By Jennifer Ju
Facing Ourselves
Jennifer Ju
Guilty until proven innocent? This appears to have been the premise behind the signing of Executive Order 9066 by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt on Feb. 19, 1942 – 80 years ago last month – resulting in the forcible and involuntary removal of 120,000 people of Japanese ancestry from their homes, without a trial or any proof of wrongdoing.
Hastily evacuated by the US government to these internment camps with less than two weeks’ notice, Japanese Americans were left no choice but to abandon their homes and pets, and to sell all their belongings at a startling fraction of the actual value, as they were given no guarantee of when they would be able to return to their homes or if anything would be left when they were released. They were then transported by bus and train to one of ten “War Relocation Centers” in remote areas of the United States.
These War Relocation Centers were internment camps in which Japanese Americans were stripped of their rights and imprisoned against their will. So sudden was the forced relocation that many Japanese Americans were temporarily held in stables until the construction of the camps was complete.
The camps were often constructed in areas with harsh climate and inhospitable surroundings, frequently featuring tarpaper barracks for housing and surrounded by barbed wire. Around the clock supervision was also provided by armed guards, whose orders were to shoot and kill any who tried to escape.
These actions were allegedly a justified response to the Dec. 7, 1941 attack by Japan on Pearl Harbor.
Fueled by anti-Japanese propaganda, including unwarranted allegations that these Japanese Americans, two-thirds of whom were US citizens who had been born in America, were potential spies, racial tensions continued to escalate to a fevered pitch about the danger of “yellow peril” in the midst of “real” American citizens. Japanese Americans were accused of potentially betraying the United States based solely on their skin color, despite the fact many had never been to Japan. Some internees had actually served in the US military during World War I.
Even in the face of such unjust treatment, over 33,000 Japanese Americans still voluntarily enlisted in the US military during World War II. They served with distinction, including when the 522 Field Artillery Battalion liberated of one or more subcamps of the Dachau concentration camp.
Although Japanese Americans protested their internment, the US Supreme Court upheld the executive order in the 1944 Korematsu v. United States case, stating that the restriction of civil rights of a racial group was justified when there is a “pressing public necessity.”
The internment continued until 1946, when it was ended by executive order from President Harry Truman. However, heightened hostilities against Japanese Americans remained. Signs such as “No Japs wanted” were commonly seen in the communities to which the Japanese Americans attempted to return. Because many of their former ties were severed by ongoing racism, many Japanese Americans were forced to scatter and start over in new locations throughout the country.
In spite of the injustices suffered by Japanese Americans, there was no attempt to apologize or offer significant reparations until the Civil Liberties Act of 1988 was passed, in the face of heavy resistance from President Ronald Regan and legislators who were opposed to an increase in federal spending. The act included provision of $20,000 restitution to each surviving intern. It also openly stated that “race prejudice, war hysteria, and a failure of political leadership,” were the driving forces behind the government’s actions, rather than valid security concerns.
Even though the act also included the creation of the Civil Liberties Public Education Fund (CLEF) in order to educate the public about the Japanese internment and “discourage the occurrence of similar injustices and violations of civil liberties in the future,” the original authorized fund of $50 million for this purpose was put on hold until 1994. It was eventually reduced to $5 million, a meager portion of the original amount, which was spent in the 1990s.
Many Americans say that they never learned about the Japanese internment to any significant extent in school.
The Civil Liberties Act did acknowledge, as well as apologize and make restitutions for, the “fundamental injustice of the evacuation, relocation and internment of United States citizens and permanent resident aliens of Japanese ancestry during World War II.” It also declared the intent to “make more credible and sincere any declaration of concern by the United States over violations of human rights committed by other nations.”
However, there is an increasing debate over the extent of US involvement in the widespread violation of human rights around the world. At what point should our country let other nations deal with their own troubles?
Some say that the $20,000 payment made to each surviving internee is sufficient reparation for past injustice. After all, shouldn’t we let bygones be bygones?
The evidence suggests otherwise. In “The Experience of Injustice: Health Consequences of the Japanese American Internment,” Gwendolyn M. Jensen writes, “Long-term health consequences included psychological anguish as well as increased cardiovascular disease. Survey information found former internees had a 2.1 greater risk of cardiovascular disease, cardiovascular mortality, and premature death than did a non-interned counterpart.”
The effects of trauma cannot be neatly and conveniently relegated to the category of a “bygone.”
Trauma can be inherited by descendants as well. This is not surprising, given what we know of epigenetics. Epigenetics studies how experiences, including generational trauma, are imprinted in our genes and inherited by our descendants. Systemic racism is just one of many examples of trauma that continue to impact each new generation.
Trauma and injustice, like history, are doomed to repeat themselves without the appropriate intervention.
So how far have we really come? Decades of anti-Asian sentiment, based in part on the belief that Asians are foreigners whose alliance is questionable, was at the heart of laws restricting land ownership and citizenship, and subsequently set the stage for Executive Order 9066, which was met with little protest from non-Asian groups. Although revisited multiple times, the 1944 Korematsu v. United States Supreme Court decision was never officially overturned.
After the terrorist attacks on Sept. 11, 2001, suspicions of Arab Americans were widespread, with many accusing individuals of this background of being potential terrorists. In the Supreme Court ruling on the 2018 executive order banning travel from specific countries, justices debated and disagreed about whether the travel ban was comparable to the 1944 decision. The Black Lives Matter movement, started in 2013 after the acquittal of George Zimmerman in the shooting death of Trayvon Martin, continues to grow as more Black lives are lost due to racism. The recent backlash against Asian Americans falsely accused of orchestrating the COVID-19 pandemic is another sobering example. Unfortunately, there are far too many additional incidents of ongoing injustice.
As a Korean American, wondering if we would follow in the footsteps of those before us if we entered into a war with North Korea gives me pause. Would I be imprisoned in an internment camp? I was born in this country, have relatives who are of South Korean descent, and have traveled to South Korea only twice in my life, for two weeks when I was 18 months old and again in 2019. Would I have to fear that other harm could befall my family and me, although we are all US citizens? Although the idea that this could happen in modern times may sound preposterous, the preponderance of historical events suggest that we are quite capable of reenacting measures based on fear and hatred.
As Shakespeare writes in “The Tempest,” what’s past is prologue. It is important to remember that history sets the tone for the present, and what we do now shapes the future. ‘
What steps can we take to mitigate trauma and to prevent such injustice from happening again? We prioritize education. We do not forget. We take time to reflect on historical events, such as the 80th anniversary of Japanese American internment, and we learn from them. We acknowledge wrongdoing without defensiveness. We make reparations. We join the efforts of groups whose race is different from our own, and bear witness to their pain and ongoing struggle. We open our hearts to not only our own suffering, but the suffering of others. We remember our shared humanity.
Jennifer Ju, MD is a physician who is a graduate of the Brown University family medicine residency program. She is also an actor and writer who has performed in various theatres across the state and whose plays have been produced locally. Ju has also presented numerous online and in-person workshops on mindfulness, health and wellness for parents and children, as well as for pre-K-12 educators in New Haven and Fairfield counties.