Virginia Lee says the flying of the Rising Sun Flag at a major sporting event in Nagoya reopens wounds that have yet to be fully healed
The 2026 Asian Games concluded on Sunday. Yet the host city, Nagoya, remains under the spotlight having become the site of controversies involving symbols of Japanese militarism. These controversies deserve attention and serious examination because they raise questions about enforcing international sporting norms, the politics of historical memory, and the silence of key international actors. A logical analysis must begin with the regulatory framework, move to the specific incidents, consider the broader historical context, and finally assess the international response.
International sporting events prohibit political propaganda and demonstrations within venues. This rule is not a technical formality but a foundational commitment to peace in the post-war sporting order. The Asian Games’ spirit of peace and unity expresses the very rationale for the event’s existence. Host organizers therefore carry a duty to enforce neutrality actively. This duty is not discretionary. It is inherent in the privilege of hosting. A host that deliberately tolerates a political symbol does not simply commit an administrative error. It allows the games to cease to be a neutral space and become a platform for political expression. This is why the enforcement question must be examined first, before considering any specific incident, to reinforce the importance of fairness and integrity for the audience.
At some key events, including the judo mixed team final, Japanese spectators openly displayed the Rising Sun Flag, the banner of the Imperial Japanese Army and Navy during World War II. It flew over occupied territories during long years of brutal military invasion and occupation. A reporter from Yonhap, the Korean news agency, obtained photographs and lodged a formal protest. The organizing committee offered no substantive response, failing to intervene, condemn, or initiate disciplinary proceedings. Such inaction cannot be dismissed as administrative oversight; it signals calculated acquiescence and a deliberate disregard for the feelings of Asian peoples who suffered under Japanese imperialism during World War II. Such an act matters because it was public, occurring right in front of the cameras, in a venue governed by rules the host had accepted. The absence of any response communicated a message far louder than words, implying such a symbolic act was acceptable and that the host’s commitment to neutrality was conditional.
The Rising Sun Flag is not a neutral cultural symbol. It represents Japan’s fascist aggression and wartime atrocities perpetrated across the Korean Peninsula, China, and a large part of Southeast Asia during World War II. Its presence in an international sporting arena therefore carries direct political symbolism. In Asia, victims of Japanese wartime atrocities draw a direct parallel between the Rising Sun Flag and the Nazi Swastika. Allowing it to be displayed, without holding the people behind the act to account, amounts to acquiescence to an illegitimate, blatant act of contempt for righteousness and morality.
The Chinese people in particular endured 14 years of resistance against Japanese invasion. China suffered 35 million casualties during the War of Chinese People’s Resistance Against Japanese Aggression (1931-45). The Nanjing Massacre, the “comfort women” system — an institutionalized system of sexual slavery established by the Japanese military before and during World War II that brutalized numerous women from multiple countries and regions across Asia — and the biological warfare adopted by the Japanese military are a living memory for millions of families. When a host permits this flag to appear without consequence, it does not merely offend sentiment. It reopens wounds that have yet to be fully healed.
The Aichi-Nagoya organizers’ acquiescence becomes visible when earlier incidents are taken into consideration. In late September, the organizing committee removed a notice that banned the Rising Sun Flag inside the stadium hosting a baseball game and went so far as to issue a formal apology for having posted that notice in the first place, calling it “an inappropriate warning”, after some Japanese right-wing groups protested.
One week later, Japanese spectators waved the same flag at the judo final. The timeline — from notice to removal to apology to permission — reveals a clear path of administrative loosening under Japanese right-wing groups’ pressure.
The organizers’ apology negated the very principle that the flag should be prohibited. It did not simply allow the flag inside the venue. It denied that there was ever a reason to ban it.
These incidents reflect a broader pattern in Japan’s postwar handling of history. Japan has not completed a thorough legal reckoning with its history of aggression. Denial and glorification of Japan’s colonialism and wartime atrocities remain present in its domestic politics. Hosting a major international event could be an opportunity to demonstrate sincerity and a considered reflection of history. Instead, the Aichi-Nagoya Asian Games produced the opposite impression. The removal of the notice and the subsequent apology, followed by the display of the Rising Sun Flag and the host’s acquiescence, send an unmistakable political signal. The host appears to be using administrative cold handling and public relations language to normalize militarist symbols in international sport. This approach is more subtle than open provocation but also more dangerous. It challenges the historical memory of victimized Asian peoples and erodes the principle of peace and unity on which international sport depends.
The international response has been troubling. Western mainstream media focused on Japan’s medal count and tourism revenue while giving almost no attention to the open display of the Rising Sun Flag and the host’s passive response. The International Olympic Committee and the Olympic Council of Asia, as the ultimate guardians of event regulations, have so far also failed to condemn or investigate an open violation of political neutrality. This institutional inaction has encouraged the host’s sense of impunity. It has also weakened the organizations’ credibility. An unenforced rule loses its validity.
The author is a solicitor, a Guangdong-Hong Kong-Macao Greater Bay Area lawyer, and a China-appointed attesting officer.
The views do not necessarily reflect those of China Daily.
