Raising Japan’s Profile

By Devin Stewart | NEWSWEEK
Published Nov 6, 2009
From the magazine issue dated Nov 16, 2009

Hatoyama wants a leadership role.

Even before Yukio Hatoyama became Japan's prime minister this summer, his philosophy of yuai, an idea that translates loosely to "fraternal love," had been ridiculed. The conservative Sankei Shimbun newspaper worried about the concept's origins, tracing it back to the liberté, egalité, and fraternité of the French Revolution and comparing Hatoyama to a modern-day Robes-pierre, sans guillotine. The moderate newspaper Yomiuri Shimbun doubted something so lofty could be understood, much less applied, on a global level. And despite Hatoyama's assertion that his brand of fraternity is "combative," rooted as it is in revolution, his political opponents have derided it as impractical and "as mushy as ice cream."

But yuai is more than just a tempting target. In October, in his first parliamentary address since taking office, Hatoyama began spelling out how this fuzzy-sounding notion would be applied to policy. Guided by a spirit of fraternity, he said, Japan would seek to temper the turbulence of globalization by promoting the free market while also boosting domestic social safety nets. Japan would take a moral-leadership role on the world stage by aiding poor countries in their fight against climate change. And it would agree to cut CO2 emissions by 25 percent from 1990 levels by 2020 if other rich countries reciprocated. In essence, he suggested, the philosophy would elevate Japan more than ever before into the community of nations that are now tackling transnational issues such as climate change, the financial and economic crisis, nuclear proliferation, and terrorism.

Hatoyama would go far beyond his predecessors, who tried for decades to coin a phrase that would signpost Japan's place in the world. Some of these ideas understood Japan primarily in relation to the world's great powers. Democratic Party of Japan chairman Ichiro Ozawa talked of Japan as a "normal country"— by which he meant that Japan would have a foreign policy of its own, independent of the United States. Other catchphrases were more nationalistic in tone, such as former prime minister Shinzo Abe's "beautiful country" or Taro Aso's "thought leader" of Asia. Still others attempted to position Japan as the premier power in Asia, with Japan dubbed the head of "the flying geese." But all these formulations positioned Japan against others rather than putting it in a truly global context. Yuai, by contrast, identifies Japan as an independent actor that is also part of a larger, integrated global system. Indeed, the universal rhetoric seems ap-propriate for a time of universal problems.

Hatoyama's grandfather Ichiro Hatoyama is said to have stumbled upon the idea in a book at a time when he had been forced out of Japanese politics by U.S. occupying forces. The book, titled The Totalitarian State Against Man, was written in the 1930s by Richard Coudenhove-Kalergi, the originator of the idea of a unified European community. He argued that fraternity was the key to building a peaceful society and striking a balance between freedom and equality. In his view, too much freedom yielded anarchy; too much equality yielded tyranny. The elder Hatoyama was so moved by the ideas that he translated the book into Japanese and, in 1953, began promoting the idea to postwar Japan.

His grandson has tried to translate these ideals into modern terms. Japan's direction on foreign policy is in line with the Obama administration's emphasis on consultation with the community of nations. He aims to position Japan as a "bridge for the world" between the East and the West, between rich and poor countries, and "between diverse civilizations," while also providing leadership on global issues. For instance, the government recently announced it would lend Indonesia the equivalent of $400 million to fight climate change, and urged India to make its own commitment to the effort. Japan has also indicated that it will apply this lofty idea on a regional level by emphasizing sustainable and inclusive growth in the Pacific as Japan's chairmanship of Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation approaches in 2010.

Yuai is both less mushy and less combative than critics suggest. It is a philosophy that suggests Hatoyama wants to forge a new identity for Japan in which it will lead as part of a team. But if it is to gain real traction, the prime minister will have to a find a balance between the merely inspirational and the concrete policies Japan demands.

Stewart is program director and senior fellow at the Carnegie Council for Ethics in International Affairs and a fellow at the Truman National Security Project.

Japan Loves You, Brother

By Devin Stewart | Newsweek Web Exclusive
Oct 28, 2009

Japan's new prime minister is spelling out what his personal philosophy of "yuai" means for his country. The result may redefine the nation's place in the world.

Even before Yukio Hatoyama became Japan's prime minister in August, people in the country and abroad have tried to grasp his personal philosophy of yuai, an idea that translates loosely into "fraternal love" and has been ridiculed by the press and politicians alike. The conservative Sankei Shimbun newspaper worried about the concept's origins, tracing it back to the liberté, egalité, and fraternité of the French Revolution and comparing Yukio Hatoyama to a modern-day Robespierre, albeit sans guillotine. The moderate newspaper Yomiuri Shimbun doubted something so lofty could be understood, much less applied on a global level. And despite Hatoyama's assertion that his brand of fraternity is "combative," rooted as it is in revolution, his political opponents have derided it as impractical and "as mushy as ice cream."

Yet yuai is more than just a tempting target. This week, in Hatoyama's first parliamentary address since taking office, he began spelling out how this fuzzy-sounding notion would be applied to policy. On both a domestic and international level, it would stress the importance of coexistence with others and a respect for differences. Guided by a spirit of fraternity, he said, Japan would seek to temper the turbulence of globalization by promoting the free market, while also boosting domestic social safety nets. Japan would take a moral leadership role on the world stage by aiding poor countries in their fight against climate change. And it would agree to cut CO2 emission by 25 percent from 1990 levels by 2020 if other rich countries reciprocate. In essence, he suggested, the philosophy would elevate Japan more than ever before into the community of nations that are now tackling transnational issues such as climate change, the financial and economic crisis, nuclear proliferation, and terrorism.

