On a small Philippine island some 75 miles southwest of Manila, a Japanese soldier emerges from the jungle. Carrying a .25 calibre rifle, 500 rounds of ammunition and several hand grenades, he meets his commanding officer. The officer tells him that the Second World War has ended; he can return home. The soldier weeps. The date is March 9, 1974. The story of 2nd Lt. Hiroo Onoda, the Japanese soldier who continued to fight the Second World War for almost 29 years after it ended, is the most famous of the stories of the Japanese holdouts. But there were many others across the Pacific who fought on for months or years after Japan's surrender in 1945, unaware or disbelieving of the war's end.

It's tempting to think of Lt. Onoda as a foolish man who chose to ignore the evidence that the war had ended. But his determination to fight on was a result of his upbringing. Bushido, the code of the samurai warrior, was the creed of the Japanese soldiers. It demanded bravery and loyalty, and considered death preferable to surrender.

Fast-forward 30 years, to another remote island, this time in the middle of the Atlantic.

In the April 29, 2005 issue of the Workers Voice (sic), Alvin Williams writes about another conflict, that between the black and white residents of Bermuda:

"This is a war and I have always looked upon it as such. I have trained for it and been a part of it even during the days when I used to write letters to the editor of where I faced hostile letter-writers? [I am ready to react if something needs to be defended concerning the progressive forward movement of this country. As I have stated, this is a war, and I am in it for the long term."

There is no doubt that for many years the struggle of Bermuda's blacks was indeed a war. Battles were fought first against slavery and segregation, then for universal suffrage and political representation. The combatants grew up in a society which sought to persuade them that they were inferior; their struggle instilled in them a warrior's code not unlike that of Bushido.

Clearly, racial discrimination still exists today. Economically, black Bermudians are still suffering too: the 2000 Census shows that they still earn less than white Bermudians in every occupational group. This is the legacy of the era of segregation, and it must be addressed.

But this is just a mopping-up operation. The war is over. The martial spirit of Mr. Williams and his band of brothers, which once served them well, is now as useless as the rusting ships and aircraft that still litter the Pacific. They are suffering from the Onoda Syndrome.

Numerous attempts were made to find Lt. Onoda and persuade him to return to Japan. Leaflets saying that the war had ended were dropped on his island, as were photographs and letters from home. Newspapers were left for him. Friends and relatives spoke to him over loudspeakers. Lt. Onoda found something suspicious in every approach, dismissing them all as Allied propaganda or a trick.

Similarly, Bermuda's Onoda Syndrome sufferers still find racism in any comment from the white community. If necessary, they'll read between the lines to winkle it out. Criticism of the PLP is dismissed as racially motivated propaganda. Conciliatory gestures, by individuals or by the UBP, are dismissed as a trick.

Lt. Onoda believed that the Philippine villagers he encountered were enemy spies or troops in disguise, and fired on them. In his time on the island he killed at least 30 Filipinos and wounded around 100 more.

Similarly, Mr. Williams uses his columns to snipe at Bermuda's whites, making crude generalisations about "white thought" and suggesting that "[the white community's racism has prevented them from seeing [black people as human beings on the same level as themselves." He may not be killing anyone, but his comments are poisoning the well of trust that both races need to draw from.

Some of the Japanese holdouts knew that the war had ended, but were too afraid to give themselves up. They feared disgrace from their families or were unwilling to return to their American-occupied home.

Perhaps Bermuda's Onoda Syndrome sufferers know that the war is over too, but having spent all their lives battling against racism, cannot bring themselves to believe that most whites now consider blacks to be their equals.

It's a tragedy that one man wasted 29 years continuing to fight a war that had already been lost. But it's an even greater tragedy that some Bermudians are wasting their lives fighting a war that has already been won.

Bermuda's black and white communities must find a way to bring these old warriors down out of the hills, so that they can enjoy the spoils of their victory instead.