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Our Historical Narratives Should Account for Fear
Fear.
Merriam-Webster defines it as “an unpleasant often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger.” That’s a decent definition — and it is reasonably useful when looking at historical events where fear is a motivator.
What Merriam-Webster’s definition lacks is any reference to irrationality. Like love‚ there is always an element of irrationality to fear. (READ MORE: History Isn’t All Black and White. Just Look at Israel.)
Fear and love are the hardest motivators to understand and capture when shaping a historical narrative. They rarely justify an action (arguably that’s more true of fear than love)‚ but can sometimes explain what looks like an irrational overreaction.
So‚ in the interest of accounting for fear‚ let’s put ourselves in the shoes of a Californian in March of 1942.
A few months ago‚ out of nowhere‚ Japanese bombers attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii — a place you were probably unaware of until they did so. The world has been embroiled in war for almost two years‚ but until those pilots dropped their bombs on Pearl Harbor‚ the U.S. had been untouched (and‚ officially‚ mostly uninvolved).
That attack was the 9/11 of World War II. There was a surge of patriotism — big enough to support a war effort — and with it‚ a surge of enlistment. America went to war. That was exciting. It was also frightening.
The West Coast seemed like a vulnerable place (San Francisco in particular). Sure it was separated from Japan by something like 5‚000 miles‚ but it was also the closest populated target on the mainland to Japan. If you lived on the West Coast‚ you may then have looked around at your fellow countrymen and suddenly noticed that 120‚000 looked very similar to the soldiers the Marines were fighting in the Philippines. (READ MORE from Aubrey Gulick: Remembering Corregidor: ‘I Shall Return’)
The fear wasn’t that every Japanese man‚ woman‚ and child was a spy —Â it was that one (or perhaps some) of them could be a spy. A spy‚ the Americans reasoned‚ could give the Japanese information about sensitive targets on the West Coast‚ and there were quite a few of those. With that information‚ the Japanese could hamstring the war effort —Â but more importantly‚ they might bomb the mainland. To Americans‚ insulated from the war by two massive oceans‚ that was a frightening prospect.
The solution they came up with? Forcibly remove every Japanese-American citizen from society and intern them in massive camps spread throughout the western half of the country.
So‚ on March 18‚ 1942‚ President Franklin Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9102 authorizing the creation of the civilian organization‚ the War Relocation Authority‚ that would be responsible for severely curtailing the liberties of thousands of Americans.
Looking back‚ that reaction appears overblown — irrational even. We may even label it a “crime against humanity.” We wouldn’t be wrong. But we have to recognize that it was also the reaction of a country and a people at war and under attack. (READ MORE: Social Justice? It’s Called Capitalism.)
Today‚ the government has apologized (and paid reparations to descendants and survivors) for the overreach and abuse of its power. Japanese internment camps are roundly condemned —Â and rightfully so. But we would be missing the point of the story if we didn’t take away the moral of the story.
Fear is powerful. It can drive us‚ as a society‚ to do very uncharacteristic things. Things we may regret.
This article originally appeared on Aubrey’s Substack‚ Pilgrim’s Way‚ under the title “Accounting for Fear” on March 18‚ 2024.
The post Our Historical Narratives Should Account for Fear appeared first on The American Spectator | USA News and Politics.
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