The Asia-Pacific Journal | Japan Focus Volume 8 | Issue 23 | Number 2 | Jun 07, 2010

1

Beggars' Belief: The Farmers' Resistance Movement on IejimaIsland, Okinawa　　乞食行進の信念——伊江島の農民抵抗運動

Jon Mitchell

Beggars’ Belief: The Farmers’Resistance Movement on IejimaIsland, Okinawa

Jon Mitchell

The first American invasion of Iejima occurredon April 16 th, 1945. U.S. Army accountschronicle in meticulous detail the vicious battlefor this small island, situated three miles westof Okinawa’s main island (hontou). Onethousand troops aboard eighty landing craftstormed Iejima’s eastern beaches, meetingheavy resistance from dug-in Japanesedefenders. In the following five days ofbloodshed, two thousand Imperial Armysoldiers were killed, together with fifteenhundred civilians. As was the case throughoutmuch of Okinawa, not all of these civilians werekilled by the Americans.

Clothes of an infant bayoneted by Japaneseforces on Iejima, April 16, 1945

In Yunapachiku, Ahashagama and other cavesacross Iejima, Imperial Army soldiers gatheredtogether families and assigned each of them ahand grenade. They were reminded of thetorture and rape they’d suffer should they becaptured alive; those who attempted tosurrender were shot. Even civilians whosucceeded in turning themselves over to theAmericans were not safe from the Japanesemilitary’s determination that the entirepopulation must shatter like glorious jewels

APJ | JF 8 | 23 | 2

2

rather than surrender. Survivors tell of fiveIejima women who, after surrendering, werekilled by Japanese troops when they returnedto retrieve some abandoned belongings from acave, while six youngsters, who’d been movedby American forces to internment camps on theKerama Islands, were killed by Imperial Armyofficers when they encouraged others tosurrender. Although U.S. fatalities wererelatively light compared to those of theJapanese, by the end of the fighting, threehundred American had lost their lives,including Ernie Pyle - the correspondentfamous for putting a human face to enlistedmen in World War Two.

The second U.S. invasion of Iejima occurred adecade later. It has barely been noted byAmerican historians, but the inhabitants ofIejima are still suffering from its repercussionstoday. On March 11th, 1955, with Okinawa amilitary colony of the United States, landingcraft came ashore once again on the easternbeaches. Their mission: to expropriate two-thirds of the island in order to construct an air-to-surface bombing range. This time, the Armyonly brought three hundred soldiers - their newfoes being but the island’s unarmed peanut andtobacco farmers.

The Americans had prepared for this secondassault with all the thoroughness with whichthey’d planned the first. In July 1953, themilitary had sent a team to the island on thepretense of conducting a land survey. Havingrecruited some of Iejima’s residents to help,after finishing their work, the Americans askedthe Okinawans to affix their hanko seals tosome English documents. The Americans toldthem these were receipts for payment for theirassistance but, in fact, the islanders would laterlearn that they had stamped their ownvoluntary evacuation papers. After discoveringthe deception, a handful of residents, fearful ofantagonizing their new master, agreed to move.Witnessing this, the Americans assumedfurther land seizures would proceed just as

smoothly. The following 50 years of strugglew o u l d p r o v e j u s t h o w m u c h t h e y ’ dunderestimated the farmers.

Initially, on the first day of the March 1955invasion, the Americans made quick progressacross the south of the island. Draggingfamilies from their houses, they burned thebuildings and bulldozed the smoldering ruins.Those who protested were arrested, then sentto the regional capital, Naha, for prosecution.When one family pled that their home bespared because their six-year old daughter wasseriously-ill in bed, soldiers carried the terrifiedchild from the house and dumped her outsidethe doors of the island clinic. A herd of goatsthat impeded the Americans’ advance wasslaughtered by rifle fire. After the entire villagehad been leveled, Army officers veneered theinvasion with a thin layer of legitimacy - at gun-point, they forced fistfuls of military scrip intothe hands of the farmers, then twisted theirfaces towards a camera and took pictures tosend to Headquarters as proof of the islanders’acquiescence.

