White, Geoffrey M. "Remembering Guadalcanal: National Identity

Remembering Guadalcanal:
National Identity and
Transnational Memory-Making
Geoffrey M. White
O
n June 24, 1992, the landing ship U.S.S. Racine set sail from Honolulu
for Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands (Southwest Pacific) with a comple­
ment of 200 Marines from the California First Marine Division and First Force
Service Support Group. Not an ordinary military operation, the Racine was part
of a military remembrance operation. Aptly named Operation Remembrance,
this enterprise was organized by the V. S. Department ofDefense to commemorate
the fiftieth anniversary of major battles fought by Americans in the Pacific during
World War II. The Racine set sail with a small naval task force on a three-month
island-hopping campaign to support memorial observances at various island battle
sites, including not only Guadalcanal but also Tonga, New Caledonia, and Papua
New Guinea. As reported in an article in a Honolulu newspaper under the heading
"Task Force Off to Guadalcanal,'" this deployment would, "link up with about
1,000 V.S. and Allied veterans on Aug. 7-8 to dedicate monuments and conduct
commemorative ceremonies on Guadalcanal. Marine combat engineers and Navy
This paper is based on research carried out with support from a grant from the National Endowment
for the Humanities Interpretive Research Program given to Lamont Lindstrom and myself, as well
as a conference grant from the Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research. I would like
to thank Monty Lindstrom for innumerable discussions on topics discussed here, as well as David
Akin, John Fugui, David Gegeo, Takashi Fujitani, and Michael Scott, as well as Carol A. Breckinridge
and anonymous reviewers for comments on an earlier draft, given at the 1993 meetings of the
American Anthropological Association. 1 am grateful to David Akin for his recordings ofthe national
radio broadcasts of the Guadalcanal anniversary ceremonies.
Public Culture 1995, 7: 529-555
© 1995 by The University of Chicago. All rigbts reseIVed.
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Seabees will improve roads and put up signs to direct visitors to key battle sites"
(Honolulu Star-Bulletin, 25 June 1992, A-4).
Although a small exercise by U.S. standards, the arrival of Operation Remem­
brance in the Solomon Islands capital of Honiara was the single largest encounter
between Solomon Islanders and Americans since the end of the war itself. In
addition to the forces arriving with the naval task force, a number of high-ranking
officers representing the service branches traveled to the Solomons by commercial
airlines. The U.S. Marine Band and other personnel arrived by a military jet.
With the imposing Racine tied up at the Honiara wharf, a Marine passenger jet
parked at the national airport, various armored vehicles, jeeps, and trucks
offloaded at the dock, and Navy Seabees performing small construction projects
around town, the casual observer might think that the U. S. had somehow involved
itself in a South Seas Grenada exercise. Combined with the arrival of well over
one thousand veterans on tour ship and international flights, the sudden presence
of Americans, Australians, and New Zealanders in a town with a population
of just over 30,000 constituted a second invasion-this time in the service of
remembering the first one fifty years earlier. In fact, the event was later written
about in such language in an article in the national airline magazine titled, "The
Second Invasion of Guadalcanal" (Gravelle 1993).
This invasion, however, was invited and coordinated by a national government
eager to take advantage of the international memorializing to boost its efforts to
promote tourism and stimulate a flagging economy that had been struggling since
independence from Britain in 1978. At the same time, the anniversary provided
an opportunity to propagate a sense of a shared past in a nation with eighty distinct
language groups occupying a far-flung island archipelago (total population about
350,(00). Indeed, as LiPuma and Meltzoff (1990) noted for celebrations of the
tenth anniversary of independence, the ritual marking of nationhood in the Solo­
mons can be a fragile and contested process. In 1994, for example, celebrations
of national independence were canceled for lack of funds and, as some have said,
interest. But in the case of the war anniversary commemoration, a task force of
support was on the way.
What kinds of history emerge in such moments of transnational memory­
making, as representations ofa national past are produced in concert with foreign
veteran, military, and tourist interests? The Guadalcanal anniversary affords an
opportunity to reflect on the construction of a national history that contends, on
the one hand, with multiple local memories and, on the other, with powerful
global forces of meaning. A great deal of work on the production of national
identity has examined the semiotic significance of war memory and memorials
(e.g., Young 1993), but few studies have examined either the internal tensions
among contending memories or the flow of images and image-making practices
across national boundaries (Appadurai 1992). Work that has noted oppositional
national memories (Bodnar 1992) tends to align a monolithic "official" memory
against local, vernacular memories.
Finally, what are the implications ofthis kind of transnational memory-making
for constructions of the national subject? Drawing upon previous research on
local, oral narratives ofwar recorded in a variety of contexts (White and Lindstrom
1989; Lindstrom and White 1990), this essay juxtaposes productions of the fiftieth
anniversary with other more shadowy memories to explore some of the tensions
and ironies that surround national identity-making in today's postcolonial Pacific.
My thesis is that historical narratives of loyalty and liberation, mediated by the
memory practices of foreign veterans and militaries, here come to occupy the
fledgling terrain of national memory, pushing dissonant memories of colonial
conflict and struggle into full retreat. The national subject that emerges in this
collective history is that of the loyal native supporting a modern war effort-an
image that reinforces a wider set of understandings of nation, self, and modernity.
Dissonant Memories/Ironic Histories
The elevation of memories of bravery, heroism, and loyal service during moments
of war remembrance seems commonplace. Such are the themes of memorial
activities everywhere (Gillis 1994). However, in the Solomon Islands, where
most of the population were onlookers rather than active recruits, and where
the period of Japanese occupation followed by American occupation raised new
questions about relations between natives and British colonizers, the war has
acquired multiple and sometimes contradictory meanings. Before examining the
commemorative ceremonies, I shall present a few examples of war memory that
challenge the dominant narratives of (trans)national history.
Two broad metanarratives frame Solomon Islands war memory. On the one
hand, most war histories depict World War II in the Solomons as an episode of
Japanese invasion and Allied counterinvasion in which harsh Japanese occupiers
are ousted by American forces working in concert with British and other Allied
military. In this context, Solomon Islanders play the role of selfless supporters
who put themselves at risk by assisting the Allied war effort as scouts and laborers.
