Gordon Hirabayashi as a UW student in the 1940's. Photo by Sharon Maeda/The Wing Luke Asian Museum.

At the National Association of Japanese Canadians AGM held in Edmonton Alberta on October 16, 2011, the NAJC unveiled the Dr. Gordon Hirabayashi Human Rights Award at the AGM Dinner. Gordon had been a Professor of Sociology at the University of Alberta during the sixties, seventies, and eighties.  He had also served as the Department Head for several years. He continued to teach at the U of A into the nineties but in the last ten years the scourge of Alzheimer’s forced him to retire and presently he lives in a nursing hospital. He is physically healthy but elderly.

He had been a student at the University of Washington in early 1942 when FDR’s Presidential Executive Order 9066 was enacted in the US. Being American-born, he felt that as an American it was it was unconstitutional. However, blinded by racism, ignorance and expediency, the U.S. government classed all persons with Japanese ancestry as enemies of the State. He defied the Order and was jailed. He finished his University in Spokane.

After many years of legal battles and the release of classified secret government documents, Gordon returned to the Courts to appeal the guilty conviction of 1943. In 1986, the unjust conviction of not complying to the Order of Exclusion was overturned in a belated act of justice by the Supreme Court of the United State. Gordon received a citation from the President of the United States – Gerald Ford. Gordon was hailed as a hero in the States, especially to Japanese Americans.

Much was made in the media about justice finally being achieved after so many years. Very little attention has been focused on the actual events which took place in 1942. In the heat of the haiseki (ostracism) of that time (1942), it took an act of great courage to defy the Government Order of Exclusion of all persons of Japanese ancestry from the West Coast. Gordon decided to defy the Order because he reasoned that it was fundamentally wrong to deny freedom to an American when there was no crime committed. As a young university student of 23, Gordon’s act of defiance against the government order was a sudden and improbable step to be taken at that time. Those of us who living along the West Coast at that time can appreciate how difficult and dangerous was that decision. Gordon’s decision was taken alone without safeguards, but it was a decisive step. It was the act of an idealist, and independent conscience. Great social changes often start with a sudden impulsive but decisive step. Can you imagine this type of defiant action in 1942 against a powerful , determined government? What courage it must have taken Gordon to decide to take this step. What courage, to make that decision to defy the Government order, can only be appreciated if one can imagine the charged atmosphere of racism and war which prevailed in the general public along the West Coast in 1942.

Although these events took place a long time ago in the United States, we in Canada should acknowledge the significance of that Supreme Court victory. It is doubly significant because a similar action could not have taken place in Canada in 1942. We are indebted to Gordon Hirabayashi for having taken that defiant step which all of us would have been afraid to take.

The American Senator J. William Fullbright said “to criticize one’s country is to do it a service – criticism, in short , is more than a right; it is an act of patriotism, – a higher form of patriotism, I believe, than the familiar rituals and national adulation.”

Read article from the University of Washington Alumni Magazine.

by Henry Shimizu

My mother, brother and I experienced our first Christmas and met a sailor dressed as Santa Claus aboard the Japanese ocean liner Hikawa Maru destined for Vancouver.  We left Yokohama on December 1958—a journey of two weeks.

The Hikawa Maru (named after the Shrine in Saitama) was built in 1929 in Yokohama for the Nippon Yusen KK line and made its maiden voyage from Kobe to Seattle on May 13, 1930.  I imagine that many Nisei are familiar with this ship since it plied the Pacific Ocean carrying Japanese immigrants to North America. It also carried Jewish refugees escaping Nazi Germany. During World War II, the Japanese military converted it into a hospital ship. In 1954, the boat was refitted and returned to carrying passengers until her termination from service in 1960. It began a new life in 2008 as a restaurant in Yokohama Bay.

As I prepared to leave Kagoshima, my well meaning grade two classmates at Taniyama Shogakko Elementary School gave me cultural advice on what awaited me in North America (of course none of them were speaking from experience). Some warned me about something called snow and how much it fell there—I had never seen snow before! Shockingly, someone added that Canadians ate raw vegetables.  An unthinkable act since we used human waste to enrich the soil. Later in January—surrounded by snow—I recall that the first letter to my cousins was confirmation of this horrific Canadian dietary practice. I am sure that it was a source of much discussion with my former classmates.  As for the skinny Japanese sailor dressed as Santa aboard the Hikawa Maru, I could not understand at the time why a man would dress  in a red attire; fly through the air; break into a house through a chimney (no chimneys in Japanese homes) all in order to leave gifts for children.  Why not use the front door, I thought.