“The Americans weren’t the only ones takingphotographs that day,” explains Jahana Shoko,“The farmers realized that if they wanted theworld to understand what they were goingthrough, they needed proof, too.” Jahana is awhite-haired woman in her late sixties with asmile that instantly wipes twenty years fromher full-moon face. She is the caretaker of theNuchidou Takara no Ie (“The House of 'Life is aTreasure'”) - the Iejima museum dedicated tothe farmers’ ongoing struggle to retrieve theirland from the American military and namedafter a famous Ryukyuan song. The museumconsists of a pair of ramshackle buildingslocated close to the shore where the Americanslanded in 1955. Now the beach is home to aJapanese resort, and as we speak, ourconversation is punctuated by the shouts ofTokyo holidaymakers, the slap and drone of jetskis.

APJ | JF 8 | 23 | 2

3

Jahana shows me the farmers’ photographs ofthe destruction from March 1955 - emptymonochrome scenes of charred land andblackened bricks of coral. Some of the picturesare blurred as though the camera is trying tofocus on where the houses once were. “AhagonShoko was one of the farmers whose home wasdestroyed that day. He went on to organize theislanders in their struggle against the bombingrange. People call him the Gandhi of Okinawa.

Jahana points to a large color photograph onthe wall. A sun-wrinkled man smiles serenelyfrom beneath the brim of a straw hat. Think ofa slimmer Cesar Chavez with thickly-hoodedeyes that glimmer with intelligent compassion.Ahagon was 52 years old when the Americanscame ashore for the second time. Born into apoor - but educated - family, as a young man,he’d converted to Christianity before travellingto Cuba and Peru to seek his fortune. Thingsdidn’t work out according to plan - in theAmericas he could barely make enough moneyto live. Upon returning a virtual pauper,Ahagon worked hard to buy some farmland onIejima. In the years prior to the war, helaunched a temperance campaign on the island,while entertaining his neighbors with home-made kami-shibai performances. This streak ofmorality, interwoven with the talents of anatural-born raconteur, would prepare Ahagonwell for the lectures on the farmers’ movementwhich he gave to v is i t ing part ies o fschoolchildren right up until his death in 2002.He was 101 years old.

As Jahana speaks, there’s a gentle knock on thedoor and an elderly woman enters, carrying asmall convenience store bag. When she seesthat Jahana is busy talking to me, she bows andsets the bag carefully on the side of her desk.It’s full of earthy cylinders pushing against thewhite plastic and I remember, earlier at theport, seeing the island’s famous peanuts forsale, alongside dusty bricks of black sugar andtangles of bright pink dragon fruit.

“Ahagon-sensei established the Treasure Housein 1984,” Jahana continues, “He wanted tocreate a permanent exhibit of what went onhere after the Americans came ashore in 1955.I’ll ask my assistant to show you around themain museum.” A younger woman in her fortiescomes in. Jahana lifts the plastic bag from thedesk, but when she passes it to her assistant,its sides split open. A dozen rusty bulletsclatter to the floor. I jump but neither womanbats an eyelid as they bend and scoop themback up.

The assistant walks me from the reception tothe exhibition hall at the rear of the property.When she slides open the doors, I’m struck by ahot blast of air, the smell of second-handclothes mixed with that of used bookstores.Ins ide , the museum i s a mé lange o fmemorabilia from the past fifty years. Americanparachutes hang next to musty protest banners.Old newspaper articles line the walls alongsidedozens of photographs taken by the farmers torecord their struggle. Just in front of thedoorway, there’s a massive mound of rustingmetal—shell casings and missile fins, grenadesand rockets. The assistant kneels down andadds the bullets to the heap. Her action wakesa small white gecko and it scuttles across thedeadly pile, finding shelter in a half-blownmortar round.

APJ | JF 8 | 23 | 2

4

“Within days of leveling the farmers’ houses,the Americans had completed construction oftheir bombing range. They marked huge bull’seye targets with white sand trucked in from thebeaches. The explosions went on day and night.Those shells are just a selection of the thingsthey fired. Farmers still come across them nowand bring them here for our collection.”

When I ask her what happened to the displacedvillagers, she points to a photo of a row oftents. “The Americans had promised thembuilding materials and they were good to theirword.” She gives me a sad smile. “The cementthey gave had already hardened to concrete inits bags. The boards were rotten and the nailslong corroded spikes that couldn’t be used foranything.” One picture shows a family of fifteenpacked into a small, open-sided tent. “Thevillagers quickly fell sick with dehydration,sunstroke and skin diseases.”

