Japan’s history of struggling with its own dark past and crimes is well-documented. Here in Tokyo, the movement protesting the ongoing genocide in Gaza continues to grow stronger, with many coming to terms with what it means to recognize the wrongs of the past and fight for a better future alongside the Palestinian cause.
From 1639 to 1853, Japan was under a policy called sakoku (鎖国, “closed country”) – a highly restrictive system of foreign relations designed to control outside influence, especially from Europe. Much of the cultural heritage that is still symbolic of the country – like arts and literature, and the social structure comprised of shogun and samurai, arose during that time.
After 214 years of this, a fleet of US warships landed and forced Japan to sign treaties opening its ports to foreign trade. With that, Japan began to engage with the wider world, and by following the example of other Western empires, sought to extend its territory – committing war crimes and atrocities against people in the Pacific Islands and many Asian countries, from China to Indonesia.
This lasted until 1945, when the US dropped two atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, killing hundreds of thousands of civilians. This, along with the Soviet entry into the war against Japan, led to Japan’s surrender and the end of World War II. Still to this day, as is common in US history, the country and its politicians haven’t issued any official apology.
Nowadays, Japan is one of the most beloved countries in the world, and its cultural influence on the West is more significant than ever. But by all means, modern Japan and most of its society have never come to terms with what happened in the era of Imperialism.
Emperor Hiroito’s reign, which was the longest ever (62 years), lasted way past WWII. His involvement in the crimes and expansionist politics of the army under his power is celebrated every year in September in Tokyo at a memorial near the Yasukuni-jinja shrine, built to commemorate the lost lives of those who perished in Japan’s wars, including convicted war criminals.
The whitewashing of these brutalities by Japanese society remains a taboo topic, with many people still not willing to admit what happened in the past, causing well-reasoned diplomatic issues with affected countries like China and North and South Korea.
Those who are though willing to explore and confront what happened are also probably involved in the various movements for the Palestinian cause and the ongoing genocide in Gaza perpetrated by the state of Israel. Tokyo is the world’s biggest city, and over the last couple of years, it has been a home for many protests and events, and also for people who are involved and building the movement – among them Japanese artist Ken Tanaka and Palestinian activist Hanin Siam.
Arts for a Change: Ken’s story
Ken Tanaka is a Tokyo-based Japanese artist heavily involved in organizing events and projects dedicated to exploring relationships between art and the Palestinian cause.
I didn’t really like art with a specific message in the past,” he says, sitting in a random Italian coffee place in Shinjuku after a long day of work. “Words are less arbitrary, and if there is something we want to convey in a direct way, whether a political or human thought, I prefer words to art for that. Art, I ideally just like it to be visual”.
However, since October 7 2023, Ken has felt that something within him has changed – as has what he wants to draw.
“I believe art needs to come from inside of the artist, and that’s why, since the genocide started, I felt like I didn’t have it in me to just keep drawing flowers and things like that. There was so much confusion and pain. I felt I no longer had the luxury of just drawing pretty things, when my own initiation to the Palestinian cause had been through Palestinian art with a message.”
Ken grew up in a bilingual family, and since he was a kid, always loved to draw. After moving to Tokyo at the age of 18 and working several jobs there, he decided to dedicate more time to his art.
Ken has lost friends and some of his social media following after he started posting about Palestine, but this didn’t stop him and his willingness to fight back against the genocide in his own way.
“Before I started posting and talking on social media about the genocide, I was more active in the artist community,” he says, as the discussion draws more on how political activism can use art and vice versa.
“For the people who use art a certain way different to me, I’m not going to reprimand them. For me, though, I’m going to use it to bring attention to what is going on and to help people think about what they can do.”
“Palestine and the pain I feel about the genocide isn’t finding its way into my art out of obligation,” he says, as the sun sets over Shinjuku and the street starts getting crowded by tourists and the salaryman leaving work.
“I think that as an artist, if you have pain in your heart, that’s what’s naturally going to show up in your work. When I try to talk about the genocide with people, often the conversation comes to a stop with statements like ‘Oh that’s terrible isn’t it!’ or ‘I’m glad to be living in a peaceful country.’
“But when I show people my art, they realize that I actually spent my time creating something I care deeply about, and then they’ll be more drawn to engage in a deeper conversation, or at least that’s what I’ve found. This can connect to conversations about concrete actions like boycotting Israel, pressuring our local governments to divest from Israeli apartheid, and showing support and solidarity in tangible ways.
“While protests are visible and important, and I go when I can, it’s also very important to engage in conversations about genocide and speak up in our daily lives and reach people in our lives whose hearts might not be reached otherwise. I run an art event called “Art for Palestine” for people to get together and create art together and talk about [what’s happening] and what we are learning and what we can do.
“I have had so many conversations there with people about Palestine. I felt like this was a time and a place where we could normalize these types of conversations that we are not used to having. The more we are used to using the right vocabulary to talk about genocide and ethnic cleansing and not avoiding the topic, and the more of us that are doing it, I hope this will create an environment where people cannot get away so easily with such shameful actions.
“I don’t know about many commonalities between Japan and Palestine, but I feel I see more similarities there with Zionism and wartime Japanese imperialism,” Ken says.
“Despite our having committed many wartime atrocities, much of our nation is still in denial. Many of us also don’t recognise that we were aggressors. Many people actually deny or downplay crimes committed. It’s something that is not properly taught in school, like the Nakba. But I think it’s getting harder and harder for people to [swallow the] lie, because the evidence is in plain sight for everybody. I feel that by having both been the aggressors in the war and having two atomic bombs dropped on us, Japan is in a unique position, and we have the responsibility to speak up against Israel.”
