Manila, the prelude to Hiroshima

TokyoThe dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima on August 6, 1945, which marks its 80th anniversary this Wednesday and precipitated the end of World War II, was not an isolated or merely scientific decision: it was the result of a total war in the Pacific that, in its final stages, reached brutal levels. The Manila massacre in February 1945 left more than 100,000 civilians dead and a city—which had been one of the "pearls of the Orient"—reduced to ashes. Shortly after, in Okinawa, Japanese resistance turned suicidal, and the civilian population actively participated, even with massive kamikaze attacks. For the US military command, these episodes were a chilling warning of what an invasion of mainland Japan could entail.

The consensus among many historians is that both the Okinawa and Manila episodes decisively influenced the calculations of the US high command. From the costly landings on Saipan and Iwo Jima to Okinawa, each battle reinforced the conviction that a continental invasion would be unsustainable. Historians such as Francis Pike, Richard Frank, and Victor Davis Hanson agree that these experiences shaped the psychological and military context that led to the choice of nuclear weapons as a method of forced surrender.

Atrocities against civilians

In Manila, during February 1945, entrenched Japanese units caused the deaths of more than 100,000 Filipino civilians, in what is recognized as one of the most serious war crimes committed by the Imperial Japanese Army since the invasion of Manchuria in 1931. The sewer troops offered fierce resistance, and the American forces, forced to advance inch by inch, dislodged enemy positions with flamethrowers and grenades in practically house-to-house fighting.

The conflict degenerated into atrocities when retreating Japanese soldiers directed their violence against the civilian population. In one of the bloodiest episodes, a Japanese contingent took 3,000 Manila residents hostage and took them to Fort Santiago in Intramuros, where they systematically executed a third. After 28 days of fighting that reduced the city to rubble, General Douglas MacArthur entered a devastated Manila. This urban destruction within a densely populated city served as a warning to American planners, who saw it as a scalable preview of what could happen in Japanese cities.

The Battle of Okinawa, which took place between April and June 1945, was the last major engagement before the Japanese surrender and one of the bloodiest of the entire World War II. On the main island, the Japanese army adopted a strategy of total resistance, digging in in caves, tunnels, and bunkers, and using civilians as human shields or forcing them to organize and fight to the death. The fighting lasted nearly three months and left more than 200,000 dead, including some 100,000 Okinawan civilians. The massive use of kamikaze attacks against the US fleet and the willingness to fight to the last man convinced the Allied command that any attempt to invade the Japanese archipelago would be an unprecedented slaughter.

Okinawa was perceived by Washington's strategists as a brutal microcosm of what a hypothetical operation on Kyushu or Honshu would be like. If resistance on a peripheral island like Okinawa had been so fierce, what could one expect in the defense of Tokyo or Kyoto? The projected figures for Operation Downfall, the invasion plan for Japan, were alarming: up to one million Allied casualties and tens of millions of Japanese deaths. In that climate of tactical desperation and war trauma, the atomic bomb was presented not only as an innovative weapon, but as a brutal but "rapid" way out of the dead end of the war in the Pacific.

The imposition of the American narrative

Historian Richard B. Frank explains that the Japanese Ketsu-go strategy, based on inflicting large numbers of Allied casualties even at the cost of their own existence, reinforced the perception that an invasion would be brutal and costly in both human lives and time. According to Ronald H. Spector and documents from the US Joint Chiefs of Staff, the defense of Okinawa, with its ferocity, suicidal attacks, civilian mobilization, and refusal to surrender, made it clear to US leaders that Japan "still had a lot of strength and that surrender was not an option."

For Professor John Lee Candelaria of Hiroshima University, the brutality and destruction of these episodes—particularly the fierce Japanese resistance and the atrocities committed—influenced the US military's assessment of what an invasion of mainland Japan would be like. Speaking to the newspaper ARA, he asserts that these episodes "were undeniable" and believes that "the reports of these atrocities influenced the US military's perspective."

When asked about how the use of atomic bombs was perceived in the Philippines and the US at the time, the Filipino scholar notes that postwar memory was shaped by strong cultural ties to the United States and the narrative of America as a liberator. Candelaria believes that "it can be assumed that most Filipinos saw the atomic bombings as a justified means to end their suffering."

Forgetfulness and imbalance

"Novelist F. Sionil Jose, who was 18 during the Battle of Manila, expressed this sentiment in 1981, saying that upon hearing expressions of sympathy for Hiroshima, many Filipinos wished at the time that more Japanese cities had been bombed as a 'natural consequence of the war.'" "While this was also the general view in the United States, there were notable dissenting voices, such as that of pacifist Albert Einstein," he recalls.

The scholar laments that the Philippine experience in World War II does not receive the international recognition it deserves within the global narrative of the Pacific War. "As a Filipino who lived in Hiroshima for a decade, I see this great imbalance and injustice in the Philippine case. The suffering of Filipino civilians has been marginalized not only in the global memory of the war, but also in the Philippine national memory," he says.

"Narratives of victimhood are often overshadowed by the national myth centered on resistance, resilience, and the anti-colonial struggle of the late 19th century. A clear illustration of this is the lack of a state-sponsored national memorial that honors or remembers the 1,1; reserved for soldiers and guerrillas," Candelaria denounces. "This remains a great and persistent injustice," she complains.

"In my research on the digital transmission of war memories, I have seen that although Filipinos are aware of the suffering their family members went through, these stories are often presented as historical facts rather than within a discourse of injustice," Candelaria notes. And while she affirms that Philippine historical narratives tend to overemphasize the founding myth of colonial resistance against Spain, she believes that "there should be a more equitable accountability to the Filipino past, moving away from nationalism and toward the pursuit of justice."

Although post-war reconciliation between Japan and the Philippines has generally been less contentious than with China or South Korea, Candelaria emphasizes that "controversial aspects of that wartime past still persist, for which Japan has not fully compensated." Among them, he mentions the unresolved issue of the "comfort women," forced into sexual slavery by the imperial army, which remains an open wound today. Despite Japan's significant investment in development aid and the absence of a direct colonial legacy, the academic believes the Philippines also needs greater critical awareness of its historical memory.

At eighty years old, Hiroshima remains a universal symbol of atomic horror. Manila, on the other hand, is still waiting to be remembered as the warning it was: the brutal prelude to a nuclear outcome.