, vividly convey the shift

in Japanese public sentiment towards the men imprisoned in Muntinglupa. They had

been transformed, over the course of less than ten years, from criminals awaiting

punishment to innocent victims of the war. Even the diplomatic correspondence began to

capture the nature of the change, occasionally referring to the inmates as “war convicts”

[sens ō jukeisha ] instead of the more usual “war criminals” [ senpan ]. 85

The very earliest postwar news accounts of Japanese brutality in the Philippines

had shocked and disturbed ordinary Japanese, who responded with a combination of

revulsion and disbelief. The evidence about atrocities introduced during the Tokyo trial

provided additional proof for those willing to believe it. Commenting on the Tokyo Trial

verdicts, editorialists in certain Japanese newspapers were troubled by the apparent

sympathy of some for the defendants; it would be better if Japanese remembered the

84 Report, Senate Committee on Investigation (Blue Ribbon), May 19, 1954, Folder “Magalona, Enrique,” Congress of the Philippines, Senate, Box 40, Quirino Papers. 85 Memo, Asia Bureau, “Matters Concerning the War Criminals,” November 12, 1952, Vol. 1, 283-284; Manila Cable No. 88, January 30, 1953, Vol. 1, 330; and Manila Cable 348, July 3, 1953, Vol. 1, 555, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO.

190 Filipinos and Chinese who suffered severe oppression and “barbarous acts” at the hands

of the Japanese military. 86

The Japanese facing trial or already convicted of crimes in the Philippines were well aware of the likely sentiment back home; one wrote, characteristically, that his countrymen who judged them as shameless had no idea of the real facts. Other observers talked about children being taunted for the crimes of their fathers and wives seeking to divorce husbands in prison. The prisoners and their families believed that, at best, the wider Japanese public was indifferent to their fate. 87

But many families of the prisoners resisted the idea of their guilt, and with the

January 1951 executions, members of the broader Japanese public began to embrace their cause. The conviction that a miscarriage of justice had occurred—that some innocent men had been executed—came to be conflated with the notion that all the men sentenced to death were innocent and all those incarcerated in Muntinglupa had been made to suffer for the sins of others.

This evolution in thinking is captured perfectly in a letter sent to a Philippine publication by a member of the upper house of the Japanese Diet in May 1951. In it,

Kora Tomiko, a wife and mother of three children, begs Filipinos to ask President

Quirino for amnesty for the war criminals in Muntinglupa. The text of the letter, as printed in another Philippine newspaper, is worth considering in its entirety:

86 Dower, Embracing Defeat , 506-507; Kentar ō Awaya, Shiry ō Nihon Gendaishi 2: Haisen Chokugo no Seiji to Shakai (Tokyo: Otsuki Shoten, 1981): 207-210; and Chuka Kokusai editorial, November 25, 1948 and Kobe Shinbun editorial, November 29, 1948, Press Translations, Miscellaneous File, 1945-1949, SCAP Legal Section Office of the Chief, RG 331, NACP. 87 Letter (unsigned and undated), circa 1948, Bundle #17, People of the Philippines vs. Ichimura Isao and Owari Sabur ō, NAP; Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 190; and Kagao, “Montenrupa no Senpan to Tomo ni,” 205.

191 Let me be very frank in saying that it is really very sad and unexpected for the Japanese people to hear that that the Philippine people have not yet realized how repentant the Japanese are for all the atrocities and crimes of war, and especially in the cases of these war criminals who are sentenced to death penalty. Most of them committed such crimes of killing and murdering only because of orders from their higher officials who did not even appear on the scene in the Philippine Islands. I mean those black hearted militarists in Japan whom we Japanese tried to control but failed. Some of these criminals who are patiently waiting their execution by the order of President Quirino are innocent of atrocities, it is generally understood here. Certainly the trials and affidavits were clear enough, though no doubt the Philippine tribunals did their best. There must have been language difficulties. But the thing peace-loving men can do to help protect the future friendship between the Philippines and Japan is to write letters of appeal to President Quirino to wait a few more months before executing the death sentence on the 60 Japanese criminals. Think of the sons and daughters, wives and parents, sisters and brothers of these 60 innocent men who were not able to clear their cases, thinking that others in Japan would be called to die instead. Some of them are civilians, we hear, and in the course of time their cases can be cleared if only their appeals for re-hearing are heard by your president. We know how eager he is to be merciful, but he needs letters and public opinion to support him against his political antagonists. Please help. 88

What is so particularly fascinating about this letter is how the writer moves from

“most” of the war criminals having committed crimes only on the orders of their leaders

to “some” of them being innocent to the generalization that all of those sentenced to

death (the 60 men remaining on death row) were “innocent.” The implication that the

trials resulted in unfair verdicts is less explicit but conveyed clearly: the Philippine

tribunals may have “done their best,” but cases would be overturned if only the president

would allow re-hearings. (In the wake of expressed Filipino outrage at her comments,

Mrs. Kora later retrenched on her position, writing “About those who have received the

death sentence, we have no complaint, but only beg the sympathy and religious mercy of

your people.”) 89

88 Philippines Free Press , May 5, 1951. 89 “Mrs. Kora and Her Appeal,” Philippines Free Press , June 9, 1951.

192 Writings about the “Nakamura case” also illustrate this effort to elide questions of

individual guilt. Accounts of the executions of these men in January 1951 almost without

exception focus on the belief that half were completely innocent, having been nowhere

near the location where the crimes occurred. These contemporaneous narratives

emphasize the unfairness of the trial and the tragic consequences. The inescapable

inference—that the others were in fact guilty—is ignored or at best glossed over. Sat ō S ō, writing in an issue of Monten commemorating the men who were executed, mourned their deaths and lamented that they had lost forever the opportunity to persuade their countrymen of their innocence; he looked forward to the day when they would gain the heartfelt sympathy of their fellow Japanese. (It was only much later that Sat ō, in his memoir dealing with his own trial and sentence, hinted that some had refused to take responsibility for the atrocities in the hopes of avoiding punishment, even at the risk of dooming others who were innocent.) 90

The writings of chaplain Kagao and newsman Tsuji did much to reinforce the victim narrative that the public began increasingly to embrace. In taking up the cause of the war criminals, Kagao and Tsuji gradually shifted their emphasis from reports of conditions in the Philippines and the rationale for Philippine anger to ever more sympathetic portraits of the men and their lives in prison. Their earlier reports had included observations about Filipinos’ attitudes towards Japan and were grounded in accounts of the acts of the Japanese military that made those attitudes justified. But with the return of Japanese sovereignty and the increasing focus on the reparations negotiations, attention shifted away from the war itself and focused more on the plight of

90 Kagao, Montenrupa ni Inoru , 71-74, 103-131, 144-155, 168 and 178; Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 211-212; Okamoto, Nokosareta Hitobito , Compilation of Letters Section, 6 and 9-10; Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 132-133; and Sat ō, Onsh ū wo Koete , 60-62, 75 and 84-85.

193 the war criminals and their families at home in Japan. Both men understood that a

prisoner release movement powerful enough to move politicians required men worthy of

being saved—they had to be innocent.

One of Tsuji’s prisoner profiles illustrates their efforts quite well. When Tsuji

first met Fujimoto Takao on a visit to Muntinglupa, Fujimoto was tending a dog, a lizard

and a mouse. As Tsuji describes it, Fujimoto lovingly cared for these creatures; the

mouse, which he named after his daughter Takako, figured in a sentimental poem he

composed. Fujimoto recounted that, having been sentenced to death, he could not bear to

kill anything, so other prisoners brought him the dead cockroaches he fed the lizard.

When Tsuji saw Fujimoto again right before the freed prisoners left for home, he was

without his pets—he had set them free. In Tsuji’s eyes, Fujimoto’s story is a morality

tale. Fujimoto, a yakuza before the war, was filled with resignation at receiving a death sentence, but thoughts of his family waiting for him, and the tending of his pets, brought him solace. What Tsuji never tells his readers is that Fujimoto was convicted and sentenced to death for the rape, torture, and killing of Filipino civilians or that Fujimoto initially sought to plead guilty to some of the charges. 91

Tsuji also offered the narrative of Benjamin Sugimoto, the son of a Japanese

father and Filipina mother who had been born and had lived his whole life in the

Philippines. The youngest of seven children, Sugimoto was only seventeen when the

Japanese military arrived and he was ordered to serve as a translator. His father had

emigrated to the Philippines to work as a laborer on the construction of the Benguet road,

and his parents had “lived together in harmony and happiness for fifty years in Baguio.”

91 Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 65-74; Asahi Shinbun , July 13, 1953; and Specifications and Transcript, 6, 9, and 33, Case #69, Philippines vs. Fujimoto Takao, RG 331, NACP.

194 Sugimoto, who had never seen his father’s homeland, would be exiled to Japan, having

promised, like his fellow prisoners, never to return to the Philippines. 92 Tsuji did not

mention that Sugimoto had pled guilty to torturing and mistreating several Filipino

civilians, and killing another. At his trial, Sugimoto testified that he had committed these

acts on the orders of a superior officer and because he feared retribution if he did not

obey. 93

Tsuji, Ueki, and Kagao undoubtedly exercised care in the men they chose to

showcase the plight of the prisoners in Muntinglupa. Nakajima and Fujita, profiled in

newspaper accounts in 1951, were lower ranking officers—a second lieutenant and a

captain, respectively. Fujimoto, the animal lover, was a superior private, while Benjamin

Sugimoto was a young civilian interpreter. Clearly, highlighting the experiences of

prisoners like Lt. General Yokoyama or Rear Admiral Furuse, both of whom had been

sentenced to death and also remained incarcerated in Muntinglupa, would have been

impolitic—such high ranking officers presumably could not be expected to garner the

same sympathy back home as the others.

