The Complicity of Ordinary Citizens in Systemic Injustice in The Fervor

Alma Katsu’s The Fervor is a historical horror novel that uses the internment of Japanese Americans and the Fu-Go balloon attacks to explore how ordinary people become entangled in systemic injustice. The novel’s central thematic claim is that well-meaning individuals—people who do not consider themselves bigots or villains—become complicit in racist policies and violence through silence, moral compromise, and the desire to belong. This complicity is not a single dramatic betrayal but a slow erosion of conscience, driven by fear and the need for community approval. By tracing the actions of camp residents, a grieving minister, and a vigilante mob, Katsu shows that systemic injustice thrives not only through the actions of zealots but through the passive acceptance and small rationalizations of everyday citizens.

Silence and Survival: Complicity in the Internment Camp

The novel opens at Camp Minidoka, where ten thousand Japanese Americans are held under Executive Order 9066. Meiko Briggs, a Nisei woman, walks her daughter Aiko to school as an olive-green army truck rumbles through the gates. The truck is unusual—military, not civilian—and it is driven to a padlocked barn guarded by administrators. Meiko notes that the camp gate itself is rarely locked, yet the residents remain inside. The narrative explains: “What kept them in the bare-board dormitories, overstuffed in tiny, dust-filled, lice-infested rooms, was more powerful than guards with rifles. It was fear of what was beyond the fence: the hatred of their fellow American citizens.”

This fear is the engine of complicity. The residents have heard stories of Japanese Americans returning home to find their properties sold, their neighbors hostile, their belongings gone. They know that friends and neighbors have turned their backs on them. Rather than resist, they adopt a strategy of quiet endurance. Meiko reflects on the elders’ advice: “they had to be model citizens—stay in the camps, distance themselves from the rest of America—to prove that the terrible things said about them were not true.” This internalized pressure to prove loyalty is a form of complicity: the victims of injustice cooperate with their own incarceration to avoid further persecution.

The camp’s self-organization—committees, clubs, volunteer efforts—is both a survival mechanism and a way of maintaining the illusion of control. When a mysterious illness sweeps the camp, the residents take matters into their own hands because the administrators are overwhelmed. They set up an overflow hospital, track deaths, and deliver soup. But this industriousness also serves the system: it keeps the camp running smoothly, making it easier for the outside world to forget the injustice. As Meiko notes, “Everyone in the camp knew that was why they were kept in a place like this, far away from the public. It was easier for the public to forget about the inhumane thing that was being done in their name. Out of sight, out of mind.”

The guards, once friendly neighborhood figures, become militarized and hostile. Meiko observes that they now carry truncheons and glare at residents, “even grandmothers and mothers escorting their children to school.” The transformation of the guards—ordinary young white men—mirrors the broader complicity of ordinary citizens who accept and enforce racist policies. They are not monsters; they are men playing at soldiers, but their actions contribute to the dehumanization of the camp’s residents.

Moral Compromise: Archie Mitchell and the Loyal Sons

Archie Mitchell, a minister whose wife Elsie is killed in the balloon explosion, is the novel’s most complex study of complicity. He begins as a victim, traumatized by the death of his wife and the children he was supposed to protect. But his grief and guilt make him vulnerable to manipulation. At a meeting in Dutch Talbert’s garage, Archie listens as men blame the explosion on Japanese spies and sympathizers. He knows the explanation is implausible—the balloon came from Japan, not from local spies—but he is comforted by the idea that Elsie’s death was not his fault. The men offer him a role: “We could use you, padre, if you want to join us. People should hear what you got to say.”

Archie’s internal conflict is explicit. He thinks, “Should I speak out?” He tells himself he can be a witness, defend the men if they are accused of wrongdoing, go to the police if things get out of hand. He rationalizes his presence: “They’re only letters. No one is going to get hurt.” But he knows better. When he sees the flyers with Elsie’s picture and the words “Good Christian men!!! To arms!!! Protect our wives and mothers from the Yellow Menace,” his heart hammers and his hand trembles. He recognizes the exploitation of his wife’s death, yet he does not stop it.

The novel shows how the desire to belong—to be part of a group that shares his anger and grief—overrides Archie’s moral instincts. He is not a bigot; he remembers his friendship with Jamie Briggs, a Japanese American, and his love for Meiko and Aiko. But his need for community and his fear of being seen as a coward push him toward the Loyal Sons. He even participates in delivering threatening letters, riding in a car with men who talk about “showing him we’re serious.” The kimonoed woman he glimpses on the road is a hallucination, a manifestation of his guilt. He dismisses it as a figment, but it signals his conscience is still alive—yet he suppresses it.

