THE YAMASHITA TRIAL: WHAT DO WE KNOW ABOUT COMMAND ACCOUNTABILITY?

   

In January/February 1945, acting against General Tomoyuki Yamashita’s express orders (then commanding the Japanese Army forces in the Philippines), 15,000 Japanese, mainly Navy troops, holed up within Manila to fight the American advance to the last. The obliteration of civilians and buildings in the town was comparable to that of Stalingrad or Leningrad. Throughout the Philippines, instances of unspeakable war crimes were documented.

General MacArthur put General Yamashita on trial for these war crimes and had him hanged. The recent book, Yamashita’s Ghost: War Crimes, MacArthur’s Justice, and Command Accountability, masterly details the events, the trial, and the final legal battle before the US Supreme Court. It then discusses the evolving standard of ‘command accountability’ since Yamashita. I’d recommend this book to diplomats dealing with issues of war crimes and human rights.

The Yamashita trial was a sham – a victor’s revenge (or hint of MacArthur’s guilty subconscious for abandoning the Philippines three years earlier) – and two judges of the US Supreme Court, as they reviewed the trial, said so clearly in their dissenting opinions: ‘It deprived the proceeding of any resemblance of trial as we know that institution.’

Lieutenant General Tomoyuki Yamashita, second from right, faces the military commission in a courtroom in Manilla, Philippines, on Dec. 7, 1945, as he is sentenced to death by hanging by Major General Russell Reynolds, seated lower left. (AP Photo).

It was the first time ‘due process of law’ was upheld by a US Supreme Court judge as a fundamental human right: ‘The immutable rights of the individual, including those secured by the due process clause of the Fifth Amendment, belong not alone to the members of those nations that excel on the battlefield or that subscribe to the democratic ideology. They belong to every person in the world, victor or vanquished, whatever may be his race, colour, or belief. […] If we are ever to develop an orderly international community based upon a recognition of human dignity, it is of the utmost importance that the necessary punishment of those guilty of atrocities is as free as possible from the ugly stigma of revenge and vindictiveness. Justice must be tempered by compassion rather than by vengeance.’

Beyond this, the trial set a ‘Yamashita standard’ for command responsibility. In the eyes of the US military commission, it did not matter that Yamashita never ordered, never condoned, and never even knew (or could have known) about the atrocities. The factual link – he was the commanding officer – was deemed sufficient to doom him. He was judged for what he was rather than what he did (or failed to do). By this standard, anyone within a chain of command – from the political leadership down to the immediate superior – is as criminally responsible for war crimes as the perpetrator.

This standard was unprecedented in the law of war and in no way supported by text or custom. It was used only in the Yamashita case. Later, international trials for war crimes lowered the standard and demanded positive proof of culpability or at least evidence of gross negligence. As for the USA, in its internal proceedings, the author blithely concludes: ‘The United States devised the Yamashita precedent, but it has never lifted the chalice to its own lips.’

General Tomoyuki Yamashita’s trial

Behind the events lies the man, and to me, Yamashita is a fascinating personality and worth a closer look. As Allan Ryan has forsaken this in favour of dwelling upon the legal aspects of the case – after all, he is a lawyer – I’ll venture some conjectures, hoping more qualified persons may further explore Yamashita’s psychology. I rely on Yamashita’s Last Message to the Japanese People, which he dictated one hour before his death.

After apologising for the deaths of Japanese soldiers under his command, he explained why he did not commit suicide: ‘In fact, I once decided to do so when I attended the surrender ceremonies at Kiangan and Baguio, at which General Percival, whom I had defeated [in Singapore], was also present. What prevented me from committing such an egocentric act was the presence of my soldiers, who did not yet know that the war was over at that time. By refusing to take my own life, I was able to set my men free from meaningless deaths, as those stationed around Kiangan were ready to commit suicide. 

Thanks for reading leave your thoughts in the comments section below

Read more on our Rare History Channel