In 1974,
Philippine authorities became very concerned when they received reports of a
Japanese soldier who had been threatening and apparently even attacking local
villagers in a very remote region of the island of Lubang. Plans were put in
place to deploy a special task force to subdue, capture or, if necessary, kill
this soldier, who had already used deadly force on several occasions to prevent
locals from approaching his position - one he had apparently defended for
decades. The identity of this soldier was a complete mystery, given that the
last known Japanese soldier in the area from World War II, lieutenant Hiroo
Onoda, had been officially declared dead in 1959.
A
Japanese student and explorer named Norio Suzuki,
who knew of Lieutenant Onoda and believed
he might still be alive, became aware of the situation and asked the
authorities for permission to approach (at his own risk) and communicate with
this soldier, hoping to determine why he was so intent on protecting/fortifying
his position in an almost uninhabited location. This permission was granted,
and the young student went on a search for him in the hills of Lubang. Upon
finding him, he waved a white flag as he approached the aging soldier, calling out "Onoda-san, the emperor and the people of Japan are worried about you." Because
he had used a well-defined wartime protocol - and called to him in Japanese -
Norio Suzuki was able to go directly up to the soldier and ask him why he was
so adamantly defending this location. The soldier - who indeed turned out to be
none other than Lieutenant Onoda, having held his position for three decades -
replied, “I am a soldier and remain true to my duties.”
Norio Suzuki |
Hiroo Onoda at age 22 |
Onoda had received orders directly from his commanding officer, Major
Yoshimi Taniguchi, to defend this position at all costs.
“It
may take three years, it may take five, but whatever happens we’ll come back for you,” the major had promised.
All but
three of Onoda's brothers-in-arms fled or were killed as American forces landed
on Lubang on February 28, 1945. One of the three surrendered to Filipino forces
in 1950, and two others were eventually killed by Lubang police officers.
There had been several efforts to communicate with Onoda and his comrades, but sadly they had resisted all such attempts to get them to surrender, dismissing the Japanese search parties and leaflet drops as "enemy trickery." The leaflets were filled with mistakes, and Onoda judged them as a plot by the Americans.
There had been several efforts to communicate with Onoda and his comrades, but sadly they had resisted all such attempts to get them to surrender, dismissing the Japanese search parties and leaflet drops as "enemy trickery." The leaflets were filled with mistakes, and Onoda judged them as a plot by the Americans.
The Japanese student Suzuki
told the lieutenant that the war had been over for three decades, and - dutiful
soldier that Onoda was - it was no longer necessary to defend this position.
Lieutenant Onoda firmly replied that he would not stop doing so until he
received direct orders from his commanding officer that he could now lay down
his arms and allow others to approach this site. Stunned at first, Suzuki felt
that there was no way he could peacefully conclude this seemingly intractable
situation - and then he was suddenly inspired to ask the name and position of
the soldier's commander. Onoda told him that it had been Major Yoshimi
Taniguchi. Armed (as it were) with
this information, but fearing that he had almost no chance of finding this
former military official, Suzuki was determined to return to Japan, find Major
Taniguchi, and bring him back to this place to rescind the orders he had given
so forcefully long ago, allowing Onoda to finally surrender.
After
researching military history and records in Japan, Suzuki was indeed able to
locate Major Taniguchi, who had long since retired and was living a civilian
life as a bookseller. And thus it came to pass that the retired major returned
to Lubang (at the request of the Tokyo government) to finally fulfill his promise.
Japan had lost the war, said Taniguchi when he finally stood in front of his
loyal lieutenant, and Onoda was at last relieved of duty.
The time-worn soldier sharply saluted his former superior officer, then wept uncontrollably.
The time-worn soldier sharply saluted his former superior officer, then wept uncontrollably.
Still
sobbing, Onoda handed over his rifle (which he had kept in pristine working
condition for three decades), approximately 500 rounds of ammunition, a few
hand grenades and, finally, a dagger gifted to him by his mother when he was
first deployed overseas.
Hiroo Onoda surrenders his sword to Ferdinand Marcos |
As he arrived at the Lubang Island Police Station, he bowed to the people assembled there and laid down his weapons, saying, “I am Lieutenant Hiroo Onoda and I have received orders to surrender to you.” On the morning of March 10, 1974, in Manila, the lieutenant, wearing his old Japanese military uniform, gave his sword to President Marcos in a traditional gesture of surrender.
Although Lieutenant Onoda had killed at least 30 people in as many years, Ferdinand Marcos granted him a full official pardon, and Hiroo Onoda at last returned to Japan.
Hiroo Onoda and Norio Suzuki arrive in Japan March 1974 |
The central metaphor and lesson embodied in this tale of the loyal soldier invites each of us to ask what may be a very painful question: What defensive tactics or "orders" do I tenaciously cling to when they no longer serve me or those close to me (even though they may have served me well in a different time, place, or circumstance)? When we explore this question fully, and step into surrendering behaviors and patterns that clearly no longer serve us, we open to the possibility of a powerful transformation into a new life.
By 1984 the Loyal Soldier Hiroo Onoda had taken what he had learned in the jungles of Lubang and founded the Onoda Nature School, a youth camp focused on teaching wilderness survival skills to Japanese youth.
I submit that this Loyal Soldier archetype also extends beyond our individual psychology, so that it can take root in a culture, a religious or ethnic group, or a nation. Examples that come to mind are the incitements to ethnic cleansing by the Serbs of the former Yugoslavia in the 1990s that explicitly used the Battle of Kosovo in 1389 as a rationale, or similar Crusades-era thinking that is taking root here in America that feeds the anger, fear and xenophobia of today's political climate in the United States.
Some
modern psychologists and philosophers have embraced the Loyal Soldier archetype
as one that can deeply inform – and help us address – our dysfunctional
behaviors and perspectives (on a cultural as well as individual level).
Animas Institute founder and psychologist Bill Plotkin defines the Loyal Soldier in
his book Soulcraft as “a courageous, wise, and stubborn sub-personality that
formed during our childhood and created a variety of strategies to help us
survive the realities (often dysfunctional) of our families and culture.”
Although this definition is a bit of a departure from the actual story of Hiroo
Onoda, the analogy is clear. The Loyal Soldier manifests initially as a noble
figure – courageous and stubborn – that may have literally saved our lives as
we were navigating the “battle ground” of childhood and adolescence. This
soldier may have received orders from us at a later time in our lives where we
explicitly needed his protection and ferocity. Plotkin’s work centers
around moving from an “ego centric” to a “soul centric” worldview, and part of
this transformation involves “welcoming the Loyal Soldier home," thanking him
for his service, and reassigning him to a new task that is attuned to our
present circumstances.
Japanese
culture after World War II had communal rituals in place that clearly
recognized that most of their returning soldiers were utterly unprepared to
rejoin civilian society. In these rituals each soldier was, as Father Richard Rohr writes, “publicly thanked and praised
effusively for his service to the people. After this was done at great length,
an elder would stand and announce with authority something to this effect: ‘The
war is now over! The community needs you to let go of what has served you and
served us well up to now. The community needs you to return as a man, a
citizen, and something beyond a soldier.’”
Father Rohr (who founded the ecumenical Center for Action and Contemplation) reflects
these rituals in a process he calls “discharging your loyal soldier.” When we surrender our outmoded
defensive tactics and "orders,” we afford ourselves the opportunity to serve at our
highest potential, and to give ourselves - and those around us - the precious
and truly timeless gift of being fully in the present moment.
Hiroo Onoda "The Loyal Soldier" video
Music from "Priyagitah" by Benjy Wertheimer & Steve Gorn
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