To Speak or not Speak Ill of the Dead

by Minnie Seo

Content Warning: Rape, sexual violence, military violence

When somebody dies, there is often an unspoken rule that the living mustn’t speak ill of the departed — but how far must that respect go? Many things may be forgiven in death, but at some point we have to accept that the deceased are imperfect. When somebody dies, all their mistakes do not fade into oblivion, and the potential harm they caused can’t be overlooked either. More often than not, however, the period after a death is filled with an outpouring of love and well-wishes. This is because often, there is a glamorization — or the “Heathers Effect” — of the deceased and their actions. I use this term in reference to the 1988 film Heathers, where Winona Ryder and Christian Slaters’ characters murder high school students, but frame them as suicides. Here, a queen-bee-tyrant can become a nuanced, tortured, but ultimately a kind and misunderstood soul; while the story of two violent jock friends transfigures into an LGBTQIA+ tale of martyred lovers who could never truly express the wholeness of their selves. While these dramatic transformations seem comical to the viewer, it is not too different from what we already do.

War criminals, figures of oppression, and jingoistic politicians seem to pass away at every turn, and their deaths are celebrated with all the pomp and circumstance their respective countries can muster up. Though many attempt to bring up the problematic actions of those politicians or royalty, others scramble to accuse those wanting accountability of trying to “cancel” the deceased. Then, the preservers-of-the-dead proceed to “woke-wash” the departed diplomat or war criminal. Claims of empowerment, saviorism, or struggle are subsequently thrown in relation to the exanimate, in an attempt to repair the memory of the individual— as if the dead can still suffer the vicious blows of Twitter threads or being held accountable.

On July 8th, 2022, Japan’s former Prime Minister, Shinzo Abe, was assassinated. Throughout Abe’s career in politics, he was embroiled in controversy— many of which were associated with his embrace of nationalistic far-right groups and pro-Imperial Japanese rhetoric. The Nippon Kaigi, a right-wing Japanese organization that celebrated Imperial Japan and justified and/or denied its war crimes and atrocities, also greatly supported Abe, who reciprocated this sentiment. To realize why this relationship between Abe and the Nippon Kaigi is so problematic, understanding Imperial Japan’s (1868-1945) ruthless plan to expand its tyrannical rule to the rest of Asia is necessary.

Imperial Japan’s atrocities included — but were not at all limited to — the Massacre of Nanking, Bataan Death March, and Comfort Women. The Massacre of Nanking (also referred to as The Rape of Nanking) was a brutal mass murder of Chinese civilians in the city Nanjing, China (formerly romanized as Nanking). This began December 13, 1937 and went on for about six weeks. The disturbing personal ac-

design by Ashley Luong

counts of civillians recall Japanese soliders raping women and children, then murderering some of their victims. According to UNESCO, the death toll was about 200,000 and the number of reported rapes was 20,000. The brutality of this massacre cannot be stated enough.

The issue of Comfort Women concerns Imperial Japan’s sexual enslavement of 50,000200,000 women — many of whom were minors — across East and Southeast Asia. Often these victims, some as young as 14, were promised factory jobs where they could send money back to their families. This was a particularly appealing prospect due to the fact that Imperial Japan’s colonization had made finding work and making money incredibly difficult for the people in their native countries. There were no factory jobs waiting for these girls— instead they were forced into oftentimes unpaid prostitution. After Japan’s defeat in WWII, many of the women and girls were killed and the evidence of their exploitation was systematically destroyed.

Another example of Imperial Japan’s war crimes was the Bataan Death March— a forcible transfer of 76,000 prisoners of war, most of which were Filipino, across 66 miles from the tip of the Bataan peninsula to a different prisoner holding camp in San Fernando. The prisoners were beaten, shot, bayoneted, and beheaded on the journey, and many of those that survived the transfer ended up dying in the camps from starvation and disease. The death toll for this event was about 2,500 Filipinos and 500 Americans during the march, and 26,000 Filipinos and 1,500 Americans in the camps. Of course, many of these details weren’t made widely available after Japan’s defeat— part of a right-wing denialist perspective that Abe upheld.

Despite Abe’s open support for far-right nationalism, figures around the world publicly mourned his death. Popular white feminist Hillary Clinton tweeted: “Prime Minister Abe was a champion of democracy and a firm believer that no economy, society, or country can achieve its full potential if women are left behind. I am shocked and devastated by his assassination—a loss for Japan and our world.” In a sick way, Clinton is right— Abe supports leaving no woman behind in the betterment of

Japan, justifying the horrific exploitation of women in Japan’s former colonies. Many have even commented on articles or posts about Abe’s death that Abe was “one of the good ones.” In the wake of his death, an imperialist-dog has risen to be lauded as an aide in the cause of (white) feminism and a “good” politician. Next, we’ll have a look at the death of another political figure: Queen Elizabeth II of England. While the circumstances of her and her family’s life are glamorized and manufactured for entertainment on the TV show “The Crown,” the Queen and her family are anything but glamorous and enviable. When Britain’s history is brought up, the country’s imperialist and colonialist actions and legacy are rarely discussed. Currently, Britain holds many countries as colonies —though since 2002 they are now referred to as “British Overseas Territories”— countless of which have suffered from British involvement and advocated for their independence with varying levels of success.

