Twilight of the warlike: The long shadow of defeat in Germany and Japan

In the first half of the twentieth century, Germany and Japan emerged as the most aggressive and militarized powers in the world. Driven by expansionist ideologies and imperial ambitions, Germany sought domination over Europe, while Japan aimed to carve out a vast empire across Asia. Their convergence in the Axis alliance was a cataclysmic expression of nationalism weaponized on a global scale.

But defeat in the Second World War brought about a profound transformation. Stripped of military might, shamed by atrocities, and ravaged by bombings—Germany and Japan lost not only the war, but their appetite for warfare itself. What followed was one of the most remarkable cultural and political turnarounds in modern history: two militarist societies recast themselves as champions of peace.

Germany was divided—its eastern half falling under Soviet control, the western under American. Japan, though left territorially intact, suffered a more symbolic rupture: the nuclear devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, coupled with extensive firebombing of major cities, left scars that would shape national consciousness for generations. In both countries, postwar reconstruction was overseen not merely by military occupiers, but by civilizational re-engineers.

By the 1960s, both nations had staged astonishing economic recoveries. Japan became the world’s second-largest economy in 1968, a position it held until China’s meteoric rise displaced it in 2010. Germany, after reunification in 1990, reemerged as the political and economic center of gravity in Europe. Yet strikingly, neither nation has attempted to revive its martial legacy. Both have embraced diplomacy, institutional engagement, and economic power as their preferred instruments of influence.

This turn toward pacifism, however, invites deeper scrutiny. The cultural shift that followed 1945 was sudden—imposed from above, nurtured by occupation, and reinforced by geopolitical constraints. Such transformations, while historically significant, are not always permanent. Pacifism in postwar Germany and Japan has often been described as pragmatic rather than philosophical: a product of necessity, not conviction.

In contrast, the Indian (Hindu) civilizational mind has been steeped in nonviolence for millennia. Traditions such as Buddhism, Jainism, and Vedantic thought have long emphasized restraint, compassion, and ethical introspection. Pacifism in the Indian context is not merely a political strategy—it is a spiritual orientation deeply woven into the fabric of social life. By this standard, the peaceful postures of Germany and Japan may appear thin—achievements of policy rather than culture.

The 21st century, marked by rising geopolitical tensions and resurgent nationalism, may test the durability of their pacifist identities. Beneath the surface of restraint may lie dormant impulses—humiliated national pride, unprocessed trauma, or strategic ambitions. Should the global order shift dramatically, Germany and Japan might not remain indefinitely pacific. Their historical capacity for mobilization, discipline, and technological innovation remains intact—and could, under new pressures, take on a very different direction.

Peace, after all, is not the natural state of nations. It is a cultural construct—fragile, contingent, and forever at risk of unraveling.