Two compilations during this period gave direct voice to the men in Muntinglupa,

and tended to reinforce the dual messages of injustice and pathos. Seiki no Isho

[Testaments of the Century], published in 1953, gathered the letters and last statements of

Japanese who had been executed not just in the Philippines but throughout Asia. It

included communications from those executed in January 1951—a statement from Abe

Sueo on the unfairness of the trials; the last words of Kaneda Sadao and Suzuki

92 Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 75-98; and Asahi Shinbun , July 10, 1953, evening edition. 93 Specifications and Transcript, 29-30, Case #14, Philippines vs Harada Shimpei et al., RG 331, NACP.

195 Mitsutada maintaining their innocence as they headed to the scaffold; and letters from

many of the others. 94

Nokosareta Hitobito: Hit ō Senpan Shikeish ū no Shuki [Those Left Behind:

Memoirs of the War Criminals Sentenced to Death in the Philippines], published a year earlier, offered even more extensive writings and essays by those condemned to death in the Philippines and awaiting execution. Okamoto Torao, the book’s editor, sought to remind the Japanese people that, even though Japan had regained its independence and could look to the future, those who remained behind in a foreign prison should not be forgotten. A brief forward offered the opinion that whether these men had committed crimes was not the issue—it was their countrymen as a whole who should assume responsibility and work for their return. The first letters, written by Hamada Yoshio, were prefaced by an introduction that stressed his innocence—he was a victim of a case of completely mistaken identity. Letters sent by Teshima Hiroshi and Kobayashi

Masataka protested their innocence; others wrote their families of their lives in prison and their thoughts of those waiting for them at home. 95

Among these predictable letters and diary entries, however, was a rather remarkable essay by Sat ō Ichir ō. Included in the latter half of the volume, Sat ō’s essay summarized the reasons why he had decided to plead guilty to charges that he had ordered and participated in a massacre of Filipino civilians. Sat ō argued that he had a duty to protect his subordinates, especially since his superior officer had so signally failed to take on the responsibility himself. He also maintained that he had no choice—that a

94 Sugamo Kisho Hensankai, Seiki no Isho , 592, 607, and 612-614. 95 Okamoto, Nokosareta Hitobito , 3-4, 17, 46, 49, 61, and 107. There was apparently some controversy over the publication of Nokosareta Hitobito—reportedly at least some of the condemned prisoners had objected, to no avail. See Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 217-218.

196 failure to follow the orders of his superiors meant death. But he also did not shrink from

what had happened, questioning why so many, even children, had to be killed. The

editor’s introduction to Sat ō’s piece acknowledged that Sat ō had been charged with a

terrible [ susamajii ] atrocity, but stressed how manfully he took responsibility and the respect he had earned for trying to have the initial orders countermanded and for seeking to protect his men. 96

Sat ō’s essay suggests that the increasingly dominant narrative of innocence continued to co-exist with a second narrative that recognized the atrocities but sought to situate them in a sympathetic context. Former Japanese ambassador Murata Sh ōzō, reflecting on the reasons for postwar Filipino animosity, stressed the factors that made

Japanese wartime behavior explicable or inevitable, if nonetheless regrettable. Murata focused on the period immediately before the end of the war, when Japanese troops, harried by the Americans, committed unforgivable acts. But Murata concludes that the soldiers, faced with death and enormous deprivations, acted no differently than any other men would if placed in similar circumstances. Because innocent people were killed,

Murata argues that some reparations should be paid. 97

Former Lt. General Kuroda Shigenori, who had been granted a pardon and had returned home in 1952, also tried to frame what had happened in the Philippines in a broader context. It was true that Japanese military commanders had failed to exercise effective discipline over their troops, but the increasing guerrilla activity and the return of

96 Okamoto, Nokosareta Hitobito, 220-239. 97 Sh ōzō Murata, “Wakai no Baish ō wo Kataru,” Ekonomisto 20: 30 (October 1951): 17-18.

197 the Americans had created an atmosphere of despair which led to acts of destruction and

killing.98

The families of the convicted embraced a similar logic. In a petition presented to the Japanese representatives on their way to the San Francisco Peace Conference in

September 1951, family representatives argued that most of the atrocities had been committed as a necessary concomitant to dealing with the increasingly severe guerrilla attacks in the latter stages of the war. In any event, the numbers of atrocities had been exaggerated and the individual Japanese convicted of war crimes were really innocent. 99

What such commentaries did was to provide a broader contextual framework in which to situate the stories of individual war criminals. This in turn allowed for the construction of a tiered and interwoven narrative of innocence. Individuals like the men of the Nakamura case or the others still incarcerated in Muntinglupa were not guilty— they had been convicted of the crimes of others and allowed to assume responsibility for the sins of all Japanese. But any challenges to that hypothesis—and men like Kagao,

Ueki and Tsuji worked hard to prevent such challenges—could be met by explanations of what happened in the Philippines that mitigated the entire issue of individualized guilt.

The cumulative effect of these writings at the very least served to publicize the existence of Japanese soldiers in prison in the Philippines and to marshal support for their release. The mounting volume of petitions signed by ordinary Japanese seeking commutation of their sentences and repatriation back to Japan is testimony to the increasing sympathy with which their countrymen viewed their circumstances.

98 Kuroda, “Montenrupa,” 133. 99 Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 152-154.

198 Historian John Dower has written about the kind of “willful forgetting” that

ordinary Japanese engaged in, a pattern that appears entirely consistent with the efforts of

Kagao, Tsuji and Ueki to focus public attention on the men in Muntinglupa rather than

their crimes. War criminals came to be rehabilitated in the public consciousness:

“Defendants who had been convicted and sentenced to imprisonment became openly

regarded as victims rather than victimizers . . . Those who had been executed, often in

far-away lands, were resurrected through their own parting words. One remembered the

criminals, while forgetting their crimes.” 100

Dower argues that several factors contributed to this transition in perception.

After the war ended, the soldiers who made it back home and their waiting families faced

years of deprivation and hardship. “In this milieu, the plight of Japan’s Asian victims,

even when acknowledged, seemed remote and abstract.” Geo-political considerations

contributed still further to mitigating the development of any deeper sense of Japanese

responsibility for the war or its victims, as U.S. Cold War policy dictated a focus on close

U.S.-Japan ties. 101

If Japanese public opinion shifted from shock to indifference and then sympathy,

the journey of Filipinos followed a different trajectory. The vituperative letters and

editorials in the late 1940s may have given way to less raw emotional outpourings, but

Filipinos were by no means disposed to discard the validity of the trials or ignore the

reality of the atrocities committed by Japanese. The response to Diet member Kora’s

letter is a case in point. Filipino readers challenged both her facts and her logic.

100 Dower, Embracing Defeat, 513. 101 John W. Dower, “ ‘An Aptitude for Being Unloved:’ War and Memory in Japan,” in Crimes of War: Guilt and Denial in the Twentieth Century , eds. Omer Bartov, Atina Grossmann, and Mary Nolan (New York: The New Press, 2002): 228-230.

199

If Mrs. Kora had been here when [the Japanese] were slaughtering the innocent people, young and old, she would have seen how overly-anxious they were in carrying out the inhuman orders they had received from their superiors. The lives of these ‘innocent’ officials are not enough to pay for the lives of the thousands of innocent men, women and children killed by them. . . .What does Mrs. Kora mean by her appeal for a rehearing in behalf of the Jap war criminals? . . They were tried fairly before an unbiased tribunal and were even represented and defended by attorneys. Were their Filipino victims given any hearing at all before they were massacred? 102

Nonetheless, the pardoning of the war criminals in 1953 did not appear to meet

with widespread condemnation, for reasons that commentators attributed to the passage

of time and a pragmatic assessment of available options. Editorials in the Manila press

suggested variously that the Philippines had acted wisely; that Filipinos must focus on

hard work rather than efforts to cash in on wartime suffering; and that clemency would

free the Philippines from war memories and allow Filipinos to look to the future. The

Philippines had taken the high road—and Japan should be under no apprehension that the

pardons represented an attempt to buy cash reparations or parlay a humanitarian act into

financial advantage. 103

David Steinberg, in a different context, has suggested another possible

interpretation of Filipino reaction to the pardons. He argues that Filipinos’ willingness to

abandon retribution for collaborators can be explained by the wartime trauma that left

many exhausted.

102 Philippines Free Press, May 26, 1951. 103 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 10, July 1, 1953, Decimal 694.9624/7-153, Central Decimal File, 1950- 1954, RG 59, NACP.

200

. . . the death and destruction of the last months of the war so stunned the country that the nation was comatose. . . Feelings still ran high, but most people were left numb with their personal grief, and vengeance would not restore life. In such chaos, the society very humanly recoiled from hate and closed ranks as the only hope for beginning life again. The horrors of war were repressed as too grim to remember, and the busy tasks of reconstruction served as a welcome sponge, absorbing energy and attention. 104

Such feelings might also help to explain the apparent indifference, among Filipinos, to the ultimate fate of the war criminals.

