Newsletters and Essays

1. At the Crossroads of History and Peace: Civic Movements and the Interplay of Ideals and Realities

The relationship between history, memory, and peace has often been described as one that is both contested and transformative. In many contexts, civic movements and public debates have served as crucial sites where historical injustices are recalled, reconciled, or sometimes reproduced through political negotiation. These intersections remind us that history is never merely about the past, but also about present struggles over identity, justice, and coexistence.

As a member of the Global History team, I have been particularly intrigued by how people engage with unresolved historical issues and how peace can be envisioned in such contested terrains. During this trip, I paid close attention to the ways in which civic movements operate at the crossroads of idealistic discourses of justice and pragmatic negotiations of interest. Listening to different discussions and observing dialogues around these themes allowed me to reflect on how the pursuit of peace is both aspirational and grounded in everyday realities.

My current reflections are leaning towards a deeper consideration of civic activism not only as a vehicle for resolving historical disputes, but also as a dynamic space where ideals of reconciliation and the realities of political compromise continually intersect.

2. September 17 – Carter School – IIRS Seminar Reconciliation at Classes

During this seminar, I posed a question about the relationship between personal and collective reconciliation. My line of thought was that when someone has been deeply hurt, they may develop a distorted way of seeing the world. Pain can prevent them from listening to others, erode their ability to love, and sometimes even lead to violence against others or themselves. Especially if they did not receive sufficient love as a child, this pattern often repeats: they grow up unable to love themselves, carrying the wound of “I want to be loved, but I never was.”

Yet there can also be turning points. For instance, when a child truly understands and forgives a parent, that moment can bring reconciliation—not only with the parent, but also with the self and, by extension, with the world. Such healing at the personal level may offer a useful metaphor for how reconciliation might work between groups or societies. From this perspective, I asked: How can the personal experience of lacking love, and the possibility of forgiveness, help us understand reconciliation at the collective level?

To explore this further, I proposed a simple educational exercise: asking students to write two short texts—one a personal apology to a friend or family member, and the other a public apology as a state might issue for historical wrongs. Through such a practice, students might learn how experiences of personal reconciliation can inform understandings of societal reconciliation.

In response, Prof. Marc Gopin encouraged me to pursue this idea of a “social experiment” in reconciliation education, especially by providing role models for leadership and apology. He emphasized that models of public apologies should be developed in ways that are less burdened by shame and more oriented toward future possibilities. His advice underscored that reconciliation processes must be forward-looking, resilient in the face of objections, and rooted in the imaginative practice of asking, “What could we do differently?”

For me, this seminar reinforced the profound connection between the intimate and the political: how personal wounds and healing can illuminate pathways for societies to move beyond cycles of resentment. It reminded me that reconciliation education should not only examine the failures of the past but also cultivate constructive models of leadership, apology, and forgiveness that can inspire future practice.

3. September 18, 22 – Presentations Feedback at the Carter School on Peace Week 

On September 18, I had the opportunity to speak with Prof. Daniel Rothbart, who underscored Japan’s dramatic transformation from militarism to pacifism after 1945. In our exchange, I reflected that although democratic and peaceful values were institutionalized early, public awareness of historical issues lagged behind. Drawing from my book chapter research, I recounted the story of a Japanese scholar who only came to recognize the symbolic weight of Ito Hirobumi’s image on banknotes through the reaction of an international student—an encounter that ultimately led him to dedicate his life to the study of civic movements. Prof. Rothbart responded with encouragement, affirming that my work could make a meaningful contribution by bridging the gap between institutional change and social consciousness.

That afternoon, I presented my chapter outline and received valuable feedback. Prof. Karina Korostelina suggested framing reconciliation through multiple structural layers, while Prof. Jeff Helsing emphasized the need to define key concepts—such as reconciliation, its purposes, and its degrees of achievement—with greater clarity.

A few days later, on September 22, I gave a fuller presentation and again benefited from extensive feedback. The discussion turned to the relationship between democratization and collective memory, with the reminder that democratization often generates new conflicts rather than resolving old ones, as illustrated by the case of Italy. Different democratic systems, I was told, create different relationships to memory, revealing both the potential and the limitations of liberal democracy. I was also encouraged to think more deeply about how the “justice of democracy” exerts influence both within and across national boundaries.

Further theoretical and methodological suggestions enriched the conversation. I was advised to consider social action theory and its relevance to collective memory, to reflect on the role of donors and their influence on civic movements, to examine the multiplicity of narratives within Japan, and to specify more clearly which social actors I intend to focus on.

Taken together, these exchanges left me with important lessons. I realized the need to sharpen my definitions of civic movements, to engage more systematically with theory, and to place my analysis in dialogue with comparative cases. At the same time, the feedback confirmed that my project holds promise: by addressing the interplay of actors, donors, narratives, and institutions, it can contribute to a more nuanced understanding of how memory and democratization intersect.

4. September 21 Reflections on Memorials and Monuments in Washington, D.C.

At the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, the sheer number of casualties is overwhelming, yet the design avoids imposing a single emotional narrative. There is little emphasis on sadness or victimhood; rather, the memorial offers a stark record of lives lost and a gesture of remembrance.

This framing reflects a broader pattern in American war memory. Victory and sacrifice are presented as the foundations of national prosperity, with gratitude as the prevailing sentiment. The narrative appears uncluttered and resolute, in contrast to many Asian contexts where commemoration often emphasizes suffering, loss, or unresolved responsibility.

What remains striking, however, is the absence of those who were harmed by American wars. The memorials focus almost exclusively on American service members, without space for remembering the experiences of foreign victims. In this sense, remembrance is selective: it honors national sacrifice while leaving unaddressed the wider consequences of conflict.

This contrast underscores the complexity of war memory. For the victors, remembrance is framed as pride and gratitude; for those who bore the costs, it often remains unresolved. Such patterns highlight how national narratives of war reflect not only the past but also the political needs of the present.

5. Reflection on the Session: Learning to Bridge

On the last day of this trip, I attended this session. The session reminded me of the importance of learning how to bridge across boundaries—whether linguistic, disciplinary, or cultural. Language barriers and differences in conceptual frames often complicate dialogue, yet they also create opportunities for deeper explanation, background sharing, and genuine research engagement.

On a personal level, I came to understand that reconciliation work requires an interdisciplinary approach—one that engages not only political and historical analysis but also the emotional and psychological dimensions of human experience. As one student observed, “healing occurs at the individual level,” a point that resonated deeply with me. Such healing often begins in small, personal encounters: sharing stories, listening attentively, and staying curious about how others feel and what they are doing, as another participant, Yuriko, noted. Through these reflections, I realized more clearly the necessity of cultivating empathy and genuine sympathy toward those around us.

Diversity within the group highlighted the value of reflection itself: by paying attention to different perspectives, I could better understand how learning and healing unfold both individually and collectively. For me, this session was a reminder that bridging divides is not only an intellectual exercise but also a deeply personal practice of empathy, listening, and openness.