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Boston Globe
2 days ago
- Politics
- Boston Globe
Masaoki Sen, ex-kamikaze pilot and ‘tea ceremony diplomat,' dies at 102
Traveling the world to engage in a kind of tea-ceremony diplomacy, he used that ancient art, whose roots lie in Zen Buddhism, to call for an end to all wars. He was known for the phrase 'peacefulness through a bowl of tea.' Advertisement Following Japanese traditions, he went by several names during his lifetime. As grandmaster of the Urasenke, he was called Soshitsu Sen XV, a title that evoked his school's lineage back to Rikyu Sen, a philosopher of the tea ceremony who taught it to medieval warlords. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up After retiring in 2002, he took the name Genshitsu Sen, a gesture that allowed his eldest son, Masayuki, to become the next Soshitsu. In a statement released by the Urasenke, the son said his father had weakened physically after injuring his hip in a fall three months ago. When his breathing stopped suddenly, efforts were not made to prolong his life, in accordance with Mr. Sen's wishes. Complete information on his survivors was not immediately available. Advertisement Nobel laureate and Myanmar opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi served tea she made to Mr. Sen in Kyoto, Japan, in 2013. Uncredited/Associated Press Masaoki Sen was born in Kyoto on April 19, 1923, the eldest son and thus heir apparent of the Urasenke grandmaster at the time. That stature appeared to have saved him during the war. After leaving Doshisha University in 1943, he was drafted into the Imperial Navy, where he trained to be a pilot. When his unit was asked to form a 'special attack' squadron to carry out suicide missions, Mr. Sen was one of the volunteers. 'I thought I was ready to die,' he said in an interview with a Japanese newspaper in 2021. 'But I was just a greenhorn of 20 or 21 years of age. I didn't know what death meant.' While many young men in his unit flew off to intentionally crash their planes into Allied ships, Mr. Sen was never sent. Historians say the Japanese military often spared families' oldest sons, especially those from historically significant households. After the war, Mr. Sen asked a former commander why he was never sent. The older man answered: 'Just think of it as fate.' Unlike many war veterans, Mr. Sen spoke openly of his experiences and of his sorrow over the loss of comrades who never returned. He also made no effort to disguise his anger toward the Japanese leaders who had sent them on one-way missions. 'We were told to die because others would fill our ranks,' he said in another interview. 'But who wants to die?' Given a second chance at life, Mr. Sen used his hereditary grandmaster role to turn the ancient art of making and serving tea into a means of promoting peace for nearly four decades, giving demonstrations and lectures in Japan and around the world. Advertisement He continued his mission after retirement. In 2011, he conducted a tea ceremony in Pearl Harbor to honor the crew of the USS Arizona, a battleship sunk by the Japanese in their surprise attack on Dec. 7, 1941. He said at the time, 'Facing what happened in the past and relaying its lessons to future generations is the responsibility of those of us who survived.' This article originally appeared in
5 days ago
- General
Genshitsu Sen, Japanese tea master and former Kamikaze pilot trainee, dies at 102
TOKYO -- Genshitsu Sen, a former Kamikaze pilot trainee and grand master of the Japanese tea ceremony who promoted peace through the art of tea, has died, officials said Thursday. He was 102. Sen had been hospitalized since falling and experiencing difficulty walking in May. He died early Thursday after developing breathing trouble, Urasenke officials said. As a survivor of Japan's wartime Kamikaze suicide program who saw many of his fellow pilots take off for one-way flights, Sen was a staunch anti-war advocate and promoted 'peacefulness through a bowl of tea.' 'Serving tea brings peace to everyone," he said. 'If everyone feels peaceful, there will be no war.' Sen became the 15th Grand Master of the Urasenke school of Japanese tea ceremony in 1964. Urasenke is one of three top schools founded in the early 17th century based on the teachings of Sen no Rikyu. As grand master, Sen performed the tea ceremony more than 300 times in 70 countries to promote the art of Chado, or the way of tea, and global peace, earning him the nickname 'flying teamaster.' He hosted tea ceremonies to pray for peace in milestone years marking the end of the war and, in 2011, served tea at the USS Arizona memorial in Honolulu, Hawaii, to pay tribute to those who died in the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. Sen was born in 1923 in Japan's ancient capital of Kyoto. He was only 6 years old when he first took lessons to become a grand master. His future was mired in uncertainty during the war. In 1941, the year he entered Doshisha University in Kyoto, Japan launched the war on the United States, and two years later he was among 100,000 students mobilized to fight. In 1943, Sen was conscripted to the Imperial Navy and began training to be a Kamikaze pilot, but the war ended before he was deployed. Sen brought his tea ceremony equipment with him when he joined the navy and served a group of several fellow trainees a farewell tea before their mission. He handed over his grand mastership to his son in 2002, but continued to promote tea and peace until earlier this year. His wake and funeral were to be held by close family only and a memorial is expected at a later date, Urasenke said.
