America’s Secret Japanese Internment Camps in Latin America

During World War II, the U.S. quietly orchestrated the capture and internment of thousands of Japanese Latin Americans—most Americans have never heard of them.

When most Americans hear about World War II internment camps, they think of the ten U.S.-based camps that incarcerated over 120,000 Japanese Americans. But a lesser-known chapter in wartime history involved a shadowy program that extended far beyond U.S. borders, reaching deep into Central and South America. Between 1942 and 1945, at least 2,300 people of Japanese descent living in Latin America were forcibly removed from their homes and transported to the United States under U.S. government direction—most never to return home.

After Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor, the U.S. was gripped by suspicion and fear of espionage. While Japanese American communities became immediate targets, America’s concerns did not stop at its own soil. In secret diplomatic negotiations, the U.S. convinced more than a dozen Latin American countries—including Peru, Bolivia, and Panama—to seize local residents of Japanese heritage regardless of citizenship status. These men, women, and children, some never having set foot in Japan, were labeled as “potential enemy aliens.”

Peru had the largest Japanese community in Latin America and became the center of these extraordinary operations. In partnership with the U.S., Peruvian authorities broke up families, confiscated property, and forced people onto ships at gunpoint. The victims were then transported through the Panama Canal to U.S. territory, mostly ending up in the Crystal City Internment Camp in Texas, which had a section specially reserved for Latin American internees.

The reason for this international roundup was not just domestic security. The U.S. sought bargaining chips for prisoner exchanges with Japan. Documents show that U.S. officials viewed Latin American Japanese internees as assets they could trade for Americans held by Japan. In fact, many of those deported from Peru would later be shipped from Texas across the Pacific and exchanged in wartime prisoner swaps.

Conditions for these Japanese Latin Americans were grim. Many spoke only Spanish or Portuguese and found themselves isolated not only by barbed wire but by language barriers. Families separated across borders fought for years for reunification. Most heartbreaking, many internees were denied the right to return to their countries even after the war ended. Peru, for instance, refused reentry to hundreds of its own longtime residents. Some survivors eventually settled in the U.S., stateless and struggling to rebuild their lives.

This story has lasted as a hidden scar because it was shrouded in secrecy and overshadowed by the better-known internment of Japanese Americans. Decades later, former Latin American internees and their descendants have sought public acknowledgment, legal redress, and a place in American memory. Many Americans remain unaware that their nation orchestrated the international kidnapping and internment of civilians from beyond its borders—all in the name of wartime security.

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