Gavan McCormack and Satoko Norimatsu's broad survey of Okinawan geography and history is intended to provide a frame of reference for contextualizing the articles that follow. They begin by locating Okinawa in its East Asian geographic context, identifying the climatic, social and cultural factors that set Okinawa apart from mainland Japan. They follow with a historical overview, beginning with a discussion of what Okinawans today remember as the “glory days” of the Ryukyu Kingdom in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when the monarchy held the island chain together and prospered as a commercial entrepot and trading power. They then discuss the first major historical transformation of Okinawa's political status wrought by the unilateral actions of an external power, namely the 1609 invasion of the Ryukyu Kingdom by Satsuma, the southern-most domain of feudalistic Edo Period Japan (1603-1867). The invasion set the stage for a peculiar dual vassalage arrangement in which the Kingdom maintained its formal status as an independent tributary state of the Chinese Empire while under the tight behind-the-scenes control of Satsuma, which benefited from maintaining the fiction that Okinawa was politically closer to China than to Japan. For MacCormack and Norimatsu, the 1609 political structure is the first instance of a recurring, “theatrical” pattern in which a staged outward equality of status very thinly veils a real structure of differential treatment and subordination. They go on to trace this pattern through its various manifestations in Okinawa's subsequent history via a series of shobun (punishment or, alternatively, disposals): namely, (a) the original Ryukyu disposal of 1872-79, (b) the post-World War II “disposal” that began with the 1945 Battle of Okinawa and culminated in Japan's ceding sovereignty over Okinawa to the United States, (c) the 1972 reversion of Okinawa to Japan, and (d) the post-Cold War restructuring of the U.S. bases in Okinawa within the context of a redefined U.S.-Japan Security relationship. They thereby shed light on the sources of Okinawa's “difference” from the rest of Japan and its ambiguous status of being simultaneously incorporated into, but never fully integrated with, mainstream contemporary Japanese society and culture.

History is, in many ways, a product of the present, meaning that contemporary myths and circumstances have a way of shaping how we understand the past. As Gregory Smits makes clear, this is no less true of contemporary Okinawa than it is elsewhere. Both at home and abroad, a widely held image of Okinawa presents it as possessing a timeless “peace culture” that contrasts with the warrior culture-infused history of mainland Japan. Smits demonstrates that this is a myth, and that the establishment of the Ryukyu Kingdom (1429-1879), which united what had previously been separate island kingdoms, involved military violence. He reviews the evolution of the military aspect of governance of the Ryukyu Kingdom period. From there, he discusses what he sees as the roots of the pacifism myth, which he claims began with nineteenth century accounts by Western visitors to Okinawa. Smits’ debunking of the peace culture myth, in turn, highlights the effects on Okinawan discourse of the more recent experiences of war and subordination that are discussed in subsequent articles in this collection.

Like Smits’ article, the following piece by Tze M. Loo reveals a “forgotten” aspect of Okinawan history; in this case the post-1879 history behind what is contemporary Okinawa's most iconic architectural structure –the reconstructed Shuri Castle that was completed in 1992. Shuri, which is currently the eastern portion of the city of Naha, was the capital of the Ryukyu Kingdom and Shuri Castle its seat of government. Given this background, it is not surprising that the reconstructed castle, a “must see” item on every visitor's checklist, has come to symbolize Okinawa's past as an “independent” kingdom and a culture distinct from that of the mainland. Most Okinawans know that the castle was destroyed during the Battle of Okinawa in 1945 but are unfamiliar with or have “forgotten” the castle's convoluted trajectory in the wake of Okinawa's absorption into Japan in 1879. As Loo shows, in contrast to its current association with Ryukyuan independence and distinctiveness, in the years preceding World War II, Shuri Castle was systematically incorporated into the Japanese Empire's hierarchy of national symbols and placed in the service of Japanese nationalism. In this way, the “other histories” of the castle that Loo outlines reflect the process of Okinawa's assimilation into the Japanese Empire from 1879 to 1945 and the ambiguous, liminal status of Okinawa that was its result.