In terms of the longer political history of the region, however, the war is
usually described as a turning point in efforts to loosen the reins of colonialism
and acquire political autonomy. This is particularly marked in the Solomons,
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Remembering Guadalcanal 532
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where a major anticolonial movement emerged after the war. Encouraged by
interactions with American military personnel, the Maasina Rule movement called
for autonomy from British rule and resulted in about two thousand arrests and
the long-term imprisonment of more than a dozen leaders (Laracy 1983; Fifi'i
1988). In a less overt way, the local posture of resistance is often personified
in small stories about interaction with domineering, sometimes brutal colonial
bosses. The native actor in these stories is not portrayed as passively loyal but
as a deft manipulator of the signs of dominance and submission.
Perhaps because the period after independence allowed more opportunities
for critical voices to speak (and perhaps because themes of local resistance are
now a dominant focus of anthropological interest), prior to the 1992 anniversary
I had recorded numerous stories about wartime experiences that are as concerned
with struggles against British domination as with Japanese occupation (e.g., Fifi'i
1988). These themes were further aired in a conference on "Pacific Recollections
of World War 11" held in Honiara in 1987 when older Solomon Islands veterans
gathered to tell their stories and reflect on their experience (White 1989). In this
context, where participants could speak easily in local Pidgin English, stories of
wartime bravery and accomplishment were joined with questions about motivation
and meaning. This more critical line of questioning culminated in a final speech
by one of the local organizers that was published with conference proceedings
under the title, "The War Was Not Our War" (Zoleveke 1988). To contextualize
this statement, it should be noted that the speaker's position is of an older male
Solomon Islander who was involved in the war, and that women and others would
probably regard the war even less as "their war."
More dramatic than this speaker's statement was the "confession" of another
conference participant, Bill Bennett. He announced that he himself and not the
Japanese had shot his commanding officer during an encounter with a Japanese
patrol-an encounter that has been prominently represented in published accounts
of the war (Cooper 1946; Lord 1977; Boutilier 1989). Bennett, who went on to
become the second most famous war hero in the Solomon Islands, received a
medal from the British for his actions during the skirmish that left the officer,
Donald Kennedy, wounded in the leg. In 1987, after many years of retelling
stories of his wartime heroism, Bennett revealed that it was he who had shot
Kennedy - revenge for Kennedy's repeated humiliating abuse. Revealed first dur­
ing a drinking session at his home, and later recorded in interviews, Bennett
coined the phrase, "in loyalty sleeps revenge," to characterize these revelations
(Bennett 1988: 134-135).1 The one Solomon Islander who was tried and convicted
after the war for collaborating with the enemy was prosecuted for his attempts
to betray the very same officer, Donald Kennedy (Laracy 1991).
A certain degree of irony arises from the absence of any reference to these
themes of colonial conflict in the productions of the fiftieth anniversary. Expres­
sions of wartime struggles with British domination were effectively erased in the
anniversary ceremonies, sometimes by the same people who in other contexts
were the voices of dissent. Gideon Zoleveke, who had delivered the impassioned
speech to the effect that "the war was not our war" at the 1987 conference, was
a keynote speaker at one of the main anniversary events, declaring that it was,
above all, the loyalty of Solomon Islanders to their colonial government that
accounted for their willingness to participate in the war. If Bill Bennett had been
alive, he might have given a similar speech.
One further example illustrates the vulnerability of local memory to the forces
of (trans)national history-making. When local stories do emerge in the public
spaces of national memory, they risk being so disfigured by dominant narratives
and commodifying practices that they become unrecognizable. When browsing
through the gift shop of the country's largest hotel (where many of the American
veterans attending the anniversary stayed), I came across a series of greeting
cards with World War II images labeled "fiftieth anniversary." Not surprisingly,
there was an image of John Kennedy's ill-fated boat, PT-I09. But next to it was
a greeting card showing an American plane bombing a traditional-style Solomon
Islands house (Figure I). Captioned "Laulasi," this card refers to the accidental
bombing of a village on the lagoon island of Laulasi offshore of Malaita island
on the day of the American invasion of neighboring Guadalcanal. A squadron
of naval dive-bombers on a mission to attack a suspected Japanese outpost had
flown off course. The pilots mistakenly thought they saw evidence of Japanese
presence on Laulasi and bombed innocent villagers, some of whom were waving
at the planes. Twenty-three Solomon Islanders were killed, half were children.
Fifty years later in a tourist hotel the Laulasi bombing provided the image for
a greeting card. To the best of my knowledge, this greeting card was the only
reference to the Laulasi tragedy during the entire anniversary, even though resi­
dents of that community continue to agitate for compensation. A parallel example
I. Peter Crowe, a radio joumalist working for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation who
covered the 1987 Honiara conference, was the first 10 record Bill Bennett's revelations- material
that he later included in radio programming on the war.
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Remembering Guadalcanal 534
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Figure I. Greeting card
depicting Laulasi bomb­
ing, on sale at Mendana
Hotel during the fiftieth
anni versary celebration.
Solomon Islands
q~J",q~t
in other contexts of war memory, might be the phone cards or key chains sold
in Japan with the image of the atomic bomb dome, icon ofthe Hiroshima bombing.
War Memorials/Memorial Wars
For Solomon Islanders, World War II is constantly present. It is present in the
rusting remains of war that litter the landscape (landing craft, planes, tanks, live
bombshells), in the periodic visits of American, Australian, and Japanese veterans
who return as tourists to visit former battle sites, and in ceremonial occasions
when political speakers and visiting dignitaries invoke Solomons participation
in the war as a sign of past and present relations. And yet the many meanings
of the war for people in rural villages extends across a complex terrain of storytell­
ing that only occasionally crystallizes in collective history. When such crystalliza­
tions do occur, it is often in connection with projects initiated by foreign or
expatriate interests (Solomon Islands Teachers College 1980; White et al. 1988).
The fiftieth anniversary constituted the latest and most elaborate project to further
inscribe war history in the landscape in the form of several new memorials
conceived by foreign veterans.