Whether calculated or not, the Quirino administration in its formal statements about the pardons sought to couch them in moral and humanitarian terms (as well as expressions of the anticipated better relations to come)—presumably in the belief that this was the best way to gain popular acceptance. If the trials could be seen as an expression of the Philippines’ commitment to the highest norms of justice, so too could the pardons be viewed as evidence of Filipinos’ magnanimity. The Japanese government responded accordingly with many expressions of appreciation; characteristic was the resolution passed by the Diet’s upper chamber in early July 1953. The resolution expressed gratitude for the Philippine government’s “magnanimous” “act of grace” that reflected the “generous and fair spirit” of the Filipino people. 105 The English-language Nippon

Times saw the pardons as an act of benevolence and goodwill that required a reciprocal gesture from Japanese, while at the same time noting that “The generous clemency granted the war criminals does not wipe out the atrocities and the scars they have left in the hearts of the people of the Philippines.” 106

104 Steinberg, “Philippine ‘Collaborators’: Survival of an Oligarchy,” 74. 105 Note Verbale, July 6, 1953, Vol. 1, 438-439, Disclosure 14, D’130 3-1-1, JDRO. 106 Nippon Times , July 23, 1953.

201 Nonetheless, a Japanese observer, an editor of Ky ōdō News service, suggested that the pardons had been driven by economic considerations. Sait ō Masami argued that

Filipino business interests as well as government officials had brought pressure to bear on the president in order to remove a barrier to increased trade and economic opportunities.

With such motivations, Filipino elites’ attitudes towards Japan were increasingly favorable. Not so those of ordinary Filipinos, who, with the passage of time, were simply moving away from hatred to indifference. Sait ō counted it as progress that Filipinos around Manila were no longer inclined to hit or kill Japanese on sight. 107

Regardless of the motivations for the pardons—Christian charity, a pragmatic desire to move beyond the war, economic incentives, or even the suggestion that influential individuals sought to reap personal gain 108 —Filipinos retained an underlying

belief in the legitimacy of the judicial proceedings that had convicted and sentenced

Japanese for war crimes. A Manila Times editorial of July 12, 1953, emphasized that the war criminals given amnesty had been “duly tried according to law” and the act of pardoning them was not “merely a casual gesture, but a civilized one that can come only from a civilized neighbor who forgives so that bygones may not be repeated.” The impassioned reaction to Diet Member Kora’s letter shows how badly she miscalculated the nature of her appeal—her challenge to the legitimacy of the trials drew a strong rebuttal that the men “were tried fairly before an unbiased tribunal.” With the exception of the author who raised the (possibly rhetorical) question about Kud ō Ch ūshir ō’s innocence back in 1948, Philippine observers were not inclined to embrace the notion

107 Masami Sait ō, “Fuirippin no Tainichi Kanj ō,” Sekai Sh ūhō 34: 26 (September 9, 1953): 44-45. 108 There were on occasion, rumors or suggestions that money could or might have changed hands. For example, Quirino’s biographer noted that in 1948, the idea of obtaining payment from the Japanese in exchange for release of the war criminals had been bruited about, but that Quirino had rejected the idea. Quirino, Apo Lakay , 117.

202 that the men incarcerated in Muntinglupa were the victims of any sort of miscarriages of justice. 109

Two separate incidents also serve as useful reminders that the general public did not necessarily incline to the pragmatic approach championed by elites with any deep sense of forgiveness or reconciliation. In 1951, during a visit to Japan, Philippine

Senator Verano gave a speech in which he commented on the ways in which Japan could demonstrate the sincerity of its desire to improve relations with the Philippines. Start small, he urged—with meaningful gestures that could warm the hearts of Filipinos. Little girls in his country loved dolls—why not send some to children who otherwise would have a poor Christmas? With the informal encouragement of President Quirino, hundreds of dolls were produced and sent to the Philippines, where they ended up gathering dust in Malacañan—a group of Filipinas widowed in the war objected to their distribution because they brought back bitter memories. 110

In February 1957, after the long-awaited resolution of the reparations negotiations, a Japanese goodwill mission headed by a member of the upper house of the Japanese Diet arrived in the Philippines. To the embarrassment of the Japanese government, the Manila press discovered that the party included the notorious Captain Yanase Shoichi, the “tiger of Fort Santiago.” Yanase had escaped prosecution for war crimes by helping the

Americans build cases against other defendants; his superiors and subordinates were not so lucky. 111 Amid the resulting protests and outcries over his return presence in the

109 Manila Times , July 12, 1953; and Philippines Free Press , October 2, 1948 and May 26, 1951. 110 Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami, 124-125, and 155; and Asahi Shinbun , February 4, 1952. 111 Yanase was bitterly resented by those who did stand trial. Fujita Takefumi, for example, testified at his own trial that he was indignant that the man responsible for the atrocities at Fort Santiago—Yanase—had been able to go home while others were made to assume responsibility for his crimes. Transcript, 416, Case #1, Philippines vs. Fujita Takefumi, RG 331, NACP.

203 Philippines, it was revealed that he had been warmly received by Senate President

Eulogio Rodriguez, who credited Yanase with saving the life of one of his sons. The group quickly left for home; back in Tokyo, Yanase explained that Senator Rodriquez had personally invited him, with assurances that “he would not experience any unpleasantness in the Philippines.” A Manila Times columnist asked why Japan expected the Philippines to welcome, as a goodwill ambassador, a “dreaded torture artist.” 112

Conclusion

The execution of the 14 Japanese war criminals in January 1951 proved a turning point in the way the two countries perceived and pursued the war crimes issue. In Japan, the public, moved by the increasing publicity generated by Kagao Sh ūnin, Ueki Shinkichi and Tsuji Yutaka, exerted pressure to save those still imprisoned, and the Japanese government, responding to that pressure, used both official and private channels to try to gain the war criminals’ release. In the Philippines, President Quirino, perhaps surprised at the furor created by the executions, eventually offered private assurances that there would be no more executions, and by 1952 was reportedly considering ways to free some if not all of the war criminals.

The issue of reparations, however, proved a barrier to the resolution of the issue of what to do about the war criminals, whether the two sides chose to publicly acknowledge it or not. As pressures mounted in the Philippines to obtain the maximum compensation for the damages and suffering experienced during the war, efforts

112 U.S. Embassy Manila Cable No. 645, February 12, 1957, Decimal 694.96/2-1257, Central Decimal File, 1950-1954, RG 59, NACP; Transcript, 247, 367-369, Case #8, Philippines vs. Kita Heiji et al., RG 331, NACP; Post Sentence Review File, Bundle #22, People of the Philippines vs. Kita et al., NAP; and Manila Times , February 8, 1957.

204 intensified in Japan to bring the war criminals home. In the end, the Philippine

government elected, for pragmatic reasons, to agree to the repatriation of all the Japanese

in mid-1953, with half pardoned at that time and the remainder gaining their freedom by the end of the year.

Clearly, public opinion mattered, perhaps more so in Japan than in the Philippines.

The ability of men like Kagao, Ueki and Tsuji to convince ordinary Japanese to sign millions of petitions and appeals ensured that the Japanese government would continue to press for the men’s release. Arguably the volume of petitions that flooded Malacañan also persuaded the Quirino administration of their importance, as bargaining chips if nothing else. In the Philippines, observers at the time suggested that elites in both major political parties had the ability and wherewithal to look past the war years to the economic and political advantages of re-engaging with Japan, and it was elites that consequently drove the decisions on pardons and amnesty. Even so, there are indications that elites were not unmindful of the risks in testing the limits of public opinion.

Ordinary Filipinos, even if they publicly evidenced a kind of indifference or apathy to the amnesty granted by the Quirino administration, could and did react with anger when confronted with direct reminders—hence the public outcry at the return of Yanase.

The decision to pardon the overwhelming majority of men found guilty of atrocities could not disguise the fact that Japanese and Filipinos had come to very different conclusions about the meaning and validity of the judicial proceedings that had condemned many of the war criminals to death or lengthy prison terms. Both sides might have been able to reach some level of agreement or acknowledgement of the extent of atrocities inflicted by the Japanese military on Filipino civilians. But the issue of

205 culpability remained—in particular, how much responsibility the individuals in

Muntinglupa bore for what had happened.

By various indications, members of the Japanese public came to accept the assurances of the men and their families that they were innocent—that they had been victims either by reason of absolute innocence or, at worst, the circumstances in which they found themselves. In the Philippines, the issue of innocence did not matter—or rather, it was not an issue that engendered concern. Filipinos, emphasizing the due process of the proceedings that led to guilty verdicts and the painstaking nature of sentence reviews, were content with the verdicts that had resulted from their military courts.

The pragmatic decision of the Philippine government to pardon the war criminals, and the effusive expressions of thanks by Japanese government officials and private individuals, obscured these differing perceptions among Japanese and Filipinos.

Although Filipino commentators were quick to object to any challenges to the legitimacy of Philippine justice, the two governments chose not to contest (let alone resolve) the differing narratives of the trials that had been constructed. Japanese, by focusing on the magnanimity and Christian charity displayed by the Philippine government, and Filipinos, by taking credit for a civilized and moral choice, could find a shared ground that avoided any hard scrutiny or resolution of the specifics of guilt or innocence.