The nearly three-month long Battle of Okinawa (April-June 1945) saw what was arguably the most intense combat of the Asia-Pacific theater of World War II and marked the only battle of that war that unfolded on Japanese soil. It is estimated that one in three residents of Okinawa Island—mostly civilians– lost their lives during the battle. It is readily understandable to outside observers why this experience might generate a strong streak of pacifism in contemporary Okinawan political culture. Less readily apparent to the uninformed observer is why the same experience would generate resentment against the Japanese military that was ostensibly defending compatriots from the American attack. Yet the battle not only did so but has also become a source of recurrent conflict among Okinawans themselves, and between Okinawans and the mainland government. Okinawa International University professor emeritus Aniya Masaaki elucidates the historical reasons behind the controversy by describing the circumstances surrounding the “group suicides” of Okinawan civilians that occurred in various parts of the prefecture during the battle and a ground-level account of one such group suicide. It deserves note that this article was written just when controversy was coming to a head in 2007 over the depiction of these “group suicides” in Japan's high school history textbooks. The article helps the reader make sense of the lingering emotional resentment toward the mainland government that many Okinawans still harbor today.

Okinawa was administered by the United States military between the end of the Battle of Okinawa in June 1945 and its reversion to Japan in May 1972. Matthew R. Augustine's article covers the period stretching from the start of American military planning prior to the Battle of Okinawa to the return of the Amami Islands, the northernmost portion of the occupied Ryukyu Islands, in 1953. The article outlines the consequences of the American decision to administratively separate the Ryukyu Islands from Japan proper, and allow the military to run it as a military colony, along with the social and political currents that were set in motion as a result. As Augustine explains, this involved not only isolating Okinawa from Japan, but also the different islands of the Ryukyus from one another, in the process disrupting the economic, social, and political networks that had earlier sustained Okinawa's economy and society. However, as he details in the section that follows, Okinawans did not accept these conditions passively, and in their struggle for survival revived earlier links with Japan to the north and neighboring countries to the south through illicit smuggling networks. From there, Augustine discusses how the Cold War confrontation of the late 1940s led to a partial re-establishment of economic links with the mainland while rigorously continuing (or perhaps more accurately systematically monitoring) political separation.

Pedro Iacobelli's essay also elucidates some of the less immediately obvious consequences of the U.S.'s administration of Okinawa, in his case focusing on Okinawa's international legal status during the American occupation. As he details, under the terms of the 1951 San Francisco Peace Treaty, Japan in theory retained “residual sovereignty” over Okinawa's population. Iacobelli, after discussing in some detail the historical circumstances that gave rise to this status, traces its practical consequences for a Ryukyu Government-sponsored emigration program to South America.

Out migration has long been a key component of the modern Okinawan experience. As the poorest prefecture in the country with an extremely limited land supply, there were plenty of economic incentives for Okinawans to seek employment outside the prefecture, and large numbers traveled to such places as the sugar and pineapple fields of Hawaii, the coffee plantations of Brazil, newly established colonies in Bolivia (see the Augustine chapter) and many other places in North and South America, Asia and the Pacific Islands region. As a consequence prewar Okinawa came to have the highest ratio of emigrants to total population in pre-World War II Japan and it is virtually de riguer for families in Okinawa to have relatives who live overseas. Although not as closely documented because of the absence of border control procedures (except for the period of U.S. occupation), even greater numbers of Okinawans migrated to the cities of mainland Japan. Large numbers of Okinawans still travel from job-scarce Okinawa to the mainland in search of economic opportunities.

One element contributing to Okinawa's “difference” from the Japanese mainland is the existence in Okinawa of languages that are unintelligible to mainland Japanese. Paul Heinrich takes up the topic of language in Okinawa and, as he makes amply clear, the situation is complicated and, from the standpoint of language preservation, dire. In Heinrich's assessment, the Ryukyu Islands are home to five different, mutually unintelligible language groups. However, since the Ryukyu Kingdom's 1879 absorption into the Japanese Empire, as a consequence of strong official and unofficial pressure to adopt standard Japanese, which Heinrich details, these languages are disappearing rapidly. Notwithstanding the efforts of groups today to revitalize local Ryukyuan languages, Heinrich ultimately ends his piece on a pessimistic note. He claims that saving the endangered languages of the Ryukyus would require strong official support that is not currently forthcoming.