Like the iconic Japanese song of immigrants, Watari Dori (Birds of Passage), we are all transients looking for a place to alight and to call home. Fortunately, I have returned to Japan numerous times, but the Japan of my youth has long disappeared and only the active volcano, Sakurajima and the spirits that dwell around the family o-tera (Buddhist temple); Taniyama Jinja (Shinto shrine) and the ancestral graves are my links to the country of my birth. We wander a thousand miles on our personal journey only to realize that we can never go back and all the answers to our quest were right there in our adopted country. Canada is my family’s home now and this is where our ashes will be buried. It is my personal hope that on this holiday season you will finally find your home.

Justice for UBC Students
On November 16, 2011, the University of British Columbia decided to honour 76 Japanese Canadian students with special degrees during the 2012 Spring Convocation.  Next year marks the 70th anniversary of the Canadian Government’s imposition of the internment policy.  As a result Nikkei students at UBC had their studies disrupted and were never able to complete their studies.  The University will use the occasion of the 70th anniversary to educate future students about this dark chapter in Canadian history and will exhibit, from their holdings, historical records pertaining to this period.  This campaign succeeded due to the leadership of Mary Kitagawa and her committee who mobilized the Canadian community into action.  On behalf of the NAJC, I congratulate Mary for her unrelenting determination and for a job well done.
Read interview with Mary Kitagawa in The Bulletin

National Administrator
On December 5th, Sally Sweatman will assume the challenging task of NAJC National Administrator, taking over from Lucy Yamashita who has given us stellar service for many years. Sally comes to us with a wealth of community and fundraising experience and we look forward to her ideas as our organization moves towards future sustainability and more innovative programming. Lucy, as the current President of the Manitoba Japanese Canadian Cultural Centre, and a general member of the NAJC will be continue to be busy in her volunteer work. On behalf of the NEB and the member organizations, thank you Lucy for your unheralded years of service!

On behalf of the National Association of Japanese Canadians I wish you good health and happiness  in the New Year. 

Retired dentist Norikazu Nishio was at home in Nanaimo when he got word that the University of British Columbia had agreed to award honourary degrees to UBC students who were forced to leave university and their studies in 1942.

Now 88, Dr. Nishio was eighteen and in his first year of studies at UBC when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. As one of several Japanese Nationals on campus, he was given twenty-four hours to leave not only the University but the west coast. In all, seventy-six students of Japanese descent were eventually affected, of whom the majority were Canadian citizens.

During the 1940-41 session, with the war heating up overseas, military training had become compulsory for all students, including Japanese Canadians, making them the only Japanese Canadians taking military training. This changed with the December 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor. In her 1977 paper A University At War: Japanese Canadians at UBC During World War II, Elaine Bernard notes, “The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and Canada’s entry into the war against Japan occurred at the beginning of the Christmas break. There was no coverage of the declaration in the student press, which had shut down for the break. When Japanese Canadian students arrived back at school in January, they were asked to turn in their uniforms. The COTC (Canadian Officers’ Training Corps) daily orders for 7 January 1942 “Struck off Strength” (released from service) forty-three Japanese Canadians enrolled in the Basic Group and the six enrolled in the COTC Group. The decision to discharge the trainees was made by the university Senate’s Committee on Military Education, which was the body that had governed the training and military affairs on campus.”

As government plans to remove all Canadians of Japanese origin from the coast progressed, the rest of the students—including those born in Canada—were forced into exile. It wasn’t until the fall of 1948 that fifteen Japanese Canadians received permits to enrol at UBC again.

I spoke to Dr. Nishio by phone at his home in Nanaimo.

Dr. Nishio, what were your feelings when you heard the news that UBC had agreed to grant honourary degrees to former UBC students?
Wow – it’s been a long, long time. It’s just great—better late than never! I was in a slightly different category, though. I was attending UBC as a Japanese National, whereas most of the others were Canadian-born. So I was really considered the enemy and was given twenty-four hours to leave the 100-mile zone. My three siblings were all born here, but for some reason my mother decided that I should be born in Japan so I was born in Tokyo. We came back when I was a year old so I was basically raised as a Canadian but was considered Japanese because that’s where I was born.