206 CHAPTER 5

TRIALS AND OUTCOMES: ASSESSING SIGNIFICANCE AND IMPACT

For no particular reason, I was tried as a war criminal. . . But when I think about the 600 Chinese and many Filipinos killed [in San Pablo], I can understand [Filipinos’] anger. Even though I did not kill their compatriots, my fellow Japanese killed those innocent people. 1 -- former Japanese war criminal, interviewed in the 1990s

It is irrelevant to complain to the Filipinos and judges [about the trials’ unfairness.] All Japanese officers and soldiers and Makapili, who collaborated [with the] Japanese Army, were guilty. . . . View things this way and you will see that those who are complaining forget the fact that all of them are guilty. 2 -- Filipino interviewee, 1990s

In 1956 the Philippine and Japanese governments reached final agreement on the

reparations to be paid by Japan for the damages the Philippines suffered during the

Pacific War. The resolution of this issue paved the way for Philippine ratification of the

San Francisco Peace Treaty, and finally Japan and the Philippines were no longer

formally at war. The terms of the reparations agreement were a far cry from the

Philippines’ original demand of $8 billion; Japan agreed to pay the Philippine

government a total of $550 million in capital goods and services over a 20 year period

and it was further agreed that during that same period Japanese private firms would

extend commercial loans totaling $250 million. 3

It seems reasonable to conclude that the Philippine government’s decision to

allow the return of the war criminals to Japan in mid-1953 was not based on any explicit

assurances on the conclusion of a satisfactory reparations agreement, if only because it

1 Quoted in Ishida, Remains of War , 53-54. 2 Ibid, 237. 3 Yōko Yoshikawa, “War Reparations Implementation, Reparations-Secured Loans and a Treaty of Commerce,” in Philippines-Japan Relations , eds. Ikehata and Jose, 380.

207 took an additional three years of hard bargaining before agreement was reached. That is

not to deny that the men’s release may have contributed, in some measure, to an

improved atmosphere in the bilateral negotiations or that Filipinos hoped Japanese would

reciprocate with concessions or that tangible benefits may have accrued to some.

Nonetheless, President Quirino’s amnesty proclamation did not lead to any immediate

breakthrough in the normalization of Philippine-Japan relations. It would require a series

of steps over time that led to incremental gains in the softening of Filipino attitudes

towards Japanese. 4

What then, did the war crimes trials accomplish, on their own terms or as a condition for the resumption of relations between Japan and the Philippines? The inevitable question—did the trials serve the interests of justice?—is a tricky one. It is possible to conclude that the trials were, under the circumstances and by the standards of the time , reasonably fair in procedural terms and yet still recognize the flaws that led to the gulf between Filipinos and Japanese over questions of individual guilt. Paradoxically, one can also make the argument that Japanese and Filipinos could more readily agree— within certain limitations—on collective Japanese responsibility for atrocities even as

they disagreed over who was individually criminally responsible. This suggests that the ability to sidestep the issue of individual responsibility contributed to the resolution of the fate of the war criminals, which in turn helped pave the way for resumption of formal state-to-state relations if not more personal forms of reconciliation.

4 One informed observer, Willard Hanna, wrote in late 1955 of the gradual “changed mood” in Philippine- Japan relations, marked by a lessening of Filipinos’ bitter hatred of Japanese and Japanese appreciation of the reasons for Filipino anger and the need to find ways to “repay old debts.” Hanna, “Japan’s Return to the Philippines,” 1-3.

208

Trials and Justice: Issues of Fairness and Individual Responsibility

The B/C war crimes trials conducted World War II in Asia generally and in the

Philippines specifically had, arguably, two rather straightforward goals: to bring

individuals to justice for the commission of war crimes and to demonstrate and document

specific abuses and atrocities. These goals were, of course, also associated with the

prosecution of Japanese military and civilian leaders at the Tokyo Trial, but the latter

proceeding bore the additional weight of more grandiose aspirations, as have other

international tribunals. 5

The Philippine trials were devoted to the task of proving the culpability of

individual Japanese for crimes committed in violation of the laws and customs of war. In

accepting responsibility for trying war crimes suspects, Philippine president Manuel

Roxas articulated the basic purpose of the trials: to put on trial and punish the guilty in

“fair and reasonable” proceedings. At the same time, he conveyed two additional goals:

to document the brutalities suffered by Filipinos at the hands of the Japanese and to

contrast Japan’s lawless behavior with the Philippines’ commitment to international (read

civilized) standards of justice.

Gary Jonathan Bass, for one, has argued that an “impartial international tribunal,”

while not devoid of risk, represents a better choice than the alternatives: national trials or

vengeance. David Crocker is more sanguine, noting that the rule of law “is capable of

more or less institutional embodiment,” with the possibility of developing sufficient

5 In his examination of the value of international war crimes tribunals, Gary Jonathan Bass has noted the general arguments presented in favor of such proceedings: to purge threatening leaders, to deter future crimes, to allow for the rehabilitation of renegade states; to focus blame on individuals rather than groups and to prove the existence of atrocities. Bass, Stay the Hand of Vengeance , 286-304.

209 safeguards to protect defendants in national jurisdictions. 6 The Philippine government-

led trials, like other B/C trials, were convened under the auspices of the collective allied

commitment to bring Japanese to justice for the commission of war crimes. They were

not “national trials” in the sense of trials by governments of their own nationals, but

neither were they trials (like Nuremberg or Tokyo) with a multinational cast. The

Philippine trials were conducted pursuant to a Philippine presidential executive order and

with reference to Philippine legal precedents. Many if not most of the justices,

prosecutors and defense attorneys were members of the Philippine armed forces; verdicts

and sentences were reviewed by Filipino military men, the Filipino Army chief of staff

approved verdicts and sentences; and Philippine president Elpidio Quirino ruled on

sentences of life imprisonment and death. The wholly legitimate inference is that these

men could hardly escape having had direct exposure to Japanese conduct during the three

years of enemy occupation.

The central question is, then, did the Philippine trials tilt toward the inherent bias

implied by Bass’ criticism of national trials or did they successfully embody the

safeguards suggested by Crocker? Bass and others have posited the fundamental

safeguards/criteria employed to ensure the essential fairness of war crimes trials: basic

standards of due process (rights of defendants to counsel, to present evidence and to

cross-examine witnesses), the possibility of acquittal, appropriate standards of evidence,

and proportionality of punishment. The distinction between trials conducted by those

“steeped in Western domestic legal traditions” and Soviet-style show trials should be

manifest. 7

6 Bass, Stay the Hand of Vengeance , 304; and Crocker, “Reckoning with Past Wrongs,” 56. 7 Ibid, 24.

210 By these standards, the Philippine government-led trials measure up reasonably well. The regulations governing the conduct of the trials (closely patterned after the

American regulations) stipulated that each defendant was entitled to see, in advance, a copy of the charges and specifications against him; to be represented by counsel; and to testify on his own behalf and present evidence in his defense and cross examine witnesses.

Trial transcripts indicate that these requirements were adhered to scrupulously.

Defendants acknowledged receiving notice of the charges against them and all were represented by counsel who (after resolution of the issue of Japanese versus Filipino defense counsel) were generally viewed as competent and mounted vigorous defenses for their clients. All were afforded the opportunity to testify, and most did so. Philippine trials did not foreclose the possibility of acquittal—11 defendants were found not guilty at trial and a few others had their sentences overturned during the painstaking sentence review process that followed. Viewed in comparative terms, Philippine military tribunals do not appear to have levied disproportionately harsh sentences; the percentage of defendants given death sentences (and certainly the percentage actually executed) was not out of line with the penalties levied by other governments. Finally, the trials were open to the public and received ongoing scrutiny by an active press.

The criterion “appropriate standards of evidence” deserves some additional examination. The Philippine trials adopted standards of evidence that were similar to those employed by the International Military Tribunal for the Far East and B/C trials conducted by various other allied governments. That is, it was permissible to introduce evidence deemed to have any probative value, including depositions, statements, diaries

211 and even hearsay. 8 In practical terms, this meant that at the Philippine trials, it was common practice to allow the submission of affidavits in lieu of calling witnesses to testify, particularly Japanese witnesses for the defense. (Despite the criticisms levied against such expansive evidentiary standards, it is less likely, for reasons discussed below, that the kinds of evidence permitted in the Philippine trials materially prejudiced the outcomes.)

The existence of safeguards—due process, proportional punishments, the potential for not guilty verdicts—has led some observers to conclude that the B/C trials in

Asia (at least those conducted in accordance with Western legal standards) served the interests of justice reasonably well. Individual problem cases were not viewed as destructive of the general proposition that the trials were fair. Emblematic of that assessment is Ricardo T. Jose’s characterization of the Philippine trials: “There were failures along the way, but many of the trials were indeed handled responsibly.” 9 And yet the specific critique levied against the Philippine trials is that the existence of various safeguards was not enough to prevent serious miscarriages of justice—and indeed the execution of innocent men.

The heart of the dilemma in weighing charges of unfairness against claims of the value of due process and procedural safeguards lies in the kind of evidence that predominated in the Philippine cases. The salient and crucial feature of the Philippine trials was the overwhelming importance and credence attached to eye witness testimony as a matter of law. A single Filipino eye witness could, if found believable, supplant any number of Japanese (or Filipino) witnesses for the defense who claimed the defendants

8 Piccigallo, The Japanese on Trial , 12-13, 38 and 99. 9 Jose, “The Philippine War Crimes Trials, 1947-1949,” Remembering World War II in the Philippines, 78.

212 had been mis-identified or had been elsewhere during the commission of the offenses.

As a result, standards of evidence that allowed a reliance on affidavits in lieu of witnesses arguably would not have measurably affected the outcomes in individual cases. Even if additional Japanese defense witnesses had been allowed to appear in person, their testimony about an accused’s good character or alibi would have been weighed against eye witness testimony generally given greater legal weight.

There are limits to what can be deduced solely from a reading of the trial transcripts. Undoubtedly some Philippine trials resulted in unjust verdicts. The findings of the board of review in the Sat ō Mataz ō case (see ch. 3), for example, manifestly show that the trial judges stubbornly overlooked exculpatory evidence in favor of the accused.

