Japanese Canadian Internment: An Impossible Choice That Divided a Generation
- Eric Wang
- Nov 1, 2025
- 5 min read
Beginning in 1942 at the height of WWII, and lasting until 1949—four years after the war concluded, around 22,000 Japanese Canadians were systematically detained, relocated from British Columbia, and incarcerated in the name of “national security.” Taken without due process, permanently stripped of their property, and confined to internment camps, they were told that they were enemies by the same country that they’d trusted to give them equal opportunity. The harms of internment shaped a generation of Japanese Canadians, but their struggle did not define them, nor the rest of their lives.
During the war and its immediate aftermath, Japanese Canadians faced a crossroads. Families were given two options by the Canadian government. Move east of the Rockies to long-term internment camps, or “repatriate” to Japan. Neither was a real choice. Internment meant being herded like animals into isolated settlements, eventually re-integrating into an accommodating society. “Repatriation” was a misnomer of something much closer to deportation, as 75% of those interned were Canadian-born/naturalized, with many being told to return to a country they had never been to.
Wartime Internment
Those placed into internment camps were separated from the rest of society in various locations. For instance, over 8,000 Japanese Canadians were kept in repurposed livestock buildings at Hastings Park before they would be sent to various work camps in the interior and across Canada. Those camps wouldn’t mark an improvement either. Families were cramped into small, cheaply constructed shacks that lacked plumbing, running water, or proper heating for cold winters. Families had to use unsanitary communal outhouses and bathing facilities. They were granted limited access to medical care and sparse food rations. All of this isn’t to mention the emotional and psychological degradation of being treated as second-class citizens. As Yoshio Johnny Madokoro, an internment victim, would describe it, Japanese Canadian communities “were literally ‘pawns’ caught up in the hysteria of the threat of ‘ the yellow peril.’”
Despite their circumstances, what’s notable is the fact that these communities did not let their oppression define them. While parents were very much aware that they were victims of a tyrannical system, they did what they could to make their children's lives as normal as possible. Communities organized regular gatherings and sporting events to ensure that a loss of freedom did not result in a loss of culture. Subsequently, while most adults would inevitably be scarred by the lasting legacies of internment, some children were able to grow up and re-integrate into society with much less difficulty. While Japanese Canadians couldn’t legally return to the West Coast until 1949, 4 years after the war ended, many headed east, settling in places like Ontario, the very provinces where they were interned in work camps. While Canada would never be entirely free from anti-Japanese sentiment and broader racist narratives, they were able to live their lives in peace at last.
A great example is Pat Adachi. Following wartime internment, Adachi and her husband moved to a remote farming area near Fort Frances, Ontario, where they lived in a one-room shack without running water or electricity, raising their young son in harsh and isolated conditions. But they built a successful family life in spite of their hardships. Neighbors and community members like the Jewish community, who understood displacement and bigotry better than anyone, offered crucial support, sharing meals and building friendships that helped them endure the difficult transition. Eventually, they managed to find stable housing in Toronto, purchasing a large house shared with relatives and friends.
As Pat Adachi settled into her new life, she channeled her experiences into preserving and celebrating Japanese Canadian heritage. She became a respected author and community advocate, notably writing Asahi: A Legend in Baseball, covering the BC Japanese baseball team she had admired as a child. Her efforts earned her the Meritorious Service Award from the Governor General in 2017. Her work helped rebuild a sense of identity and pride among Japanese Canadians and contributed to broader public recognition of the injustices they faced during and after the war.
“Repatriation”
Many Japanese Canadians had no choice but to leave Canada. Their social ostracization, compounded by the seizure and sale of their homes, businesses, and personal property, left many destitute. It certainly removed any chance of returning to their old lives in BC. Roughly 4,000 Japanese Canadians, nearly half of them Canadian-born, were “repatriated” to Japan in the mid-1940s.
Repatriated Japanese Canadians often had no family connections in Japan, little to no fluency in Japanese, and no familiarity with the culture or postwar conditions. A Japan ravaged by war and poverty would also be less accommodating. Because of this, many suffered from a loss of belonging after being uprooted from their communities. In the long term, the impact of repatriation was equally damaging. Many of those deported never returned to Canada, effectively exiled from the country they had considered home. Others who had the resources and will to return faced the immense difficulty of rebuilding their lives from nothing, with no compensation for the land, homes, or businesses they had lost. Families were fractured, and the psychological trauma of being rejected by one’s own government left a deep sense of betrayal. Even decades later, many repatriated Japanese Canadians described feeling “stateless,” as if they belonged to neither country. The forced repatriation also contributed to the long silence around internment and discrimination, as survivors often felt ashamed or unwelcome and struggled to share their stories.
Yet despite these immense challenges, some found ways to adapt and persevere. Born in Vancouver in 1930, Dr. Henry Shibata was one of many “repatriated” to Japan. Following four years of wartime internment, Shibata arrived in Hiroshima just a year after the atomic bombing and witnessed the city in ruins. Despite these traumas, he pursued medicine, eventually studying at Hiroshima University and working with the Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission, where he treated radiation victims and bore witness to the long-term human toll of nuclear warfare. Japanese Canadians like Shibata weren’t willing to let their discrimination mark the ends of their stories, even as they battled with their identity and circumstances.
In Retrospect
In 1988, Prime Minister Mulroney formally apologized to Japanese Canadians for wartime internment and instituted a $300-million compensation package. Looking back, the internment of Japanese Canadians during the Second World War accomplished nothing of strategic value. It advanced no legitimate national security interests, nor did it serve any true Canadian ideals. Instead, it betrayed them. For many who had grown up believing in the promises of justice and equality, the betrayal ran deep. As Yoshio Johnny Madokoro reflected, those educated in Canadian schools were left wondering “where in the world the ideals of British ‘fair play’ had vanished.” The disillusionment was profound, but it was not paralyzing. While some, like Henry Shibata, were asked why they would return to a country that had so blatantly discriminated against them, they chose resilience over bitterness. “There’s no point in being mad all the time,” Shibata said. “It’s better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.” That quiet resolve defined the postwar lives of many Japanese Canadians, who rebuilt communities, preserved their heritage, and helped steer Canada, however slowly, toward a more equitable future in the hopes that we will never repeat the injustices of the past.