For Americans (at least of the war generation), books and movies such as
PT-109 (about John F. Kennedy's rescue in the Western Solomons) and Gudalca­
nat Diary have ensured that the Solomons enjoy a prominent place in popular
imagination, even if few know anything about the archipelago's culture and his­
tory. For those familiar with the Pacific War, Guadalcanal is known as the site
of the first American offensive against the Japanese-a struggle that lasted six
months and eventually turned the tide of the war. Although certainly less visible
to Americans than the fiftieth anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the
anniversary of the Allied invasion of Guadalcanal on August 7, 1992 became a
moment of intense interest to many, generating at least two documentary films,
including a lavish National Geographic film about the battle's underwater wrecks,
and several new books.
Perhaps the greatest impetus for remembering World War II in the Solomons
is from the Allied veterans who fought there. In this case it was primarily veterans
from the United States, Australia, and New Zealand, together with their govern­
ment and military representatives, who made the occasion an international event.
Responding to this interest, and recognizing the opportunity to link the anniversary
with national efforts to expand tourism, the Solomon Islands government formed
a planning committee to manage the event and make it the centerpiece for the
country's designation of 1992 as "Tourism Year for the Solomons."2 Nearly
U.S.$300,000 (S.I.$850,000) were earmarked for the preparations. The anticipa­
tion of outside interest focused and directed efforts of the national government
inside the Solomon Islands.
Japanese veterans are also intensely interested in remembering Guadalcanal
and have regularly visited its war sites, often as groups seeking to recover bones
2. Prime Minister Solomon Mamaloni in his introductory statement for the official souvenir
publication, GuadtJlcana/ J 942- J992, wrote: "This year we are celebrating two events in the Solomon
Islands, the first is the fiftieth Anniversary of the Battle for GuadalcanaI, and the second, Tourism
Year for the Solomons . . . . On behalf of my people, I welcome our overseas guests-those who
are new to our shores and those who were forced to visit us during the War. It is fitting that we
make this Tourism Year and show the world our beautiful and rich heritage ...."
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Guadalcanal
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including an imposing peace memorial overlooking the national capital in 1981.
Japan, however, was excluded from the fiftieth anniversary ceremonies, even
though it has extensive aid and trade commitments in the Solomon Islands that
far surpass those of the United States. 3 In this respect, the Guadalcanal ceremony
was similar not only to the Pearl Harbor anniversary the previous year when the
U.S. State Department omitted official foreign representation in order to avoid
this problem, but also to the D-Day observances in 1994 where German participa­
tion was excluded. Despite their absence from the August ceremonies, Japanese
veterans organized several smaller ceremonies which took place during the fol­
lowing weeks. While American veterans were boarding their planes to return
home, government workers were busy cleaning, painting, and preparing the sites
where the Japanese ceremonies were to be held.
The significance of the Japanese absence from the Guadalcanal ceremonies
is not that their perspectives were omitted, but that fifty years later-and fourteen
years after independence-foreign actors are the leading authors of the nation's
public history of the war. While local planning was carried out by a national
executive committee, the agenda it set was organized around a series ofdedication
ceremonies of monuments designed and erected by Americans and their allies. 4
Over the years, many plaques, monuments, and memorials have been placed
in and around Guadalcanal. Americans, Australians, New Zealanders, and Japa­
nese have all installed and dedicated monuments on the island. The monuments
constructed for the fiftieth anniversary are part of this ongoing process of monu­
ment-making. The fiftieth anniversary itself might best be viewed as a climax
in this brief history of monument construction, with the major commemorative
events focusing on a new memorial built by American veterans and a statue of
the most famous Solomon Islands war hero, Sir Jacob Vouza.
3. One ofthe more revealing befuddlements provoked by the anniversary occurred when Ameri­
can veterans staying in the country's main international class hotel discovered that it was owned by
a Japanese company. When some of the veterans further realized that the Japanese flag was flying
in front of the hotel, they requested that the flag be taken down. Their request was quickly accommo­
dated by the hotel management, much to the amusement of at least one local cleaning lady who
spoke with me about the incident.
4. Based on comments from a Solomon Islander in a key position in the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs, the government's posture at this time was to allow Americans and their colleagues the
opportunity to conduct ceremonies in a manner appropriate for them. Reflecting some degree of
formal distance from these events, the Solomons Prime Minister, Solomon Mamaloni, was noticeably
absent from the official ceremonies, where the Solomon Islands was represented by its Governor
General.
The highlight of the American agenda was the dedication of an imposing new
war memorial constructed on Skyline Ridge overlooking the national capital.
The memorial was initially conceived by American veterans who were disturbed
by the low visibility of Allied memorials on the island in comparison to the
Japanese peace memorial, which overlooks the town from another ridge. s In
response, a group of Americans fonned the Guadalcanal-Solomon Islands War
Memorial Foundation to raise money and sponsor the construction of a new
memorial. A brochure distributed by this foundation in the early stage of its
fundraising explains: "High ranking American military and naval personnel, all
veterans of the Pacific Campaign in World War II were shocked, on arrival at
Guadalcanal in 1986, at the contrast between the almost insignificant American
Memorial on Edson's Ridge and the magnificent Japanese Monument in the flight
path of Henderson Field."
In April 1987, the chairman of the foundation accompanied by four retired
American generals visited the Solomons on a cruise ship. They secured govern­
ment approval for the project, including the allocation of two hectares of choice
land on Skyline Ridge overlooking battle sites and the sea beyond. This visit
was itself accompanied by a ceremonial flag-raising at a small privately operated
war museum outside of the capital, along with speeches from the Minister of
Trade, Commerce, and Industry, and by the Solomon Islands veteran, Bill Ben­
nett.
After a groundbreaking ceremony in 1987, several years passed before plans
for the memorial were finalized. In 1989, as architectural plans were being drawn
and fundraising was proceeding, representatives of the American veterans group
again visited the Solomons and held a memorial service at the site of the monu­
ment. By this time, the concept for the memorial had changed from a structure
that would include a statue of Jacob Vouza as well as a chapel, museum, and
cultural center, to a walled enclosure with an obelisk and a series of marble walls
bearing inscriptions referring to various phases of the battle. With its official
American funding, the monument had to be redefined and dedicated only to
American combatants. Hence the plan to include a statue of Vouza developed
into a plan for a separate monument dedicated to all the Allied combatants, with
Vouza, the symbol of native involvement, as the centerpiece. The plan for the
5. The Japanese memorial, termed a "peace memorial,· artempts to represent itselfintemationally,
including a row of flag poles flying the flags of all combatant nations, and an inscription dedicated
to "the spirits of those who sacrificed their lives in World War II ... to remind us of their patriotism
which they dedicated to their mother countries.'
