NAHA
- Typical of Asian countries, Okinawa possesses an
enhanced fecundity. The tendrils of the remarkable
banyan tree descend from branches and re-root; the trunk
webs out and hosts itself over a spreading terrain.
So too the politics and history of Chalmers
Johnson's Cold War Island are particularly fecund
subjects of analysis: Okinawa simultaneously is left out
in the cold on the periphery of Japan's national
narrative, while it also is at the center of a heated
discourse centering on the United States relationship
with Asia. Both literally and figuratively, the Ryukyu
island chain is in a contentious position. There is the
legacy of warfare on the islands from World War II and
continuing with present US troop deployments and base
life. These represent for political progressives in
Japan an Okinawa battle-scarred and betrayed and are
open evidence of the Japanese government's duplicitous
dealings, rhetorically anti-militarist but providing a
launching pad for the world's largest military.
The Vietnam War was fought mainly from Okinawa -
carpet-bombing Boeing 52-model super fortresses roared
off these islands to Indochina - and the psychic conduit
between the two countries may be enforced by a certain
reading of history. Filmed battle footage of the two
jungle fights is strikingly familiar: soldiers fire
red-yellow flames into caves against a muddied and
cratered verdant jungle landscape. The early color stock
used by brave Army cameramen seems to differ little in
quality from the film used by CBS crews of equal bravery
20 years hence. Even if grand strategies changed in the
interim (did they?) it is not hard to imagine the former
as a dry-run for the latter (although historian Richard
Drinnon traces the flame semiotic to the Pequot - North
American/Native American - wars).
Therefore I
myself, even more an outsider than the Yamat-chu
Japanese and a resolute non-combatant, came to assume
all Okinawans were sick of all conflicts hot and cold
and especially suspect of the "national security"
concept. Like all assumptions, it has come to be proven
wrong with the acquaintance of a young man who is my
most diligent student and a resolute supporter of the
ruling and pro-US Liberal Democratic Party (LDP). He
claims to have family buried at Yasukuni Shrine where
lie interred the remains of much of Japan's World War II
soldiery, including convicted war criminals, and he told
me of a trip to Taiwan to meet fellow travelers in a
kind of anti-Beijing friendship society.
He is a
serious student and an absolute pleasure to teach, and
he argues with me in class and therefore is a coveted
rarity (at least by me) in the Japanese university
classroom. His presence also enlightened me about
another concept some Okinawans hold: they are the front
line with China. It is not a neo-con/nationalist
viewpoint but indisputable historical fact - envoys from
the Ryukyu court ventured to the Ming court in 1372 -
but there are tenser stand-off issues of late over
fishing and drilling in the Senkaku/Diaoyu/Spratly
Islands. Modern Japanese maps claim territorial waters
although Chinese documents make mention of them from
centuries before. Natural gas may lie within their
depths; state-owned Texaco- and Chevron-partnered China
National Offshore Oil Corporation drill and loudspeakers
from the Japanese navy protest; and 30 years ago
Okinawan fishermen marched on Tokyo carrying placards
demanding Japan exert its national authority to
"protect" the islands; three months ago Chinese soccer
fans at the Asia World Cup jeered the Japan national
team and unfurled banners demanding the islands' return.
(China lost the Asian World Cup title to Japan in
Beijing.)
We found ourselves committed to three
days of rest and relaxation among these complex
realities last month, and I wanted to face Okinawa as a
tourist with adjacent energies funneled toward the kids'
pleasures as opposed to grumpy introspection. In
reality, there was time enough only to view the capital
city, visit the aquarium two hours away by car, and
maybe stop at a beach along the way.
With the
ocean nearby, intense foliage, numerous taxis and
two-to-four-story, gaily painted concrete blocks, the
atmosphere of Naha seems closer to Saigon or Bangkok
than Tokyo. Overall, the capital looks in good nick with
its gleaming new commuter monorail. From the upper
vantage offered by the monorail, we could see the kinds
of structures that delineate the cityscape: traditional
tile-roof homes of white volcanic stone, the blocks, the
steel and glass high rises and strip malls increasingly
dominating the vacant areas midway between the airport
and Shuri-jo castle bounding the line.
It is not
difficult to visualize Vietnam in Okinawa in other, more
historical contexts, namely Shuri-jo castle itself. It
surmounts the highest peak in town, well placed in now a
very tony area that includes the prefectural art college
that offers courses in traditional dance and music
performance. All palatial structures were laid waste
during the war but have been rebuilt and painted in a
regal red that is slightly more orange in tinge than the
royal buildings of Kyoto. There is little authentic
about the carpeted and air-conditioned interiors save
for the main hall that strives for replication. The many
guides, guards, and gatekeepers are dressed in royal
colors including the distinctive flat caps with the
rolled visors accompanying regalia in Northern Vietnam.
Actually, the lay of the castle with its ponds and stone
gates is an image of quiet grandeur immediately bringing
to mind the great grave complexes of Hue.
People
now remember well the Ryukyu kingdom as a hub of trade
linking the great Asian capitals of Ayuthaya and Edo and
reaching deep into Qing China. Without a doubt the most
impressive surviving artifact is a huge jade stamp
consigned by the China Emperor and bearing printing in
immense Chinese and Arabic script. Admiral Mathew Perry
visited the castle in 1853 and signed a cooperation pact
with the kingdom separate from the one with Japan. Soon
afterward it was annexed by Japan and became a
prefecture in 1879.
Even now it is still a
commercial crossroad and the possibility for American
consumorismo are high even by Japanese standards.
