Identity struggle during war recalled

After the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941, it was difficult to be a Buddhist — or simply to be of Japanese descent.

Japanese ministers of the Buddhist and Shinto faiths were rounded up with other community leaders and thrown into internment camps on that day of infamy. But there would be an upside after the war for the Japanese and their ethnic faiths, says George Tanabe, emeritus professor of religion at the University of Hawaii. The heroism of Japanese-American soldiers in two highly decorated military units and the cooperation of the residents settled the question of loyalty once and for all, he said.

“Today Muslims face the same dilemma that Japanese struggled with 75 years ago. If you’re a Muslim, can you be a good American?” he asked, referring to the rise of Islamophobia after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorism attacks.

Tanabe, president of BDK (Bukkyo Dendo Kyokai) Hawaii, which promotes the understanding of Buddhism, was the keynote speaker at a recent panel on the war’s impact on Buddhism, held at the Moiliili Hongwanji Mission in a retrospective of the upcoming 75th anniversary of the Japanese attack.

During the war most Hawaii residents of the first generation, or issei, like Tanabe’s grandfather, were still citizens of Japan. In the midst of the wartime pressures, they had to adopt a “split mentality” when it came to instructing their children — the nisei, or second generation — to be loyal to the U.S., as they were American citizens by birth. “It was a tricky thing to make that separation; it was complicated,” he added.

Critics claimed that it wasn’t possible to have different loyalties, as they believed “if you wanted to be loyal to America 100 percent, then you should become a Christian,” which was considered an American religion, he said.

But thanks to the outstanding valor of the 100th Battalion and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, “it became very, very clear: Japanese Buddhists soldiers are loyal Americans, period,” Tanabe said.

“There is no question now that Buddhism is compatible with Western democracy — it’s one of the great legacies of World War II,” he continued. “Those of us who are of succeeding generations, we can enjoy a clear conscience, a clear reputation. … (But) the struggle goes on; now it’s happening to Muslim Americans. If you are a Muslim, can you be a good American? It’s the same old story; it’s a struggle, and it has to be made clear over and over again that you can be Buddhist or Muslim and you can be a good American — whatever your religion is. It’s the great thing about our country.”

One of the panelists was the Rev. Bert Sumikawa of the Moiliili Hongwanji, who was 4 years old when he saw Japanese planes flying low over his Pearl City home. He recalled how, a few years later, his second-grade teacher scolded him for identifying himself as Japanese instead of American. She was caught up in the fear that Japanese people had about being considered disloyal, he added.

“During the war people my age were kinda conflicted. It wasn’t cool to be a Buddhist, you know. … We toned it down,” Sumikawa said. With all the temples and Japanese-language schools closed, families prayed before a small Buddhist altar or shrine in their homes. He was strongly influenced by his Buddhist grandmother, “a very, very religious person,” who urged him to pray every night.

His maternal grandfather was a Christian minister on Kauai and had dual citizenship with the U.S. and Japan; nevertheless, he was jailed because he registered newborn babies with the Japanese Consulate, Sumikawa said.

In elementary school, students were allowed to go to Bible study every Friday, but “I was the only one left behind in class with the teacher,” he said. “At first my father wouldn’t let me go, saying, ‘You’re Buddhist.’ But after begging my father, he finally let me go.”

Even after the temples reopened after the war, “we (Japanese) would still go to Bible study on Friday. But at Sunday service the same people would be at the Hongwanji temple,” he said with a laugh. “People would just say, ‘That’s the way it is!’”

In high school Sumikawa would sneak out to go to the Methodist Youth Fellowship to be with his friends, and he was even baptized a Catholic in college. That’s when he discovered an interest in religion courses and contemplated the ministry, but became a dentist instead. At 73, disregarding comments that he was too old to start a new career, Sumikawa was ordained a Buddhist minister in 2010.