For the last twenty years the Marine Corps Air Station Futenma—or more precisely, its relocation—has been at the epicenter of severely strained relations between local residents of Okinawa and both the national government of Japan and the government of the United States. As Shimoji Yoshio points out in the following article, like other U.S. bases located on the main island of Okinawa, Futenma was originally constructed on largely agricultural land that was seized by the U.S. military during the Battle of Okinawa and not returned to its owners. In the subsequent decades, the surrounding area urbanized to the point where the Futenma facility is now located in the center of a densely populated city. This has generated problems for residents of neighboring areas ranging from noise and environmental pollution to crimes committed by US personnel along with frustrating constraints on land use. Tensions were brought to a boil in 1995 when three servicemen from another U.S. Marine base abducted and raped a 12 year-old girl and in 2004 when a helicopter from Futenma crashed into neighboring Okinawa International University. Both incidents ignited massive protest demonstrations against the U.S. military presence. In 1996, an agreement was reached between the U.S. and Japanese governments to relocate the Futenma base to a proposed off-shore facility to be constructed off the coast of a less densely populated northeast area of the island. However, the relocation has been stalled ever since over concerns about the environmental damage that the proposed facility would do and resistance on the part of Okinawans, almost all of whom would prefer to see the facility moved out of the prefecture entirely.

This essay develops McCormack and Norimatsu's point that memories of the past impact contemporary Okinawa and shape the identities of Okinawans. Roberson shows how memories of the Battle of Okinawa are a powerful presence in contemporary Okinawan popular music. In Roberson's words: “Early songs reflect the dynamics and contradictions of assimilationist pressures and desires that led Okinawans to participate … in Japan's wars and empire building. Later songs give witness to personal and cultural ambivalences and to the profound injuries suffered by Okinawans during the battle. As a result of their experiences in war, Okinawans have since that time sung of peace, first in terms of desiring to return to what they think of as a long-ago peaceful homeland, and later imagined in response to American military control and to the promise offered by Japan's ‘Peace Constitution.’” Popular songs in Okinawa, in short, can serve as a fascinating lens through which to observe the way in which Okinawans’ historical experiences have shaped contemporary Okinawan culture and politics.

As in Roberson's analysis of popular songs, Christopher T. Nelson shows how memories of war shape popular culture in Okinawa today—in Nelson's case in the context of community-based dance performances known as eisā. Today eisā is the most widespread and widely recognized community activity practiced in contemporary Okinawa. The Koza Riot that Nelson refers to occurred during the evening of December 20-21, 1970, in what was then a red light district caering primarily to American military personnel outside Kadena Air Force Base. The rioting was precipitated by an incident in which a car driven by an intoxicated American soldier struck an Okinawan man. Efforts by U.S. Military Police to extricate the soldier in question sparked eight hours of street fighting between hundreds of MPs and thousands of local Okinawan residents, resulting in dozens of injuries and large-scale property damage. Most observers interpreted the Koza Riot as an expression of widespread simmering resentment among the local population against the U.S. military presence.

Gavan McCormack closes this course reader with an article that highlights the geostrategic centrality of Okinawa by providing an overview of the currently raging dispute between China and Japan over overlapping claims to a peripheral set of uninhabited islands in “peripheral” Okinawa. The dispute has become so heated that it has generated fears that it could precipitate war between the two countries. As McCormack's insightful analysis makes clear, the issues involved grow out of the historical processes associated with the decline of the Ryukyu Kingdom and Okinawa's incorporation into the modern Japanese state. His discussion covers the actions of the national governments of Japan, China, Taiwan and the United States, and brings clarity to the dispute by detailing how differently the Senkaku issue is framed and conceived in the countries involved. It serves as an excellent illustration of how, thanks to its location, Okinawa's fate in the twenty-first century remains subject to the interplay of the larger powers active in the region, against which it remains relatively powerless.