Today’s blog was written by Ruth Chan, Archivist and Subject Matter Expert for Asian American and Pacific Islander Related Records. A heartfelt thanks to Zoe Lee-DiVito, Caroline Perez, and Rebecca Fong, dedicated interns and volunteers at the National Archives in San Francisco, for their invaluable assistance in digitizing the Abo case.
In the final stages of World War II, over 5,000 American citizens of Japanese descent renounced their U.S. citizenship under the Renunciation Act of 1944, with many doing so while confined at the Tule Lake Segregation Center in Northern California. Within months, Wayne Collins – a civil rights attorney known for his work on Japanese American incarceration cases – began advising these applicants of their legal rights. Later that year, Collins filed four mass class actions suits in the U.S. District Court of San Francisco, aiming to halt involuntary deportation and secure full restoration of citizenship for the renunciants. After a prolonged legal battle that spanned two decades, most had their U.S. citizenship reclaimed by the late 1960s.
Among these cases, Abo v. Clark, Civil no. 25294 (NAID 357434775) was the largest, containing the thousands of affidavits mandated by the court. While there are countless federal records chronicling the U.S. government’s wartime actions and their impacts on Japanese American communities, the Abo case stands out for its deeply personal narratives woven throughout the legal proceedings. With depth, detail, and emotional resonance, the Abo case is rich with firsthand experiences – recounting life in the camps, the reasons behind their renunciations, and, at times, glimpses into their lives before the war.
Though the standard affidavit form was only four pages long, it often lacked sufficient space for individuals to fully detail the factors that led to their renunciation. As a result, many affidavits included supplemental pages and ranged from handwritten accounts to carefully typed statements. At times, an affidavit also included a standard cancellation letter, drafted by Collins and submitted by the renunciants.
All affidavits rejected any suggestion of disloyalty to the U.S. and instead emphasized the right to reclaim citizenship as a testament to their allegiance to their country. They explained how their decision to renounce stemmed from a complex set of circumstances beyond their control. Common experiences expressed included duress, fear, intimidation, family obligations, and apprehension that they would not be accepted back into American society after the war. Many felt disheartened that their citizenship had been disregarded while imprisoned in the camps, while others felt that they lacked guidance on proper release from Tule Lake through the resettlement program. As Roy Furuya (Docket 359) reflected: Everyone was caught up in the “fever to renounce without thinking of its consequences. It seemed also that everyone in your block, your neighbors knew what everyone else was doing in respect to renunciation.”
Many of these accounts reveal how individuals were pressured into renouncing. Kachiyo K. Enomoto (Docket 359), a mother of two young children, felt compelled to answer “No/No” on the loyalty questionnaire, driven by fears of separation from her husband and the uncertainty of resettling in a society of “hostile caucasians.” After her husband’s death – attributed to inadequate medical care in the camps, according to her brother-in-law, she felt like a burden on her in-laws, who, fearing for their own safety, urged her to renounce. However, her intent was never to be expatriated to Japan but simply to remain in the camps as long as possible with her extended family.
The affidavits also highlight the renunciants’ disavowal of the wartime measures against their community, detailing harsh treatment and terrible conditions in the camps. Akira Higashi’s affidavit (Docket 359) described the months of rising suspicion toward the Nisei before incarceration, being confined behind “barbed wire fences,” the severe living conditions at Manzanar – “the food was very bad, sometimes we had rotten weiners, stale bread” – and the increasing violence at Tule Lake instigated by the Hoshi Dan, a pro-Japan group in the camp. His wife, Fusako, feared being separated from her husband and resettling outside the camp, where she believed “Americans were hostile to the Japanese,” prompting her to apply for renunciation.
While the lawsuits moved through the court, many renunciants were permitted to remain in the U.S. However, a small number of renunciants, along with many non-citizens, were expatriated to Japan. Many of these former camp residents later filed their affidavits with the State Department to obtain a U.S. passport for return. Those who left the U.S. were assigned Alien Registration numbers, and immigration files (Alien Files) may have been created for them. Several plaintiffs withdrew their filings from the Abo case for various reasons, including the decision to file individually with ACLU lawyer A.L. Wirin at the Southern District Court in Los Angeles. This is to say that while the renunciants shared common experiences during the war, their paths to reclaiming citizenship diverged.
Today, the stories of the renunciants and other former camp residents are preserved and shared at the Tule Lake National Monument, offering visitors a powerful glimpse into the history of this large and contentious site.
Learn more!
The Abo case is one among many federal records documenting the lives of Japanese Americans during WWII. Discover more at World War II Incarceration of Japanese and Japanese Americans.
Exploring your family history?
In addition to adding a wealth of historical context to this period in US history, the affidavits also serve as an invaluable resource for those researching their Japanese American genealogy. Need help locating an individual in the Abo case? Contact the staff at the National Archives at San Francisco at archives.sanbruno@nara.gov. Find more records related to renunciation on the WWII Japanese American Genealogy page.
Want to contribute?
Because many of the affidavits are handwritten, transcriptions of the documents will enhance access and discoverability. Join NARA’s Citizen Archivists program to transcribe, tag and share comments with other community members. Every contribution you make helps unlock history.