By Jehangir Pocha, Globe correspondent
May 3, 2004
BEIJING Time unearths forgotten truths, and in Niu Haiying's case, history came packaged in an innocent-looking canister.
"I remember the day clearly," Aug. 5 last year, said Niu, who had been working in her mother's tiny recycling shop in Qiqihar, in northeastern China's Heilongjiang Province. "A friend brought in five big cylinders with copper caps. When we cut the copper off one, some substance escaped. It smelled like jam. Almost immediately, my face felt hot and my eyes began to burn."
Only after puzzled local doctors rushed Niu, 27, to a nearby military hospital did she learn that she had come in contact with mustard gas, becoming another Chinese casualty in a war whose weapons still kill although the combat ended almost 60 years ago.
Imperial Japanese forces widely used chemical and biological weapons during their occupation of Chinese territories in the 1930s and in World War II. When Japanese troops fled in 1945, they buried 700,000 to 2 million chemical munitions in Chinese fields, mainly in the eastern provinces of Jilin, Jiangsu, and Heilongjiang.
Chinese officials say that over the years about 16 Chinese have been killed and about 2,000 injured when farmers or laborers accidentally unearthed the corroding arms.
Niu's unwitting release of the mustard gas affected 44 people, three seriously. Li Guizhen, the friend who had brought in the canisters, died. Niu said she suffers loss of breath, fatigue, and mood swings. Doctors said she also runs a high risk of suffering from respiratory diseases and organ failure.
But Niu and some other Qiqihar plaintiffs are determined not to become mere statistics in the saga, reflecting a growing assertiveness by the Chinese in seeking redress over the weapons. They have brought their cases to Japan's courts, seeking unspecified compensation and an apology.
On Wednesday, Niu and four others will travel to Japan to testify before Tokyo District Court. It will be the third such group to petition Japanese courts.
"It's not just that we want compensation," Niu said. "What makes me angry is that Japan refuses to apologize to us. I don't think they realize what they have done to China."
In 1995, Prime Minister Tomiichi Murayama expressed "deep remorse" for Japan's wartime aggression. Still, China and the other Asian countries say such statements fall short of a formal apology.
Tokyo, as part of its obligations under the Chemical Weapons Convention, has agreed to clean up the weapons abandoned in China. The task, expected to cost $1.6 billion, commenced in Bei'an Province in 2000. About 36,000 weapons have been recovered, and the cleanup is expected to be completed by 2007.
But Tokyo has demurred on the issue of compensation, saying China surrendered its rights to war claims when the two countries established diplomatic ties in 1972.
Japanese courts have maintained that line of reasoning when ruling on previous appeals by Chinese plaintiffs seeking damages for injuries they said they suffered under Japanese occupation.
Su Xiang Xing, a lawyer who is working pro bono with Niu and 37 other people in Qiqihar who say they were affected by the weapons, said the 1972 agreement "only covers nation-to-nation compensation and should not exclude charges brought by individuals."
Relying on this interpretation, at least five groups are suing the Japanese government for its use of chemical and biological weapons and other war crimes. One Chinese plaintiff, Xue Peize, who lived near the eastern city of Zhongshan, said Japanese soldiers killed most of his family and village by giving them biscuits laced with cholera germs.
Given the complexities of settling multiparty suits over the same issue, Su wants Japan to establish a foundation to which anyone affected by its chemical or biological weapons can apply for compensation.
The situation is further complicated by crosscurrents in Sino-Japanese relations. Beijing and Tokyo describe their relations as "friendly." Japan has invested more than $30 billion in China in an array of industries, and annual bilateral trade stands at $150 billion. But the two neighbors remain wary of each other.
Analysts say Japan is anxious about China's rise as a global power, and China is disconcerted by what it views as a resurgence of right-wing sentiment in Japan, particularly Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi's visits to the Yasukuni shrine in Tokyo, which honors Japan's war dead.
Robert Karniol, Asia editor of Jane's Defense Weekly, said China also is concerned that Koizumi is seeking to restructure Japan's military to give it a more assertive posture. In return, China is using the stain of Japan's war past to smear its future plans, Karniol said, because "keeping alive [the] memory of the atrocities undermines Japan."
Reports of the lingering effects from Japan's chemical and biological warfare programs have driven a wedge between Japan's conservatives and liberals.
"Some right-wing activists have made some phone calls to my house and tried to intimidate me," said Kohken Tsuchiya, an 80-year-old Japanese lawyer who is aiding some Chinese plaintiffs.
"Some people published pictures of my house in the papers saying, `This is where the lawyer helping the Chinese sue our government lives.' "
Su said neither he nor his clients are receiving assistance, guidance, or support from the Chinese government. "What I can tell you is that the government is not against what we are doing," he said.
At the very least, Beijing is creating a supportive atmosphere for Niu and the other plaintiffs. State-run media are devoting considerable coverage to the lawsuits, and admission to the government-run genocide museum in Nanjing was made free recently. As many as 300,000 civilians died during a so-called reign of terror unleashed by Japanese forces in 1937 in the Chinese city, then called Nanking, and a cache of 17,600 chemical weapons also was discovered there in 2002.
Niu said she has found Tokyo's approach insulting. She said Japanese officials who visited Qiqihar to investigate the mustard gas leak did not meet with her.
"They gave me $40,000 but refused to call it compensation. They called it a `sympathy payment,' "she said by telephone recently. "That's ridiculous. I have huge medical bills. I've lost my stamina and ability to work. I can't even play with my child. I want compensation that accounts for all this."
But "most of all, I want the Japanese government to apologize and admit their criminal behavior during the war," she said. "Without that, how can we feel satisfied?"