On a recent holiday from my teaching post in Shikoku, Japan, I visited the island of Okinawa. I went for vacation, foolishly seeking that white sandy beach secluded in the middle of nowhere. Not expecting a political lesson, I nonetheless discovered that seclusion is all but impossible to come by in overpopulated Japan. So, I traded my bathing suit and towel for pen and paper, and turned my “lie-on-the-beach” holiday into another chapter in my Japanese education.
Much easier than learning the Japanese language (At times, it seems like even the Japanese themselves only feign full literacy!), the cultural learning curve is as steep as the climb up Mt. Fuji. Every day I learn what it means to be Japanese, and perhaps more importantly, what being American means to the Japanese people. The Japanese way of life is so different from our own that you can't help but reevaluate your positions on everything from food choices to peace treaties. Japan just has a way of whittling a Westerner's beliefs down to the core.
Perhaps that is why international travel is still important even now, amidst terror threats and high anxiety. At a time when many Americans feel the rest of world has an unjustified axe to grind, going abroad to see how our policies affect people seems a surefire way to shed light on our enemy's motives.
But Japan? Japan is one of America's most loyal allies, a peaceful, modern nation who would surely never attack us again...right? Perhaps, but precisely because of this loyalty, Japan offers a case study for the effects of American policy abroad, before foreigners decide that these policies are oppressive and demand redress.
Moreover, Okinawa - my foolishly chosen paradise - though politically ruled by Tokyo's Diet, is not Japanese at all, and America's strong-armed policies here at the very least cause controversy, at the very worst, hatred.
On the Kokusai-dori of Naha, the bustling main drag of Okinawa's commercial port, American soldiers are the thunder to Japanese rain, shopping boisterously as only Americans can, much to the chagrin of the reserved native merchants. Fighter planes can be heard whizzing above at all hours of the day. The rest of Okinawa is also blanketed with soldiers, who journey off the 12 American bases seeking respite from the arduous military exercises. The shops in Naha are replete with US army merchandise and paraphernalia, seemingly the only way for the natives to make a living off the American novelty. Whatever the case, these jaunts off base have led to countless noise disturbances, fights and even rapes. It was both painful and embarrassing to realize how resentful the Okinawans were of this lewd and raucous behavior.
The military has been stationed here since WWII, when B-29's island hopped through Okinawa on their way to mainland Japan. At the time the fighting was the bloodiest battle of the Pacific Theater, and the death tolls from the battle convinced many U.S. policymakers that using the A-bomb would cause fewer total deaths than invading mainland Japan.
The Okinawans had fought hard, so hard that they scared U.S. politicians, who mistakenly thought that the Japanese/Okinawans would be as zealous fighters in Tokyo, as they were on the island of Okinawa. Ironically, since Okinawans and Japanese do not share the same bloodlines that logic was somewhat flawed.
Yet it was the logic of the time. Similarly, Cold War logic proscribed a hefty dose of U.S. bases abroad, and so Okinawan bases were retained for deterrent purposes against the Russians. Ever since, America has had a military presence here.
Now that the Cold War is over, American soldiers may be better stationed elsewhere, and the Okinawans should be left to enjoy an autonomous existence. Notwithstanding the conceivable justification for the continued use of Okinawa as a base to counteract the possible threat posed by North Korea, Okinawa deserves both autonomy and independence. Yet Okinawans have a rocky mountain to climb, with two capital peaks in the way, Tokyo and Washington.
Okinawans are not Japanese, though I thought they were at first. As the largest island of a chain that attaches to mainland Japan like a tail on a dragon, Okinawa has always been separated geographically, but was politically subdued by the Japanese in 1879. Perhaps like Hawaii's relationship with the United States, many of its residents probably would like to be independent, but the prospect seems distant and hopeless. Although the Japanese give the Okinawans political protection and a world voice larger than the island could muster on its own, they also suppress the Ryukyu cultural identity in the process. Many Okinawans, though conversant in Japanese, still speak Uchinaguchi, a language dating back to the Ryukyu dynasty, but it is rare to hear it on the street, perhaps because it does not translate well with the currency of tourism. And tourism seems to make the sun shine here in Okinawa, as mainland Japan sends tourists by the planeload (myself, regrettably included). Many, though certainly not all, Japanese treat Okinawa as a colony, disrespecting both the land (treading on beautiful Okinawan coral reefs by the tour group) and the people (on the whole, the Japanese feel, and sometimes act, superior to Asians of non-Japanese descent).
Ironically, in the bloodiest battle of the Pacific Theater of WWII, the Okinawans suffered the most devastating casualties fighting for the Japanese cause. (As the US pushed the Japanese back to the mainland, she may well have attacked Okinawa anyway, but an unaligned island surely would have suffered less casualties). Okinawa may have lost as many as 2/3 of its male population in the forty-day battle. Since that time, Okinawans have dealt with a constant American presence, but problems with the Japanese have also continued. With American bases using precious land and ports for military operations, many Okinawans have sought remuneration from the Japanese government - not the United States. Just last week (11/14) a group of landowners fought for money in a Fukuoka high court on the basis that their right to personal property - guaranteed under the Japanese constitution - had been violated by the U.S. bases. At least tacitly, however, the Japanese government approves of the bases, perhaps because they serve both as a symbol of Japan’s alignment with the West and as deterrent to North Korea and China.
In 1997, 86% of the residents of Nago, a port city on the northwest coast of Okinawa, voted against plans to build a new U.S. base offshore. The plan was supposed to phase out the U.S. presence on the island itself, but perhaps was rejected because the people of Okinawa don't want any U.S. presence at all. Tokyo, maybe not surprisingly, seemed to have missed the message. The Japanese government was attempting to relieve the Okinawans of the bases, but no other region in Japan would accept new bases on their land. If 86% of the Nago population - the ones who deal with the noise, file the land disputes, and deal with the rapes - say no to a U.S. presence, what cause is there for a U.S. presence?
No matter what Tokyo or Washington may argue – the interests of security, stability, the creation of jobs – the decision should not be theirs to make. But Okinawans have an independence question dating back over a century, and not just with America. Perhaps then, they must hammer out autonomy from Tokyo before making demands on Washington.
Cultural understanding is a difficult thing to define. Is it the toleration of another's ideas
and values, or is the embracing of them and the curiosity to incorporate a neighbor's way into your own? Because the decision to come to Japan was my own, it was a decision to not only live here, but also to learn the language, participate in the cultural festivals, and eat the food. I chose to make the Japanese way my own, at least temporarily. But do soldiers have that same obligation? Maybe not, since they do not choose where they will be stationed much less why they will be stationed there. Nevertheless, they should be respectful and tolerant of the natives, whether that culture welcomes them begrudgingly, or with open arms. They are but guests, and any guest has that obligation to his host. Whether a man barges in, or is cordially invited, matters not; in both circumstances he should take off his dirty shoes.