Where did you live in Vancouver?
I was brought up in Kitsilano so as youngsters all our friends were English-speaking, apart from a few other Japanese Canadian families. I went to Lord Tennyson Elementary and then Kitsilano Junior and High Schools. Mum and dad had lots of Japanese friends who they would visit. Dad ran an import/export business on Granville Street, dealing in dry goods—dinnerware and tablecloths and those sorts of things. They took a huge hit when they confiscated everything. They had to start all over again when they moved east.

Where did they go during the war?
Most of my family relocated to the Bridge River self-supporting camp, then ended up in Montreal after the war. They eventually moved to Toronto. They brought in the Mikasa chinaware line for Canada and  did well with that. They only sold the business a while back.

And what about you?
Well, I was attending UBC in my first year of general studies—I was only 18, one of the youngest Japanese Canadian students. I got the news I had to leave, and the night I was packing, my mum and dad said, why don’t you go into dentistry? I was always good with my hands, I was pretty good at art—I thought I might be a commercial artist. So I went to Calgary, where we had family friends, then to Edmonton, where I stayed at the YMCA.

I took a year of courses at the University of Alberta by correspondence—I wrote my first year exams at Convocation hall—and then enrolled full time in the dentistry program. I worked every summer to help pay my way. I worked at the Swifts Packing Plant and spent one summer working at a chick hatchery. For some reason the Japanese were good at chick sexing. They were noted for their expertise.

Was there a different attitude towards Japanese Canadians in Alberta than on the coast?
There was a huge difference. In Vancouver there was a constant barrage of articles in the papers speaking out against the Japanese. There were some aldermen noted for stirring up anti-Japanese sentiment and the papers went along with it. I only remember one incident of discrimination in Alberta. I was working in a sign painting shop one summer. I was handy with show cards and things like that—I’d paint bank windows with gold leaf, wall signs, things like that. This one customer complained to the management about me working there, so they assigned me to a different area where of the shop where I was out of the public eye.

I’d say that most of the people who went to Alberta and out east felt more comfortable than on the coast. On the sugar beet farms, though, they had a  difficult time. As labourers, they were treated pretty badly. There are always people who will take advantage of those in a difficult situation.

What did you do once you got your dentistry degree?
I ran a practice in High Prairie in the Peace River area for five years, spent nine years in Whitehorse and then eventually relocated back to the coast, to Nanaimo.

It must have been pretty interesting living and working in the Yukon . . .
It was. And it led to some interesting experiences. I had just received my Canadian citizenship. I was a good fisherman and was asked to guide Prince Philip fly fishing and then John Diefenbaker, who was Prime Minister at the time. I took him three times.

That’s pretty cool! What were they like?
They were both excellent people. The Prince chatted as we fished—he was an excellent fisherman. Diefenbaker was a little unusual—he wasn’t as skilled but just as eager to catch a fish! I remember he was one of those people who talked without expecting any answers in return—it seemed like his mind was going a hundred miles an hour all the time. When I moved to Nanaimo, Diefenbaker was back in opposition and he looked me up—I took him steel-heading and salmon fishing. He was very, what would you call it—sympathetic—towards the Japanese. With both of them, especially the prince, there were lots of RCMP around. They were everywhere . . .

Why did you move back to the coast?
Well, I had married while in Whitehorse, and our son and daughter were born there too. I thought they’d have better educational opportunities on the west coast.

Your wife is not Japanese?
No—we were one of the first intermarried couples, I guess. She was an English teacher. But we never had any difficulties, and it wasn’t hard for the children either. One of them is now a medical doctor and the other is a chartered accountant. Once you’re accepted into a community, you don’t think about it anymore—you don’t think of yourself as Japanese, you’re just Canadian.

You don’t sound like your harbour any bitterness.
I don’t. I’ve always looked forward, rather than back. I’ve had a good life and I’m certainly not thinking of slowing down at all.  But you know, some of the others weren’t as fortunate, especially those who ended their university careers because of the war. It was life-shattering for some of them and it changed their life and their outlook on life.

I’m really happy that the University of British Columbia has decided to honour the former students and their families. Mary Kitagawa has worked so hard to achieve this. As long as my health allows it I intend to be there at the ceremony.

The Bulletin, A Journal of Japanese Canadian Community, History & Culture, is a Japanese Canadian community publication in print continuously since 1958. Published by the Japanese Canadian Citizen’s Association, The Bulletin is available free of charge to members. It is also available online at jccabulletin-geppo.ca