Central to the book is Muller's exploration of the ways in which individuals navigated the fraught terrain of complicity and conscience in the face of widespread injustice and government-sanctioned discrimination. Drawing on a wealth of archival sources, personal accounts, and legal documents, Muller provides readers with a nuanced understanding of the myriad factors that influenced the behavior and decision-making of those involved in the administration and operation of the camps. Through poignant narratives and incisive analysis, Muller highlights the complexities of moral responsibility and the ways in which individuals responded to the moral imperatives of their time. He challenges readers to confront uncomfortable truths about complicity and resistance, while also recognizing the capacity for conscience and moral courage in the face of adversity.

A fascinating read for those interested in expanding their knowledge of the unfair internment of Japanese-Americans during WW2. It's hard to categorize this book because it is both fiction and non-fiction as the author has created these accountings from three lawyers from actual letters that they wrote about their duties and experiences. It makes for easy reading and offers a rare viewpoint of those who worked at there. The title is apt because it is not easy to describe their roles, their thoughts, their politics, their humanity and their doubts. And also their powerlessness and their power. The book is well researched and gave me a lot think about. I wonder how it will be received by those who experienced internment.

Thank you to NetGalley for an advance copy of this book. It's very unusual and illuminating.

Am I right, Tom?” Masuda directed his gaze to the floor. He was not about to offer an opinion to the solicitor of the WRA on how many Caucasians at Poston were too many. And he was not about to tell Ted Haas that what people really wanted was not to run the camps but to leave them and go home.

During World War II, the United States forcibly relocated over 120,000 Japanese Americans into concentration camps under a system of “mass racial incarceration.” This was initiated by President Roosevelt via an executive order after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Many lived on the Pacific Coast and were relocated into camps in the western interior. Lawyer, Jailer, Ally, Foe shares the fictionalised experiences of real project attorneys who worked for the War Relocation Authority (WRA), which was the civilian agency tasked with housing, protecting and ‘rehabilitating’ the prisoners.

Separate narratives highlight three of the WRA’s concentration camps. The first takes place at Heart Mountain Relocation Center in Wyoming, the second at Poston Relocation Center in Arizona, and the third at Gila River Relocation Center in Arizona. The book uses the terminology of the time, so “evacuation” instead of “forced removal” and “relocation centers” rather than “concentration camps.” We also hear from the vulnerable Japanese American lawyer, Thomas Masuda, who worked within the Poston Project Attorney’s Office. His position “at the juncture of the prisoner and administrator” is absolutely fascinating and heartbreaking.

Author Eric L. Muller (Dan K. Moore Distinguished Professor of Law in Jurisprudence and Ethics at the University of North Carolina School of Law) bases this historical fiction on the extensive written correspondence between the attorneys and their offices. He notes that “I invent dialogue that is as consistent with their voices as I can achieve, as well as little events – an encounter in a hallway, and evening at the movies – to bring more significant real events to life.” Helpfully, the closing of the book clarifies which events were based on fact and why certain creative choices were made. Muller succeeds in capturing the different personalities working under such stressful and fearful conditions, even when self-preservation required so much to remain unsaid. Furthermore, the chapters are accompanied by wonderful illustrations, such as the charcoal drawing of a dust storm at Poston Relocation Center by Shinkichi Tajiri (1923-2009).

Considered progressives for their time, these lawyers had serious doubts about the constitutionality of the concentration camps. They were not involved in debating the existence of the camps, but rather they were placed in the camps as project attorneys to advise the camp’s executive staff and to run a legal aid office for the prisoners. The requirements of these different roles were often haphazard, contradictory and unethical. They were complicit in advancing a system they felt strongly against and “The question the white lawyers had to ask themselves— or suppress—each day was whether to go on administering a system of which they disapproved.”

They often arrived knowing very little about Japanese Americans or how a “concentration camp lawyer” should act. On the surface, the project attorneys were to defend and protect Japanese-Americans and their interests. One describes how “He was just a few weeks in and already he’d been consulted on divorces, assaults, conflicts with Arizona officials, accidental deaths and injuries, elections, suicides, family squabbles over estates, and a whole lot more.” However, sometimes the attorneys themselves were uncertain whether their client was the prisoner or the agency detaining them.

The project attorneys worked alongside Japanese-Americans, while also being expected to scrutinise and report on their activities. They benefited from their language skills and cultural knowledge, without acknowledging that these characteristics put their colleagues at significant risk of being considered disloyal to the United States. Their daily objectives ranged from protecting America from an internal threat, while also “protecting its charges, helping them weather a challenging time while preparing them to eventually to assimilate in a postwar America.” They acknowledged that most of the Japanese Americans had already assimilated before being forced away from their homes, schools, farms and businesses. How did these lawyers manage the internal dissonance of their work? How did they justify their daily actions to themselves?

