Historical memory is never neutral. It determines what societies consider unthinkable, by contrast, comes to be accepted as a natural evolution of events. In the West, there is a widely shared awareness of the significance of Nazism and the consequences it had for Europe and the world. The experience of the Second World War, the Holocaust, and the devastation caused by the expansionism of the Third Reich have been incorporated into the collective imagination through education, culture, historical research, and numerous public policies aimed at preventing the repetition of such a tragedy. For decades, this memory has functioned as a powerful instrument of preventio.
However, it cannot be said that a similar level of awareness exists regarding Japanese militarism, which led Asia and the Pacific into one of the most destructive wars of the twentieth century. Outside the region, knowledge of that past is considerably more diffuse. For a significant part of Western public opinion, Japan is associated primarily with postwar reconstruction, economic development, or technological innovation. Meanwhile, the war of aggression undertaken by the Japanese Empire, the massacres committed in numerous occupied territories, the biological experiments conducted on civilian populations, the system of sexual slavery known as “comfort women,” and the enormous human losses that still form part of the collective memory of China, Korea, and other Asian countries remain far less present.
This asymmetry in international memory has political consequences. Where memory remains vivid, there is a greater sensitivity toward any development that may be interpreted as a rehabilitation, even partial, of the militarist past. Where such memory barely exists, changes are usually viewed solely through the lens of contemporary strategic balances.
It is precisely for this reason that the current historical moment deserves close attention. Humanity is undergoing a new industrial revolution driven by artificial intelligence, dual-use technologies, and competition for technological leadership. At the same time, we are witnessing an accelerated intensification of strategic rivalry among major powers. The combination of technological innovation, geopolitical uncertainty, and growing militarization constitutes a scenario that history urges us to approach with caution.
In this context, the transformation taking place in Japan’s defense policy is especially significant. The strengthening of Japan’s military capabilities, the steady increase in defense spending, the expansion of the operational scope of the Self-Defense Forces, and successive reinterpretations of the limitations established by the postwar Constitution reflect a profound shift compared to the model adopted after 1945. The positions defended by Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, in favor of a further revision of the constitutional framework and a greater military “normalization” of the country, represent a particularly significant expression of this evolution.
These changes are being justified in an objectively more complex regional environment. But precisely because such uncertainties exist, it is essential to prevent the logic of confrontation from relegating the lessons of history. Public safety should never be built at the expense of forgetting.
It is striking that many of the leading Western powers not only view this process with equanimity but, in many cases, actively encourage it as part of the strengthening of strategic alliances in Asia. From this perspective, Japan’s military strengthening appears as just another component of the containment architecture directed at China. However, this geopolitical calculation risks minimizing the weight of historical memory and ignoring the deeply rooted perceptions among the peoples who directly suffered from the Japanese occupation.
The contrast with Germany is particularly illustrative. The memory of Nazism has become a universal heritage, whereas that of Japanese militarism remains largely confined to the regional sphere. This difference does not imply drawing mechanical equivalences between the two historical processes, but it does invite us to ask why one has given rise to a robust international culture of prevention while the other continues to occupy a much more marginal place in global consciousness.
This insufficient internalization may explain why certain strategic transformations today provoke only limited concern outside Asia. However, for those who retain a direct or inherited memory of those events, references to the past are not an exercise in retrospective revisionism, but a warning about the importance of preventing certain dynamics from unfolding again without sufficient scrutiny.
History shows that major conflicts rarely arise suddenly. They tend to develop gradually, fueled by technological change, international rivalries, nationalist discourse, and incremental processes of normalization of the use of force. For this very reason, preventive policies are far more effective when they are grounded in a solid and shared historical memory.
It is therefore urgent to promote a broader awareness of the legacy of Japanese militarism—not in order to reopen wounds or foster permanent antagonism, but as part of an international culture of peace. This task falls primarily to the countries of East Asia, which hold a particularly intense memory, but also to the international community as a whole. The prevention of conflict requires remembering all tragedies, not only those that have occupied a privileged place in Western memory. For history serves not only to explain the past; it is also an essential tool for recognizing present risks in time and preventing the repetition of errors that led to some of humanity’s greatest catastrophes.