A young American-Chinese woman shouldered her way bravely, precisely and ferociously into a long forgotten atrocity and, failing any recognition from the perpetrators of that horror, killed herself. She told her story, The Rape of Nanking, Penguin Books Ltd., England, 1997. It is a rough read of a horrible episode still almost universally denied in Japan.

I believe that being the "man" and being denied killed her. I believe that she tried to hold a mirror to the real and decent soul of today's Japan and strangled on that proud nation's indifference and denial. In meticulously assembled diaries, interviews and photographs (mostly by the men who romped in savagery), she tried to awaken a spirit of remorse and atonement. She failed. And that failure consumed her.

I also believe (as her words belie) that she employed the model of modern Germany to kindle a similar humanistic flame in what the world perceives as a modern, progressive society that is rightly admired. She failed. The passion play consumed the playwright.

I reach out to educators (teacher is not a worthy noun) to cast about for volunteers who might keep her flame burning and honor her vision with a public and continuing demand that Japan atone with honesty.

"Who shall ascend the mountain of the Lord and who shall stand in his holy place?" None of us can possibly do so. But we need to pursue the truth with courage as Iris Chang did. My high school kids are almost insulated from this kind of horror. I have introduced this book to only two classrooms in six years and trembled doing so.

But you are empowered to look for exponents of history's truths in a collegial atmosphere of impartiality. I ask only that you give it a try.