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Japanese-American Internment & Roosevelt’s Domestic ‘War on Terror’
By Jake Whitney
In early 1942, a World War I veteran named Hideo Murata went to see his local sheriff. The two were old friends, and Murata wanted to know if the stories he was hearing were true, that every person of Japanese descent living on the West Coast would be evacuated to an internment camp. Murata came bearing an “Honorary Citizen” certificate awarded for his Great War service. He showed it to his friend. The sheriff told him that the order would apply to citizens and non-citizens alike, and even war veterans. He would be evacuated with the others.
Murata said goodbye to his friend, rented a hotel room by the beach, and shot himself in the head. When his body was found, Murata was still clutching the certificate. It read: “Monterey County presents this testimonial of heartfelt gratitude, of honor and respect for your loyal and splendid service to the country in the Great War. Our flag was assaulted and you gallantly took up its defense.”
The internment of Japanese Americans is one of the most overlooked tragedies of the 20th century, and Infamy by Richard Reeves picks up on the groundbreaking work of others (the title is a nod to Michi Nishiura Weglyn’s 1976 book, Years of Infamy, as well as to FDR’s speech) to provide a more complete portrait of what the internment process was like. Reeves tells the stories of those who made the policy and those who fought against it but focuses on those who lived it. He traces the lives of a dozen or so Japanese-American families from the attack on Pearl Harbor to the post-war years. While not all the stories are as tragic as Murata’s, they are all heartbreaking in one way or another.
These were farmers and fisherman and shopkeepers and students, and most of them lost everything—homes, businesses, belongings, careers—once they were evacuated to one of 10 camps situated in some of the most inhospitable land in the country. Infamy succeeds as a document of this terrible ordeal. From a narrative standpoint, however, each story is, unfortunately, very similar to the last. But the book’s true significance comes from its relevance to post 9/11 national security policy—particularly as a jarring reminder of how easily Americans can be frightened into swapping their ideals for security. . . .
Murata said goodbye to his friend, rented a hotel room by the beach, and shot himself in the head. When his body was found, Murata was still clutching the certificate. It read: “Monterey County presents this testimonial of heartfelt gratitude, of honor and respect for your loyal and splendid service to the country in the Great War. Our flag was assaulted and you gallantly took up its defense.”
The internment of Japanese Americans is one of the most overlooked tragedies of the 20th century, and Infamy by Richard Reeves picks up on the groundbreaking work of others (the title is a nod to Michi Nishiura Weglyn’s 1976 book, Years of Infamy, as well as to FDR’s speech) to provide a more complete portrait of what the internment process was like. Reeves tells the stories of those who made the policy and those who fought against it but focuses on those who lived it. He traces the lives of a dozen or so Japanese-American families from the attack on Pearl Harbor to the post-war years. While not all the stories are as tragic as Murata’s, they are all heartbreaking in one way or another.
These were farmers and fisherman and shopkeepers and students, and most of them lost everything—homes, businesses, belongings, careers—once they were evacuated to one of 10 camps situated in some of the most inhospitable land in the country. Infamy succeeds as a document of this terrible ordeal. From a narrative standpoint, however, each story is, unfortunately, very similar to the last. But the book’s true significance comes from its relevance to post 9/11 national security policy—particularly as a jarring reminder of how easily Americans can be frightened into swapping their ideals for security. . . .
http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2015/08/19/japanese-american-internment-roosevelt-s-domestic-war-on-terror.html
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