In so doing, Hatoyama's vision would go far beyond that of his predecessors, who have been trying for decades to coin a catchphrase that would somehow provide a signpost for understanding Japan's place in the world. Some of these ideas understood Japan primarily in relation to the world's great powers. DPJ chairman Ichiro Ozawa talked of Japan as a "normal country"—by which he meant that Japan would have a foreign policy of its own, independent of the United States. Other ideas were more nationalistic in tone, such as former prime minister Shinzo Abe's idea of Japan as a "beautiful country" or Taro Aso's of Japan as the "thought leader" of Asia. Still others attempted to position the country as the premier power in Asia, with Japan dubbed the head of "the flying geese." But all of these formulations seemed to position Japan against others, rather than putting it in a truly global context. Yuai, by contrast, identifies Japan as an independent actor that is also part of a much larger and integrated global system. Indeed, the universal rhetoric seems appropriate for a time of universal problems.

Hatoyama's grandfather Ichiro is said to have stumbled upon the idea in a book he discovered while in political isolation, forced out of Japanese politics by the U.S. occupying forces in the early 1950s. The book, titled Totalitarian State Against Man, was written in the 1930s by Richard Coudenhove-Kalergi, the originator of the idea of a unified European community. He argued that fraternity was the key to building a peaceful society and striking a balance between freedom and equality. In his view, too much freedom yielded anarchy; too much equality yielded tyranny. The elder Hatoyama was so moved by the author's ideas that he translated the entire book into Japanese while living in Karuizawa—a resort town near Tokyo—and in 1953 he began promoting the idea to postwar Japan, a nation in which bureaucratic politics tightened its grip and Marxism was growing increasingly popular. He believed fraternity could inspire a Japanese society in disarray by offering an alternative to the extreme of Marxism.

His grandson has tried to translate these ideals into today's terms. Japan's direction of inclusiveness—the idea that new institutions should be open and pluralistic—is in line with the Obama administration's emphasis on consultation with the community of nations. Hatoyama supports the global goal of eliminating nuclear weapons. In his speech to the Parliament, known in Japan as the Diet, Hatoyama promised to "build an economy for the people" at home by stimulating consumer spending so the country doesn't have to rely so much on exports for growth. He suggested tax cuts and funding for child care, and promoting domestic industries like nursing, education, and tourism to create jobs. Abroad, Hatoyama aims to position Japan as a "bridge for the world" between the East and the West, between rich and poor countries, and "between diverse civilizations," while also providing leadership on global issues. For instance, the government recently announced it would lend Indonesia the equivalent of $400 million to fight climate change, and that same week, the prime minister urged India to make its own commitments to battle the global problem. Japan has also indicated that it will apply this lofty idea on a regional level by emphasizing sustainable and inclusive growth in the Pacific as Japan's chairmanship of Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation approaches in 2010.

All of these initiatives suggest that yuai is a vast improvement over previous philosophies. It is an attempt to forge a new identity for Japan, one that allows it to lead as part of a team and one that puts one of the world's largest economies at the forefront of those nations seeking solutions to the world's problems.

Stewart is program director and senior fellow at Carnegie Council for Ethics in International Affairs and a fellow at the Truman National Security Project.

Japan, the Middle Power

Why it's acting like smaller states.
By Tobias Harris | NEWSWEEK
Published Oct 3, 2009
From the magazine issue dated Oct 12, 2009

When Ichiro Ozawa left the LDP in 1993 to assemble a non-LDP coalition government, Americans were hopeful Japan would finally play a role in global affairs that was commensurate with its status as the world's second-largest economic power. After all, Ozawa espoused a belief in the need for Japan to become a "normal" nation, and his Blueprint for a New Japan outlined an ambitious vision for political reform that would subordinate bureaucrats to politicians in the cabinet and make Japan a more active participant in global affairs. Now that program looks ever more likely to come to pass. In September the Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ) took power—with Ozawa serving as secretary-general—and upon taking office the new prime minister, Yukio Hatoyama, announced sweeping new changes that echo Ozawa's plan.

Many in the United States are worried, fretting that Hatoyama's promotion of DPJ politicians over entrenched, pro-American bureaucrats and members of the outgoing LDP will mean a turning away from the United States. The reality, though, is that the new government wants an "equal" relationship with the U.S., in which Japan's leaders can make decisions on the basis of their own calculations of Japan's national interests instead of on the basis of U.S. expectations for the country. In short, they want a relationship in which the Japanese government can, and will, occasionally say no to its ally.

The new tilt to Japan's foreign policy translates into a relationship with the U.S. that will de-emphasize and go beyond security issues. Tellingly, in the foreign-policy section of the DPJ's manifesto, it includes a proposal for a free-trade agreement with the U.S., which highlights just how much the relationship has changed over the past two decades. Burned by the trade wars of the early 1990s, the two nations shelved economic issues and focused on bilateral discussions on security, U.S. military bases, and Japanese contributions abroad. Naturally these discussions were unequal: the U.S., by far the world's strongest military power, proposed changes, and Japan accommodated U.S. requests as much as the political system would allow. Now the DPJ, especially Foreign Minister Katsuya Okada, seeks to correct this imbalance. Japan, for instance, will end its role supporting the U.S. mission in Afghanistan by refueling warships in the Indian Ocean, while reintroducing significant global issues to the agenda, including climate change.