Winnipeg Free Press
5 days ago
- General
- Winnipeg Free Press
Genshitsu Sen, Japanese tea master and former Kamikaze pilot trainee, dies at 102
TOKYO (AP) — Genshitsu Sen, a former Kamikaze pilot trainee and grand master of the Japanese tea ceremony who promoted peace through the art of tea, has died, officials said Thursday. He was 102. Sen had been hospitalized since falling and experiencing difficulty walking in May. He died early Thursday after developing breathing trouble, Urasenke officials said. As a survivor of Japan's wartime Kamikaze suicide program who saw many of his fellow pilots take off for one-way flights, Sen was a staunch anti-war advocate and promoted 'peacefulness through a bowl of tea.' 'Serving tea brings peace to everyone,' he said. 'If everyone feels peaceful, there will be no war.' Sen became the 15th Grand Master of the Urasenke school of Japanese tea ceremony in 1964. Urasenke is one of three top schools founded in the early 17th century based on the teachings of Sen no Rikyu. As grand master, Sen performed the tea ceremony more than 300 times in 70 countries to promote the art of Chado, or the way of tea, and global peace, earning him the nickname 'flying teamaster.' He hosted tea ceremonies to pray for peace in milestone years marking the end of the war and, in 2011, served tea at the USS Arizona memorial in Honolulu, Hawaii, to pay tribute to those who died in the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. Sen was born in 1923 in Japan's ancient capital of Kyoto. He was only 6 years old when he first took lessons to become a grand master. His future was mired in uncertainty during the war. In 1941, the year he entered Doshisha University in Kyoto, Japan launched the war on the United States, and two years later he was among 100,000 students mobilized to fight. In 1943, Sen was conscripted to the Imperial Navy and began training to be a Kamikaze pilot, but the war ended before he was deployed. Sen brought his tea ceremony equipment with him when he joined the navy and served a group of several fellow trainees a farewell tea before their mission. He handed over his grand mastership to his son in 2002, but continued to promote tea and peace until earlier this year. His wake and funeral were to be held by close family only and a memorial is expected at a later date, Urasenke said.
Los Angeles Times
08-08-2025
- Politics
- Los Angeles Times
Bombing Hiroshima and Nagasaki was a moral necessity
This week marks the 80th anniversary of President Truman's fateful decision to drop atomic bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki (respectively, Aug. 6 and 9, 1945). To date, those two bombings represent the only instances in which nuclear weapons have been deployed in war. At least 150,000 Japanese perished — a majority of them civilians. But the bombings were successful in achieving their intended effect: Japan announced its formal surrender to the Allies six days after the second bombing, finally bringing the bloodiest conflict in human history to an end. For decades, ethical opposition to Truman's decision has mostly come from left-wing critics. That seems to be changing. Last year, Tucker Carlson claimed that nuclear weapons were created by 'demonic' forces and asserted that the United States was 'evil' for dropping the bomb on Japan. Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard also posted a highly peculiar video in June that, while falling short of apologizing for the bombs, did pointedly warn of 'warmongers' who are bringing the world to the brink of 'nuclear holocaust.' This is misguided. Looking back eight decades later, Truman's decision deserves not condemnation but a tragic and grudging gratitude. It was the right decision, and America must never apologize for Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Critics often portray Truman's decision as an act of monstrous brutality — a flex of raw military might by a sadistic and trigger-happy superpower. But such characterizations, drenched in presentist moral narcissism, do a grave disservice to the reality on the ground and the countless lives Truman undoubtedly saved. They are also a grave disservice to the memory of all those killed by the Japanese at Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. Carlson and his fellow ultra-pacifists should visit Pearl Harbor and stand over the sunken USS Arizona, the final resting place of more than 900 sailors and Marines. One can still see and smell the oil leaking from the ships, all these decades later; it is an extraordinary experience. Shocking sensory intakes aside, the sober reality is that the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, no matter how morbid and macabre, were strategically and morally correct. When Truman authorized the use of the atomic bombs, he faced a truly appalling alternative: a full-scale land invasion of Japan. Operation Downfall, the planned invasion of the Japanese home islands, had projected American and Japanese casualties potentially reaching as high as a million lives each. Imperial