Archie’s complicity culminates in the mob attack on the mountain cabin where Meiko, Aiko, and he have taken refuge. The Loyal Sons surround the cabin, accusing Archie of murder (a false charge), and open fire. Archie, who has been helping Meiko and Aiko, is forced to assist a wounded man after the FBI arrives. He has become, despite his intentions, part of the violence he once feared.

The Mob and Systemic Complicity

The mob that attacks the cabin is composed of ordinary citizens—mechanics, shopkeepers, men left behind during the war. They are not professional soldiers but neighbors who have been radicalized by fear and propaganda. The novel shows that their violence is not an aberration but an extension of the systemic injustice that created the internment camps. The local sheriff and a deputy are part of the mob, demonstrating that law enforcement is complicit in the vigilantism. When the FBI arrives, they order the mob to stand down, but the sheriff from Beatty refuses to do more than escort an ambulance. The system protects its own.

The afterword of the novel makes this complicity explicit by listing historical attacks on Asian Americans: the 1871 Los Angeles massacre, the Chinese Exclusion Act, the internment of 120,000 Japanese Americans, the KKK campaign against Vietnamese fishermen, the killing of Vincent Chin, the Stockton school shooting, and the rise in anti-Asian violence from 2019 to 2020. Katsu writes that these events are not taught in classrooms, and that the “playbook is the same, again and again. Lies, lies, and the willingness of a large part of a population to channel their fear into senseless hatred.” The novel argues that ordinary citizens are the foot soldiers of systemic injustice, not because they are evil, but because they are afraid and easily led.

Symbols and Complexity

The novel’s symbols reinforce the theme of complicity. The translucent spiders, carried by the fire balloons from Japan, are a literal contagion of fear and madness. They infect the camp residents and the townspeople alike, causing paranoia, violence, and hallucinations. The spiders are not just a biological weapon; they are a metaphor for how fear spreads through a community, turning neighbors against each other. The kimonoed woman, who appears to Archie and others, is a figure of guilt and conscience. She is the ghost of the injustice that the characters try to ignore. Wasaburo Oishi’s research on the jet stream—the “Wasaburo’s Winds” that enable the balloons to cross the Pacific—represents the complicity of science and knowledge. Oishi, Meiko’s father, discovers that the spiders cause madness but also hold a cure. He fails to share his findings, and Meiko later feels responsible for the outbreak. His silence is a form of complicity, a failure to act on knowledge that could save lives.

The complexity of the theme lies in the fact that complicity is not a simple binary. The camp residents are victims, but they also participate in their own oppression by staying quiet and trying to be model citizens. Archie is both a victim and a perpetrator, a man who loves Japanese Americans but joins a group that threatens them. The novel suggests that complicity is a spectrum, and that even those who oppose injustice can become entangled in it through small compromises. The fervor—the disease of fear—is not just a supernatural element; it is a social phenomenon that recurs throughout history. As Meiko reflects at the end, “the fervor—a disease of fear—will return.”

Study Questions and Answers

1. How does the novel portray the camp residents’ silence as a form of complicity?

The residents’ silence is a survival strategy born of fear. They stay in the camps, organize committees, and try to prove their loyalty because they fear the hatred of the outside world. This silence allows the internment to continue without resistance, making them complicit in their own oppression. Meiko chafes at the elders’ advice to be model citizens, but she also complies.

2. What motivates Archie Mitchell to join the Loyal Sons, and how does he rationalize his participation?

Archie is motivated by grief, guilt, and the desire to belong. He rationalizes his participation by telling himself he can be a witness, protect the men from false accusations, and hold them to their word. He also convinces himself that the letters are harmless. His rationalizations allow him to ignore his conscience, which manifests as hallucinations of the kimonoed woman.

3. How do the symbols of the spiders and the kimonoed woman relate to the theme of complicity?

The spiders represent the contagious nature of fear and hatred, which spreads through communities and turns ordinary people against each other. The kimonoed woman is a figure of guilt and conscience, appearing to characters who are suppressing their moral awareness. Both symbols show that complicity is not just a choice but a psychological and social process.

4. In what ways does the novel suggest that systemic injustice relies on ordinary citizens?

The novel shows that systemic injustice relies on ordinary citizens through their silence, acceptance, and participation. The camp guards, the townspeople who boycott the grocer, the members of the Loyal Sons, and even the sheriff who joins the mob are all ordinary people. The afterword’s historical list reinforces that these patterns recur because ordinary people fail to resist.

5. How does the novel complicate the idea of victimhood and perpetration?

The novel complicates the binary by showing that victims can also be complicit, and perpetrators can also be victims. The camp residents are victims of injustice but also participate in their own oppression. Archie is a victim of tragedy but becomes a perpetrator of vigilante violence. The novel suggests that complicity is a spectrum, and that fear and the desire to belong can lead anyone to compromise their values.