Japan's changing relationship with the U.S. will also mean a greater emphasis on leadership in Asia. But the U.S. should not mistake this as Tokyo's decision to choose Beijing over Washington. The U.S. remains Japan's most important security partner; China remains its most important economic partner. And as Okada said last month, choosing between the two is "a futile debate."

Rather, Japanese foreign policy will be a balancing act that—to borrow a term from Soeya Yoshihide, a professor at Keio University—could be called "middle-power" realism. Like other countries in Asia, including Australia, South Korea, and the ASEAN member nations, Japan will strive to maximize its freedom of action in a region dominated by the U.S. and China. The U.S. should not fear this change—Japan's leaders are as worried about Chinese dominance in Asia as their neighbors and the United States. In fact, Washington should recognize that a more independent Japan could play an important role in keeping the peace among the powers in the region.

Hatoyama's first priority, of course, will be getting Japan's house in order. The DPJ recognizes that until Japan's economy is weaned off its dependence on exports for economic growth, until Japanese workers and pensioners have a more reliable safety net beneath them, and until the government's debt is placed on a more sustainable footing, Japan will struggle to lead regionally and globally. Bureaucratic-led policymaking, which prevailed under the LDP, was fine when the U.S.-Japan alliance was the bulk of Japanese foreign policy. But if Japan's leaders want to balance multiple relationships and find an equilibrium in a changing region, political leaders need more discretion to take policy in different directions and to experiment. Until that happens, the DPJ's vision of turning Japan into a normal nation with an independent foreign policy will go unrealized, and the country's ability to pursue its own national interests will be thwarted by interference at home and abroad.

Harris, a doctoral student in political science at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, is the author of the blog Observing Japan and has written for numerous publications in Asia and the United States.

Japan’s Lost Leaders

POINT OF VIEW
By Richard J. Samuels | NEWSWEEK
Published Apr 11, 2009

From the magazine issue dated Apr 20, 2009

Visionaries have emerged at critical moments in the country's past--but not this time.

If a Martian landed in the middle of Ginza, Tokyo's upscale shopping district, 20 years ago and said, "Take me to your leader," he would have had many possible destinations. Some Japanese would have taken him to the Imperial Palace to meet the emperor. Others would have veered off toward one of the government offices to meet the bureaucratic barons. Still others might have dragged him off to Tokyo's Capitol Hill to meet a political bigwig, or even up to the financial district to chat with business leaders.

Today, by contrast, most Japanese would be embarrassed by the question and the Martian would go away disappointed. Tokyo is headless. The emperor suffers from stress-related illnesses, government ministries are discredited, Japan's politicians are transparently inept, and the business elite cannot fix what is broken. No one seems to be in charge.

The irony is that Japan has a rich tradition of leadership. Visionaries have often emerged to guide the country forward at critical moments in the past—as in the 19th century, when Japan was threatened with Western imperialism, or in the mid-20th, when it was occupied by a foreign conqueror. Earlier this decade, Junichiro Koizumi strode onto—and then off—the scene as the most popular and successful leader in living memory. Now, however, no such figure can be found on the horizon. Public-approval ratings for Taro Aso, the current prime minister, are near an all-time low. And the opposition is hardly more promising. Until recently, the Democratic Party of Japan looked poised to win power for the first time, but then prosecutors arrested the chief of staff of Ichiro Ozawa, the DPJ leader, for corruption. Now it seems the party may have snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.
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To make matters worse, there are no other viable alternatives. The left departed the scene in the 1990s, when the Socialists betrayed their supporters by sleeping with the LDP, and the Communists proved their irrelevance by refusing to acknowledge the end of the Cold War. There are, it seems, no real mavericks left in the country—only phony ones who declaim Japan's failings but offer no constructive designs of their own.

Japan is paying a high price for this leadership deficit, and the costs are growing. In the last quarter, its economy shrank by 12 percent, twice the rate of decline in the United States and Europe. At home, the government's loss of 50 million pension records has inspired intense public distrust of the once vaunted bureaucracy. So has the realization that Japan's public debt is now more than twice the size of America's (relative to the overall size of the economy). The best and the brightest no longer seek government jobs.

For its part, the Japanese public remains deeply divided over necessary reforms to the Constitution, the health-care system, pension policy, pork-barrel politics and economic policy. Yet with no politicians to lead them, there is no one to bridge the gaps. The same goes for Japan's foreign affairs. While Tokyo has long claimed that it wants to act like a "normal" state, it continues to behave as abnormally as ever. Last autumn, Japan blew its latest chance to lead in providing global security. Rather than join the U.S. and several dozen other countries in defending shipping lanes against Somali pirates, Japan dithered—until China sent its own warships. Suddenly, Tokyo's "us too" diplomacy kicked in, something seen far too often in the past. Its Navy is finally steaming to the region.

Elsewhere, despite decades of talk about how Tokyo is ready to help provide global public goods, only 38 Japanese troops are participating in just three U.N. peacekeeping operations. (Even the normally reticent China now has 2,000 soldiers serving abroad, in 11 U.N. missions.) Japan's defense budget continues to decline; it is now less than 0.9 percent of GDP—by far the lowest in the G8 in relative terms. Support for U.S. forces stationed in Japan was temporarily suspended last year, and the LDP government has abandoned its efforts to reinterpret the Constitution to allow its military to protect allied forces should they come under fire outside Japanese territory—an event that, if it comes to pass, could cause the U.S.-Japanese alliance to collapse.

