In 1980, the Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment of Civilians began hearing testimony from Japanese-Americans who, after the Pearl Harbor attack, were forced at gunpoint into prison camps throughout the desolate interior of the United States.
Initiated by Sen. Daniel Inouye, a Hawaii Democrat who lost an arm fighting the Nazis, the commission was largely conceived in order to establish a legal and political case in Congress against internment and for some kind of redress. But Nisei men and women, the children of Japanese immigrants who had kept virtually silent for decades due to a social code inherited from their ancestors, captured the moment. They used the hearings to share their stories of sorrow and humiliation. The intense emotion of these personal histories galvanized a political movement that succeeded in for those who had been interned. It was an unprecedented event in the American experience.
As my father, the Japanese-American Citizens League鈥檚 volunteer chief legislative strategist who helped convince President Ronald Reagan to sign the redress bill in 1988, later recalled, 鈥淚 saw all these old people crying, and that made me cry. I guess the whole community cried.鈥�
When the nation feels not just divided, but divided in an unprecedented way, studying history serves as a guide. A nation that can see through and place the turbulent present in historical context is better empowered to grasp the present and decide on the best course of action ahead.
Those who work in classrooms and with students grasp this. In a recent survey of educators who were presented with two choices, 78 percent told EdWeek Research Center they believed the primary purpose of teaching history is 鈥渢o prepare students to be active and informed citizens,鈥� compared with 22 percent who said the primary purpose of teaching history is 鈥渢o teach analytical, research, and critical thinking skills.鈥� (We should not, of course, label the second group wrong.)
Therefore, we study and share history in part to give us the foundation for action. We build that foundation in part by learning and sharing stories of immigrant forebears and their legacies; the from the New York Times, which consists of a series of essays about the legacy of slavery, does something similar, but in a fashion that its creators want to be unsettling, if not excruciating for many.
Telling different stories within a single broader narrative, and using those stories to create empathy within an agreed-upon historical framework, are powerful skills. Indeed, one of the key strategies for Japanese-American redress activists in Washington was鈥攖o use my father鈥檚 metaphor鈥攕elling the same Ford Taurus sedan in two different ways.
For a liberal audience, the main argument went like this: These immigrants and their children were the victims of powerful white men who, in the name of national security, exploited wartime panic and longstanding anti-Asian bigotry among other whites to deprive Japanese-Americans of their civil liberties.
For conservatives, the tougher audience, it went this way: Japanese-Americans were content to obey the law and grow artichokes and strawberries. They were exemplary models of enterprise, the free market, and family values鈥攗ntil they were deprived of private property rights and denied due process by an overbearing federal government.
Together, these arguments succeeded because both narratives underscored the ideals that presumably governed American history, and how internment undermined those ideals.
78% of teachers identify preparing students for citizenship as the main reason to teach history."
This should not be confused with warping history as if for some kind of novelistic experiment, or perverting it for political control. In his 1946 essay 鈥�,鈥� George Orwell wrote that totalitarian governments approach history as 鈥渟omething to be created rather than learned.鈥�
But in classrooms, it has always been a struggle to teach history in a way that resonates with students. The CEO of Baltimore City schools, Sonja Santelises, thinks she鈥檚 found a way to do that: Help them see themselves up close in their hometown鈥檚 history.
Motivated partially by Baltimore鈥檚 often-negative portrayal in the media, Santelises recently oversaw the implementation of BMore Me, a social studies curriculum. The basic idea is 鈥渦sing the city as a classroom.鈥�
They鈥檝e explored how local geography impacted the Industrial Revolution in Baltimore. They learn what the history of certain neighborhoods reveals about the nation鈥檚 history of red-lining black families away from valuable land and capital. And they鈥檝e heard stories from a community elder about singer Billie Holiday, who grew up in Baltimore, and from D. Watkins, who went from dealing drugs in the city to teaching at the University of Baltimore.
Santelises said the city curriculum鈥檚 emphasis on this approach that allows students to see themselves in history puts their own lives and people they know at the center of what can feel detached and distant. The consequences for this approach, if done right, can be profound, she argued.
鈥淲hat makes people proud to be American? Well, part of it is that you鈥檙e validating people鈥檚 stories,鈥� Santelises told me. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e validating their role.鈥�
What鈥檚 also central to this approach, Santelises says, is that it allows children to see complexity in history and not just (in the case of black Americans, for example) one long and painful struggle against oppression.
鈥淲e don鈥檛 have to have a perfect or one story,鈥� Santelises said. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 not the goal.鈥�
In 1945, a young Army captain spoke at a service honoring Kazuo Masuda, a Japanese-American soldier who died in combat in Italy and whose family had been interned. This Army captain said men like Masuda were heroes, distinguished by their sacrifice and love of country, not their race.
That captain鈥檚 name was Ronald Reagan. Decades later as president, he was initially opposed to redress for internment. But when Reagan was reminded of that moment, he changed his mind. It was crucial for Reagan to see himself as a character in a crucial moment in American history.
The arc of that narrative can be questioned. Why did it take this chance moment in history to shift Reagan鈥檚 views? Why did men like Masuda have to prove their loyalty to the land of their birth? What about those Japanese-Americans who out of principle resisted military service?
Trying to answer those questions adds to the story I just laid out rather than subverting it. Still, it鈥檚 one story. History doesn鈥檛 always provide such dramatic, clear narratives. Similarly, what if such historical inquiry like the kind Santelises supports for her city鈥檚 students can鈥檛 be scaled up or made to work well elsewhere?
To such questions, Santelises responds that the approach in general can apply in all sorts of places for all kinds of students.
鈥淥nce you鈥檙e grounded and validated in the power of your own story,鈥� Santelises said, 鈥渢hat鈥檚 what makes you want to go and learn about other people.鈥�
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