A Poem of Resistance Against American Censorship – Strengthening Bases for “The Rule of Military Occupation,” Even now: Kishaba Chōjun – “Cultural Movements Under Governmental Oppression” 1
Original article published April 27th, 2021 at 1:00 PM ; Updated April 27th, 2021 at 6:36 PM
English translation by Noah Baird and Dr. Małgorzata Citko-DuPlantis
This is an English translation of an article by Ryukyu Shimpo recording an interview with the prolific Okinawan poet and activist Kishaba Chōjun (喜舎場朝順), also called Kishaba Jun, about his experience with American censorship and oppression in Okinawa. Unfortunately, according to an obituary posted by Ryuku Shimpo Okuyami, Kishaba passed away October 15th, 2023 at 90 years old.
If you want to read more about Okinawan poets and writers, I recommend Southern Exposure: Modern Japanese Literature from Okinawa by Michael Molasky and Steve Rabson.
On April 28th, 1952, the Treaty of San Francisco came into effect, resulting in Okinawa being separated from Japan and placed under U.S. administration—A situation that continued for 69 years. On May 15th, 1972, Okinawa was returned to Japan, marking 49 years since reintegration. During U.S. rule, publications were subject to censorship, and anti-American expression was suppressed. Amid these restrictions imposed by the U.S. military, what forms of cultural activity took place, and how do they connect to present-day Okinawa? Firsthand accounts and expert contributions explore these questions.
The first installment features Kishaba Chōjun, a contributor to Ryūdai Bungaku, the literary magazine of the University of the Ryukyus Literary Club, founded under U.S. occupation. The magazine was banned from sale due to censorship of anti-American expressions, and Kishaba was later expelled from the university in the "Second Ryūdai Incident." He reflects on his experiences from that time and shares his thoughts on Okinawa today.
When I entered the Japanese literature department at the University of the Ryukyus, I also became a member of Ryūdai Bungaku. Among the members were Arakawa Akira, Kawamitsu Shin'ichi, Okamoto Keitoku, Toyokawa Zenichi, and Matsushima Yasuko. Even during my time at Shuri High School, where I served as head of the literature club, I had interacted with Ryūdai students engaged in literary activities. In the early days, I published poetry and art criticism in Ryūdai Bungaku. A short story I published in my third year, titled “Dark Flowers”, was later reprinted in New Japanese Literature by the novelist Shimota Seiji.
At the time, it was not a peaceful enough situation to be writing leisurely poems about nature. Witnessing the U.S. occupation of Okinawa and the Korean War firsthand, my poetry began to take on a tone of resistance against authority.
The Times Push Against Your Back
I was present at the site of the land struggle in Isahama (now Ginowan City) that occurred in 1955. I witnessed beautiful rice fields being taken by bulldozers and homes being burned. Seeing the terrifying arson filled me with rage—I couldn’t stay silent.
At the time, the poem I wrote, “A Miserable Map,” was an expression of anger toward the way various parts of the main island were being covered with “star marks” as they were turned into military bases. Below is an excerpt.
Over your foreheads, your thoughts, your feet—
a runway spreads, sticky and endless.
Everywhere, star-marks smear the land—
the zone with the golf course,
which just yesterday burned barley fields
reeking of the same stench
that killed that fisherman.
you who long to know the truth,
you who hunger for “freedom”—
“we will never wage war again”—
I wrote this poem with the intention of reminding people not to forget the anti war sentiments born from the experience of the Battle of Okinawa. The issue of Ryūdai Bungaku (No. 8) in which the poem was published was later recalled and banned from sale under the control of the U.S. government. It left me with the impression that American occupation and authority had extended its reach even this far. I felt the crisis creeping closer and closer, right to our feet.
Even so, I continued writing pieces to submit to Ryūdai Bungaku because I felt the times were pushing me forward. It’s not that I never felt hesitant or afraid under the harsh repression of the U.S. military. I could have hidden behind someone else when the crackdown came—but instead, I chose to face forward with honesty. I thought: “Do not flinch.”
A Demonstration march by University of the Ryukyus students advocating for the enforcement of the Four Principles and opposing the Price Report — July 28, 1956, in Naha City.
My experience with the land struggle in Isahama led me to participate in the “Prefectural Rally for the Full Implementation of the Four Principles” in July 1956, which opposed the U.S. military’s lump-sum payment of military land rent (the Price Report).