Over the Queen’s almost 71 year-reign, Britain committed many atrocities that are swept under the rug when her majesty’s life and achievements are brought up. When a group of Kenyan militants called the “Mau Mau rebels” began an anti-colonist uprising against British oppression in 1952, British military forces moved into Kenya and imprisoned 160,000 Kenyans, while killing, torturing, and injuring around 90,000 others. The Mau Mau were defeated, but Kenya eventually gained independence in 1963. Closer to home, the British also used violence to suppress Irish protesters on January 30, 1972, an event that would become known as Bloody Sunday. During this event, the British Military opened fire on 26 protesters in a march in Derry, Northern Ireland, killing 14 people. Prior to Bloody Sunday, Ireland had endured religious discrimination and imprisonment of Irish nationalists, which only cemented the event as a continued oppression of British colonies and committed acts of violence via British force. To make matters worse, the Queen awarded the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (OBE) to Derek Wilford, who was in command in Derry, Northern Ireland on Bloody Sunday. This action was widely received as the Queen rewarding Wilford for his part in the violence.

These two events are only a few examples of the atrocities that occurred during the Queen’s reign. There are many who say that the Queen had no say in some of these events, and that to condemn them would put her in an awkward position. Others on social media argue that she’s just one little, old, frail woman— which seems conveniently sexist when she faces criticism for upholding oppressive structures. Though she will never be able to answer these questions, why didn’t she condemn the British military’s actions in Kenya and Derry? Would the discomfort she felt from addressing those situations match up to that of those who died or suffered under British rule? And if she didn’t support the massacre in Derry, why did she award Derek Wilford? This accountability is the bare minimum. While many of the civilians from Britain’s former colonies do not mourn the death of the late Queen, some from the older generations do not share that sentiment. Kenya’s outgoing president Uhuru Kenyatta even referred to the late Queen “…as being [t] he most iconic figure of the 20th and 21st centuries.” Kenyatta’s father was imprisoned during the Queen’s reign, but even that has not changed his perspective on her. On Twitter, many younger people shared the way their parents or grandparents (who came from one of Britain’s former colonies) mourned so fervently for the late Queen, oftentimes making fun of their families for being “mentally colonized.” Many of these second-generation —oftentimes Generation Z— children memeify their parents’ or family members’ grief, pointing the finger and laughing as if we have lived under the same conditions as they have.

However, the way the Queen was presented to Britain’s former colonies is important in

understanding this perspective. Because of her ascension to the throne at just 25 years-old, she was viewed as a young-lady and a mother— an icon of protection, purity, poise, and persistence. While it is so easy for a young generation with access to the internet and other resources to cast judgment on their older family members or feel apathetic to the Queen’s death, as being “mentally colonized,” it is not just a joke here. It’s reflective of what they were meant to believe in and what they could believe in— it’s not like they could just google someone to iconicize for themselves. It is so easy for Millenials, Gen Zers, etc. to simply google the whole history of a person or find their next new icon lurking in the depths of Twitter, Tumblr, TikTok, Instagram, etc., which is something our parents simply did not have access to. The propaganda and image of the Queen was thrust upon so many of the young people of the British Colonies, who didn’t have an opportunity to choose another symbol of leadership and motherhood. Regardless of her impacts, a part of their lives or even these individuals’ childhood is ending. Though the Queen does not deserve this mass mourning, a piece of these peoples’ memory does. However, mourning can only go so far. After the Queen’s death, many were quick to slap the “Feminist Icon” label on her. Cosmopolitan released an article a day after her passing titled “Queen Elizabeth’s most stand-out feminist moments” with a sub-heading reading: “Her majesty was the pinnacle of a trailblazer during her 70 years on the throne.” The events cited included the changing of succession laws, driving the King of Saudi Arabia around, and not giving up her last name. The bar for a white feminist icon seeks depths so low that it is simply unprecedented. Another event cited was in 2018 when, “Queen Elizabeth II became the first ever monarch to attend a London Fashion Week show, sitting side-by-side with Anna Wintour (iconic!) at Richard Quinn’s show.” Of course it is absolutely so iconic that a representative of colonization and racism can sit alongside another figure that exemplifies racism within the fashion industry. The British trailblazer’s reign also oversaw Operation Legacy, in which records of British atrocities, including genocide, in their former colonies were destroyed (burned or thrown into the sea) to launder the reputation of the Crown. In all of discourse, a glaring point is lost: there are no good politicians. Influential political figures trying to make change from “within the system,” reveals that rebuilding upon the same rotted base does not work. But why do we keep feeding into the politician-turned-savior trope? In a way, we feel like we need to be led by somebody in order to have faith that somebody is doing something right. Hilary Clinton can describe Shinzo Abe’s actions as being feminist in order to feel better about the fact that she’s engaged in diplomacy with him, despite his accessible history of right-wing nationalism. Similarly, the internet can mourn the loss of the Queen and pretend she was a “rideor-die” for women’s rights to justify that people with a lot of power have it because they deserve it. Whether it is fighting for feminism, freedom, or any other social justice cause, we often have a perception that if we can’t understand it or fix it ourselves, that we can look to somebody else to take care of it.

But in a postmodern consumerist society, we enmesh our own morality into those of these Icons; so if we develop an interest in the British Royal Family, somehow our own alignment is tangled in that. If the Queen is bad, then I am bad because I have in some way consumed and absorbed an aspect of her. Though, that can’t be further from the truth, despite the reactions of some. We create these ‘secular saviors’ after we absolve ourselves of the individual responsibility to make change. It can be crushing to think about the progress (or lack thereof) that will be made in our lifetimes. Pushing off the responsibilities of today only makes the problems of tomorrow worse.