Eighty years have passed since the Battle of Manila, a devastating chapter of World War II that claimed the lives of an estimated 100,000 civilians in the Philippine capital. As survivors and historians reflect on the carnage wrought by Japanese and US forces in February and March 1945, a poignant narrative emerges—one of loss, resilience, and a determined effort to ensure such tragedies are never forgotten. Amidst personal stories of grief, the legacy of forgiveness, exemplified by former President Elpidio Quirino’s pardoning of Japanese war criminals, offers a complex lens through which to view reconciliation and the enduring scars of war.
Memories of Horror and Loss
For Regina Paterno, now 85, the pain of losing her grandparents during the battle remains vivid. Antonio and Pacita Paterno were killed by Japanese soldiers in mid-February 1945, in a brutal act that saw 17 others perish alongside them. Gathered in a room under military orders, the group was surrounded by furniture set ablaze before a grenade was thrown at Antonio. Pacita’s desperate cries of “Tomodachi! Tomodachi!”—meaning “Friend! Friend!” in Japanese—were met with a fatal gunshot. Regina, who had evacuated to Batangas Province south of Manila, learned of their deaths through postwar tribunal testimonies. Her grandfather, a Supreme Court justice educated at Tokyo Imperial University, had trusted in the reasonableness of the Japanese, often speaking their language at home. That trust was shattered in an instant. 
Regina’s cousin, Silvia Roses Montya, 87, shares a similar burden. Her father, Regina’s uncle, is believed to have been executed by Japanese troops on suspicion of aiding anti-Japanese guerrillas. Returning to Manila after the battle’s end on 3 March 1945, both women were struck by the city’s devastation—churches and western-style buildings reduced to rubble, a landscape of memories erased. Today, they speak at forums and gatherings, not to stoke hatred, but to preserve the memory of what was lost. “War changes people” Regina reflects, choosing to focus on education over resentment.
A Battle That Shaped a Nation
The Battle of Manila, fought between Japanese forces and US troops seeking to liberate the city, was one of the fiercest urban conflicts of the Pacific theatre. Over a month, indiscriminate shelling by US forces and deliberate killings by Japanese soldiers left civilians bearing the heaviest toll. Historians estimate that 100,000 non-combatants perished, caught in a crossfire that spared neither homes nor humanity. The Japanese occupation of the Philippines, which began in 1942, had already sown deep resentment, but the battle’s brutality cemented a collective trauma.
Postwar, the Philippines established war crimes tribunals to hold Japanese military figures accountable. General Tomoyuki Yamashita, among others, was executed for atrocities committed under his command, though debates over his direct responsibility persist among historians. The trials, while offering a semblance of justice, could not erase the anti-Japanese sentiment that gripped the nation. For many, the wounds were too fresh, the losses too personal.
The Legacy of Forgiveness
Against this backdrop of grief and anger, Elpidio Quirino, president from 1948 to 1953, made a decision that would redefine Philippines-Japan relations. In 1953, he granted pardons to 105 Japanese war criminals, including those sentenced to death, despite having lost his wife and three children to Japanese troops during the Battle of Manila. “I do not want my children and my people to inherit from me the hate for people who might yet be our friends for the permanent interest of our country” Quirino stated at the time. His act of clemency, though controversial, laid the groundwork for diplomatic normalisation between the two nations.
In December 2024, a monument honouring Quirino’s legacy was unveiled in Muntinlupa City, Metro Manila, a symbolic nod to his vision of reconciliation. Ricardo Jose, a historian and professor emeritus at the University of the Philippines, whose own grandfather was killed by Japanese forces, praises Quirino’s decision as a necessary step to break the cycle of hatred. “It was the right thing to do so that harboring hatred did not continue” Jose told local media. Yet, he cautions against forgetting the past, arguing that remembering civilian deaths is crucial for fostering genuine understanding and progress in bilateral ties.
Balancing Memory and Reconciliation
Quirino’s pardons were not universally embraced at the time. Many Filipinos, still grappling with personal losses, viewed the release of war criminals as a betrayal of justice. The emotional weight of the Battle of Manila, coupled with the broader horrors of the Japanese occupation, made forgiveness a bitter pill for some to swallow. Yet, over decades, his actions have been re-evaluated as a pragmatic move towards healing and economic cooperation. Japan, in turn, has provided reparations and development aid to the Philippines, while successive governments have worked to acknowledge wartime atrocities, though not always to the satisfaction of survivors.
Today, the relationship between the two countries is one of strategic partnership, bolstered by shared economic interests and regional security concerns. Japan is a major investor in the Philippines, and cultural exchanges have flourished. However, for survivors like Regina and Silvia, the past is not a distant chapter but a lived reality. Their efforts to educate younger generations—through talks and public events—reflect a fear that the horrors of war are fading from collective consciousness. They worry that without active remembrance, humanity risks repeating its darkest mistakes.
A Historian’s Perspective
Ricardo Jose’s dual role as historian and descendant of a victim offers a nuanced view on this delicate balance. He advocates for a forward-looking approach, where learning about wartime atrocities serves not to fuel animosity but to strengthen ties through mutual understanding. “Forgiveness is important, but we should never forget that citizens were killed” he asserts. His work at the University of the Philippines focuses on documenting the war’s impact, ensuring that personal stories like those of Regina and Silvia are preserved alongside official narratives.
Jose also highlights the broader regional context. Across South East Asia, nations grapple with the legacies of Japanese occupation, from Indonesia to Vietnam. Each country has navigated postwar reconciliation differently, shaped by unique historical and political dynamics. In the Philippines, Quirino’s pardons set a precedent for diplomacy over retribution, though the emotional toll on individuals remains a quieter, yet no less significant, story.
The Future of Remembrance
As the 80th anniversary of the Battle of Manila passes, the voices of survivors grow fainter with time, yet their message resonates with urgency. Regina and Silvia, among the last of their generation to bear direct witness to the war, embody a resolve to educate rather than embitter. Their stories, alongside Quirino’s legacy, pose a critical question: how does a nation honour its past without being shackled by it?
In Manila’s schools, community centres, and public spaces, efforts to teach wartime history are gaining traction, often supported by joint initiatives with Japanese organisations. Yet, challenges remain—limited resources, competing political priorities, and the natural erosion of memory as decades pass. For now, the monument to Quirino stands as a reminder of what forgiveness can achieve, even as historians and survivors alike stress that such gestures must be paired with unflinching remembrance. As the Philippines looks ahead, the balance between healing and history remains a work in progress, a delicate dance between generations past and those yet to come.
