Someone in my local paper complained, a couple of days ago, about the amount of space (very little, actually) devoted to the concentration camp at Manzanar being turned into a park. Apparently this is a page of American history that he would rather have forgotten (and, given yet another generation, it probably will be).
Japanese-Americans, he assures us, were sent to concentration camps to protect them from potential zealots among the American people. I wrote a letter to the editor and concentrated largely on that aspect of his letter.
He also told us: "The Japanese who were readily identifiable by their appearance ought to be very glad they were not Jews in German-held lands. Six million of them were murdered."
Right. I am walking down the street, minding my own business, when somebody hits me over the head and steals five hundred dollars from my wallet. I wake up in hospital with a concussion and some lawyer, who represents the mugger, sitting beside my bed and telling me that I should be grateful that his client was not a serial butcher.
Well, yes, I guess I can be grateful for that. Which will not in the least prevent me from doing my utmost to make sure that his client suffers for the deed he did do ...