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Remembering Guadalcanal 538
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shipped to the Solomons in July 1990. Meanwhile, it was not until March of
1992 that construction on the Skyline Ridge monument finally began, just a few
months before the anniversary ceremonies. At that point, the cost of the project
had climbed from $U.S.300,000 to about $500,000. Estimated cost for the Vouza
statue and construction was about $U.S.60,000.
During 1989, as the memorial foundation finalized its plans and began fundrais­
ing, rumblings oflocal discontent began. In April 1989 , a fonner Primer Minister,
Sir Peter Kenilorea, published an opinion piece in the local newspaper criticizing
the proposed memorial. Writing under his initials, P.J. K., his words echoed
those of Gideon Zoleveke two years earlier:
The Second World War was not our war and Sir Jacob Vouza's pro­
posed statue is a fonn of "grease" by Americans to allow the Solomon
Islands Government to accommodate the memorial. . . .
What possible benefits do we, as a country get out of the War Memo­
rial?
This simply reinforces local peoples' sense of inferiority.
The idea to build the monument, its design, the money and the tech­
nology all belong to foreigners ....
And yet again, at the height of Skyline Ridge we have yet to witness
another battle between USA and Japan.
Do we need them to do that yet again in our own soils? . .
I think that apart from the praise given to our people for their ser­
vices during the war years, the Americans and British need to consider
some fonns of compensations to our local people. . . .
I think we have already had enough of USA vs Japan during the last
war (Solomon Star, 28 April 1989, 7).
Kenilorea took his criticism in a pragmatic direction, suggesting that those who
were going to such trouble to raise funds for the monument might usefully redirect
their efforts to construct something of benefit to the national economy - such
as a war memorial hotel that might incorporate war themes and exhibits in its
construction, while generating revenue for a cash-poor economy.
Similar comments, also focusing on the issue of benefit for those who had
suffered during the war, were put forward by another Solomon Islander in a
letter to the editor three years later. This writer, Rev. Bea from Munda, New
Georgia, voiced another aspect ofdiscontent with the anniversary - that it focused
only upon Guadalcanal (or would be staged only in Guadalcanal), even though
it is only one of the many islands affected by the war. The Munda area in particular
was the site of a protracted occupation and intense fighting. Calling attention to
this, Rev. Bea wrote:
I would like to appeal to the countries who will be attending the celebra­
tion in August to think about the destruction, damage and ruin done in
the Munda area, as also happened in every province in the country. . . .
This fiftieth anniversary to me reminds me or is a reminder for the whole country for the destruction, hardship, hunger, fear, dying, etc. during the war. (Solomon Star, 10 April 1992,4) Despite these criticisms, plans for erecting the monument went ahead with
the necessary backing from the Solomon Islands government. Funds for the
memorial were provided by a U.S. Congressional appropriation (U.S.$150,000),
the U.S. Battle Monument Commission (U.S.$IOO,OOO) and fundraising among
veterans organizations. With this support, the Skyline Ridge memorial and the
Vouza statue were completed well before the August seventh anniversary.
Ritual Politics
The official program of the anniversary consisted of a series of monument dedica­
tions and a medal ceremony for Solomon Islands veterans, punctuated by recep­
tions and military and cultural perfonnances, during August sixth through eighth.
The actual day of the anniversary, August 7, began with a dawn service at a
small cenotaph in the middle of town, followed by dedications of the Skyline
Ridge Memorial in the morning and the Vouza statue in the afternoon. On the
following day several memorial plaques and markers were dedicated at the interna­
tional airport, which itselfhad been the central focus of the battle for Guadalcanal.
This was then followed by the ceremony to award medals to Solomon Islanders
who had served as scouts and laborers. This "medal investiture" was held on the
town parade ground where the Governor General handed out medals to more
than 200 veterans. Following the handing out of medals, the official program
ended with perfonnances by military bands and marching units.
The different events on the anniversary program reflect the several audiences
and constituencies for Solomon Islands war memory. The three events I mention
here-dedication of the Skyline Ridge memorial, dedication of the Vouza statue,
and the medal ceremony-encompass three main constituencies: American, Al­
lied (American, Australian, British, New Zealand, and Solomon Islands), and
Solomon Islands. The Skyline Ridge memorial was an American production
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Remembering Guadalcanal 540
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from beginning to end (named and dated to commemorate only the battle for
Guadalcanal rather than the entire Solomon Islands campaign). Indeed, it was
funded and dedicated as an official American monument. The dedication ceremo­
nies, held inside the memorial's walled enclosure, were orchestrated by U.S.
veteran groups assisted by Operation Remembrance. The master of ceremonies
for the occasion was the American chairman of the memorial foundation, Dr.
Robert Muehrcke. Attended by Solomon Islands government officials and veter­
ans as well as representatives of the governments and militaries of the various
participating nations, the ceremony was opened with a prayer led by a U.S.
Navy chaplain and national anthems of the Solomon Islands and United States.
It concluded with a twenty-one-gun salute by the Marine Corps detachment de­
ployed by Operation Remembrance. The ceremony opened with welcoming re­
marks by the Solomon Islands Minister of Home Affairs, and included prayers
led by two heads of Solomons churches, and reflections of a former British
coastwatcher. All of the main speeches, however, were given by Americans­
a retired Marine General acting as representative of President George Bush, and
by the Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps. The actual unveiling of the
memorial was performed by Bush's representative and the U.S. Ambassador to
Solomon Islands.
During the dedication ceremonies, only ranking government and military
officials, along with invited veterans, could enter the walled area where the
speeches, prayers, and wreath-laying took place. Access to the compound through
a narrow passageway was regulated by Solomon Islands police assisted by U.S.