The strongest chapters detail the experiences of Ted Hass at Poston. Hass was a Jewish-American lawyer who had experienced racial discrimination first hand and had previously championed the rights of other U.S. minorities, and yet, was part of this system. We learn of his depression (“a familiar dull sadness”) and how he tried to push beyond these lows by “throwing himself even more intensely into his work.” His work also shows how some camps were on American Indian reservation land and that there were camps organised under the influence of the Office of Indian Affairs. His physical and mental health struggles will be familiar to those working in the high demand and high stress areas of law and social work.
One theme of this book is how the mental and physical health of the project attorneys crumbled as they continued working in the camps. Their living conditions were poor (but much better than the prisoners’, of course) and they suffer from the same “valley fever.” This fungal infection was a “mysterious respiratory illness that plagued the open desert areas of Arizona.”

They frequently felt shame, loss of purpose and helplessness. They were intensely overworked by having far too many managers and clients. They had relentless power struggles with the army. For example, ” … last week the army had surprised everyone—evacuees and WRA staff alike— by announcing a plan to plant posts along that line and string them with barbed wire. In some spots the fence was to stand within yards of the residential blocks.” Additionally, they were constantly at odds with the local citizens and politicians around the camps. They were frequently reliant on other local legal professionals who were profiting from the needs of the prisoners by charging outrageous fees. The complexities of legal aid are clearly explained and the reader can easily imagine how daunting it must have been to rely on a local, minimally interested Arizona lawyer charging high rates to solve a legal matter back in California. The project attorneys acknowledged the “full-blown conspiracy of lawyers, collection agents, business managers, trustees, and the like all tied in with one another, trying to grab as much Japanese property as they could.” In the meanwhile, the local economies around the centers were “making out handsomely” and local newspapers were reporting that thee ‘evacuees’ were enjoying fine meals and living standards beyond others in the local community (“Food is hoarded for the Japs in U.S. While Americans in Nippon Are Tortured. Openly Disloyal Japanese Pampered.”). Despite recognising all of these outrages, one project attorney’s family jumped the queue at the center’s hospital without a thought to the waiting Japanese patients.

Another key theme of this book is how individuals grappled with having layered identities and constantly shifting roles. There are engaging and sensitively written descriptions of the prisoners and the Japanese-Americans working with the project attorneys. One memorable scene has Masuda being told thoughtlessly by Ernie Miller, the chief of internal security, that he needs to pack an overnight bag and wear nice clothes to go to court. In this moment, he’s uncertain whether he’s going to court to defend himself again against past accusations of disloyalty, or helping to defend others in his community. These inconsiderate and ignorant actions flow through the book, and the victims’ response to these situations with nerves or tears only results in further suspicion. In another scene, a project attorney makes threats of the death penalty, oblivious of how it might upset his Japanese American secretary. “Miss Yamamoto?” When she again didn’t respond, Terry craned toward her, scanning for even a flicker of movement. After a moment she raised her head and met his gaze. Her eyes were moist. She said nothing.”

The book covers many relevant historical events, from riots, to strikes, to the “registration” of the bureaucratic “loyalty questionnaire.” The responses of this questionnaire were meant to aid the WRA in recruiting Nisei into military units and authorising others to be released from the camps. The questions produced waves of resentment, anxiety and uncertainty over the wording and significance of each questions. Being unfamiliar with the history of “registration,” I initially had some difficulty understanding what these conversations were alluding to in the book until more details were provided later. These situations exacerbated tensions between the different generations of Japanese-Americans. This “clash between Nisei, Kibei, and Issei ideologies and culture— the Japanese and American way of life—became acute at times. American plays and movies versus Japanese drama and Shibai. Baseball, judo, golf, boxing and sumo competed. There was a diffusion of cultures. Many country girls learned how to jitterbug. Many youths improved their Japanese.”

There is much to commend in Lawyer, Jailer, Ally, Foe. Its storytelling offers a window into the project attorneys’ private motivations while maintaining a deep respect for historical accuracy. The author recognises there is a risk in ‘humanising’ those who facilitated the unjust detention of Japanese Americans during in World War II. However, Muller’s ““responsible extrapolation” shows that these systems are not created by “moral monsters,” but by ordinary people, who often set out with good intentions but ended up being complicit in abuse. Examining these stories serves as a warning for how “we might fall into doing the same.”

This historical fiction sensitively presents the anguish of Japanese Americans during WWII without speaking over them. Its focus on professional ethics and the intersection of psychology and law are still extremely relevant and may be of special interest to those working in academia, policy, law and activism. It would be especially valuable for those working in government positions related to assisting culturally and linguistically diverse communities.

This book was provided by The University of North Carolina Press for review.