When asked about a project that he’s particularly proud of, Ken shows no hesitation in talking about Café Falastin, a monthly pop-up coffee space happening at NAMNAM, a queer-anarchist space located in Koenji that has become the unofficial home of many events related to the Palestinian cause.
“The logo of Café Falastin was designed by Hamdi, an artist from Gaza who got married during the genocide, and he’s just 24. I always like coffee, and this is something I’m doing with my friend Nicholas, who is American. It’s a place where we enjoy good coffee and baked goods, and we talk about Palestine. For people who don’t often go to protests, it’s a chance to connect with Palestine through music, poetry, and whatnot. Hopefully, I’d like to keep doing it until the end of the year, and I would love for it to be replicated in other countries.”
Far from home: Hanin’s story
For Hanin Siam, the start, or to phrase it better, the continuation of the genocide, was the tipping point that led her to return to Japan after 10 years away. “After October 7, I found myself glued to Al Jazeera’s coverage, barely leaving the couch, falling asleep and waking up with news on. Like so many Palestinians in the diaspora, I felt paralyzed, unable to function. That was when I decided: now is the time to commit myself fully to the cause-if not now, when?
Born in Gaza, Hanin left Palestine with her family at the age of seven, soon after the second intifada. Arriving in Japan was like stepping onto a different planet.
“At first, it was very tough,” she said. “We all wanted to stay in Gaza, where our lives were. We studied in an international school, and I’ve also had to learn Japanese. Back in 2002, everything here was only written in Japanese, and there were no signs in English yet.”
It’s a sunny and warm day in Tokyo, and Hanin is wearing a shirt with words symbolic of her feelings: resistance until liberation.
After studying and working abroad, coming back to Tokyo after October 7 was a choice driven by a will to foster the community for Palestine in a country where protestors are seen as foreign objects.
“In Japan, there’s a strong pressure to conform. Step outside the norm and you’re quickly seen as an outcast. From the jingles to the ads to the endless rules. It’s all a distraction to keep the machine running. Sometimes I wish more people would snap out of it,” she said.
Japanese society is also unique in the sense that it has been two sides of the coin: both the oppressor, with millions of people killed during the Imperialist era, and the victim, with Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
When asked about this, Hanin doesn’t skirt away from criticizing Japanese society: “They remain in denial to this day. Even government officials, when invited to memorials of the 1923 Kantō Massacre – when Japanese police, military, and vigilante mobs slaughtered thousands of Koreans, along with Chinese laborers and political dissidents – refuse to admit that these atrocities ever happened, despite overwhelming historical evidence.”
Now Hanin works mostly with two groups: Palestinian of Japan, a group formed by Palestinians and Japanese who organize protests, petitions, boycotts, and other actions together, and Kifu for Palestine, which creates fundraising events for Palestine. Together with other groups, the movement for Palestine in Japan has obtained important achievements, including having some Japanese companies cut ties with Israel after public pressure.
“Itochu is one of the largest Japanese trading companies, and many students go to work there once they’re finished with school. Network Against Japan Arms Trade (NAJAT) made a lot of research on Itochu and what kind of deals were in place with [Israeli arms manufacturer] Elbit for drones. They made a petition, and we pushed for it, and in the end, we got more than 30,000 signatures.
“Japanese companies don’t like to be shamed; it’s something that sticks out, and in the end, they caved. BDS (Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions) is an efficient strategy to follow, because money moves everything, and once the cost of the occupation outweighs the profits, this settler colonial project known as “israel” will be done for.”
This was in 2024, and since then, the community for Palestine in Tokyo has grown exponentially, with events taking place daily and revolving around various themes.
“A lot of people I’ve talked to, the second they learn more about Palestine and the genocide, they commit all their hearts and souls. I cannot give enough credit to the people in our community; they’re incredibly passionate, and it’s something beautiful to see – we are so far away from what’s happening, but seeing them getting so fired up gives me hope.”
But there’s always more to do, and Hanin knows the feeling well. Most of Japanese society appears to be indifferent to the genocide, and recently, there have been talks of stepping up efforts.
“We’ve asked ourselves whether to be more direct like Palestine Action, as that is what ideally we want to do. The advice we got was that anything seen as ‘extreme’ could kill the movement. But the truth is, silence and moderation are what really kill movements. If society chooses to label our resistance as ‘extreme,’ so be it — because our people are facing something far more extreme every single day. And in Japan, unlike in Europe or America, we don’t have to waste time undoing Zionist indoctrination. Here, the ground is a blank slate — and that gives us power. We just need to build on that power.”
“I’ve always been guided by my moral compass,” she said, heading back home to prepare for another protest for Palestine. Hanin is tired yet determined to keep going.
“My role is to amplify the voices of Palestinians that are in Gaza here in Japan. Their words need to be heard all over the world. There are less than 100 Palestinians here. For some of them, it’s hard to be involved, because they could risk their scholarship or visas, but I have the privilege to make sacrifices.”
Before leaving, Hanin thinks back on her first protest she attended here in Japan. “I went to this march for Palestine in Shinjuku in 2009. I was so young, and I still have pictures of it.”
16 years later, the Tokyo of today is a city of contrast, where past and future are often intertwined. Here, the fight for a free Palestine keeps going.
Cover photo by Carlota Caldeira