Of course, Japan doesn't actually need to exercise leadership. It could theoretically continue to drift, bobbing like a mercantile cork in a turbulent geopolitical sea. Japan is, after all, still very rich, and its $5 trillion economy could afford it more than a modicum of security. Nor does Japan need to act like a great power, despite boasting the world's second-largest economy. Japan's Asian neighbors still distrust it for its colonial legacy and would surely rather it remain rudderless than fall prey to a demagogue who promises redemption while steering Japan further yet from a "normal" role.

Japan could, in other words, continue to muddle through. But doing so while China continues to rise and assert itself, and Washington explores accommodation with Beijing, will leave Tokyo less able than ever to tilt world politics and the global economy in a favorable direction. Even transforming Japan into a "middle power" will require leadership. The Japanese people—and the world—are waiting.

Samuels is the Ford International professor of political science at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

Headless In Tokyo

Christian Caryl
NEWSWEEK
From the magazine issue dated Mar 9, 2009


Sure, Aso is atrocious. But so were his predecessors. Here's why Japan's politicians are so bad.

It's hard not to pity Shoichi Nakagawa. By now it seems the whole world has heard about the shame of Japan's former finance minister, who turned up apparently drunk at a G7 conference in Rome on Feb. 14. Nakagawa, who slurred his words and seemed to nod off during a press conference, resigned in disgrace soon after.

The real scandal, though, may be the guy who stayed.

Prime Minister Taro Aso, the man responsible for appointing Nakagawa, is still on the job—despite approval ratings in the single digits and an apparent lack of any coherent plan for rescuing the world's second-largest economy from what may become its steepest slump since World War II. Aso's propensity for gaffes—he once said he wanted to turn Japan into a country "where the richest Jews would want to live"—and his failure to find a modus vivendi with the emboldened opposition have condemned Japan to paralysis at just the moment when it's in dire need of strong leadership.

Yet Aso's agony—and that of his party, the ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP)—has even deeper significance. His failings at this crucial moment underscore the country's dramatic leadership deficit. Never, it seems, have the Japanese felt the absence of credible politicians quite so acutely. On Feb. 27 the mainstream Asahi Shimbun newspaper captured the mood in an op-ed when it pleaded, "Enough with the political void." As that line suggested, what's most striking about Aso's shortcomings is how normal they are. Modern-day Japan is a major force in global business, culture and technology—yet in some ways it is governed like a banana republic. Which raises a key question: why?

The current prime minister's failings shouldn't come as a complete surprise. There were always reasons to have low expectations of Aso, who took the job without ever receiving a mandate from the electorate; he was picked by fellow members of the ruling LDP following the resignation of two similarly feckless LDP prime ministers in as many years. His immediate predecessor, Yasuo Fukuda, shocked the nation by almost casually throwing in the towel after just a year on the job, at a surprise press conference on Sept. 1, 2008. And his predecessor, Shinzo Abe, almost wept as he cited unspecified "health reasons" when announcing his decision to step down—also after just 12 months in office.

Yet Aso's performance has been lame even by these low standards. His brief term has been marred by crippling legislative gridlock and an ill-conceived (and unpopular) scheme to stimulate the economy by sending the equivalent of $120 to every taxpayer in the country. Even before he became prime minister, his career had been marred by epic gaffes. He once accused the opposition party of acting like Nazis when they blocked legislation he favored, praised Japan's harsh colonial rule in Korea and Taiwan, and cracked insensitive jokes about Alzheimer's patients.

Explanations for his and his colleagues' ineptitude abound. Some blame their failings on Japanese traditions that value seniority over performance. Others single out the rigid Japanese educational system. Still others point to deeply institutionalized cronyism in the political and business worlds, which tend to prioritize chummy dealmaking over serious policy formulation. But pretty much everyone agrees on the biggest problem. It's the LDP itself, which has singlehandedly ruled Japan, with only one brief interruption, since the party's founding in 1955. For too long, the LDP was essentially the only game in town—a result of the Cold War, when the party was set up as the only counterweight to socialist and communist parties that were anyhow too radical to appeal to mainstream voters in this conservative nation. The party also developed notably opaque ties with business, handing out lucrative public-works contracts or favorable regulation in return for political contributions. The result was a culture of backroom dealing and little accountability. The system rigged the game strongly in favor of incumbents, conformists and timeservers.

While times were good, the flaws in this setup were harder to see; during Japan's boom years, a smoothly functioning bureaucracy and a talented entrepreneurial class delivered enough growth for everyone, and the politicians just had to make sure the wealth trickled down to their constituents. The end of the Cold War, however, and the collapse of Japan's asset bubble after 1989 gradually began to expose the downside of the LDP's dominance. The increasingly sclerotic party seemed bereft of economic answers, dithering for years over how to clean up the banking sector, for example. And yet it managed to hold onto power despite its manifest lack of ideas. Virtual stasis ensued. "The LDP has been in power for so long that it can't change itself," says Masaharu Nakagawa of the opposition Democratic Party of Japan.

Things briefly looked like they might improve at the beginning of this century, when Japan's economy perked up and a glamorous reformer, LDP Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi, took the helm from 2001 to 2006. By appealing directly to the people and campaigning against his own party, Koizumi shook things up and gave great momentum to calls for change. He also drove home the notion that politicians actually can and should sell their big ideas straight to the electorate. Koizumi strengthened the prime minister's office at the expense of the bureaucracy and chipped away at the traditional LDP faction system.

