Is freedom more than an illusion?

A recent visit to a very moving, emotionally taxing Japanese-American Exclusion Memorial on Bainbridge Island in Washington State’s Puget Sound generated some disturbing thoughts about the concept of freedom.

The exhibition memorialized one of the darker episodes in our country’s history. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, we experienced a surge of anger and fear directed at people of Japanese descent. Emotions were fueled by long-standing racial prejudices and rumors. Expressions of concern about loyalty, fear of sabotage, or even a potential Japanese invasion of California, Oregon, or Washington served as an excuse for President Franklin D. Roosevelt to sign Executive Order 9066, which led to the transportation and incarceration of more than 120,000 Japanese people.

Two-thirds of the affected racial minority were American citizens. They were relocated to 26 sites in seven western states, including remote locations in Washington, Idaho, Utah and Arizona. We, in essence, imprisoned U.S. citizens in what were fundamentally concentration camps, based only on their race. This was not very different from what the British did during the Second Boer War between 1899 and 1902 in South Africa, or what the Nazis did in Europe during the second world war – be it without the systematic murder of inmates.

Subsequent to our visit at the memorial, we made a point of stopping off at the Panama Hotel, made famous in Jamie Ford’s book “Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet,” which was located at the gateway to Seattle’s Japantown. In it, still displayed, we discovered the belongings of Japanese families left there when they were rounded up and sent to the camps. They were only allowed to keep what they could carry. Many of the stored possessions were never reclaimed.

One of the conspicuous historic documents posted in a display case on the outside of the hotel was a copy of a speech given by Phil S. Gibson, Chief Justice of California, in 1940. Its content struck a chord, and could well have been spoken today. It deserves to be quoted in its entirety:

“There is every reason to believe that we will be called upon again and again to defend our liberties.

We must prepare now for their defense against attacks from within, as well as against attacks that may come from without. It is not necessary, however, to suppress the liberties of our people in order to prepare for their defense. In periods of national emergency, when we are all under great emotional stress, we are likely to be intolerant of others, whose views are not the same as our own.

Many good intentioned but unthinking people seek to deny constitutional freedoms to people who do not agree with the course our government has determined to pursue. In dealing with such situations we should not allow ourselves to be carried away by hysteria. We should be careful not to violate the rights guaranteed by our constitution. Liberty cannot be divided; it cannot be granted to a majority and denied to a minority. In a democracy, freedom means freedom for all. Denial of freedom anywhere in this country means its eventual disappearance everywhere.”

Aside from their historic significance, these words remain relevant within our contemporary political climate. 

Recent promises revealed by candidates contending to assume some of the most powerful political positions our system offers, include the use of internment camps for 15 to 20 million people, “bloody” deportations of Haitians from Springfield, Ohio and Aurora, Colorado, sending them “back to Venezuela.” Aside from this idiotic statement of intent, and the fact that the overwhelming majority of these immigrants have legal Temporary Protected Status, the terminology used is indicative of a racist agenda. They are part of a larger volume of anti-immigrant and dehumanizing rhetoric which actively courts political violence.

The Japanese motto displayed at the memorial reads: “Nidoto Nai Yoni,” “Let it not happen again.

Enough said.