Japan, steeped in a kamikaze warrior ethos, had proven time and again — at Iwo Jima, Okinawa and elsewhere — that it would fight to the last man, woman and child. Schoolchildren were being trained to attack American troops with sharpened bamboo sticks. Fighting to the death was not mere speculation; it was core doctrine. The underdiscussed truth is that imperial Japan was just as ruthless as its Nazi German wartime ally. And the atomic bombs — absolutely horrific though they were — finally shocked Japan into surrender. They punctured its carefully curated myth of divine invincibility and left Tokyo's bellicose leadership with no doubt that continued resistance could only mean annihilation. More than 100,000 Americans had already been killed in the Pacific theater, and those who had survived were overjoyed by Truman's decision: They knew they would live and return home to their families. Truman's decision also affirmed a deeper American nationalistic sentiment: that from an American perspective, the safety and security of American lives must necessarily be prioritized over foreign lives. Truman did not see any moral virtue in sacrificing our soldiers on the altar of an abstract globalism or a relativistic humanitarianism. His first obligation as commander in chief was to protect American lives by securing a final, unconditional end to the war. In this, he succeeded — resoundingly. Critics often claim Japan was already on the brink of surrender. They point to back-channel diplomacy and note the Soviet declaration of war the day prior to the bombing of Nagasaki. But Truman didn't have the benefit of postwar memoirs or archival research. He had bloodied maps, hundreds of thousands of dead soldiers, grieving families and military intelligence suggesting the Japanese army would never accept unconditional surrender without a shock so great it shattered their will to fight. This, too, reflects a clarity that modern Western leaders often lack: the resolve to act decisively, to bear the weight of terrible decisions in pursuit of peace and justice. Truman's choice was not only militarily sound but morally defensible. Nor were the bombings, as many armchair critics have argued over the decades, a form of ethical utilitarianism; Truman's decision to bomb was simply reflective of how real war-and-peace decisions must be made in the heat of the moment. It is fashionable now to question the morality of Truman's decision from the safety of the present. But it is an act of historical myopia to pretend that the atomic bombings were gratuitous or overly callous. They were not. They were the tragic price of a brutal victory and the necessary cost of hard-fought peace. War, we know, is hell. Indeed, that is a very good reason to avoid starting wars in the first place. But once upon a time, Western societies understood that once a horrific war has been initiated, there can be no substitute for absolute victory. That lesson has long been forgotten. It is past time to learn it once again. Josh Hammer's latest book is 'Israel and Civilization: The Fate of the Jewish Nation and the Destiny of the West.' This article was produced in collaboration with Creators Syndicate. @josh_hammer
Newsweek
08-08-2025
- Politics
- Newsweek
America Must Never Apologize for Dropping the Bombs on Japan
This week marks the 80th anniversary of President Harry Truman's fateful decision to drop atomic bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki (respectively, Aug. 6 and 9, 1945). To date, those two bombings represent the only instances in which nuclear weapons have been deployed in war. At least 150,000 Japanese perished—a majority of them civilians. But the bombings were successful in achieving their intended effect: Japan announced its formal surrender to the Allies six days after the second bombing, thus finally bringing the bloodiest conflict in human history to an end. For decades, ethical opposition to Truman's decision has mostly come from left-wing critics. That seems to be changing. Last year, Tucker Carlson claimed that nuclear weapons were created by "demonic" forces and asserted that the United States was "evil" for dropping the bomb on Japan. Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard also posted a highly peculiar video in June that, while falling short of apologizing for the bombs, did pointedly warn of "warmongers" who are bringing the world to the brink of "nuclear holocaust." This is misguided. Looking back eight decades later, Truman's decision deserves not condemnation but a tragic and grudging gratitude. It was the right decision, and America must never apologize for Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Critics often portray Truman's decision as an act of monstrous brutality—a flex of raw military might by a sadistic and trigger-happy superpower. But such characterizations, drenched in presentist moral narcissism, do a grave disservice to the reality on the ground and the countless lives Truman undoubtedly saved. They are also a grave disservice to the memory of all those killed