Many things haven't changed. One glaring symptom is the phenomenon of so-called hereditary politicians, who have basically inherited their jobs from family members. In the past 20 years, eight prime ministers have been sons or grandsons of previous LDP politicians. According to a recent study by Japanese journalist Shiota Ushio, a full quarter of all current members of the Diet are the children of ex-legislators; among LDP lawmakers, the figure is even higher, at 40 percent. Even Koizumi, the supposed iconoclast, was a third-generation politician.

Inbreeding has produced a political class deeply out of touch with the nation. The scions attend the best schools and universities in Tokyo, returning to their "home" districts only when election time comes around—which contributes to their sense of estrangement and has inspired disgust among voters. Critics also argue that family connections have made LDP politicians soft. Abe, for example, was the son of a prominent politician and the grandson of a prime minister, and when he precipitously threw in the towel, DPJ member Keiro Kitagami says his constituents interpreted this lack of "gumption or toughness" to Abe's "pampered life."

Another expression of the LDP's oppressive clubbiness is the tendency of its leaders to appoint ministers on the basis of personal affinity rather than professional qualifications. Both Abe and Aso were accused of governing by the principle of otomodachi naikaku: "the cabinet of buddies." "This is one reason we've had such a miserable political situation over the past five years," says political analyst Takao Toshikawa.

It's hard to overstate just how deep the rot has spread. The biggest problem is that the government still hasn't managed to present a credible plan for reviving the economy. It has passed some modest stimulus measures, and more may be on the way. But what's received the most attention has been Aso's ill-fated $20.5 billion cash-payout plan. Many Japanese have raised objections because they can't see why the checks should be sent to rich recipients as well as less-well-off ones—a problem that was compounded by Aso's constantly shifting explanations of the rationale for the policy.

Meanwhile, the missteps of Japan's leaders have become legend, and are almost impossible to imagine in another advanced democracy. In 2003, for example, one Diet member, Seiichi Ota, actually opined that there was still hope for overcoming the nation's demographic crisis because "gang rape shows the people who do it are still vigorous." One minister in Abe's government referred to women in 2007 as "birth-giving machines." Neither seemed particularly concerned about the fallout.

This points to another source of Japan's problems: its electorate keeps returning dismal politicians to office. The DPJ's Kitagami says the voters still too often fail to hold their politicians accountable. "People are too passive, and that's created a sort of lenient environment where you have incompetent politicians holding power."

Yet change may finally be in the offing—thanks largely to the rise, over the past decade, of the DPJ, which finally won control over the Diet's upper house in July 2007. Many Japanese now believe that simply kicking out the old LDP bums in the upcoming general election will have a galvanizing effect. They concede that the DPJ is hardly an ideal vehicle for renewal. Its head, Ichiro Ozawa, is a former LDP bigwig and unpopular; his party offers little programmatic coherence. And many of its leaders are strikingly inexperienced.

Yet there's a widely shared hope that a victory for the opposition could nonetheless serve as the prelude to a broader cleansing of the political establishment. One particularly important outcome would be a much-needed shift toward a system where political ideas are more important than personal connections—something that's already being fostered by the rise of a real two-party establishment. "It was one thing when you had a closed, hermetic system," says Tobias Harris, author of the blog Observing Japan. "Nowadays you actually need to appeal to people to bring them along. It's not enough to say 'Here's our campaign slogan, here's how we're going to do the budget'." The DPJ's Nakagawa says that previous methods for winning power are changing. "Earlier there were certain opinion leaders in each village, each community. In the old days we could talk to them, and they would influence the vote," he says. "But now people have begun to think for themselves." The machine, in other ways, may finally be breaking down. It's about time; in fact, it's long overdue. For given the many problems Japan now faces, change can't come fast enough.

With Akiko Kashiwagi in Tokyo
URL: http://www.newsweek.com/id/186965

The End of Gridlock

By Bill Emmott | NEWSWEEK
Published Jan 10, 2009
From the magazine issue dated Jan 19, 2009


One of the most dramatic effects of the global crisis could be the end of the LDP's 53-year-long rule.

Hard economic times will be politically risky for many countries, bringing populism, protectionism, mass protests, internal strife, revolution and even perhaps war. Yet at least one important country stands to benefit politically from the recession. That country is Japan, the world's second biggest economy after the United States, but which has suffered from political gridlock in recent years. With a general election due by September this year, the chances now are that the gridlock will at last be broken. More dramatic even than that, the conservative group that has ruled Japan for virtually all of the past 53 years, the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), looks set to be crushed, and perhaps even destroyed altogether.

For in truth, Japan's political woes date back a lot further than the Upper House election in July 2007 that handed control of one of Japan's two houses of Parliament to the main opposition party, the Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ). Since then, however, government has been brought virtually to a halt. That is the immediate problem that needs to be rectified. Some blame the gridlock on Japan's Constitution, written for the country by its American postwar occupiers. That gave it two houses of Parliament, of which the Lower House, equivalent to the U.S. House of Representatives or the British House of Commons, is more powerful. The Lower House can override the Upper House on the budget or on international treaties by a simple majority, but needs a two thirds vote to override it on other laws.