A&W, Foremost Blue Seal ice cream (on the island
since 1948 and proud member of the American Chamber of
Commerce, Okinawa), and Spam are well-integrated into
the regional diet. For the first time in 13 years in
Japan I found Manischewitz wine. But amidst this
tempest, Okinawans strive to be, well, Okinawan. Almost
half the population is believed to possess some skill in
playing the sanshin, a small snakeskin
three-string banjo forming the basis of the most melodic
pop music coming from Japan these days. Shi-sa,
pairs of singha-like lions crouching on the tile roofing
of traditional homes are everywhere in Naha, and an
impressive one stands guard at the police box in front
of the gleaming prefectural government building, which
has its own pair guarding the sliding glass entrance.
Shi-sa sit on the top of public lavatories, at
the ends of bridges and at either end of
Kokusai-dori entertainment thoroughfare, and even
at small cross-walks in front of kindergartens and
schools. Saki's fiery cousin awamori is imbibed
in copious quantities or mixed with tangy juice from
shikwasa lime or acerola. Instead of green tea
people take sampin (jasmine) tea imported from
China in the 16th century, which well matches the food:
It is saltier and greasier than Japanese food, totally
lacking the undertones of soy and sweet rice wine. The
tofu is fried harder as in Southeast Asian cooking.
It is a tendency of anthropology from both Japan
and the West to look askance at "tradition" and conclude
it to be the slut of modern ideology, and it is true
that surreal shi-sa and modern "folk music" might
be so revealed under methodological dissection. But if
it adds an artistic touch to the urban landscape and at
worst inspires drunkards to pluck at an instrument from
the wall and sing in a distempered if forced dialect, I
am almost forced to retort: "So, what's the problem?"
On August 13, at around 2:15pm, a US military
transport CH-53D helicopter lost its tail assembly and
spun into a building on the campus of Okinawa
International University in Ginowan city. It was a worst
case scenario for an accident, and yet miraculously
nobody on the ground was injured, despite a hail of
flying metal fragments (striking 17 houses and 33
vehicles) and the fiery explosion on campus. One of its
pilots was severely injured and it is perhaps to the
flier's credit as much as pure luck there were not
fatalities.
This city has been blessed with
perhaps one of the greatest idiocies of municipal
planning, the urban air base. The response of the US
military was immediate and precise: The area was
cordoned-off; local constabulary and inspection teams
were denied access; media photographers were harassed
and film confiscated; the remains of the craft were
expeditiously trucked away. The presence of
silver-suited bearers of Geiger counters added an eerie
corner to the tension.
Adding to the chagrin of
the regional authorities, especially Ginowan's mayor,
has been Tokyo's unwillingness to discuss the matter.
Former foreign minister Yoriko Kawaguchi offered
characteristic blander-than-thou statements of not
feeling at liberty to comment on anything, but if these
were meant as sorry mollifications they were nothing
compared to the snub from the center as Prime Minister
Junichiro Koizumi refused to meet with either the mayor
or Governor Inamine Keiichi, the centrist ex-businessman
who generally is seen as Tokyo's point man. In any
event, flights are now on as before due to "Iraq-related
activity" and the government concurs with the US
military that this is a good reason.
This
incident confirms Okinawa as the US's only truly
successful colonial experiment in Asia, what the
Philippines might have and Vietnam should have been,
albeit on a Gramscian plane (Antonio Gramsci was a
communist leader and Marxist theoretician, 1891-1937).
That is, popular gatherings and local media demanding
"Quit Okinawa!" (such as the 30,000 who turned out in
Ginowan on September 12) are not suppressed, which would
give rise to a greater backlash, but instead coercion is
aimed at the center whose position of political quietude
effectively mutes the periphery. The relocation of
Futenma Air base to a sea-based heliport called Henoko
has been on the books for some time but is faced with
local opposition since construction involves the
destruction of coral reefs. Nature is a just pride in
Okinawa. Chura-umi Aquarium displays the dense marine
environment resulting from the convergence of two oceans
and a massive aquatic trench. I am no diver but
experienced entering a tropical fish community simply by
wading chest-deep in a popular rural beach, breaking
apart bits of pork sausage. It is that amazing. There
were also a number of young GI families visiting the
aquarium.
In short, it is impossible to ignore
the presence of US military life on Okinawa if only
because one TV channel belongs to Armed Forces Network
and runs in place of commercials "public service"
announcements ranging from encouragements to be
courteous in base apartments, employment opportunities
at the Department of Defense-run department store
("Serving those serving our country"), and on-the-spot
interviews of troops on the ground doing good in Iraq
and Afghanistan. America exists in Okinawa as the
military, and it is possible that every incident between
military personnel and locals re-introduces the idea of
a troubled Vietnam-era society to Okinawans. Before
General Anthony Zinni's (former commander-in-chief of
the US Central Command) peaceable and intelligent
administration in 1971, Okinawa's Camp Foster was
notorious for its race riots and narcotics; these days,
the sight of young soldiers smiling and relaxing while
guarding the helicopter crash sight is enough to raise
the ire of a local newspaper (Okinawa Times, September
5).
Okinawa straddles many borders: national,
cultural, military, commercial, and temporal. It is a
center holding the desires and remembrances of forces in
opposition to each other. In all likelihood, the
direction of these islands will be decided in some
far-off capital that equally as likely will cause a
reaction in another. But it is also to the credit of the
residents they have found a rootedness even if the
ground itself shifts.
Adam Lebowitz is
a teacher and translator living in Japan 13 years. His
articles have appeared in Counterpunch and Japan Focus
and he is completing a collection of original Japanese
poetry. His e-mail is noriko-adam@tokai.or.jp.