Marines, who provided logistic support as welL With the memorial perched atop
Skyline Ridge, I stood with hundreds of curious Solomon Islanders outside the
compound listening to the loudspeakers and radios. The master of ceremonies
concluded the dedication with the words: "We would now like to announce at
this time that the American Battle Monument Commission is going to receive a
gift of this memorial to the American people and they will preserve the integrity
of the memorial forever after. "
Certain local people, however, weren't so sure about the monuments. Festus
Oli, one of the many ordinary Solomon Islands in the audience that day, later
wrote to the newspaper urging others to see the value in the new monuments.
His comments reveal some uncertainty about the attitudes of his compatriots:
"Although many of you do not like them [the monuments], it was put there after
someone paid a heavy price for it. The government should look after them from
vandals and keep them clean for visitors" (Solomon Star, August 1992,4). "Visi­
tors," are presumed by many Solomon Islanders to be the primary audience
for the Guadalcanal Campaign MemoriaL Julian Maka'a, the announcer for the
national radio's broadcast of the dedication ceremonies, concluded his commen­
tary with the following remarks (translated here from the original broadcast in
Solomons Pijin):
From the commentaries we have given about this place and coverage of
the ceremony and everything else, we hope that you can imagine and ap­
preciate the value of this monument and that eventually everyone wiII
give it proper respect, for the name of our country (fo saed long nem
blong kantre blong iumi) and as a tourist attraction for the economy,
that we wiII take good care of it.
Here, then, is a truly transnational site: located on a ridge overlooking the capital
of the Solomon Islands, owned by the American Battle Monument Commission,
and maintained as a tourist destination for international visitors on pilgrimage
to war memorials. Since its dedication, the huge white presence on Skyline Ridge
has been nicknamed by some Honiara residents, "the Alamo."
In counterpoint to the Skyline Ridge ceremonies, the dedication of the Solomon
Islands Campaign Memorial with the statue of Sir Jacob Vouza at the center,
represented all nationalities involved in the Allied campaign. This broader partici­
pation and audience was reflected in the organization of the ritual event. Held
in front of the national police headquarters where the monument was erected,
these ceremonies included flag raisings and national anthems for each of six
countries in addition to the Solomon Islands: Australia, Fiji, New Zealand, Tonga,
the United Kingdom, and the United States. Master of ceremonies for this event
was the former British coastwatcher Martin Clemens, who also had played a
leading role in organizing the ceremonies. Speeches were delivered by the Ameri­
can head of the War Memorial Foundation and the Assistant Commandant of
the U.S. Marine Corps as well as by representatives of New Zealand and Solomon
Islands veterans. Vouza's son, David Vouza, and Martin Clemens unveiled the
Vouza statue.
Sir Gideon Zoleveke, mentioned earlier for his concluding remarks at the
1987 World War II Conference, delivered the main speech at the dedication of
the Vouza statue on behalf of Solomon Islands veterans. As head of the Solomon
Islands War Veterans Association, he had already written the Forward to the
Official Souvenir Publication o/the Fiftieth Anniversary. In that essay, he posed
the question, "What do the 50th year celebrations mean to Solomon Islander
War Veterans?" He replied by saying, "The answers should be to remember the
involvement in the BSIP [British Solomon Islands Protectorate] Defence Force
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Remembering Guadalcanal 542
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as coastwatchers, weapon carriers with Allied Forces, couriers, rescue operators,
scouts, spies and above all their loyalty to the BSIP Government." Although,
Zoleveke also wrote about the destruction and suffering experienced by Solomon
Islanders who were "caught in the middle," he answered his rhetorical question
about the meanings of the anniversary by appealing directly to "loyalty to the
BSIP Government. " In his speech at the dedication ceremony, he appealed again
to the theme of national loyalty : "All this accounts for the willingness of Solomon
Islanders to participate in the last World War II Guadalcanal campaign. Above
all our loyalty to the then greater Solomon Islands government, and like our
allied friends to their own government as well."
These remarks contrast with Zoleveke's reflections about the meanings of the
war at the conclusion of the 1987 conference mentioned earlier. Speaking in
Solomons Pidgin to his fellow comrades, he said (translated in Laracy and White
1988:75):
I actually just discovered that this war was not actually our war. That's
what we've been talking about. It was Japan and England's war ....
They didn't wage this war on their own land; they came and waged it
on our land. Because our colonial bosses had been here since 1893, we
couldn't just up and run away. . . . So we went into the war. Some
were wounded, many died. But there is one point I want to emphasise
to you now. It was not our war; it was their war-the Americans, Brit­
ish, whoever.
Although not necessarily inconsistent with the idea of loyalty, Zoleveke here is
more concerned with differentiating local interests from those of former colonial
masters. His remarks, coming nine years after independence, begin to articulate
some of the alternative positions that emerge in stories Solomon Islanders tell
about the war and about complex interactions among the various parties- Ameri­
can, British, Japanese- interactions that do not always fit neatly into war narra­
tives with their scripts of loyalty and liberation.
The Vouza Statue: Refiguring the Native
The Vouza statue is the first civic statue of any personage erected in Solomon
Islands public space. The only other statue is that of Christ above the entry to
the Anglican cathedral on the other side of the capital. If any memorial gesture
were to be made to Solomon Islands participation in World War II, it was inevita­
ble that it would focus upon Jacob Vouza. Vouza first gained recognition for
bravery when he survived capture and torture by the Japanese in the early days
of the American invasion. He went on to become the most decorated native
participant in the war and the first Solomon Islander to be knighted. All of this
began with the account of his capture and escape in Guadalcanal Diary by the
journalist Richard Tregaskis, which was published in 1943 as the Solomons
campaign raged on. Since that time, Vouza's deeds have been represented in
countless books and articles about Guadalcanal. In his later years his renowned
veteran status made him the featured guest at many national ceremonies and
commemorative events. He received numerous medals, and in 1978 when the
Solomon Islands obtained its independence, he was made a knight of the British
Empire. When, a few years after independence, a local Pidgin literacy project
looked for subjects to publish, the first publication it issued was a twelve-page
booklet about Vouza, Stori Abaotem Sir Jacob Vouza, published in 1982 on the
occasion of the fortieth anniversary of Guadalcanal.
By 1992, the effort to erect a statue to Jacob Vouza and the entire Allied
coastwatching effort had been underway for some time. Martin Clemens con­
tracted the Australian sculptor John Dowie, who had just completed a statue of
the Queen of England for the new Australian parliament building, to make a
bronze statue of Vouza. Dowie designed a larger-than-Iife-size statue of Vouza
standing with bush-knife in hand, with the appearance of being roughly carved
from stone (see Figure 2).
