This year marked another Liberation Day for Guam. There were parades, parties, and ceremonies across the island — all commemorating the day Guam was freed from Japanese occupation during World War II.
The liberation was first celebrated in the late 1940s, just years after the occupation ended. Agueda Johnston asked military officials at the time to support an official celebration, according to Guampedia. The celebration was enacted into law in 1951.
“If we’re honest about what liberation really means — the ability to choose your own path, to decide your future — then Guam isn’t there yet. Not even close.”
Photo from the Defense Visual Information Distribution Service — The Guam assault by the Third Marine Division and the First Marine Provisional Brigade came July 20, 1944, after a 17-day aerial and naval bombardment which established a record tonnage of explosives dropped on a Japanese position. Opposition on the beaches, as at Saipan, was vigorous and Marines in this wave leap from their amphibious tractor for the shelter of the sand dunes. The Marine advance was steady, and the former American possession, captured by the Japanese on Dec. 10, 1941, was completely won by Aug. 9, 1944.
It’s a meaningful day, and the celebration is deserved. The CHamoru people endured years of brutality, loss, and trauma. When the U.S. military returned and drove out the Japanese forces, it was, without a doubt, a moment of relief and survival — a literal liberation.
But that’s where it seems to have stopped.
After the war, the United States took control of the island. The atrocities ended, but self-determination didn’t begin. The people were no longer occupied by one power, but were absorbed into another — first under the control of the U.S. Navy, and eventually as citizens under a territorial status defined by the U.S. Congress. And for decades, our progress has relied on the will of others. Our ability to govern, to build, to grow, has often been tied to decisions made thousands of miles away.
If we’re honest about what liberation really means — the ability to choose your own path, to decide your future — then Guam isn’t there yet. Not even close.
We are part of the United States, yes. But only insofar as Congress allows it. This power stems from the Insular Cases — a series of Supreme Court decisions from the early 1900s. Those rulings were based on the belief that residents of the U.S. unincorporated territories were “alien races” who could not grasp American democratic values, and therefore could be governed differently. Over 120 years later, those decisions still stand.
Our political identity is governed by the Territorial Clause, which means we exist at the pleasure of lawmakers who likely couldn’t find us on a map. If Congress decided tomorrow that Guam should no longer be a territory, it could happen with a single vote.
Think that sounds far-fetched? The political climate today should be enough to remind us: Never say never.
Guam deserves the chance to choose its future. For years, we’ve tried to vote on self-determination — to formally ask the people what they want for the island’s political status. And for years, that vote has been stalled.
Why has it stalled? I remember covering Self-Determination meetings when I first started reporting in 1991. The first commission was established in 1980. The second in 1984. Now, it’s 45 years later, and a vote still hasn’t happened.
There have been court challenges. There have been changes in leadership. Until the people demand that self-determination be a priority, it will continue to fall lower and lower on the totem pole.
One of the challenges is whether this should be a CHamoru-only vote. Guam has never measured the “CHamoru-ness” of its people. It doesn’t have the same legal vocabulary as Hawai‘i, where Native Hawaiian blood quantum is measured. Guam has never needed to.
After all these years — and all the intermarriages between communities on the island, something we should be proud of — the idea of a CHamoru-only vote has become muted in many ways. Perhaps we could have a vote where individuals identify their CHamoru heritage as part of the process. But ultimately, we live in a majority-rule system.
Maybe it should be more about residency than race.
Some fear how the people might vote. Fear exists on both sides, I suppose. Others dismiss the process altogether. And many simply don’t understand the issue, assuming things are fine as they are.
But we already trust voters to elect leaders every two or four years. We trust them to shape policy, choose priorities, and make hard decisions. Why can’t we trust them to choose our political future?
Is the vote for self-determination the ultimate vote for liberation? I believe it is. It just is. Period.
If the people vote for the status quo, then let that stand.
But if it’s going to stand, it needs to be rooted in something stronger than congressional whim.
Let’s ask the question. Let the people answer.
That’s when we’ll truly be liberated.
— Rindraty Celes Limtiaco is a veteran journalist, editor, and former publisher of the Pacific Daily News in Guam. With more than 30 years of experience in media, she has dedicated her career to empowering communities through credible, values-driven storytelling. Now writing from Virginia, she is the co-creator of My Jungle Rules, a platform built on creative freedom and unfiltered insight. Her column explores Guam’s politics, culture, and identity with boldness, clarity, and care—asking the hard questions and honoring the complexity of island life.