Yokota is a UCLA alumnus.
By Ryan Masaaki Yokota
In the dark days after the bombings of Pearl Harbor in December
1941, the authorities came to visit my great-grandfather. Having
classified him as a “dangerous enemy alien” he was
arrested on Jan. 3, 1942.
My great-grandfather had a Buick with a short wave band radio.
The FBI alleged that since he had a radio in his car, he was
monitoring radio signals from Japanese ships off the coast who were
giving him orders. His arrest occurred despite the fact that he had
worked and lived in the United States for over 40 years, working on
the railroads, as a farm laborer, and later in hotels in Los
Angeles.
Five days after classifying him as a “dangerous enemy
alien” and arresting him, the FBI sent him to Los Angeles
County Jail for holding. Seven days later, he was sent to the Tuna
Canyon Detention Camp in Tujunga, and on Feb. 8, they sent him to
the Fort Missoula Department of Justice internment camp in Montana,
along with 2,000 other Japanese “suspects.”
Six months later, thanks to the intervention of a family
friend’s lawyer, he was transferred from Fort Missoula, and
rejoined our family in the Santa Anita Temporary Relocation Center,
where his wife had been incarcerated since May 7. By Oct. 10, 1942,
the family was eventually transferred to the Rohwer, Arkansas
Concentration Camp to join the other 120,000 internees of Japanese
descent.
He had been charged with no crimes, had faced no jury or trial,
and spent a full four years behind barbed wire before being
released with the closing of the camps. For him, whatever
vindication the 1988 Civil Liberties Act could have given him came
too late, as he died before he could receive either an apology or
redress for his incarceration.
Now, 60 years later, it’s hard to believe my eyes and
ears, when I read or hear the news that over 1,200 South Asian,
Middle Eastern and Muslim people have been arrested since the Sept.
11 tragedy, and that many are still being detained without charges,
more than three months after the attacks.
The Constitution guarantees protection against
“unreasonable search and seizure,” and ensures
“due process of law,” the right to a “speedy and
public trial, by an impartial jury.” It guarantees a man the
right to “be informed of the nature and cause of the
accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to
have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and
to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defense.”
But these policies that form the bedrock of our democratic
process have gone out the window. As of this date we don’t
even know the names of the arrestees, what they are being charged
with, where they are being held, and whether they have been
provided with legal representation.
Attorney General John Ashcroft stated that he does not want to
release the names of the incarcerated for their protection, because
he does not want to “create a public blacklist for detainees
that would violate their rights.” Ironically, similarly
baseless and insulting arguments were used in World War II, to
justify the incarceration of 120,000 Japanese Americans: namely,
that they were put in prisons for their own protection.
Most of the current detainees are being held on allegations that
have nothing to do with the Sept. 11 incidents. The majority are
dealing with circumstantial evidence, basic immigration issues, or
other minor violations of the law. In many ways, the arrests
represent an attempt by federal and law enforcement officials to
show that they are doing something in the face of their clear
failure to prevent the attacks on the World Trade Center and
Pentagon.
Yet, innocent lives are being affected in their drive to produce
results. Recently, one of the people incarcerated, a 55-year-old
Pakistani man, died of a heart attack in a New Jersey jail.
According to the Los Angeles Times, Pakistani newspapers have
“estimated that 200 Pakistanis remain unaccounted for in New
York City alone.” Ashcroft has opened up the sweeps to call
for the interrogation of 5,000 more individuals of South Asian,
Middle Eastern, or Muslim descent, and has called on local law
enforcement to enforce these sweeps.
Today, 60 years after the internment of Japanese Americans in
the camps, it seems that people cannot remember that we, as
Americans, can be both victims and victimizers. Clearly, the Sept.
11 attacks were a horrific injustice that our nation must deal
with, sometimes with drastic measures. Yet before we add insult to
injury, let us remember that what is happening to some communities
bears a striking resemblance to the Japanese Internment.
When there is a grave injustice, that we must speak out against
it. We must remember that “we, the people,” who are
committed to freedom, democracy, and justice, must never allow what
happened to the Japanese American community to happen to anyone
else again.