The Power of Fear

For so many reasons, World War II played a significant role in shaping what would become the landscape of 20^th century America. 

For obvious reasons, the tragedies and consequences of World War II must be taught. It is given high priority within American History curricula and is the subject of many written documents, fiction and non-fiction alike.

However, for (pick your adjective) reasons, there are certain parts of this conflict that are glossed over or even completely ignored.  After the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, the U.S. government ordered that many Japanese and Japanese Americans be either arrested or sent to an internment camp.  Some families were held at these camps for several years, being told that it was “for…protection…in the interest of national security…an opportunity…to prove…loyalty” (70).  Conditions, however, were far from ideal, and all individuals living at the internment camps were trapped, fenced in, deprived of many basic freedoms.

In 2011, despite the fears and prejudices that still exist in society, it is not difficult to ask, with incredulity, why such an act was allowed to take place.  How is it that the American public did not cry out in defense of their Japanese and Japanese-American neighbors, their friends, their co-workers, many of whom were American citizens living very Americanized lives?  

In her novel When the Emperor Was Divine, Julie Otsuka addresses this very issue, early on in the book.  The mother, one of the four main characters, is trying to prepare, as much as possible, for the mandatory trip she will be taking with her children the next day.  She stops by the local hardware store, where she interacts with Joe Lundy.  From this one short scene, several things are apparent: Joe respects the woman and thinks highly of her.  He is also embarrassed; even without pictures, it is possible to imagine Joe avoiding eye contact with the woman as subtly as is possible.  This is also indicative of his shame—it is clear that Joe, in his heart, knows that it is wrong for this woman and her children to be forced from their homes, but he knows full well that he has done nothing to protest their fate.  Joe was not alone in this behavior.

However, Joe still attempts to show his solidarity with the woman; his voice and actions in the book almost imply that, because he too has no control over the situation, he just wants her to know that he does not think of her as the government has stereotyped her.  In asking about her leaky roof, talking about the weather, and identifying the pragmatism of using a bucket to collect the intruding rain water, he is conveying that he sees her as she has been—a town resident, a mother, a homeowner, or whatever other role he has known her in.

David Guterson’s novel Snow Falling On Cedars was also written to expose the cruel treatment of so many Japanese and Japanese American individuals during this time, and he too paints a picture of how the relationships between white Americans and Japanese Americans changed and were strained.  Because his book is based around so many different characters, however, and narrated from multiple perspectives simultaneously, he shows a much wider range of emotion and behavior.  There is one scene, for example, that takes place on the morning that the Japanese residents of San Piedro Island in Washington are taking a boat to the mainland to get a bus to a holding camp.  A man runs down a hill by the docks, calling out to his fiancé and hurling a bouquet of blood red roses into the steely gray, foaming ocean.  Others reacted more like Joe, pursuing ‘normal’ conversations and offering to watch out for properties while the owners were away.  But, then, there were those who reacted with violence, defacing properties owned by those singled out by the U.S. government.

And so, despite the subtle kindnesses expressed by Joe and the more overt displays of desperation displayed by the fiancé in Guterson’s novel, it is essential to note the role of fear in driving human behavior—and likely, the role of fear in the general public’s response.  With a government rhetoric encouraging the idea that any Japanese individual could be a spy or a traitor, many Americans—like the woman’s neighbors—did not actively question the internment, allowing their anxieties to be manipulated and their fears to take control.