Along with the poor-quality building supplies,the American Army offered the farmersfinancial compensation. Realizing thatacceptance of the money would be interpretedas assent to the seizure of their land, theyrefused. The farmers maintained that theactions of the American military were illegal,and they insisted upon the right to continuefarming their original fields rather than thebarren ones upon which the Americans hadforced them to establish camp. ThroughoutMay, 1955, the farmers crossed onto the AirForce range and tilled their land. Ignoring thelarge flags which they raised to alert theAmericans of their presence, the militarycontinued its practice bombings. As the shellsfell around them, the farmers tended theircrops—compelled by a fierce sense of injusticecoupled with a pressing need to feedthemselves and their families.

The Iejima islanders continued to work on theirfields until June 13th. On this day, soldiersarrested eighty farmers and confiscated theirtools. Military courts summarily sentencedthirty-two of the men to punishments rangingfrom three months in prison to year-longsuspended sentences. As soon as those who’dbeen released arrived back on Iejima, theyheaded straight to their fields. The Americanmilitary’s response was merciless - it sprayedthree hundred acres of fields with gasoline andreduced the farmers’ potato, melon andtobacco crops to ash.

With no other means to support themselves,Ahagon and the villagers decided to throwthemselves on the mercy of their fellowOkinawans. She shows me a letter they wroteto explain their actions. “There is no way for[us] to live except to beg. Begging is shameful,to be sure, but taking land by military force andcausing us to beg is especially shameful.”

On July 21st 1955, the villagers boarded a ferryto Okinawa hontou. Calling themselves the“March of Beggars”, over the next seven

APJ | JF 8 | 23 | 2

5

months, they made their way from Kunigami inthe north to Itoman almost seventy miles to thesouth. In every town they passed, the villagersmet with local people and told them of theirstruggle. Throughout their walk, they weregreeted with warm welcomes and sympathy.Even the poorest villages gave them food andshelter for the night. The assistant shows methe photos the farmers exchanged as thanks tothe people who supported them. The men stareproudly at the camera - their trousers arepatched and threadbare, but their shirts arestarched clean white. The women try to holdtheir smiles while stopping the children fromsquirming from their knees.

The reception of the authorities stood in starkcontrast to the hospitality encountered fromordinary people. Both Okinawan politicians andintellectuals alike ignored Iejima’s farmers’pleas for assistance. When the islandersconfronted the U.S. High Commission, GeneralJames Moore played the Red card, proclaimingthat the farmers were uneducated dupes whowere being manipulated by communistagitators. An Air Force spokesman called theproblem “a petty dispute” - inconsequential inlight of the practice bombings which ensuredsecurity “both for the Free World and for[Okinawan] people.”

Protest banners written by Iejima villagers

After seven months on the road, the March ofBeggars returned home to Iejima in February,1956. They found their situation no better thanwhen they had left; the leaking tents still stoodand they continued to be denied access to thefields which they’d depended on for theirlivelihood. Bombings and jet plane strafingswent on day and night, wearing down frayednerves and making rest impossible.

“When the farmers attempted to send word oftheir predicament to the main Japanese islands,their letters were intercepted by the Americanmilitary,” explains the assistant. “They didn’twant the world to know what they were doinghere.” Some letters, however, did make itthrough the cordon of censors, and when theJapanese media reported news of the farmers’struggle, people of the main islands rallied tosupport them. Students, homemakers and

APJ | JF 8 | 23 | 2

6

businessmen sent care packages to Iejima.They flooded the islanders with powdered milkand sugar, rice and canned fish, notebooks,textbooks and pens. The boxes are on display atthe museum. Many of them are addressedsimply “To the brave farmers of Iejima.”

No matter how small the parcel, each one wasrewarded with a handwritten banner ofappreciation and a photograph from theislanders. Upon receiving a huge package fromfar-off Hokkaido, the entire village gathered towitness the opening of the thirty-one crates. Asthe mayor distributed the shoes and clothescontained in the boxes, even the sick andelderly got out of bed to shed their worn-outclothes and try on the gi f ts from thesnowbound northern island. The sign thevillagers penned still hangs in the museumtoday: “To the coal miners of Kushiro, We wholive in this southern country thank you verywarmly.”

