By Runjie Ou 8/20/2024
On the fifth day of my field trip, I visited the Memorial Hall of the Victims of the Nanjing Massacre by Japanese Invaders, commonly known as the Nanjing Massacre Museum. This site hosts the annual national ceremony organized by the Chinese government. The museum presents vivid historical records that starkly illustrate the brutality of the massacre. It also serves as a reminder of the importance of anti-fascism and anti-war efforts. Themes of reconciliation and national humiliation are deeply interwoven throughout the exhibits. At the museum’s exit, a wall displays numerous quotes from survivors of the massacre, with the phrase “Don’t forget national humiliation” prominently repeated.
The Nanjing Massacre Museum (NMM) is the most significant site I visited during my field research, providing insights into the narratives of national humiliation in Nanjing. By “narratives,” I am referencing Peter Gries, who defines them as “the stories we tell about our pasts. These stories, psychologists have argued, infuse our identities with unity, meaning, and purpose. We cannot, therefore, radically change them at will” (Gries, 2004). The NMM is not merely a museum of a massacre or holocaust; it is a space where specific historical moments are brought back from the past to be felt in the present, shaping the narrative of national humiliation.
Visiting the museum isn’t easy—even for a native Chinese person like me. The number of daily visitor slots is limited, yet the demand remains consistently high. To secure a visit, you must book a slot at least a week in advance. This suggests that something beyond simple curiosity or interest drives so many Chinese people to visit a museum focused on humiliation and trauma. From the moment you start preparing for your visit, it feels less like a routine museum trip and more like a ceremony or pilgrimage. A towering statue of a grieving woman who lost her children during the massacre stands solemnly in front of the museum. Her gaze, along with those of other figures depicted in nearby statues and paintings, meets you as you pass through the security check at the entrance.
The museum is divided into three sections: an exhibition on the Nanjing Massacre, an exhibition on China’s anti-fascist war, and a smaller memorial dedicated to Chinese comfort women. Historically, the commemoration of national humiliation through a designated memorial day began in the early 20th century. Alongside the national ceremonies, this commemoration was also shaped by evolving public discourse surrounding the image of the Chinese nation. In earlier times, symbols like the dragon or the “Son of Heaven” were used to represent China, invoking a sense of masculine power. However, with the rise of anti-colonial and anti-imperialist struggles, the nation came to be personified as a mother or sister, reflecting a shift in how Chinese identity was portrayed. The narratives of national humiliation became intertwined with stories of witnessing one’s sisters and mothers raped or beaten by invaders, underscoring the sense of collective suffering.
The museum’s layout begins with the exhibition of the massacre and concludes with the exhibition of victory. This progression is undoubtedly intentional, designed to create a ceremonial experience for visitors. And such a place of trauma is hence able to serve as a place for reconciliation: not only for the conciliation between Japan and China, but also for the conciliation between different generations of Chinese people. For this reason, the museum is not just a repository of history; it is a space where the painful history of humiliation is laid bare while simultaneously affirming a bright future for people who are still living.