After casting in 1990, the statue was transported to the Solomons by the
Australian Navy, and given a preliminary dedication at a small anniversary event
in the backyard of the police station. Martin Clemens acted as master of ceremo­
nies for that event, to which Vouza's wife and family were invited to view the
statue as part of the dedication. However, few other Solomon Islanders were
invited, or even knew the event was taking place. The primary audience was a
visiting tour group of American veterans. Indeed, a radio story the day following
indicated that some Solomon Islanders, including the Premier of Guadalcanal
province, were upset that no representatives of the town or province had been
invited. The Anglican priest who had assisted with the ceremony, David Bindon,
later wrote an apologetic letter to the newspaper explaining that the ceremony
was not the real dedication ceremony, and had only been put on to accommodate
the American veterans (Solomon Star, 17 August 1990,12).
The visual image created by the statue, especially the rough-hewn surface of
Vouza's body and clothing, leaves a strong impression of a figure in the raw.
Consistent with this style, the statue depicts Vouza wearing a waistcloth and
543
Remembering Guadalcanal 544
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545
GUADALCANAL It SOLOMON ISLAND Remembering Guaclalcanal WAR MEMOJllAL FOUNDATION
Figure 3. Jacob Vouza
with a U.S. Marine on
GuadalcanaJ, 15 Septem­
ber 1943 (U.S. Marine
Corps photo).
Figure 2. Vouza statue as
shown on the cover of
the Memorial Foundation
fundraising brochure.
APPIiALFORMONUMENT TOALLIIiD FORCES holding a bushknife, the dress and implement of plantation labor. Barefoot and
barechested, it is a stereotypical image of a native. Given that Vouza was a
decorated war hero who liked to wear his Solomons constabulary and U. S. Marine
unifonns, yet the statue represents him as a native who is close to nature, not
as a man transfonned by modern unifonns, insignia, or weapons.
In this respect, the statue contrasts with the many photographs ofVouza taken
by American and European photographers during the war which show him in
military dress complete with insignia, battle ribbons, and other signs of rank and
experience (See Figure 3; also Lindstrom and White 1990:52). Even the prewar
native police, whose unifonns consisted of a waistcloth and police belt, were
most often photographed standing at attention, posed with rifle or other weapon
to distinguish their status from that of the plantation laborer (MacQuarrie 1948).
In his later years, Vouza dressed constantly in khaki or dress white unifonn,
and often wore his medals in public. Indeed, this is the image of Vouza-aging,
white-haired and dressed in his white police unifonn with a full display of med­
als-that was used for the cover of a commemorative stamp series of Vouza
issued for the anniversary. (The image of the statue was also reproduced in this
stamp series-as one of the stamps, as well as for the envelope issued for the
first day cover (see Figure 4). The rough-hewn native of the Vouza statue has
already become a national icon.
The incongruity in the juxtaposition of the Vouza statue with other images
of the wartime Vouza reflects the colonial imagination. In my interpretation,
Vouza became a legendary figure because his story could be assimilated so well
into the dominant narratives of liberation in which local actors play the part of
546
Public Culture
SOLOMON ISLANDS "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers:
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother. . . ."
His grateful American brothers
awarded Sir Jacob
The Silver Star and Legion of Merit
In Appreciation
Guadalcanal-Solomon Islands War Memorial Foundation
1989
Figure 4. Image of the
Vouza statue on the
first-day stamp issue for
the Guadalcanal fi ftieth
anniversary .
loyal native, ratifying the Allied epic of war. The image of the native subject
embodied in the statue is elaborated in the inscription on a bronze plaque at the
base of the statue. This inscription describes the statue as a presentation in honor
of Solomon Islanders by their European comrades:
Vouza America, Australia. New Zealand and their allies thank the Solomon Islanders for their tremendous World War II effort. This statue honors all Solomon Islanders who fought along side us during the Solomon Island battle from Guadalcanal to Bougainville. Sir Jacob Charles Vouza, K.B.E., G.M., K.P.M. 1892-1984 Despite its declarations of brotherhood, this inscription and its politics of
commemoration reposition Solomon Islanders in the role of native, responsive
to the projects of others. As it was intended to do, the voice of the inscription
speaks from outside, from the position of the Americans, Australians, and New
Zealanders who are thanking the Solomon Islanders. It is they who are the "us"
alongside of whom Solomon Islanders fought. For Solomon Islanders viewing
the statue the "us" of the inscription are the "they" who donated the statue, and
the "us" of the national citizenry are the "they" who received it. In pragmatic
terms, the Vouza statue reproduces a familiar colonial discourse in which native
actors are slotted into others' scripts.
Following the dedication of the Vouza statue, the other aspect of the anniver­
sary ceremonies that focused directly on native participation in the war was the
ceremony to award medals to Solomon Islands veterans, held at the parade ground
the next day. Given the difficulty of identifying and inviting hundreds of aging
Solomon Islanders who were enrolled either in the Solomon Islands Defense Force
or the Labour Corps, simply staging such an award ceremony was a considerable
accomplishment. For many of those who received medals that day, the ceremony
was a welcome acknowledgement of the pan they played in the war's momentous
events. Predictably, however, the event was a logistic nightmare surrounded by
much confusion. Notification of eligibility for a medal was given by means of
a radio announcement, inviting anyone who might be eligible to check lists of
names posted at the National Museum. Upon hearing his, many old veterans
traveled to the capital to check the listings. When I arrived at the museum just
two days prior to the ceremony, the atmosphere was tense as many men whose
names were not on the list milled around in discontented groups. Occasional
547
Remembering Guadalcanal 548
Public Culture
impromptu speeches about compensation owed to native veterans heightened the
tension.
Despite the confusion and the lack ofaccommodation for many of these travel­
ers, large numbers of veterans-mostly from the island of Guadalcanal-made
their way to the town parade ground and received their medals in the ceremony.
When instructed over two hundred men marched onto the field and formed several
lines. Standing at attention, each man was given a medal by the Governor General,
accompanied by Martin Clemens and a handful of cameramen who were filming
the event for foreign television and documentary projects.
