Unit 731: 1931-1945
Zoë Luh
*Poem best viewed on desktop
WHEREAS a body is a biological weapon
WHEREAS prisoners were referred to as “logs”
WHEREAS a human is not a human
WHEREAS vivisection is the practice of performing operations on living animals
for the purpose of scientific research
WHEREAS there were no survivors of the experiments
WHEREAS the US investigated General Shiro Ishii on his research with unit 731
WHEREAS Shiro Ishii returned to his private medical practice after the war
WHEREAS the US pardoned doctors in exchange for their research
WHEREAS many of these doctors became prominent in the Japanese medical
community
WHEREAS much of the research was unusable
WHEREAS the medical community in Japan has remained silent on the discoveries
WHEREAS unit 731 began as a research and public health agency
WHEREAS unit 731 is considered the largest and most genocidal germ warfare research
center in human history
WHEREAS Japanese bombers dropped plague and anthrax bombs on Chinese towns
WHEREAS Japan was legally found to have no obligation to compensate victims of
germ warfare
WHEREAS the US used this research in the Korean war
WHEREAS the United States biological weapons program was ended in 1969
WHEREAS one of these doctors founded the Japan Blood Bank to produce dried plasma
WHEREAS the Japan Blood Bank profited from selling blood plasma during the Korean
war
WHEREAS their technology was recognized as world-class
WHEREAS US hospitals are recognized as world-class
WHEREAS war always breeds medical progress
WHEREAS violence brings prestige
WHEREAS bodies are caverns for discovery
WHEREAS we are the underwriting of progress
WHEREAS screaming tongues are problem patients
WHEREAS being silent in a hospital means a voiceless death
WHEREAS a peaceful patient is a silent one
WHEREAS a peaceful patient is a defeated one
WHEREAS I, too, have screamed in a hospital
WHEREAS every reasonable accommodation I’ve gotten has come from my threatening
tongue
WHEREAS I wonder how much of my blood has been un-remembered
WHEREAS my family has stories of Japanese occupation
WHEREAS I wonder how much of my blood has fallen through language gaps
WHEREAS I, too, know doctors as gravediggers
WHEREAS I, too, have been made silent
WHEREAS I, too, am the underwriting of medical progress
Zoë Luh is a queer, disabled, mixed Chinese-American poet and artist currently living on unceded Tiwa lands. They graduated from Oberlin College with a BA in Comparative American Studies, and a minor in Studio Art. She published her first book of poetry, [and time erodes like thunder], with Assure Press in 2020, and has since been featured in In Between Spaces, a disability-centered anthology with Stillhouse Press, as well as several literary publications. They most recently finished the Narrative Shifts digital residency with The Seventh Wave, where they spent the summer engaging in reflective and generative conversations about craft, form, and intention.