Songs of Silence for Asia: The Beheiren, Vietnam, and the Anti-War Culture of 1969

Songs of Silence for Asia: The Beheiren, Vietnam, and the Anti-War Culture of 1969

In a corner of a Japanese city in 1969, young people with guitars in their hands were singing quietly. They were not shouting at the top of their lungs, but rather whispering, "No war. It was another form of "resistance" different from the student movement with Molotov cocktails and sticks flying around.

That year, the Vietnam War had become a quagmire, and U.S. air strikes had spread to Laos and Cambodia. Television images showed villages in flames, crying children, dust and bombs. In response to this reality, a group of young people emerged in Japan, transcending politics and ideology, asking themselves, "Is this something we as human beings should allow? The name of their movement is "Beheiren (Citizens' Coalition for Peace in Vietnam)! Citizens' Coalition for Peace in Vietnam.

Beheiren distanced itself from political parties and organizations and advocated a citizens' movement based on the will of the individual. They appealed for anti-war protests not with violent slogans but with quiet physical expressions, such as silent demonstrations, handwritten placards, and "silent marches" in which people walked in mourning. One of his representative actions was a silent demonstration held in the vicinity of Aoyama Cemetery in Tokyo, where a slow rhythm of mourning drifted through the streets.

In July 1969, the "Shinjuku West Exit Underground Square Folk Guerrilla Incident" occurred. Young people with folk guitars in their hands sang and appealed for anti-war protests in the underground plaza of Shinjuku Station, but they were removed by the police, and arrests were made. The incident sparked a major debate over freedom of expression and the nature of public space, and brought to light the new concept of "freedom of the plaza.

In the "Special Talk" section, writer Hiroyuki Itsuki shares his thoughts on the Beheiren movement and the Vietnam War. Citing the memories of intellectuals who participated in the Spanish Civil War, he asks, "How can we be indifferent to the suffering of the peoples of Asia today? In Itsuki's viewpoint, humanism is based on faith in and sorrow for "humanity," which is more fundamental than political beliefs.

It is noteworthy that "folk songs" were chosen as a means of expression for the movement. The voices of Tokiko Kato, Nobuyasu Okabayashi, and other unknown youths echoed not from a rally, but from the streets, mingling with the noise of the crowded streets and reaching people's ears as a solid appeal. They did not shout against the war, but continued to sing about "sharing the sorrow.

The Beheiren was sometimes derided as "lenient" and "ineffective" compared to the radical student movement. However, the essence of the movement depended not on "nation" or "ideology" but on what "I" as an individual felt and how I moved. It was an action of humanism with a quiet but strong outline.

In the underground plazas of Shinjuku and the tree-lined streets of Aoyama, in Japan far away from Vietnam, the Beheiren people kept asking the question, "What is your connection to this war? How can you say that you had nothing to do with this war? And even now, half a century later, that question still echoes quietly beneath our feet.