The Weight of Mokusatsu

warning – this post includes graphic material 

Today marks the eve of Thanksgiving—a day for families to gather, feast, and reflect on the bounty of their lives. For many, the toughest part of tomorrow will be navigating political conversations at the dinner table. But there are others who would give anything to trade their struggles for such trivial disputes. For some, this day serves as a stark reminder of the enduring scars of war.

Thanksgiving’s origins are rooted not only in gratitude but in the profound ideal of self-determination. Centuries ago, individuals fleeing religious and political persecution risked everything to cross an uncharted ocean, seeking the freedom to live according to their principles. Abraham Lincoln later enshrined the holiday during the Civil War, urging Americans to heal and recommit to a shared purpose. At the time, Thanksgiving was only the third national holiday, meant to inspire unity, reflection, and resolve. It is a day to celebrate our liberty, but also to recognize the sacrifices required to preserve it. Gratitude, when fully embraced, calls us to action—to steward the freedoms we’ve inherited for the generations to come.

Eighty years ago today, the Battle of Peleliu—one of the most brutal and controversial engagements of World War II—came to a harrowing end. It stands as a sobering reminder of the sacrifices made in the fight for self-determination.

Peleliu is infamous for the Imperial Japanese Army’s strategic shift to using caves, tunnels, and bunkers. The battle raged in suffocating heat, with temperatures reaching 115°F, and the air thick with death and despair. The cost of human life and the psychological toll on soldiers were unfathomable.

In his memoir, With the Old Breed, E.B. Sledge paints a chilling picture of the horrors endured. One passage recounts the discovery of a young man's blackened, bloated corpse—head and hands severed, and his mutilated body desecrated with genitals in his mouth. It’s no wonder so many of those boys came home haunted, wearing the infamous "Two-Thousand Yard Stare" immortalized by artist Tom Lea.

This battle, like so many others, is a testament to the high cost of freedom. History teaches us that self-determination is neither free nor easy. Ignoring these lessons is to forfeit the wisdom and resilience they offer.

This idea is echoed in the Japanese word mokusatsu, meaning "to treat with silent contempt" or "to take no notice of." It’s a word with profound historical weight. During World War II, it was used by the Japanese prime minister to reject Allied calls for surrender, which many argue contributed to the escalation of the war and, ultimately, the atomic bombings. Today, mokusatsu serves as a reminder of the dangers of silence in the face of hard truths. But it also challenges us to confront those truths with clarity and courage. You only get that by showing up and stepping up. 

This past June, I had the profound honor of helping veterans return to Normandy for the 80th anniversary of D-Day as I had done for the 75th anniversary. Walking those beaches, touching the sands, and witnessing the tears of men now in their 90s and 100s made history feel vivid and raw. That experience deepened my commitment to understanding and honoring those who fought not just in Europe but also in the Pacific – a portion of history that I’ve too comfortably ignored.

One of the veterans I met for the 75th was Stu Hedley, a young sailor who fought like hell during the attack on Pearl Harbor and endured 13 naval combat missions in the Pacific (and then the Korean War). For the 80th, I met Jim Grebert (and his granddaughter, Helen), an Australian veteran who survived the savage jungle battles of New Guinea and Bougainville. They were not much older than my own son when they were thrust into the crucible of war.

Next year marks the 80th anniversaries of pivotal moments in World War II: Iwo Jima, Okinawa, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and V-J Day. These anniversaries weigh heavily on my mind, particularly in a world where echoes of the past reverberate in the form of geopolitical instability. Honoring these sacrifices requires more than solemn reflection; it demands education, exploration, and action.

I started binging on the below material related to the sacrifices and deep meaning of self determination and the modern challenges with the Chinese Communist Party:

• Books: With the Old Breed, The Pacific War, Downfall, Shogun, and Lost Decade
• Podcasts: The Pacific War Podcast – week by week
• Film and Series: The Pacific, Shogun, and The Eight Hundred

Each of these resources have reinforced the power of leaning into discomfort and facing the hardest truths of history. Growth and hope emerge not from avoidance but from engagement. The more I learn, the more I believe that knowledge, character, and leadership can alter the course of history for the better.

In four months, I’ll join a delegation visiting three major Pacific War battle sites: Peleliu, Iwo Jima (on its 80th anniversary), and Okinawa. This journey is an opportunity to honor the past while confronting the challenges of our present—a world where competing visions of human dignity and self-determination hang in the balance.

History isn’t just about what happened 80 years ago; it’s about who we are today and the choices we make for tomorrow. The Pacific War offers timeless lessons on leadership, character, and the enduring fight for freedom.

If the stories of sacrifice, courage, and leadership resonate with you, I invite you to follow along – and maybe even join us through the experiences and the impact it’ll deliver. Over the coming months, I’ll share reflections, lessons, and insights from this exploration—both historical and modern.

The path to honoring history is not through mokusatsu but through engagement. We honor the legacy of those who gave everything by ensuring their sacrifices shape a better future. Together, we carry forward, transforming reflection into purpose, and purpose into leadership.

Stay tuned and reach out if you’d like to learn more or join in this mission. The journey is just beginning.