These packages, though substantial, werehardly enough to sustain the villagers. As the1950s progressed, with no financial aid fromthe government or the military, many of theislanders were desperate. Where once theyharvested tobacco and sweet potatoes, nowthey scavenged the fringes of the bombingrange for scraps of military metal. Theycollected chunks of shrapnel and bullet casings,and sold them to traders for a pittance. Fromtime to time, they’d come across a whole bombthat had failed to explode. The farmers woulddrag it away and defuse it themselves with aplumber’s wrench and a length of steel pipe. Inthis manner, they taught themselves to becomebomb disposal technicians. But for these men -like their professional counterparts - sometimestheir luck ran out. Between 1956 and 1963, adozen islanders were killed or wounded whilecollecting or dismantling American ordinance.Among them were three teenagers who werehit by shells from a fighter plane, and twenty-year old Ryofuku Heianzan, struck by anovershot bomb while cutting grass outside the

range. Photos on the walls show these farmerswith their arms torn off and their faces sheeredaway—combat pictures from an islandpurportedly at peace.

“In the early 1960s,” says the assistant walkingme down the room, “one of the farmersstumbled across a piece of scrap far tooprecious to sell.” She gestures towards a longwhite tube with four tell-tale fins. “He found itsticking out of his field one day. He hid it in hisshed while the Americans searched high andlow.”

I can well understand the military’s eagernessto retrieve this particular missile. I recognize italmost immediately from another story I’vebeen covering about Okinawa. In December1965, some hundred and fifty miles north ofIejima, the USS Ticonderoga ran into roughseas. A Sky Hawk jet that was on the ship’sdeck slipped its cables and tumbled into theocean. The accident would not have beenparticularly newsworthy if it hadn’t been forthe payload it was carrying: a one megatonatomic bomb. The Japanese governmentprohibits nuclear weapons in its waters, and itwas only when the device started to leak in1989, that a nervous Pentagon confessed toTokyo about the missing bomb.

The assistant must have noticed the panic onmy face. “Don’t worry, it’s just a dummy theyused for practice runs.” It looks so real that thisdoes little to allay my fears. Nearby a cicadaticks Geiger-like. “You can touch it if youwant,” she offers. I take two steps back and shelaughs.

Back in the reception area, Jahana tells me ofthe successes achieved by Ahagon and thefarmers. In 1966, the American militaryattempted to station two surface-to-air missilebatteries on Iejima, but after a concertedcampaign by the islanders, they were forced towithdraw them after only three days.Demonstrations such as these, combined with aconcerted publicity campaign (including three

APJ | JF 8 | 23 | 2

7

books and a documentary), would force themilitary to stop the bombings and close downthe range. Many of the farmers were able torecover the fields that were stolen in 1955.

Jahana takes a map of Iejima from her deskdrawer. The western portion is marked off by ared dotted line. “Today, the American militarycontrols a third of the island. The Marines havea training area where they still conductparachute drops. A few years ago, some of theirjumpers went astray and landed in a tobaccofield. They wondered why the farmer was soangry. They’d only crushed a few tobaccoplants - perhaps a carton of cigarettes’ worth.They don’t know what these people have had toput up with over the past fifty years. They haveno idea of the sufferings they’ve been through.”

Before I head back to the port, I ask Jahana ifshe’s hopeful the Americans will change theirpolicy and return the rest of the land. Shesmiles wryly. “Ahagon-sensei had a saying heoften repeated. ‘Even the most evil beasts anddevils are not beyond redemption. They mightbecome human one day. All they need is to beshown the error of their ways.’ Ahagon-sensei

believed this very strongly. That’s why he builtthis museum and that’s why it will be here untilthe day the farmers get back their land.”

Jon Mitchell is a Welsh-born writer based inYokohama. He has covered Okinawan socialissues for both the Japanese and internationalpress - a selection of which can be accessed atjonmitchellinjapan.com . Jon currently teachesat Tokyo Institute of Technology.

This is an edited and expanded version of anarticle which first appeared in Counterpunch.

See the accompanying article by Ahagon Shokoand C. Douglas Lummis: I Lost My Only Son inthe War: Prelude to the Okinawan Anti-BaseM o v e m e n t(http://japanfocus.org/-C__Douglas-Lummis/3369)

Recommended citation: Jon Mitchell, "Beggars’Belief: The Farmers’ Resistance Movement onIejima Island, Okinawa," The Asia-PacificJournal, 23-2-10, June 7th, 2010.