In late December 2015, Japan and South Korea reached an agreement regarding Korean sex slaves taken during World War II—the thousands upon thousands of rape victims whom the Japanese imperial forces euphemistically referred to as “comfort women.” After decades of denial, obfuscation, and minimization, Tokyo finally acknowledged the plight of the Korean victims and agreed to pay more than $8 million million to a fund that would assist the 46 who were then still living.
It was a risky move by both governments: Japanese prime minister Shinzo Abe is an ardent nationalist with a deeply “revisionist” political base—even acknowledging the plight of the women required a bit of a Sister Souljah act for him. And then-still ruling South Korean president Park Geun-hye’s had her own reasons to be wary. Her father, the late Korean dictator Park Chung-hee, had once been an officer in the Japanese colonial forces in Korea; given lingering suspicions, she could scarcely afford to look like she was toadying up to Tokyo. (Then again, as we’ve subsequently learned, Madame Park’s political instincts are far from stellar.)
Barely more than a year later, the “comfort women” deal looks to be in trouble. The latest contretemps began when, on the one-year anniversary of the agreement, a group of Korean activists erected a statue commemorating the women in the port city of Busan, not far from the Japanese consulate. The statue is subtle and moving: A mere five feet tall, it depicts a barefoot girl sitting on a chair. It’s one of 38 such statues littered throughout Korea, including a very famous one in central Seoul that sits directly across from the Japanese embassy.
Japan hates these statues. And so, in a bid to keep things placid, the city of Busan actually removed the new one when it was first erected. But then, a few days later, Japan’s foreign minister visited the notorious Tokyo shrine that contains the souls of, among others, 14 class-A war criminals. Quickly, it was returned.
The Japanese government has now announced a series of “counter measures”—as if private citizens erecting a piece of art is akin to an act of war. As state-run broadcaster NHK reported, Japanese chief cabinet secretary Yoshihide Suga
Japan, in other words, is calling for the Korean government to censor the free expression of its private citizens.
While it’s laudable that Japan finally agreed to provide some form of compensation in 2015, there was—and is—something unsettling about its approach to the matter. Tokyo seemed to be saying this: We’ll pay you so you’ll shut up about the issue. It bought silence. That’s more akin to blackmail than anything else.