The audience-or rather lack of it-struck me as the most notable aspect of
this ceremony. Although there were large numbers ofSolomon Islanders standing
and sitting around the outside of the fenced parade ground-soccer field, the grand­
stand for invited guests remained almost empty throughout the entire ceremony.
With Solomons police making sure that no one without an invitation entered,
rows and rows of empty seats faced the veterans as they stood, in many cases
with difficulty, awaiting their medals. Whereas this might have been a focal point
for the national ritual-for here, after all, were the living Jacob Vouzas-in the
end the medal ceremony attracted little interest or notice, especially among the
foreign veterans and national elite. The ceremony was broadcast on national
radio, like the other events, yet it evoked no subsequent commentary either in
print or on the radio.
Although honors and medals are awarded to prominent citizens every indepen­
dence day, the practice of awarding war medals, and even the notion of "war
veteran," are more ambiguous in the Solomon Islands than they might appear.
Many Solomon Islanders worked as scouts in informal ways, even entering Japa­
nese bases and gaining information, while remaining in their villages without
formal enlistment. Only a smalI number of Solomon Islanders ever served in
combat roles, although hundreds were exposed to combat dangers in their capacity
as carriers and laborers. This could also be said of many men, women, and
children whose villages lay in harm's way as the warfare cut a swath through
the archipelago. Recognition of wartime contributions, however, is here disci­
plined by the requirements of colonial and military discourse.
Since medal-giving depends upon the notion of formal recruitment, the act
of bestowing medals presupposes a form of national service that resembles more
closely the official stories of the former colonial regime than local stories of
wartime experience. Most of the old men who marched out on the parade ground
to accept their medals had served in the Labour Corps-a form of service that
is often recalled as an extraordinary, dangerous, and exciting time. It is also
recalled as a time of heightened conflict between native laborers and colonial
bosses. The contrast between official histories and local memories oflabor corps
experience is once again suggestive of the irony of narratives of loyalty mobilized
in moments of national historical reflection.
Working hard to restore its credibility in the colony it had abandoned in the
face of advancing Japanese troops, the British colonial office produced a booklet
as the war was in full swing called, Among Those Present: The Official Story of
the Pacific Islands at War. This book publicized the wartime contributions of
British officers and their native scouts and laborers (Cooper 1946). In writing
about the hundreds of islanders who enlisted in the Solomon Islands Labour
Corps, the book includes a photograph of young men unloading a truck with the
caption, "Reluctant to accept wages, the Labour Corps wished to make a commu­
nity contribution to the war effort. They worked under fire and frequent bombing"
(1943:35). In one incident where ten men were killed in a Japanese bombing
attack, Among Those Present describes the native reaction this way: "Although
this terrifying and entirely novel experience had a momentary effect on their
morale, not one of the new recruits sought release from his undertaking to serve
the Corps. Instead they quietened their jangling nerves by digging extra foxholes"
(34). In reality, most all of the detachment of workers affected by this bombing
left their camp and asked to be returned to their home island of Malaita. Only
after two weeks, under duress, did they return to work (Resident Commissioner
to High Commissioner, 11 March 1943). Far from being reluctant to accept
wages, various sections of the Labour Corps were continually demanding higher
wages. In several instances work strikes were organized which, in more than
one case, led to the arrest and removal of their leaders (White et al. 1988:131).
Jacob Vouza: Transnational Hero
The ironies of native heroism embodied by the aging veterans of the Solomon
Islands Labor Corps are most intensi vely represented by Vouza, the central figure
of Guadalcanal memory. And, as for many of the more anonymous local veterans
of war, the ceremonial construction of Vouza as war hero reproduces positions
of native and colonizer which have been objects of contention throughout colonial
history.
Consider briefly the story of the rise ofVouza as an icon of native commitment
and solidarity in the discourse of the former colonizers and their allies. The
booklet Among Those Present found Jacob Vouza to be an ideal subject (cf.
Horton 1970; MacQuarrie 1948). Its second chapter begins with the epigraph,
549
Remembering Guadalcanal 550
Public Culture
"I do something good for my King"-reportedly Vouza's explanation of why
he had risked death rather than give the Japanese information about American
positions. This chapter includes an account ofVouza's exploits, accompanied by
a photograph with a caption reiterating that "his courage and loyalty won him
the George Medal and the Silver Star."
As one of the native police who continued to aid the Marines, Vouza was
given an honorary rank in the Marine Corps and subsequently awarded medals,
and prominently mentioned in the hundreds of books and magazine articles about
the Solomons campaign. As many of the American, Australian, and New Zealand
veterans have written up their memories and battle accounts, Vouza and his deeds
have been regularly included. One line that particularly struck a chord with his
American friends was a telegram sent to the First Marine Division Association
on the occasion of the twentieth anniversary of Guadalcanal: "Tell them I love
them all. Me old man now, and me no look good no more. But me never forget."
This statement has been reproduced numerous times, and is now inscribed along­
side a photograph of Vouza in a permanent coastwatcher exhibit at the Admiral
Nimitz Museum of the Pacific War in Fredericksburg, Texas. It is also included
as the last page of an epilogue to the book, The Battle for Guadalcanal written
by retired Marine General Samuel B. Griffith. Here, Vouza's pidginized English­
clearly marking his separation from the audience of educated, Western readers­
loudly signifies his identity as a native, if an exceptional one, still bound to his
former comrades twenty years after the fighting.
The fiftieth anniversary evoked numerous hyperbolic statements about Vouza
and his accomplishments. The notes accompanying the commemorative Vouza
stamps stated, "There is not a United States Marine, soldier or an allied serviceman
who served in the Solomons that does not know the name of Sergeant/Major
Jacob Vouza. His life became a legend and the legend continues as more of his
daring exploits are revealed." One of the several new books on Guadalcanal
released for the fiftieth anniversary, Where the Sun Stood Still by Don Richter,
is in part a bjpgraphy of Vouza. A blurb for the book, noting that "National
Geographic has interviewed the author several times and have indicated they are
interested in doing a video about Sgt. Major Vouza." quotes several of the former
combatants:
The irrepressible Vouza . . . ready for anything . . . tough as old
boots. He was the greatest Solomon Islander that ever lived ...
stamped in the heroic mold. (Major Martin Clemens, coastwatcher)
Sir Jacob Vouza, one of the greatest men of our times. (Colonel
Mitch Paige, C.M.H.)