As luck would have it, the governing coalition, led by the LDP, does hold a two thirds majority in the Lower House, thanks to a huge election victory achieved in 2005 by its popular then prime minister, Junichiro Koizumi, who retired a year later. But the more it tries to use that override power, the further its poll ratings fall. For the DPJ's 2007 success reflected a political reality: the LDP is deeply unpopular. And since Upper House elections are held partly using proportional representation, it is hard to claim that the DPJ's blocking efforts in that house are illegitimate.

A more profound political reality is that the LDP has been in decline and even disarray for more than a decade. It has run Japan since 1955, barring just nine months out of office in 1993, but with decreasing levels of effectiveness and an increasing propensity for scandals and blunders. Koizumi came to power in 2001 essentially by running against his own party, under the slogan "Change the LDP, to change Japan." During his five years in office, which coincided with the country's recovery from its 1990s stagnation, he succeeded in reforming Japan in many ways. But he failed to transform the LDP, with the result that reform of Japan too has stalled. Since he left office in 2006, ignoring a clamor that he should stay on, he has been succeeded by three hapless LDP prime ministers—Shinzo Abe, Yasuo Fukuda and now Taro Aso—all of whom have challenged poll records for unpopularity.

The Lower House's four-year term expires in September, so like it or not the LDP will have to face a general election by then, at the latest. Current opinion polls suggest that it will lose heavily, thanks especially to the recession. There are even rumors in Japanese newspapers that Aso might step down ahead of the election in the hope that a successor would prove more popular. Such a desperate step seems unlikely: more likely is that defections from the LDP might force him to call an election sooner.

The sooner the better, as far as many Japanese voters are concerned. It is not that the DPJ looks inspiring or especially effective. Its leader, Ichiro Ozawa, a long-ago LDP defector, is personally as unpopular as Aso. But what Japan needs immediately is a government capable of passing legislation through both houses of Parliament and able to remain united over matters as fundamental as its own fiscal policy. The latest disaster for the LDP has been that a young and respected former minister, Yoshimi Watanabe, has threatened publicly to leave the party in a dispute over its current budget proposals. If he does so, he would be likely either to join the DPJ or to vote with them as an independent. Others could well follow.

The biggest, most dramatic change, though, would be the election of a strong, non-LDP government and, most likely, a broader political realignment. Such a change could come either through a DPJ victory in the general election, bringing the first stable alternation in government in half a century, or through a party realignment following that election—or a combination of the two. With the Japanese economy hobbled by weak consumer spending, by a rising yen and by huge public indebtedness, no one should expect a new government to work miracles. But change would itself be welcome. And just a government that can work at all would be nice.

Emmott was editor of The Economist from 1993 to 2006 and is the author of "Rivals: How the Power Struggle Between China, India and Japan Will Shape Our Next Decade."

South Pacific Strategy

The U.S. Navy shifts its emphasis to cooperating with other nations. Will China be among them?

By Greg Bruno, Council on Foreign Relations
Dec 16, 2008 | Updated: 3:26 p.m. ET Dec 16, 2008

Admiral Timothy J. Keating, commander of U.S. Pacific Command, says it would be a "giant leap of faith" to believe the United States and China could develop a close military partnership any time soon. Keating, who commands U.S. forces responsible for an area ranging from New Zealand to Mongolia, says there will need to be more transparency, better understanding of Chinese intentions, and greater cooperation before the two sides could move toward a partnership. But Keating says the U.S. military in the Pacific continues to forge close relations with allies based on policies of mutual interest. Keating says the incoming Obama administration should "emphasize partnership, presence, and a military readiness" with allies while "acknowledging the environmental crises that are looming, to include global warming, to include energy demand."

The new U.S. Pacific Command strategy you approved in November has been described as a subtle shift in vision, in which America's assertive role in the region is deemphasized in favor of greater cooperation and collaboration. Elaborate on why you think this change was necessary now.

It is, I think, from our position, as much as an acknowledgment of the way of the world as recognition of the main elements of the strategy and their importance. We are working as hard as we know how to emphasize partnership, not just [military-to-military], not even just interagency to interagency, but government to government, non-government organizations to NGOs, commercial partners to commercial partners. It's a fairly broad coalition, if you will, of not just the willing, but 'the coalition, the committed,' as the Tongans put it. So, there is an increase in awareness of, an emphasis on partnership, and an acknowledgment, not just from our bully pulpit, but enforced by all the conversations that I have in the twenty-eight-some countries we visited so far, of the desire for U.S. presence. So, that's where you get a partnership, a presence and a military readiness. [It's] not so much a new way of thinking about things as wrapping what has proven to be successful over decades out here with an eye on the way ahead.

So it's not about a concern that U.S. image in the region needs an overhaul?

There is not in this headquarters and I get no sense of that in my discussions with military, governmental, and commercial partners all throughout the Asia-Pacific region. I don't get that sense.

The new strategy seems to suggest that all players in the region should be treated as partners, not threats, but with regards to China, I wonder if there is a slight contradiction between your strategy and the Pentagon's approach.
We don't see it that way. I think it's a giant leap of faith to think that in the near-to mid-term, we as a nation and the policy makers in particular would regard China as a partner, particularly, on a mil-to-mil basis. That said we hope that in the mid- to long-term we can be closer to that consideration than we are today. And to get from where we are--not a partner--to where we would like to be--more like a partner--is going to require more transparency, a better understanding of intention on our part of the Chinese, and to get there we would need more active cooperation with the Chinese.