Undoubtedly a number of other cases resulted in just verdicts, notwithstanding general claims to the contrary. Evidence presented in the trial of Teramoto Tokuji, for example, provided ample justification for the guilty verdict and death sentence later carried out. 10

Certainly perceptions of justice administered or denied mattered. Filipinos could point, legitimately, to their commitment to convene legal proceedings to adjudicate questions of individual guilt or innocence, and to their adherence to principles of due process and a stringent sentence review process as guards against injustices. Japanese observers and participants in the process alleged instances of prosecutorial misconduct

(coaching of witnesses and staged identifications of suspects) and emphasized outcomes they believed proved the inherent unfairness of the proceedings. The executions of defendants in the Nakamura case were all the evidence they needed to discredit the trials in general. And ongoing reports of the continued hostility of Filipinos toward Japanese reinforced the belief that witnesses were motivated solely by feelings of revenge.

10 Transcript, Case #23, Philippines vs. Teramoto Tukuji [Tokuji], RG 331, NACP.

213 These differing contemporaneous perceptions led to the construction of separate narratives about the validity of the trials, which meant that Filipinos and Japanese did not

(or could not) arrive at a mutually acceptable interpretation of the trials as vehicles for administering justice for wartime abuses. This suggests in turn that modern discussions that depend on the simple dichotomy of fair/unfair, just/unjust, are doomed to a certain futility, simply because evidence can be marshaled in favor of either contention. The convenient rubric (employed by Pritchard and Piccigallo as well as Jose), that allied trials were generally fair but with some exceptions, may be expedient but it remains rather unsatisfactory, at least in the context of Japan and the Philippines.

Clearly, judgments about the fairness of the Philippine trials are neither irrelevant nor insignificant. Nonetheless, focusing exclusively on such questions can obscure other important considerations, among them the broader purposes that the trials served and what they signified. For the Philippines, the responsibility for putting Japanese on trial for war crimes, while not a duty the government had originally sought, became a vehicle for reinforcing Philippine claims of sovereignty and status. The Philippine government would be able to demonstrate, through its conduct of these legal proceedings, its worthiness to join the ranks of the civilized community of independent states—that is, the community of civilized Western states. 11 Once the proceedings had been concluded, moreover, the Philippine government could also lay claim to treating Japanese prisoners comparatively humanely and agreeing to the relatively rapid repatriation and pardoning of all the war criminals. Filipinos, in short, could claim the moral high ground: they had

11 Although unexplored in this dissertation, the reaction to the trials also hinted at unresolved issues of race and racial hierarchy vis-à-vis Japan. These included Filipino claims to a superior understanding of democracy and the need to teach the [implied inferior] Japanese and the explicit references in the press to Japanese as “apes,” “chimps,” and “hordes of squat yellow men.” See chapters 3 and 4.

214 treated Japanese with far more consideration and mercy than Japanese had shown

Filipinos during the war and had proven more forgiving (or perhaps more pragmatic) than the Americans in agreeing to a general amnesty by the end of 1953. 12 Indeed, in a very small way, the Philippine government’s handling of the trials and particularly their aftermath signaled its willingness to stake out positions different from, if not at odds with, its American “patron.”

For Japanese, the Philippine trial verdicts and sentences undoubtedly contributed to the growing conviction that the war crimes trials in general represented trials of the victors by the vanquished. The portrayal of the men in Muntinglupa as victims—of

Filipino vengeance, of wartime chaos, of militarism—helped solidify the more generalized perception, noted by Dower, that B/C war criminals throughout the Asia theater deserved more pity than opprobrium. Even so, the trials and the later publicity surrounding the men in Muntinglupa also illuminated for at least some Japanese the more general extent of the atrocities perpetrated by the Japanese military.

Trials and the Path to “Reconciliation”

If Japanese and Filipinos could not agree on individual culpability for war crimes, and indeed persisted in constructing conflicting narratives about the fairness of the trials, what ramifications did this have for the broader issues of re-engagement and

12 Japanese government officials were not unmindful of the discrepancies in U.S. and Philippine policy towards the release of war criminals, and after 1953 urged the U.S. government to follow the Philippine example. Confronted with the fait accompli of the Philippine government’s actions, the U.S. government’s Clemency and Parole Board for Japan eventually agreed to take into consideration the Philippine amnesty as one factor in reviewing the individual cases of those Japanese still remaining in Sugamo Prison who had been tried and convicted by U.S. tribunals for crimes committed in the Philippines. See Memorandum of Conversation, Minister Shigenobu Shina, Japanese Embassy and U.S. State Department officials, March 10, 1954, Records Relating to Japanese War Crimes, 1943-1960, Records of the Legal Adviser Relating to War Crimes, Lot File 61 D 33, RG 59, NACP.

215 reconciliation? Even if, as some have argued, war crimes trials cannot be envisioned as a

direct means to move towards reconciliation, how might the trials have affected, for

better or worse, the normalization of relations between Japan and the Philippines? It is

tempting to argue that the trials had, ultimately, very little direct impact on the

subsequent course of Philippine-Japan relations, and certainly were of far less

consequence than economic or broader geo-political considerations. But the way in

which the issue of the war criminals was resolved, as much as the trials themselves,

arguably had an impact on the climate in which the Philippines and Japan pursued greater

interactions at both state and societal levels.

One legitimate argument is that the very act of holding the trials operated as a

necessary (whether or not sufficient) condition for the steps that followed—the pardons

granted the war criminals, the conclusion of a reparations agreement, the restoration of

diplomatic relations, and the resumption of trade and other exchanges. Of course, this

need not have involved trials conducted by the Philippine government—the trials initially

convened by U.S. military commissions could have continued with Philippine support.

But the visible demonstration that Japanese were in fact being made to face their victims

in a court of law—and that at least some paid the ultimate price—contributed to an

atmosphere in which Filipino elites could pursue a postwar relationship with Japan with the acquiescence, if not the wholehearted support, of ordinary Filipinos. At the very least, the trials did serve the most basic function of such proceedings—to establish, with evidence, the kinds of crimes committed and the nature of Filipino suffering.

Moreover, disagreements over the trials themselves need not have prevented a more general ability to move toward a “shared understanding” of the war and what

216 happened in the Philippines. Susan Dwyer has articulated steps in a process toward

reconciliation that rests on this concept. She argues that this process embodies “the core

notion . . . of bringing apparently incompatible descriptions of events into narrative

equilibrium.” The stages in the process involve a simple articulation of the circumstances,

followed by an appreciation of a range of interpretation of the events in question.

Finally, parties to the reconciliation attempt to choose from this range of interpretations some subset that allows them each to accommodate the disruptive event into their ongoing narratives. It is not required that all parties settle on a single interpretation, only that they are mutually tolerant of a limited set of interpretations. 13 [emphasis added]

Without belaboring the point too much, the suggestion here is that a sense of

collective Japanese responsibility might have served as a vehicle to begin to bridge the differences between Filipino and Japanese perceptions of justice for war crimes. By focusing less on the guilt of specific individuals and more on generalized expressions of responsibility (or indeed, remorse), the possibilities for achieving “mutual tolerance” for a limited set of interpretations about the war conceivably increased. Some of those most directly concerned with the fate of the war criminals in Muntinglupa had already begun, by mid-1952, to accept the notion of collective responsibility. The participants in a Radio

Tokyo broadcast of the “Sunday Club” on May 25, 1952 (including Tsuji Yutaka and pardoned war criminal Kita Heiji) voiced the belief that Japan, and the Japanese people, should shoulder the burden for the “national crimes” [ kokuminteki na zai ] perpetrated in the Philippines. 14

13 Dwyer, “Reconciliation for Realists,” 89. 14 Tsuji, Montenrupa: Hit ō Y ūsh ū no Kiroku , 197.

217 But the ability to move beyond the differing narratives about the war crimes trials has depended in large measure on the attitudes of Filipinos. Nakano Satoshi has argued that, some decades after the war, Filipinos have been willing to accept general expressions of apology from Japanese mourners—essentially avoiding a “collision of memories” about specific horrors (and perpetrators). 15 If so, then perhaps the seeds of that willingness were planted much earlier, in the aftermath of the war crimes trials and in the decision to grant amnesty to individual Japanese war criminals, notwithstanding the broader context—economic, political, international—in which the decision was reached.

15 Nakano, “Lost in Memorialization?”

218 EPILOG

The men who returned from Muntinglupa had forged bonds that, for many, lasted until their deaths. It was the Muntinglupa Society that provided a concrete locus for their efforts to maintain those ties. The group had grown to nearly a thousand members by the time the last of the war criminals had been released in 1953. Its purpose fulfilled, it reconstituted itself as a much smaller group of returnees, their families, and a few supporters. 1

A central avowed purpose of the society was to keep alive the memory of the seventeen who had been executed—who had been sacrificed so that the others might live.

To that end, members of the society convened a meeting each month in Tokyo for a ‘day of remembrance’ in recognition of the night in January 1951 when fourteen of their number had gone to their deaths. Those who could attended faithfully. In 1979, for example, these monthly meetings attracted as many as twenty members; Yamamoto

Tokuzo and Masuda Masukazu rarely missed a meeting that year. 2

The society also held periodic general conventions for the entire membership.

The second general meeting was held in Tokyo to mark the tenth anniversary of the men’s return from Muntinglupa. On the thirtieth anniversary of the men’s return home, the society published a commemorative history that included diary entries from their time in Muntinglupa as well as a detailed chronology of the society’s postwar meetings and activities. 3

1 Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 282. 2 Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 282-283; and It ō, et al., Monten: Kikoku 30 , 91 and 142. 3 It ō, et al., Monten Kikoku 30 .

