The Road to Reckoning: Origins of the Tokyo Trials
When Japan surrendered unconditionally on August 15, 1945, the world demanded accountability for the atrocities committed during its imperial expansion. The Potsdam Declaration had explicitly called for stern justice against war criminals, setting the stage for an unprecedented legal proceeding. On January 19, 1946, General Douglas MacArthur, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers, issued a proclamation establishing the International Military Tribunal for the Far East (IMTFE), commonly known as the Tokyo Trials.
For China, which had endured 14 years of brutal occupation since the 1931 Mukden Incident, participation was non-negotiable. The Chinese delegation, led by judges Mei Ruao and prosecutor Xiang Zhejun, arrived in Tokyo with a mission: to ensure Japan’s wartime leadership answered for crimes ranging from the Rape of Nanjing to biological warfare experiments. Yet few anticipated the diplomatic and legal quagmires that lay ahead.
A Battle Before the Gavel: The Seating Controversy
Even before proceedings began, symbolic tensions erupted. The tribunal’s 11 judges—representing victorious Allied nations—faced an unexpected dispute: seating arrangements. Australian President Judge William Webb proposed placing British and American judges beside him, demoting China to third position. Mei Ruao, a University of Chicago-trained jurist, vehemently objected.
“China’s sacrifices dwarf all others in this theater,” Mei argued. Over 20 million Chinese had perished; resistance began years before Pearl Harbor. When Webb implied MacArthur’s authority backed the arrangement, Mei threatened resignation: “Let photographers capture my empty chair. My people will understand why.” His defiance forced a compromise—China sat at Webb’s left, a small but symbolic victory.
Legal Landmines: Jurisdiction and Evidence Challenges
The prosecution’s initial framework, limiting charges to post-1941 actions, risked excluding Japan’s invasion of Manchuria and the Nanjing Massacre. Prosecutor Xiang Zhejun successfully pushed the start date to 1928, encompassing the assassination of warlord Zhang Zuolin. However, this expanded timeline demanded exponentially more evidence—a hurdle for China’s understaffed team.
Unlike the Nuremberg Trials’ civil-law approach, Tokyo adopted Anglo-American adversarial procedures. Japanese defendants, including Prime Minister Hideki Tojo and General Iwane Matsui, benefited from presumption of innocence and robust defense teams. China scrambled to gather documents, often relying on captured Japanese military archives. Legal advisor Ni Zhengyu, a Stanford-educated expert, spearheaded evidence collection, unearthing damning orders like Matsui’s directive to “make China submit through terror” during Nanjing’s capture.
Courtroom Dramas: Unmasking the Accused
The trials exposed shocking defense tactics. Matsui, architect of the Nanjing Massacre, feigned remorse, claiming he “wept” for Sino-Japanese friendship. Prosecutors countered with his diary boasting of “imperial glory” and Western journalists’ eyewitness accounts. Similarly, spy master Kenji Doihara’s witness called him “honest”—until Ni produced proof of his role in instigating the 1935 North China autonomy movement.
A breakthrough came when junior translator Gao Wenbin discovered 1937 newspaper articles glorifying the “Hundred Man Killing Contest,” where officers Toshiaki Mukai and Tsuyoshi Noda competed in beheading civilians. Extradited from Japan, they were executed in Nanjing alongside Sixth Division commander Hisao Tani, one of Nanjing’s chief butchers.
The Verdicts: A Fragile Consensus
After 818 sessions, the tribunal convicted 25 Class-A war criminals. Yet sentencing split the judges. India’s Radhabinod Pal argued for full acquittal, calling the trials “victors’ justice.” Webb favored exile over execution. Mei Ruao’s impassioned dissent cited Nanjing’s horrors: “If mass murderers walk free, I’ll drown myself in shame.” His stance narrowly carried—seven, including Tojo and Matsui, were hanged on December 23, 1948.
Legacy and Lingering Shadows
The Tokyo Trials set vital precedents for international justice but left unresolved tensions. Emperor Hirohito’s immunity and incomplete accountability for Unit 731’s biological warfare crimes drew criticism. Yet China’s 100,000-word judgment section, authored by Mei, remains a definitive record of its suffering.
Today, as Japan’s wartime legacy still sparks diplomatic friction, the trials remind us that justice is never inevitable—it is fought for, word by word, evidence by evidence. The courage of figures like Mei Ruao and Ni Zhengyu underscores a timeless truth: historical reckoning demands both moral clarity and unyielding resolve.