A Chinese military official recently suggested China would be interested in acquiring an aircraft carrier. Staying with this question of intent, first, how far along is China in that acquisition process? Would China acquiring weaponry of this type be a significant strategic concern for the U.S., or is it more of a symbolic threat?

China already has an aircraft carrier. They bought a discarded, which may be the word, or excess military equipment, ski-jump carrier from Russia. It wouldn't take a whole lot for China's military to get their hands on that platform and perhaps do some research and development testing to figure out whether they could return it to aircraft carrier status. Now, all that said, it's a fairly rudimentary kind of carrier, it's a ski-jump, very small flight deck capability and it's old and the Russians gave it up for a reason I would assume. So to get to the larger issue of does China want to pursue the capabilities inherent in an aircraft carrier or a navy that has aircraft carrier capability? I believe they do. In discussions I had in our first visit to China over a year and a half ago, some senior Chinese official, he was a Navy guy at the two or three star level, said, "Hey you know, we're thinking of building carriers and how about we make you this deal," he said, I think in jest. He had a wry grin on his face but he nonetheless made the following statement: '"You keep your aircraft carriers east of Hawaii. We'll keep ours west. You share your information with us; we'll share our information with you. We'll save you the time and effort of coming all the way to the Western Pacific."

Did you take him up on it?

Well, my response was just as yours was. I chuckled, slightly, and said, no thanks. Then I went on to tell him: "it ain't as easy as it looks and it's taken us since before World War II to get our aircraft carrier technology and capability to where it is today." Russia and other countries have discovered, once again: "It ain't as easy as it looks." So we'll watch carefully if China chooses to pursue the development of aircraft carrier technology and capability. We will ask them to be transparent with us. We will ask them to share with us their intentions. But when we've done that in the past, the Chinese military and the government officials say  in response to my questions, "Well you need to understand, we only want to protect those things that are ours." Fair enough, so do we, and so do all countries who have access to the maritime domain and the air domain.

A specific point of departure in our relationship with China is the Taiwan issue. How do you see the relationship between China and Taiwan today?

To be sure, the tensions have decreased. Both China and Taiwan have undertaken, in our view, fairly significant efforts to continue defusing the tension across the straits and some of these are in a way kind of almost pedestrian. They have had meetings to where they agree to share exotic animals for zoos. They have agreed on streamlining their postal system. They have agreed to increase cross-channel commercial flights. All of these are encouraging signs from our perspective. We tell both China and Taiwan, with equal enthusiasm, that we are very anxious to sustain stability across the straits. That we would like for them to work to achieve a solution that is mutually satisfactory. And we encourage as much dialogue as both countries can sustain.

Let's move to an area where tensions are quite high, India. The attack over Thanksgiving I'm sure is something you've been following very closely. Can you comment on whether you've offered any assistance to the India government?

Let me answer it this way: It's an ongoing operation so I can't give you specifics. I've had conversations with members of our national command authority. [U.S. Central Command chief Gen.] Dave Petraeus and I have had multiple conversations. Our Pacific command staff is in constant contact with the Central Command staff and across the spectrum of military headquarters staffs. We're keeping a very close eye on India-Pakistan. We're sharing those perspectives with each other's staff and with the national command authority and this is a situation that's still unfolding.

As the India case illustrates there are many hot spots from rogue terror groups to friction in the Koreas, concerns over cyber security, climate change and impacts to island nations, and a host of others. I wonder if you could weigh in on what you see as the principle points of concern. What keeps you up at night?

When that question comes from our friends in the media or our colleagues on the Hill I answer the same and I don't mean to be glib, but I sleep pretty soundly every night. But with that said, the obvious intention of the question is, what are the major areas of concern? Right now, it's India-Pakistan. You touched on them. [Chief U.S. negotiator] Chris Hill just [returned] from a not entirely fulfilling Six-Party talks session [over North Korea's nuclear program], and that's hardly the first time an adjective like that or a phrase like that is applied to six-party talks. I think his spokesperson is saying that there was no progress made but there is still room for progress. So that's North-South Korea. There's the question of Kim Jong-Il's health and the succession plan that we worked out, of course, diligently. Jemaah Islamiyah and Abu Sayyaf group activities in the Southern Philippines-we have six-hundred and some Special Forces there supporting armed forces in the Philippines operations. Counter-terrorism efforts [are ongoing] throughout Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, Philippines, Thailand, and other countries of South and South-East Asia, an area of significant effort on our behalf. But at the top of the list right now is India-Pakistan.

You mentioned Southern Philippines. With Abu Sayyaf, there are indications that their activity is increasing. Is there more that the U.S. military can do to assist the Philippine government?

I don't think so. We've got, as I said, a very large complement of highly trained special operations forces there. We've been there for over half a decade. We're sharing intelligence with them. We're providing tactics, techniques, and procedures with them. So I'm satisfied that our national level of support is appropriate for the task at hand in the Southern Philippines. Now that's not to be dismissive of the challenge facing the armed forces in the Philippines, but they are demonstrating to us increased capability and increased wherewithal as they fight [Abu Sayyaf] in particular and Jemaah Islamiyah, secondarily.

Your new approach that you recently put into play seems to echo what the Defense Secretary Gates has been advocating: pay more attention to state building and governance issues. Do you have any advice to the incoming administration on how to strengthen U.S. military capabilities in this area?

