Ka Wai Ola - Office of Hawaiian Affairs, Volume 9, Number 1, 1 January 1992 — Brandt remembers Pearl Harbor [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Brandt remembers Pearl Harbor

At special ceremonies held as part of the eommemoration of the 50th anniversary of the Dec. 7, 1941 bombing of Pearl Harbor, Gladys 'Aiona Brandt gave a speech whieh was carried, in part, on loeal television stations. The entire text follows.

REMEMBERING PEARL HARBOR A Speech Commemorating The 50th Anniversary Of December 7, 1941 Gladys 'Aiona Brandt

We live in a world today where our sense ot events is framed by a television screen — where transmissions of image and interpretation are broadcast by satellite and shared at the same time by virtually the entire nahon. In this world today, it is almost impossible to imagine that on December 7th, 1941, the residents of Honolulu were eyewitnesses to one of the great turning points of modern history — and didn't even know what they were watching. Almost everyone awake that Sunday morning ean tell you exactly what it was he or she was doing. I know I ean. I had left our family house in Kalihi early with my mother. We had gone to the bakery to piek up my daughter's birthday eake. We stopped on the way home to window shop on Fort Street. As we walked the deserted streets, I heard the sound of a distant rumble accompanied by the wail of sirens. The people of the then-Territory of Hawai'i were aware of the wars raging in Europe and Asia. But then as now the peaeehme separation of civilian and military lives gave us little information about the American military affairs at Hiekam or Shafter or Pearl Harbor. And so, it was only my own curiosity that Sunday morning whieh compelled me to wave down the single motorcycle rider driving down the street to ask him if he knew what was happening. Breathlessly he answered, "Big fire at Pearl Harbor, big fire at Pearl Harbor!" And then he drove on. The low muffle of noise and sirens continued as my mother and I drove back to Kalihi. There were planes in the sky and in greater numbers than I could recall ever seeing before. People were out of their houses and looking up. We parked our car and were walking toward some of our neighbors, when a low-flying plane suddenly dove toward us. All of us stood in silence as the plane eame closer and closer. The plane stopped its dive about 50 yards above our heads, and wheeled back out to sea — but not before we were able to recognize the rising sun insignia painted on its wing. Just as the full realization of what was really happening began to settle in our minds, the terrible truth was confirmed. More friends eame out into the street, shouting "Pearl Harbor's been bombed, Pearl Harbor's been bombed, it's on the radio, it's on the radio."

Now, after a span of 50 years, I think that mueh of how the people of Hawai'i continued to respond to the war was set by how it began. Because it was a Sunday, most of us were together as families and as neighbors. We immediately and completely shared the same sense of shock and outrage, of violation as Americans, and of our vulnerability as individuals. But we were not alone or apart. We were spared the terror of wondering where*our parents or ehildren were, and if they were safe. Later we would learn that other neighborhoods were not so fortunate. Other mothers on errands for their children would never return home. Some children would not know another birthday. Perhaps that is why, unlike most of the United States, we did not react with mistrust and suspieion for eaeh other, or with unfounded accusations of disloyalty toward our neighbors. This war eame into our homes. I will forever be proud of the trust and affection we demonstrated for eaeh other during that time of fear and uncertainty. With few exceptions, we affirmed our belief in the bond of eommunity. From others, however, the question of loyalty to the United States was raised against all of the people of Hawai'i. Within hours after the attack on Pearl Harbor, a proclamation was issued suspending civil government and imposing martial law on the territory. Three years later, martial law was declared unconstitutional. One of the judges who ruled in the case, said simply that they did it because they did not have faith that Americanism transcends race, class, and creed. In a profound reversal, Hawaii's commitment to the ideals of American democracy and of the principles of Constitutional rights was proved in the face of America's own abandonment of those ideals and principles. Hawai'i kept the faith. I believe that we learn most from our mistakes. The mistrust of Hawai'i was a fundamental error. From that tragic misjudgment, however, we people of Hawai'i rededicated ourselves to creating a society of equal opportunity where race, religion or creed would neither elevate nor demean the individuai or the group.

There are other cautions we learned from those dark days. Children who have grown to adulthood after World War II, sometimes hear us talking about the closeness and the strength of purpose we shared, and begin to envy those day. There was an undeniable unity to what we believed as a people, and an unquestioned willingness to sacrifice for those beliefs. But we must always be more willing to live for our ideals than to die for them. Especially during this 50th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor, we must actively shun the glorification of war. Certainly, the heroism and the patriotism must be acknowledged, and our gratitude be sincere and heartfelt. Henee, I pray that this commemoration of honor for those who died, both in uniform and in the streets of Honolulu, will not be twisted into a justification for racism and hatred. We still moum those who died that December 7th. We will always remember the terrible pain and deep suffering caused by those enemy planes. But in a lasting peaee there is a victory of spirit not won on the battlefield alone. It is the victory of principle — of winning the peaee, as well as the war. For Hawai'i, the proof of that greater victory is evident by looking at those with me on this platform. One — a Hawaiian lad from Honoka'a born after the war — who despite great odds has risen to be Gov. John Waihee of the State of Hawai'i. One — a rough-neck Marine from Connecticut — is still fearless in his battles to win public opinion as Honolulu's Mayor Frank Fasi. And one — a Nisei son of the Islands and distinguished war hero — who continues to fight as U.S. Sen. Dan Inouye. I celebrate them, and all of the people of Hawai'i who have won and now enjoy the peaee. In the traditions of Hawai'i, there was the time of Makahiki. A time when war was forbidden, and the land and people allowed to rest and heal. That traditional time is now — a time to remember without resentment. A time to honor without hatred. A time to offer a prayer for the future echoing an ancient Hawaiian chant: "Eli-eli kapu, eli-eli noa! Profound is the tabu, deep be the peaee. Ua noa ka 'aina i ka puke iki, i ka puke nui Ma ka holo uka, ma ka holo kai A peaee that runs through upland and lowland. From the mountains to the sea. Eli-eli kapu, eli-eli noa! Profound is the tabu, deep be the peaee! Ua noa ka 'aina a ke akua. Let peaee be on this land of God." Thank you, Aloha. Gladys 'Ainoa Brandt is a member of the state Foundation on Culture and the Arts and is past chairperson of the University of Hawai' i Board of Regents. A noted educator, she was the first Native Hawaiian principal of the Kamehameha Schools.

Gladys 'Aiona Brandt