219 Members of the Muntinglupa Society welcomed visits from Filipinos who had

supported the prisoner release movement. The group hosted a party for the visiting

former President Quirino and at its third general convention, in 1966, the group honored

prison superintendent Alfredo Bunye and his wife. Chaplain Kagao and former prisoners

including Mineo Shisuhiko, Onoyama Masaichi and Ichinose Haruo warmly greeted the

couple at Haneda airport on their arrival. On Bunye’s death in April 1971, members of the society took up a collection for his wife to pay for his grave marker. 4

The ranks of the returnees had thinned to 80 by 1983, the thirtieth anniversary of

their release from Muntinglupa. The generals were among the first to leave the scene.

Rear Admiral Furuse died in 1960, Lt. General Yokoyama in 1961, Lt. General

Kawaguchi in 1962, and Lt. Generals Masaoka and Kuroda in 1964. 5 Among the last

were Shirota Gintarō and It ō Masayasu, the composers of “Ah, the Night is Deep in

Muntinglupa.” Both lived to see the twenty-first century; Shirota passed away in 2006 at

the age of 92, and It ō in 2009 at age 86. Both of their obituaries highlighted their roles in

writing the famous song. 6

It was Kagao Sh ūnin’s death in 1977 at the age of 76 that sparked the greatest outpouring of sorrow. After his return from Muntinglupa, Kagao had become head of the

Kōyasan Tokyo Branch Temple; in 1956 he visited temple affiliates in Honolulu and Los

Angeles. He published his memoirs, Montenrupa ni Inoru [Living in Muntinglupa] in

August 1953, just after his return from the Philippines, and he and Ueki Shinkichi both

4 It ō, et al., Monten: Kikoku 30 , 103-105 and 116-117; and Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 285-286. 5 It ō, et al., Monten: Kikoku 30 , 2 and preface. 6 Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 293; Mainichi Shinbun , June 11, 2009; and Asahi Shinbun , June 17, 2009.

220 participated in various documentaries. His obituary remembered him as the “father of

Muntinglupa” and paid tribute to his dedicated efforts to see the men home safely. 7

Tsuji Yutaka continued his career as a newsman. Famous both for his

championship of the war criminals and his unsuccessful efforts in 1952 to coax straggler

Onoda Hir ō from his hiding place on Lubang Island, Tsuji went on to serve in various

capacities for the Asahi Shinbun Company. He died of pneumonia in 2008 at the age of

89. Former war criminal Nakamata Tomisabur ō, in his reflections on his own career as a

news correspondent, reminisced about Tsuji’s arrival at Muntinglupa and the hope he

brought to them all. (Nakamata, one of the student conscripts who had been condemned

to death, had gone on to a varied career as a journalist, working in Vietnam and China.

He managed to return to the Philippines in 1965.) 8

Ueki Shinkichi continued to manage the affairs of the society, but was able to

relax his single-minded focus on the fates of the war criminals once they had been

repatriated. He married, and in 1954 accepted a transfer to the Japan Defense Agency.

Retired after a long career in government, he turned 86 in September 2007, still healthy

and the custodian of the issues of the Monten newsletters and aging clippings of the

prisoner release effort mounted so long ago. 9

7 Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 286 and 291; and It ō, et al., Monten: Kikoku 30 , 133. 8 Hir ō Onoda, No Surrender: My Thirty-Year War, trans. Charles S. Terry (Tokyo: Kodansha International Ltd., 1974): 100-101; Asahi Shinbun, November 18, 2008; and Tomisabur ō Nakamata, “Watakushi no Sengo 60 Nen: Senpan Shikeishu/Ch ūgoku Tokuha-in,” Japan National Press Club, November 2005, www.jnpc.or.jp/cgi-bin/pb/article.php?id=476 , accessed June 21, 2009. 9 Kobayashi, Ten ni Tou Tegami , 281-285.

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234 APPENDIX I

PHILIPPINE WAR CRIMES TRIALS: DEFENDANTS AND OUTCOMES

Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action 1 KODAMA Yoshiaki Sergeant Nueva Vizcaya 2 Oct 1947 Guilty 12 years Pardoned 4 July 1953 兒玉 義明 Sep – Oct 1942; Feb 1943; Jul 1943; Aug 1944 2 KUD Ō Ch ūshir ō Captain Laguna 6 Nov 1947 Guilty Death by hanging Executed 13 Aug 1948 工藤 中四郎 Feb 1945 3 FUJITA Takefumi Captain Rizal & Manila 10 Nov 1947 Guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 藤田 武文 Nov - Dec 1944 4 NAKANO Shizuo 1st Lieut Cavite 5 Dec 1947 Guilty. Death by hanging Executed 9 Nov 1948 中野 静夫 Dec 1944 5 TAKAHASHI Sadakichi Civilian Quezon City & Manila 8 Dec 1947 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 高橋 定吉 Mar – May 1943; July – 28 Oct 1948 Aug 1943; Nov - Dec Pardoned 4 July 1953 1943; Jan 1944; May 1944 6 FUJISAKI Sabur ō Warrant Manila (Fort Santiago) 23 Dec 1947 Guilty 20 years Pardoned 4 July 1953 藤崎 三郎 Officer Oct 1942; Dec. 1942; Jan 1943 – Feb 1944 7 IT Ō Masayasu Captain Laguna 21 Jan 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 伊藤 正康 Feb 1945 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 8 TERAMOTO Tokuji Captain Mountain Province 30 Jan 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Executed 9 Nov 1948 寺本 徳次 Mar 1943; May – Aug 1944 9 OGAWA Eitar ō Sergeant Cagayan 10 Feb 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 小川 栄太郎 Aug – Sep 1944; Jan 1945 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953

235 Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action 10 MATSUTA Junz ō 2nd Lieut Nueva Vizcaya 23 Feb 1948 Not guilty 松田 順蔵 Jan – Apr 1945

11 KOBAYASHI Kesaki Warrant Manila 16 Apr 1948 Not guilty 小林 袈裟喜 Officer Jan 1945 12 KITA Heiji 1st Lieut Manila (Fort Santiago) 27 Apr 1948 Guilty 17 years Pardoned 8 Feb 1952 喜多 平次 Sep – Dec 1944 Repatriated 18 Feb 1952 ISOBE K ōzō Medical “ “ Not guilty 磯部 耕造 2nd Lieut

SAIT Ō Takao Warrant “ “ Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 斉藤 孝雄 Officer 8 Feb 1952 Pardoned 4 July 1953 13 SAT Ō S ō Lt. Col Cagayan 6 May 1948 Guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 佐藤 操 Feb 1945; Jun-Jul 1945 14 MIHARA Kikuichi Sergeant Cagayan 22 May 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Executed 19 Jan 1951 三原 菊市 Jan 1945; Mar 1945 15 NAKAMURA Hideo Captain Cebu 27 May 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Executed 19 Jan 1951 中村 秀一 Sep -Oct 1944 SUZUKI Mitsutada Navy “ “ “ “ “ 鈴木 光忠 Lieut ABE Sueo 1st Lieut Cebu “ “ “ “ 安部 末男 Aug 1944; Sep – Nov 1944 MIKI Iwao 1st Lieut Cebu “ “ “ “ 三木 巌 Sep - Oct 1944 JINNOUCHI Tatsuya 2nd Lieut “ “ “ “ “ 陣内 起也 UENO Katsushir ō Sergeant Cebu “ “ “ “ 上野 勝四郎 Major Oct 1944

236 Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action KANEDA Sadao Sergeant Cebu “ “ “ “ 金田 貞夫 Sep - Oct 1944 SEKIMORI Yoshimichi Sergeant Cebu “ “ “ “ 関森 儀道 Oct 1944

ET Ō Toshitake Sergeant Cebu “ “ “ “ 衛藤 利武 Sept - Oct 1944 IT Ō Masuo Leading “ “ “ “ “ 伊東 益男 Private SHIGA Fujio Superior Cebu “ “ “ “ 志賀 富士夫 Private Aug - Oct 1944 ONO Yasuo Corporal Cebu “ “ “ “ 小野 安男 Sep – Nov 1944 SAIT Ō Tasuke Corporal “ “ “ “ “ 斉藤 助 16 MORISHITA Tsuneo 1st Lieut Mountain Province 5 Jun 1948 Guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 森下 常夫 Mar - May 1944; Jul - Sep 1944 17 SHIMIZU Hisamitsu 2nd Lieut Negros Occidental 9 Jun 1948 Guilty 20 years Sentence overturned 清水 久光 Dec 1943; Mar – Apr 21 Feb 1949 1944; Jul 1944; Sep 1944 UEMURA Masao Sergeant Negros Occidental “ “ 5 years “ 植村 政雄 Dec 1943; Jul 1944 18 MIYAKE Tomomi Sergeant Mountain Province 16 Jun 1948 Pled guilty 20 years Pardoned 4 July 1953 三宅 知美 Major Mar 1943 – Dec 1944 19 MORI Kenkichi Sergeant Leyte 22 Jun 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 森 健吉 Feb 1944 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 20 HARADA Shimpei Major Mountain Province 22 Jun 1948 Pled guilty Death by Sentence commuted to life 原田 新平 Mar 1943 – Feb 1945 musketry 4 July 1953 Pardoned July 1953

