Photo/Illutration An information board for the "Opening Documents, Weaving Memories: A Special Exhibition Featuring Works from the Museum Collection" exhibition in front of the National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo, in Kitanomaru Park in Tokyo's Chiyoda Ward on July 25 (Asahi Shimbun file photo)

This summer, as Japan marks 80 years since the end of World War II, the media has been filled with reports, feature stories and analyses revisiting the conflict’s devastation.

These include accounts of the Japanese military’s conduct on the battlefield and the memories of atomic bombing survivors.

These are histories that must be handed down to future generations. Yet for those of us in the press, there is another legacy we cannot overlook: the role journalism itself played in stoking wartime fervor.

In 1942, The Asahi Shimbun organized the art exhibition of the Greater East Asian War, mainly showcasing war-themed paintings by celebrated artists such as Tsuguharu Foujita (1886-1968) and Saburo Miyamoto (1905-1974).

The exhibition reportedly drew an astonishing 3.8 million visitors.

What kinds of images did wartime audiences encounter?

Some can be seen today at the National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo, in the ongoing exhibition “Opening Documents, Weaving Memories: A Special Exhibition Featuring Works from the Museum Collection.”

Among them is Goro Tsuruta’s (1890-1969) “Paratroops Descending on Palembang,” which portrays the Imperial Japanese Army’s airborne assault on Palembang in Sumatra, Indonesia.

The canvas shows hundreds of paratroopers drifting down from a radiant blue sky. In the foreground, three Japanese soldiers are positioned on the ground, weapons at the ready.

Despite its subject—a violent clash—the painting glows with light and serenity, almost like a frame from an animated film.

At the time, The Asahi Shimbun described the exhibition’s atmosphere as one “filled with boundless gratitude to the Imperial Army and with an unshakable resolve for certain victory.”

It was, without question, an event swept along by the currents of wartime nationalism—driven as much by fervor as by the fierce rivalry among newspapers, even as the industry itself was being consolidated.

One cannot help but wonder: Had I been there, what words would I have written?

I recall the words of the late journalist Takeji Muno (1915-2016). On the day the war ended, he resigned from The Asahi Shimbun, acknowledging that through his reporting he had misled the public.

Out of that searing experience he often warned: “There is an end in the beginning. If you are to resist, resist from the very start.”

To heed such an admonition is to sharpen our vision—to notice the faintest fray at the edges, the first small rupture that, if left unchecked, can unravel into war.

—The Asahi Shimbun, Aug. 20

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Vox Populi, Vox Dei is a popular daily column that takes up a wide range of topics, including culture, arts and social trends and developments. Written by veteran Asahi Shimbun writers, the column provides useful perspectives on and insights into contemporary Japan and its culture.

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