SHE WAS only twelve years-old at the time, but Lillian Kimura still remebers that day in March 50 years ago when she and her family were herded into Manzanar, one of several internment camps scattered across the West Coast.

Kimura and over a hundred thousand other Japanese-American citizens were falsely told by Earl Warren (who was attorney general of California at the time) that these barbed-wire outlets were a military necessity, that they were not being punished but protected, that Japanese Americans would thank the government later for the abrupt curtailment of their most basic human liberties.

Japanese Americans didn't believe these half-truths then, and they don't today.

They survived these camps better than could be expected. Those of the older generation perhaps repeated to themselves the Japanese expression shyoganai--that one should make the best of an impossible situation.

But this did not take away the hurt and anger that Kimura and others in these internment camps felt when their rights were stripped away, when the country they would fight and die for--as many of them later did--labeled them the enemies.

Rather than acknowledging these human rights abuses, many Americans have chosen to commemorate the internment's 50th anniversary with a hatred and cynicism similar to that which motivated the internment itself. Judging from the recent nationwide spate of anti-Japanese and anti-Asian hate crimes, racism remains as insidious today as it was 50 years ago.

THIS NEW, more subtle form of racism is cloaked in part by fallacious economic arguments. The Japanese, the reasoning goes, are to blame for our recent economic stagnation. Their trade practices are not only discriminatory but hostile to Americans. They are suspiciously buying up large chunks of American real estate, even our movie industry.

The underlying message is frighteningly clear: the Japanese can't be trusted. They're taking over our country.

This basic distrust is articulated in the language of war and conspiracy. The Japanese don't contribute to the U.S. trade deficit with superior products--they are carrying out some master plan. Japanese investments--which actually employ hundreds of American workers--begin to take on the overtones of a plot.

Looking at recent book titles about Japan, a disturbing pattern emerges: The Coming War with Japan, Yen! Japan's New Financial Empire and its Threat to America.

Then there's the recent book by Pat Choate, Agents of Influence,which claims Japanese thought is beginning to take control of our universities. American professors, corrupted by Japanese research money, don't reveal the Japanese for who or what they really are.

But Japan, of course, is not the source of all our economic problems. While there is much that is unfair about the United State's economic relationship with Japan, most of our woes can be traced to our domestic troubles.

We don't often read about the considerable progress Japan has made in opening its markets over the last decade--its imports, most might be surprised to know, are the third-highest in the world. We don't hear that Japan pours huge sums of money into long-term domestic investments like infrastructure and education.

These realities were completely ignored during President Bush's recent trip to Asia. More intent on political posturing than negotiating an agreement, Bush brought with him three of the worst examples of American business--the CEOs of America's top automakers. Intended as a show of American strength, the Bush's decision to bring these corporate gluttons to Japan must have made the Japanese laugh.

VEILED ATTEMPTS to paint Japan as an enemy rather than as a worthy economic competitor might serve to unite and even temporarily spur our country out of its economic malaise. But whether it succeeds or not, such political and economic deception has terrible consequences for Japanese Americans and other minority groups.

Japan-bashing is slowly becoming recognized for its hurtful impact on the lives of thousands of Americans--Japanese Americans. A recent report by the Federal Civil Rights Commission called on presidential candidates to stop using "race-baiting" tactics and "talking talk tough on trade" when such appeals are made in the subtle language of racism.

But the mandate from our political and business leaders to bash and blame the Japanese has already created grave problems for Americans of Japanese descent.

In Los Angeles last month, Yasuo Kato, a recent immigrant from Japan, was found stabbed to death in his garage. A few weeks prior to the murder, Kato had been threatened in his home by two men who told him, "I know you're Japanese and I think we have a right to take money from you because our economy is hurting from your people."

And recently in Boston, Iwao Matsuda, the president of a Japanese university, was found murdered in his Back Bay hotel room. He had been visiting the country to formalize a "sister school" relationship with the University of Massachusetts in Boston. Was this just another random murder? The timing, at least, was perfect: a day before the internment's Day of Rememberance on February 19, when President Roosevelt handed down the order to begin internment of the Japanese.

And these irrationally motivated hate crimes extend beyond attacks against Japanese. Anti-Japanese sentiment becomes hate against Chinese Americans, Korean Americans, Filipinos and other ethnic groups. "Whatever animosity they have towards Asia affects all of us. The can't tell us apart," said Kimura, who is the president of the New York chapter of the Japanese American Citizens League.

THE HARVARD community itself is far from immune from these senseless hate crimes. Recently, a slur against Chinese Americans was found on the Lamont Poetry Board, and prank callers have attacked non-Asians and Asians alike, hurling racial slurs like "Korean bitch."

For the victims of these assaults, the insinuation of a Japanese conspiracy begs the question: Who is conspiring against whom? Are the conspirators deceitful Japanese businessmen in suits? Or are the people who propagate these stereotypes and misconceptions--who insist that "they," whoever "they" might be, are the reason for "our" problems--the true culprits?

Many other incidents of racial prejudice and harrassment go unreported. Perhaps victims have faith that things will eventually get better--the attitude expressed in shyoganai. This way of thinking did allow many Japanese Americans to assuage their anguish when discrimination took the form of barbed wire and loyalty tests.

But shyogania, as before, cannot purge the fear and resentment many Asian Americans feel today over this recurring pattern of racial blame. This time, many are saying they won't tolerate such crimes.

For the Japanese internment survivors, and for the victims of recent anti-Asian hate crimes, the usual explanations for racial violence and discrimination ring hollow. The standard refrain--that racial scapegoating happens when our economy goes sour--seems like just another glib justification for pain and injustice.

For these survivors, the essential questions remain unaswered: Why the Japanese? Why Asians? Who is next?

These are the questions that Lillian Kimura, the families of Iwao Matsuda and Yasuo Kato and countless other Asian Americans are still asking themselves today.