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| Homepage of Yasukuni Shrine's Yushukan |
The Weight of Yasukuni Shrine: More Than Just a “War Criminals Shrine”
It’s honestly too simplistic for us to just say, “Oh, there’s a shrine in Japan where war criminals are enshrined,” or “Every year, influential politicians go there to make offerings.” The scale and meaning of Yasukuni Shrine in Japan are on a whole different level. And let’s be clear: even when we criticize, saying things like “remove the Korean conscripts from the enshrinement” or “the Prime Minister shouldn’t make offerings,” those complaints mostly stay within domestic Korean discourse.
To Japanese people, Korean criticisms don’t even register as a passing concern. Sometimes it feels like the more we protest, the more they double down. The presence of Yasukuni Shrine is unshakeable from the outside. Calling Japan a “war criminal nation” may sound righteous, but in practice, it only strengthens misguided nationalist sentiments among Japanese conservatives.
A Glimpse Inside: The Yūshūkan Museum
The photos below show the reception area of the Yūshūkan, the museum located within Yasukuni Shrine’s grounds. I didn’t go inside — I already know what’s on display, and frankly, I didn’t feel the need to pay the 200–300 yen entry fee to step into that glorified space.
From the entrance, you’re greeted by murals tracing the path of the Japanese Imperial Army’s advance from the Korean Peninsula into China. Inside, you’ll find war cannons, firearms, swords used by commanders, and even handwritten farewell letters from soldiers.
I couldn’t help but think: How emotionally stirring must this be for Japanese visitors? And then I wondered — do we, in Korea, even have any place remotely as polished and emotionally charged as this?
Compared to Yūshūkan, Korea’s War Memorial feels chaotic, almost shabby — even evoking a sense of despair. The contrast between Korea’s memorials, still echoing with the remnants of dictatorship, and Yasukuni Shrine’s carefully curated imperialist nostalgia is stark. Maybe that’s why I chose not to go inside this time.
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| Zero-Sen Fighter |
A Shrine to the “Honored Dead” — and a Masterclass in Narrative Control
On Yasukuni Shrine’s official website, you’ll find images of Yūshūkan’s walls lined with photos of kamikaze pilots. Interestingly, the name “Yūshūkan” is taken from the Chinese classic Xunzi (순자) and loosely translates as, “A gentleman, in his leisure, strives to embody the spirit of the scholar-warrior.”
For the Japanese, the message here is clear: Learn from those who nobly sacrificed their precious lives for the nation.
At the entrance, there’s even a fighter pilot statue, standing proudly. Visitors first pass through a glass-walled reception building before entering the main museum. Right outside, there’s a Zero fighter jet parked, nose up as if ready to soar into the sky. It’s all designed to showcase might and grandeur.
And I couldn’t help but think: We’ve imported the bad habit of erecting statues of dictators — why didn’t we import these kinds of exhibition techniques?
The Machinery of Empire on Display
The Zero fighter, surrounded by countless heroic tales, shares the stage with Japan’s infamous Yamato battleship — both drenched in layers of romanticized nostalgia. Steven Spielberg even poked at this mythmaking in his film Empire of the Sun. But let’s be honest: beyond the early-war prowess, the Zero was ultimately a fragile machine, prone to going up in flames after minor attacks.
They also display a steam locomotive, decorated with the rising sun flag — reminiscent of the one Itō Hirobumi might have ridden to Harbin Station. In Japan, railroads were potent imperial symbols, so it’s no surprise they feature prominently.
Beside the train stands a howitzer. While smaller than the naval guns left behind on Saipan, it represents the type of artillery the Japanese Army dragged through China and Burma — and along with them, Korean laborers and comfort women.
You’ll also find machine guns, cannons, and cockpit parts, all carefully preserved. None of it was discarded as mere war relics; they’ve been polished and sanctified, transforming the aggressors into heroes, defenders of the homeland.
A Legacy They Want to Pass Down
Standing there, I felt like the Zero fighter, the howitzer, and the locomotive weren’t just military artifacts — they were sacred heirlooms. Just as Japan’s imperial family guards its Three Sacred Treasures, this space seemed designed to whisper, “Here are the secret tokens of Imperial Japan — not for outsiders, but for us, to pass on through generations.”
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