by the Japanese at Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941. Carlson and his fellow ultra-pacifists should visit Pearl Harbor and stand over the sunken USS Arizona, the final resting place of more than 900 sailors and marines. One can still see and smell the oil leaking from the ships, all these decades later; it is an extraordinary experience. Shocking sensory intakes aside, the sober reality is that the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, no matter how morbid and macabre, were strategically and morally correct. When Truman authorized the use of the atomic bombs, he faced a truly appalling alternative: a full-scale land invasion of Japan. Operation Downfall, the planned invasion of the Japanese home islands, had projected American and Japanese casualties potentially reaching as high as a million lives each. The Imperial Japanese, steeped in a kamikaze warrior ethos, had proven time and again—at Iwo Jima, Okinawa, and elsewhere—that they would fight to the last man, woman, and child. Schoolchildren were being trained to attack American troops with sharpened bamboo sticks. Fighting to the death was not mere speculation; it was core Imperial Japanese doctrine. FILE - In this Aug. 6, 1945, file photo released by U.S. Air Force, a column of smoke rises 20,000 feet over Hiroshima, western Japan, after the first atomic 5-ton "Little Boy" bomb was released.... FILE - In this Aug. 6, 1945, file photo released by U.S. Air Force, a column of smoke rises 20,000 feet over Hiroshima, western Japan, after the first atomic 5-ton "Little Boy" bomb was released. The U.S. dropped a uranium bomb on Hiroshima on Aug. 6, 1945, killing 140,000 people in the world's first atomic attack. Three days later, it dropped a plutonium bomb on Nagasaki, killing another 74,000. (George R. Caron/US Air Force via AP, File) More George R. Caron/AP The under-discussed truth is that Imperial Japan was just as ruthless and barbaric as its Nazi German wartime ally. And the atomic bombs—absolutely horrific though they were—finally shocked Japan into surrender. They punctured Japan's carefully curated myth of divine invincibility and left Tokyo's bellicose leadership with no doubt that continued resistance could only mean utter annihilation. More than 100,000 Americans had already been killed in the Pacific theater, and those who had survived were overjoyed by Truman's decision: They knew they would live and return home to their wives and children. Truman's decision also affirmed a deeper American nationalistic sentiment: that from an American perspective, the safety and security of American lives must necessarily be prioritized over foreign lives. Truman did not see any moral virtue in sacrificing our soldiers on the altar of an abstract globalism or a relativistic humanitarianism. His first obligation as commander-in-chief was to protect American lives by securing a final, unconditional end to the war. In this, he succeeded—resoundingly. Critics often claim Japan was already on the brink of surrender. They point to back-channel diplomacy and note the Soviet declaration of war the day prior to the bombing of Nagasaki. But Truman didn't have the benefit of postwar memoirs or archival research. He had bloodied maps, hundreds of thousands of dead soldiers, grieving families, and military intelligence suggesting the Japanese military would never accept unconditional surrender without a shock so great it shattered their will to fight. This, too, reflects a clarity that modern Western leaders often lack: the resolve to act decisively, to bear the weight of terrible decisions in pursuit of peace and justice. Truman's choice was not only militarily sound but morally defensible. The bombings were not, as many armchair critics have argued over the decades, a cheap form of ethical utilitarianism; Truman's decision to bomb was simply reflective of how real war-and-peace decisions must be made in the heat of the moment, when the stakes are the highest. It is fashionable now to question the morality of Truman's decision from the safety of the present. But it is an act of historical myopia to pretend that the atomic bombings were gratuitous or overly callous. They were not. They were the tragic price of a brutal victory and the necessary cost of hard-fought peace. War, we know, is hell. Indeed, that is a very good reason to avoid starting wars in the first place. But once upon a time, Western societies understood that once a horrific war has been initiated, there can be no substitute for absolute victory. That lesson has long been forgotten. It is past time to learn it once again. Josh Hammer is Newsweek senior editor-at-large, host of "The Josh Hammer Show," senior counsel for the Article III Project, a research fellow with the Edmund Burke Foundation, and author of the new book, Israel and Civilization: The Fate of the Jewish Nation and the Destiny of the West (Radius Book Group). Subscribe to "The Josh Hammer Report," a Newsweek newsletter. X: @josh_hammer. The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.