Sgt. Major Vouza ... here was a man, the Marines agree, let there
be no doubt about it. And he was one of us, though belonging to the
Solomon Islands. (Staff Sgt. Harry Horsman, Marine Historian)
The first page of the fiftieth anniversary issue of the newsletter of the Guadalcanal
Campaign Veterans, Guadalcanal Echoes (MarchI April ] 993), was devoted en­
tirely to Sergeant Major Sir Jacob Vouza with photographs of the Vouza monu­
ment and the portrait of Vouza used in the stamp series. A brief account of his
exploits (the same one prepared for the commemorative issue of Vouza stamps)
is written up under the headline: "]942 Battle Guadalcanal: None Braver-Jacob
Vouza." The first line of the article states, "In ] 942 during the Battle of Guadalca­
nal none was more outstanding in his bravery than Sergeant Major Jacob Vouza."
In contrast with these kinds of glorification in European images of Vouza,
Solomon Islanders express more ambivalence. Certainly many take pride in the
recognition brought to the Solomon Islands and its contributions to world history
through the personage of Vouza. There is also widespread puzzlement about the
attention Vouza receives. In several instances, individuals speaking about their
wartime activities have questioned the disproportionate attention given to Vouza.
For example, Amon Ngwadili, a veteran of the wartime Labour Corps, offered
the following comments (originally in Solomons Pijin) in an interview. 6
'The Americans awarded him the bravery medal because he survived
after he had been stabbed by the Japanese. He was my sergeant but he
did not go out to the front line. It was people like Ilala who fought.
They gave him a medal. But when Vouza was awarded his medal we
were on the guard of honour. An American band played during the oc­
casion....
Those are the things I know about Vouza .... I know he did not go
to the front line. Just like me, he stayed at the headquarters .... Many
of our people who actually fought in the war were never honoured by
our government. But it honoured Vouza .... I complained a little bit
because they called him a war hero." (Ngwadili and Gafu 1988:215)
6. Interviewing and transcription of the conversation with Ngwadili was done by David Gegeo.
I am grateful to him for his research on these subjects and for adding depth to my reading of this
material.
551
Remembering Guadalcanal 552
Public Culture
In addition to the irony suggested by Solomon Islanders such as Ngwadili who
wonder about the honors showered on Vouza, there is irony in another dimension
ofVouza's biography that undercuts his glorification as a loyal native. Specifically,
Vouza emerged during the immediate postwar period as one ofthe most influential
leaders of the anti-British Maasina Rule movement. Indeed, his activities in this
respect - inspiring other Solomon Islanders to organize new forms of autonomous
local governance-challenged the authority of the British regime. His superiors
in the colonial service noted his activities in the movement and ascribed them
in pan to the unhealthy influence of his contact with Americans during the war
(Solomon Islanders National Archives, BSIP 4/C173, Masterman, 7 July 1947).
It was not long before the British authorities decided to act, and Vouza was
arrested in 1947 (Laracy 1983:23). However, because of his status as a war
hero and medal recipient, he was never charged. Instead, he was redirected into
political education and the following year sent to Fiji with five other Solomon
Islanders to study local administration.
+++
Wars make good histories. In particular, they make good national histories. What
better source of moral narrative capable of engendering idealized images of the
national subject than stories of loyalty and heroism, suffering and sacrifice evoked
by war? But this business of remembering wars and making national histories
is always marked by contestation, by dissonant memories that vie for space in
collective consciousness. This essay has suggested that it is precisely the disso­
nance of multiple narratives, often constructed in transnational contexts, that
exposes key themes and concerns underlying national imaginings.
War histories and memorials are pan of a global vocabulary of nationhood­
a repenoire of symbols, narratives, and ritual practices readily deployed in the
service of national identity projects. But in large measure the terms of this vocabu­
lary are established by world powers who, victorious in war, use it to write
chapters of their own histories. As such, transnational practices of recalIing
war easily override or transform other, local meanings and histories, including
dissonant memories within the dominant nations. This tension between the global
and the local in the production of national histories is panicularly acute for newly
independent states who remain closely entangled, culturally, economically, and
politically, with former colonial powers. For them, representing world wars
in global frameworks of meaning may easily deform stories that derive their
significance from the more specific and longer sweep of colonial history.
For many states that gained their independence after World War II, particularly
the small island nations of the Pacific, the war is represented as a pivotal moment
in a history of national development that is embedded in a narrative of moderniza­
tion and democratization (White 1991). Having an appropriate national history
of war, of scripted involvement in the global conflicts of World War, becomes
a sign of modernity (cf., Dirks 1990) or at least a sign of panicipation in a
modernizing process. As such, representations of war history mediate interna­
tional relations, where they are deployed by governments eager to utilize their
symbolic capital in the service of foreign policies, development of tourism, and
other national interests. Thus, at the moment of its independence, the United
States presented the Solomon Islands with a film about its own past that highlighted
American involvement in the war. Titled Passage to Independence, the film was
produced by the U.S. Information Agency for the sole purpose of giving it to
the Solomons government.
Characterizing the fiftieth anniversary ceremonies as a kind of capturing of
history implies that Solomon Islanders, if left to their own devices, might have
done it differently. But the story is not that simple. Just as it was nations that
waged war in the 19405, it is nations who today engage in collective remembrances
of the war, often subsuming or silencing internal dissonance in the process. As
a new nation, the Solomon Islands in this context readily colludes in reproducing
proper (trans)national war memory - whether to recreate the imaginings offoreign
others, to expand its tourist economy, or to feed its own appetite for heroic
nostalgia. The discussion here has traced some ofthe ways in which such collusion
diminishes other forms of national narrative such as those stories that arise from
a variety of local voices and recall the war in terms other than those of the Allied
epic of liberation.
Geoffrey M. White is the director of the Program for Cultural Studies at the East­
West Center in Honolulu. He has written Identity through History: Living Stories
in a Solomon Islands Society (Cambridge, 1991), and is currently working on
war memory and the politics of national history.
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