On the day of the “Four Principles of Land Protection Rally,” the student demonstration from the University of the Ryukyu set out in an orderly manner from the university campus (formerly the Shuri Castle site), passed by Shuri Kannon Hall, and reached Asato. At the Asato intersection, students returning home from mainland Japan joined the demonstrators and began chanting protest slogans against the U.S. military, including “Yankee, Go Home.” However, the demonstrators had previously agreed not to use that particular chant. As the march moved from Asato toward the Naha High School rally site, it had already slipped out of the organizers’ control.
After participating in the “Four Principles of Land Protection Rally,” seven students from the University of the Ryukyus, including myself, were subjected to disciplinary actions such as expulsion or suspension. This incident came to be known as the “Second Ryūdai Incident.” Of the seven students who were disciplined, four were members of the Ryūdai Bungaku literary circle.
When the decision to discipline the seven Ryūdai students was made, I was attending the 2nd Nagasaki Conference for the Prohibition of Atomic and Hydrogen Bombs. After participating in the conference and returning to Okinawa, I was summoned alone to the University of the Ryukyus on August 17th, 1956, where I was formally notified of my expulsion. The meeting took place in the university's main building, and those present included President Asato Genshū, Vice President Nakasone Seizein, Secretary General Onaga Toshirō, and Head of Student Affairs Nakamura Morishige.
President Asato handed me the notice of disciplinary action. I stood up and asked, “May I know the reason?” The Secretary General simply replied, “This is the delivery of the notice. That’s all.” The whole exchange lasted only a few minutes.
As I was leaving the University of the Ryukyus and turned back to look at the main building from the top of the stone steps, the western door opened and Mr. Nakamura, the Head of Student Affairs, stepped out and gave a small wave. He appeared to be wiping away tears. I had received guidance from him many times when seeking permission for demonstrations, and we had a close relationship. He was a gentle and kind-hearted person.
Being expelled was incredibly painful. I was so mentally and physically devastated that I developed three patches of alopecia on my scalp. The island-wide struggle also lost momentum during this period as U.S. military repression intensified, which included crackdowns on students. It shows just how severe and forceful the U.S. military’s punitive measures were.
After being expelled, I was able to transfer to Nihon University with the support of Vice President Nakasone and others. After graduating from Nihon University and returning to Okinawa in 1959, I faced interference from the U.S. Civil Administration in my job search, and at one point I gave up on pursuing a teaching position. Despite these challenges, with the support of Yara Chōbyō and Kyan Shin’ei of the Okinawa Teachers’ Association, I was eventually able to take up a position as a Japanese language teacher at my alma mater, Shuri High School.
The True Restoration of One’s Name
In 2007, 51 years after the “Second Ryūdai Incident,” a formal ceremony was held to revoke the disciplinary actions against the students, acknowledging that the punishments had been imposed under pressure from the U.S. authorities and were unjust. However, I did not attend the ceremony. Instead, I sent a written statement to the university president explaining my reasons, saying, among other things, “The unjust repression we faced was carried out by the U.S. military government, and I believe that true restoration of our honor will only be possible when the era of American occupation fully comes to an end.”
Looking back on the period under U.S. rule, if I were asked what Ryūdai Bungaku was, I would say it was the overwhelming expression of our youth.
Forty-nine years have passed since Okinawa’s reversion to Japan, yet today the U.S. military presence is only growing stronger. In particular, the militarization of Okinawa as a frontline base against China is accelerating.
As someone who lived through that era, if I were asked to share a message, I would say this:
For the young people of Okinawa.
Today, Okinawa has become a stifling place due to the growing pressure to conform to conservative currents. That is why I say to the young people: Now more than ever, face the realities of the times head-on and sharpen your insight. To do that, I urge you to seek out good friends, good mentors, and good books.
Kishaba Chōjun was born in 1934 in Kanegusuku, in the town of Haebaru. After graduating from Shuri High School, he enrolled in the Department of Japanese Literature at the University of the Ryukyus and became a member of the Ryūdai Bungaku literary circle. He later graduated from the Department of Japanese Literature at Nihon University. Kishaba worked as a high school Japanese teacher and also served as the chairman of the Okinawa Prefectural High School Teachers' Union. His published works include the haiku collection The Four Seasons of Okinawa and the essay collection New Sketches of Okinawan Life.