237 Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action TEZUKA Toshio Warrant “ “ “ “ Sentence commuted to life 手塚 敏雄 Officer 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 KITAJIMA Kiyomitsu Sergeant Mountain Province “ “ Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 北島 清光 May – Sep 1944 SUGIMOTO Hiroshi Civilian Mountain Province “ “ “ “ [Benjamin] Mar 1943 – Dec 1944 杉本 広 ベンジャミン 21 MASAKI Sh ōichi Captain Batangas 28 Jun 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 正木 将一 Feb - Mar 1945 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 HAMADA Yoshio 1st Lieut Batangas “ “ “ Sentence commuted to life 浜田 義男 Mar 1945 4 July 1953 Pardoned @Sep 1953 MASUDA Masakazu Warrant Batangas “ Guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 増田 正七 Officer Feb - Mar 1945 ISHIKAWA Akira Sergeant “ “ “ “ “ 石川 明 SAT Ō Katsumi Superior Batangas “ “ “ “ 佐藤 勝美 Private Jan 1945 22 UEMURA Eiichir ō Captain Mindanao (Davao City) 6 July 1948 Guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 上村 英逸郎 May 1945 ARAI Hatsuyoshi 1st Lieut “ “ “ Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 新井 初芳 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 23 MATSUZAKI Hideichi Lt. Col Pampanga and Mindanao 29 July 1948 Guilty 20 years Pardoned 10 Feb 1951 松崎 秀一 May 1942; Sep 1944 Repatriated by April 1951 24 TONE Seiichi 2nd Lieut Negros Occidental 30 July 1948 Guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 刀根 清一 Feb 1945 25 SEKI Sakuyoshi Sergeant Bohol 11 Aug 1948 Guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 関 作義 Aug 1945

238 Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action HAMADA Kazuo Superior “ “ “ 20 years “ 浜田 一男 Private 26 NAKANISHI Sh ōji Sergeant Rizal 13 Aug 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 中西 正二 Sep 1942 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 27 MURATA Masaaki Major Laguna 19 Aug 1948 Not Guilty 村田 正明 Jul – Aug 1943 28 KAT Ō Fukumatsu Warrant Rizal 23 Aug 1948 Case Repatriated by April 1951 加藤 福松 Officer Nov 1944 Dismissed [held in another case—see #41] 29 SHIOGAMI Takeshi Sergeant Bohol 27 Aug 1948 Guilty 30 Years Pardoned 4 July 1953 塩上 武 Oct – Dec 1945; Jan – Feb 1946 MOTOUME Hisakichi Corporal “ “ “ “ “ 本梅 久吉 KITAMURA Takeshi Superior “ “ “ “ “ 北村 武 Private YANAKAWA Minoru Private “ “ “ “ “ 柳川 実 First Class

HASHIMOTO Superior “ “ “ “ “ Hatsuyoshi Private 橋本 初義 TAKIZAWA Yosuke Private “ “ “ “ “ 滝沢 与助 First Class YANO Tsuneo Leading “ “ “ Life “ 矢野 常夫 Private SAKAMOTO Tsugio Superior “ “ “ “ “ 坂本 次男 Private TAGIRI Akio [Tajiri] Superior “ “ “ “ “ 田尻 秋夫 Private

239 Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action KUNIYOSHI Susumu Superior “ Jul 1948 Case 国吉 進 Private dismissed 30 TANAKA Hideo Civilian Iloilo 3 Aug 1948 Pled guilty 12 years Sentence reduced on review to 田中 秀雄 Dec 1943; Apr – Jun 1944 3 years Repatriated by April 1951 MATSUURA Seishi Civilian Iloilo 3 Sep 1948 Guilty 15 years Sentence reduced on review to 松浦 征士 Dec 1943 5 years Repatriated September 1951 31 TANINAKA Katsuyoshi 1st Lieut Samar 15 Sep 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 谷中 勝良 Sep 1943 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 32 OKUZONO Haruo Sergeant Cotabato 27 Sep 1948 Guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 奥園 春雄 Sep 1944 33 SUNAHARA Hiroshi Warrant Manila (Fort Santiago) 6 Oct 1948 Pled guilty 15 years Pardoned 4 July 1953 砂原 弘 Officer Jan – Aug 1943 FUJISAKI Sabur ō Warrant “ “ “ 8 years “ 藤崎 三郎 Officer 34 SHIMAMURA Katsuji Colonel Mindanao (Davao City) 9 Oct 1948 Not Guilty 島村 活二 May 1945 SHIMADA Yasumasa 1st Lieut “ “ Pled guilty 20 years Pardoned 4 July 1953 島田 保正 35 ICHIMURA Isao Captain Batangas 17 Oct 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 市村 勲 Feb 1945 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 OWARI Sabur ō 1st Lieut “ “ “ “ “ 尾張 三郎 36 YAMANOUE Ichir ō 1st Lieut Occidental Negros 20 Nov 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 山ノ上 一郎 Mar – Aug 1944 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 37 SAKUMA Keiji Sergeant Mindanao (Davao City) 23 Nov 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 佐久間 啓治 Major Mar – Apr 1944 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953

240 Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action 38 HATOGAI Yoshimasa 2nd Lieut Batangas 6 Dec 1948 Guilty Death by Sentence commuted to life 鳩貝 吉昌 Feb 1945 musketry 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 KATAYAMA Sakae Leading “ “ “ Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 片山 栄 Private AOKI Masao Warrant Batangas 1 Nov 1948 Case Case suspended due to illness 青木 正男 Officer Dec 1944; Feb 1945 suspended of the accused. Repatriated by April 1951 39 KOMATZUSAKI 2nd Lieut Nueva Vizcaya 14 Dec 1948 Case Toranosuke May 1943; Jul 1943; dismissed 小松崎 寅之助 May – Jul 1944

40 TSUNEOKA Noboru Major Camarines Norte 16 Dec 1948 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 常岡 昇 July 1942 – Oct 1943 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 41 KAT Ō Fukumatsu Warrant Rizal 24 Dec 1948 Guilty 2 years/4 months Sentence served 加藤 福松 Officer Nov – Dec 1944 Repatriated by April 1951 42 SAT Ō Mataz ō Superior Batangas 29 Dec 1948 Guilty Life Sentence overturned 佐藤 又三 Private Feb 1945 16 Oct 1950 Repatriated by April 1951 43 KOBAYASHI Masataka Captain Batangas 17 Jan 1949 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 小林 正貴 Feb 1945 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 YAMAMOTO Tokuz ō Captain “ “ “ Life Sentence commuted to life 山本 徳蔵 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 KOBAYASHI Yusaku 1st Lieut “ “ “ “ Sentence overturned 小林 勇作 Repatriated by Nov. 1952 44 SASAKI Haruo Superior Laguna 22 Jan 1949 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 佐々木 春夫 Private Feb 1945 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953

241 Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action 45 HOSHINO Takashi 1 Sergeant Mindanao (Davao City) 11 Feb 1949 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 星野 尭 Major Mar – Apr 1945 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 46 OGAWA Somin Navy Tayabas 19 Feb 1949 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 小川 左右民 Lt Cmdr Apr 1945 @2 July 1953 2 Pardoned 4 July 1953 MINEO Shisuhiko Navy Tayabas “ “ “ Sentence overturned 峰尾 静彦 Lt Cmdr May 1945 2 July 1953 KOSE Yasumasu Navy “ “ “ “ Sentence commuted to life 巨勢 泰正 Lt Cmdr 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 KUWAHARA Tetsuo Navy “ “ “ “ “ 桑原 哲雄 Lieut j.g.

KAGAMI, Masaji Navy “ “ “ “ “ 鏡 政二 Lieut j.g. ICHINOSE Haruo Navy “ “ “ “ “ 市瀬 晴夫 medical Lieut j.g. GOTANDA Eiichi Navy Tayabas “ “ “ “ 五反田 栄一 Lieut j.g. Apr – May 1945 MIYAUCHI Toshiyasu Navy Tayabas “ “ “ “ 宮内 敬保 Lieut j.g. May 1945 UENO Masami Navy “ “ “ “ “ 上野 正美 Lieut j.g.

1 Hoshino’s trial had apparently begun back in October 1948, but in December the proceedings were “dissolved” and the defendant was re-arraigned January 1949. The commission refused to rule that double jeopardy attached and the case proceeded. No transcript of the earlier proceedings has been found and the earlier case is consequently not counted as a separate case. See Transcript, 44-66, Case #41, Philippines vs. Hoshino Takashi, RG 331, NACP. 2 There is some question about whether Ogawa’s sentence was commuted to life on July 2, 1953 or whether his sentence was actually overturned, but in any event he was freed by July 4, 1953.

242 Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action TSUBAKI Takao Navy “ “ “ “ Sentence commuted to life 椿 孝雄 Lieut j.g. 4 July 1953 Pardoned July 1953 SAHEKI [Saeki] Zenkichi Navy “ “ “ “ Sentence commuted to life 佐伯 善吉 Lieut j.g. 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 NAKAMATA Navy “ “ “ “ “ Tomisabur ō Lieut j.g. 中俣 富三郎 HANAOKA Michio Navy “ “ “ “ “ 花岡 道夫 Ensign HORIIKE K ōichi Navy Tayabas “ “ “ “ 堀池 宏市 Petty Of. Apr – May 1945 2nd Class KOJIMA Tsutsumu Navy Tayabas 29 Sep 1948 Case 小島 温 medical May 1945 dismissed Lieut. 47 GOT Ō Sh ōzō Sergeant Tagaytay City 22 Feb 1949 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life by 後藤 祥造 Batangas sentence review Feb 1945 Pardoned 4 July 1953 FUJII Rokujir ō Superior “ “ Guilty Life Sentence reduced by sentence 藤井 六次郎 Private review to 20 years Pardoned 4 July 1953 48 HANE Ch ōkichi Sergeant Cagayan 16 Mar 1949 Pled guilty Death by Sentence commuted to life 羽根 長吉 Aug – Sep 1944; musketry 4 July 1953 Nov – Dec 1944 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 49 FURUSE Takeshi Navy Tayabas 23 Mar 1949 Pled Guilty Death by Sentence commuted to life 古瀬 貴季 Rear Adm Apr – May 1945 musketry 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 50 FUJIMOTO Takao Superior Romblon 24 Mar 1949 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 藤本 高雄 Private Dec 1944; Jan – Feb 1945 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953

243 Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action 51 SAT Ō Ichir ō 2nd Lieut Batangas 25 Mar 1949 3 Pled Guilty Death by Sentence commuted to life 佐藤 一郎 Feb – Mar 1945 musketry 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 ONOYAMA Masaichi Sergeant Batangas 31 May 1949 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 小野山 政一 Mar 1945 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 NEMOTO Takeji Private “ “ “ “ “ 根本 武二 First Class 52 NAKAMURA Fumio Sergeant Negros Occidental 5 Apr 1949 Guilty Life Sentence overturned by 中村 文雄 Major Oct 1943; Mar 1944; sentence review May 1944 Repatriated Nov 1952 53 KAKISAWA Shigeo Warrant Mindanao (Davao City) 12 May 1949 Pled guilty 1 year Repatriated by April 1951 柿沢 茂雄 Officer Feb – Jun 1944 54 YOKOYAMA Shizuo Lt Gen Laguna, Batangas, Rizal 23 May 1949 Guilty Death by Sentence commuted to life 横山 静雄 Jan – Apr 1945 musketry 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 55 DOI Kunio 1st Lieut Mountain Province 13 Jun 1949 Guilty 20 years Pardoned 4 July 1953 土居 邦雄 May 1944 56 HATAYAMA Yoshimi 2nd Lieut Batangas 13 Jun 1949 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 畑山 芳美 Feb – Mar 1945 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 ASANO Toshio 2nd Lieut “ “ “ “ “ 浅野 敏男 TAKASAKI Torakichi 2nd Lieut “ “ “ “ “ 高崎 寅吉 NAKAJIMA Sh ōhei 2nd Lieut “ “ “ “ “ 中島 昌平 HORIE Tomekichi Warrant “ “ “ “ “ 堀江 留吉 Officer

3 The commission rendered its verdict and sentenced Sat ō on March 25, 1949, and then proceeded with the trial of his co-defendants Onoyama and Nemoto.

244 Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action 57 KURASAWA Tooru 2nd Lieut Cebu 26 Jun 1949 Not guilty 倉沢 暢 Nov – Dec 1944 58 MATSUDA Ichiji Civilian Mindanao (Davao City) 29 Jun 1949 Not guilty 松田 一二 Dec 1941 – Jan 1942 FUJII Suehiro Civilian “ “ Guilty 10 years Pardoned 4 July 1953 藤井 末広 TATISHI Vicente Civilian “ “ “ 10 years “ 立石 ビセンテ 59 KURODA Shigenori Lt. Gen Various 14 Jul 1949 Guilty Life Pardoned Dec 1951 黒田 重憲 May 1943 – Sep 1944 Repatriated Jan 1952 60 TSUNEYOSHI Yoshio Captain Tarlac 19 Jul 1949 Pled guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 恒吉 義士 Apr – Jul 1942 61 KOIKE Kaneyuke Captain Manila (Fort Santiago) 15 Aug 1949 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 小池 周之 and Iloilo 4 July 1953 Jan – Aug 1943; Dec Pardoned July 1953 1943; Feb – Jun 1944; Nov –Dec 1944 62 IT Ō Sabur ō Civilian Mindanao (Davao City) 1 Sep 1949 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 伊藤 三郎 Dec 1941 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 63 ŌMURA Yasuo Lt Col Cagayan 12 Sep 1949 Guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 大村 靖雄 Apr 1945 ŌNO Masao Captain Cagayan “ “ Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 大野 正雄 Mar – Apr 1945 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 64 ISHIMURA Kazuyoshi 1st Lieut Bukidnon 20 Sep 1949 Not guilty 石村 一義 Sep 1946 NAKASHIMA Mitsugi Sergeant Bukidnon “ “ 中島 貢 Dec 1945 – Aug 1946 NAKAIZUMI Kikuo Leading Bukidnon “ “ 中泉 喜久雄 Private Oct 1945

245 Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action MATSUMURA Toshio Corporal Bukidnon “ Guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 松村 敏雄 Dec 1945 – Aug 1946; Nov – Dec 1945 SATA Takeshi Leading Bukidnon “ “ “ “ 佐田 武士 Private Nov – Dec 1946 KAMACHI Hiroshi Leading Bukidnon “ “ “ “ 蒲地 弘 Private Nov – Dec 1946 TSUJI Ch ōichi Leading “ “ “ “ “ 辻 長一 Private AINODA Hajime Leading Bukidnon “ Pled guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 相野田 一 Private Sep 1946 4 July 1953 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 IT Ō Katsumi Sergeant Bukidnon “ Guilty “ “ 伊東 勝己 Mar 1946; Nov – Dec 1946 SAIHO Keiji Sergeant Bukidnon “ Pled guilty “ “ 才穂 敬二 Sep 1946 SASAKI Tamotsu Corporal Bukidnon “ Guilty “ “ 佐々木 保 Dec 1945; Mar 1946; Sep 1946; Nov – Dec 1946 HANADA Isie [Ishie] Corporal Bukidnon “ “ “ Sentence overturned by 花田 石衛 Jun – Aug 1946 sentence review Repatriated by April 1951 TESHIMA Hiroshi Leading Bukidnon “ “ “ Sentence commuted to life 豊島 弘 Private Oct 1945; Dec 1945, Mar 4 July 1953 1946; Sep – Dec 1946 Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 TADOKORO Minotar ō Corporal Bukidnon “ “ “ “ 田所 己之太郎 Oct 1945; Dec 1945; Mar 1946; Sep – Dec 1946 MAEKAWA Jisuke Leading Bukidnon “ “ “ “ 前川 治助 Private Sep 1946

246 Case # Name Rank Place/Dates Date of Trial Initial Sentence Outcome Of Charges Verdict/ Verdict Action NAKAMURA Takeichi Leading Bukidnon “ “ “ “ 中村 武一 Private Oct 1945; Dec 1945, Mar 1946; Sep – Dec 1946 YAMAMOTO Rikimi Leading Bukidnon “ “ “ “ 山本 力美 Private Sep 1945; Dec 1945 – Aug 1946; Sep 1946 65 FUKUTAKE Kazuo Major Mountain Province 17 Oct 1949 Case 福武 和郎 Feb – Apr 1945 dismissed 66 OCHIAI Haruichi Superior Cagayan 19 Oct 1949 Pled guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 落合 春一 Private Aug 1944 ; Jan 1945 67 SHIROTA Gintar ō 2nd Lieut Manila (Fort Santiago) 25 Oct 1949 Guilty Death by hanging Sentence commuted to life 代田 銀太郎 and Cebu 4 July 1953 Sep 1942 – Apr 1943; Pardoned 28 Dec 1953 Jan 1945 68 KAWAGUCHI Kiyotake Maj Gen Lanao 14 Nov 1949 Pled guilty 6 years Repatriated April 1953 川口 清健 May 1942 HAYASHI Yoshihide Lt Gen Manila “ Life Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 林 義秀 Apr 1942 69 DEGUCHI Motoaki Lt. Col Mountain Province 23 Nov 1949 Pled guilty Life Pardoned 4 July 1953 出口 元明 Jan 1945 70 TAKANO Ch ōyō Medical. Davao 14 Dec 1949 Not guilty 高野 長洋 1st Lieut Jun 1945 71 INAMURA Rokunoj ō Warrant Cagayan 23 Dec 1949 Guilty 20 years Pardoned 4 July 1953 稻邑 六之丞 Officer Jun 1944; Aug – Sep 1944; Dec 1944 72 YAMASHITA Suekichi Major Mountain Province 23 Dec 1949 Guilty 17 years Pardoned 4 July 1953 山下 末吉 Apr – Jul and Sep 1944, Mar and Jul 1945 73 MASUOKA Kensichi Maj Gen Mountain Province 28 Dec 1949 Guilty 10 years Pardoned 4 July 1953 増岡 賢七 Mar – Apr 1945

247 SOURCES: Data on defendants, cases, and sentences are compiled from Cases #1 through #71, Philippines Versus Various Japanese War Criminals, SCAP Legal Section, Prosecution Division, RG 331, NACP; and Case Files, People of the Philippines vs. Japanese soldiers, Japanese War Crime Records, NAP. Information on final outcomes was obtained from various sources, including Japanese War Crimes Records, NAP; Republic of the Philippines Official Gazette ; and Japanese and Philippine newspaper reports.

NOTES:

(1) Cases are generally ordered by date of verdict, and numbered accordingly. Philippine and U.S. government case files are each numbered differently, and other sources use their own numbering systems; consequently there is no single uniform numbering system for the cases.

(2) Source of ranks is It ō, et al., Monten Kikoku 30 and may not reflect the actual rank of the accused at the time of the incidents with which he was charged; it was not uncommon for soldiers to have been advanced a rank at the close of the war.

(3) Source of names in Japanese characters is It ō, et al., Monten Kikoku 30 ; other sources (e.g., Kagao, Montenrupa ni Inoru ) contain variant characters for some names.

248