I don't know that I wouldn't say anything different to the new administration than we're saying to the current administration. You know, I've been in uniform for almost forty years now. We have enjoyed changes of administration, since I been at it, a bunch of times. So, we would hope to have a constant and convincing theme for President-elect Obama's team, some of whom we've already met and have enjoyed significant discussions with, and it would emphasize partnership, presence, and a military readiness. Acknowledging the increased global market that was representing the Asia-Pacific area, acknowledging the environmental crises that are looming, to include global warming, to include energy demand, all the while, we would underscore the importance of security and stability based on our strategy, which we think is an effective way of sustaining that peace and stability.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/175312

America's Unsinkable Fleet

Why The U.S. Military Is Pouring Forces Into A Remote West Pacific Island.

Christian Caryl
NEWSWEEK
From the magazine issue dated Feb 26, 2007

For an out-of-the-way spit of land in the West Pacific, Guam has been getting a lot of interesting visitors recently. First came a steady stream of Pentagon bureaucrats and senior U.S. military officers. Then, a few weeks ago, a high-ranking delegation of Japanese officials arrived. And this week the island is set to greet its most illustrious guest yet: U.S. Vice President Dick Cheney.

So why all the fuss over a tropical island just 30 miles long, known mainly for its white-sand beaches and glorious sunsets? The answer: the Pentagon has begun a major redeployment of U.S. forces in the region, pulling troops and equipment out of sometimes unreliable allies and beefing up its presence in more-congenial locales. First on its list is Guam, a U.S. territory since 1898 that is fast becoming the linchpin of Washington's new Asia strategy. Current U.S. forces on the island number just a few thousand but within a decade will total well over 20,000--about the same size as the Bush administration's planned surge in Iraq. By comparison, there are some 29,000 U.S. troops left in South Korea, yet despite the dangers of a nuclear-armed North, that number is expected to drop significantly.

At a time when most of the world's attention is focused on the United States' misadventures in Iraq and Afghanistan, Pentagon planners are quietly working on ways to fortify the U.S. presence in East Asia. And they're looking to do so in ways that will give them a free hand in a wide range of contingencies--including fighting regional terrorists and a possible showdown with China. Guam offers the U.S. military both proximity to potential hot spots and the advantages of operating off U.S. soil. The transfer of forces to the island also reflects the Pentagon's determination to give regional allies such as South Korea and Japan more responsibility for their own security.

Guam, a sleepy but diverse place that looks like a cross between Micronesia and Middle America, has long served as a U.S. air base and way station for troops traveling through the Pacific. At the end of the cold war, the Pentagon began shutting down some facilities on the island. But then came September 11, and a dramatic reassessment of America's global forces. Former secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld began to advocate the lily-pad strategy: rather than relying on large, static bases in Germany and South Korea, the Pentagon should create a global network of jumping-off points for quick responses to unpredictable attacks. Guam is an ideal lily pad, since the United States can act there without seeking permission from allies, says Honolulu-based defense analyst Richard Halloran. Declares Carl Peterson of the Guam Chamber of Commerce: "This is the U.S. in Asia. This is the tip of the spear."

The island has already become a convenient base for fighting Washington's "Global War on Terror" in Indonesia and the Philippines. Small wonder that Brig. Gen. Douglas H. Owens, the commanding officer of Guam's Andersen Air Force Base, describes the island as "an unsinkable aircraft carrier."

It's also well positioned for possible trouble to come. As Rear Adm. Charles Leidig, U.S. Navy commander on Guam, points out, if you take a map and draw a circle with Guam at the center and a radius of 1,500 nautical miles--equivalent to three hours' flying time or two to three days by ship--you come close to the main islands of Japan, Okinawa, Indonesia and the Philippines. China and the Korean Peninsula are only a bit farther off. So are several of the world's most important sea lanes, such as the Strait of Malacca, through which some 50 percent of the world's oil passes each year.

The Pentagon, however, may be building up its forces on Guam with even bigger game in mind. "The larger strategic rationale [for the shift] can be summed up in one word, and that's 'China'," says Halloran. "They [the Bush administration] don't want to contain China, and they couldn't. What they are trying to do is to deter the Chinese. That's what the buildup on Guam is all about."

The nature of the U.S. reorganization reinforces this point. Washington and Tokyo have agreed to move 8,000 Marines to Guam from Okinawa by 2014, at a cost of $10 billion (60 percent of which will be paid for by the Japanese government). But this is only the most public part of a broader buildup that has largely escaped notice. If all the pieces come together, it could mean billions more in Defense Department funds and a total increase in Guam's population (which is currently just 170,000) of 35,000.

Guam is already home to a major U.S. Navy port and one of the biggest bases in the U.S. Air Force, featuring twin two-mile-long runways. Not long after September 11, flights of massive B-52 bombers began returning to Andersen to carry out regular training missions. Now the Air Force has begun to prepare for the deployment of tanker aircraft and up to 48 fighter planes, including the state-of-the-art F-22 Raptor. Andersen has also already started construction of a $52.8 million project that will house up to 10 Global Hawks--large unmanned spy planes that, according to Pacific Command Air Force Gen. Paul Hester, could end up replacing aging U-2 spy planes now based in South Korea.

Meanwhile, the Navy has turned its port at Guam's Apra Harbor into a home for two Los Angeles-class nuclear-powered attack submarines, with a third to come later this year. It also plans to refurbish wharves to accommodate aircraft carriers and to transform Guam into a base for its new Littoral Combat Ship (a shallow-draft stealth ship designed to operate close to shore) and Trident submarines. The Tridents, immense cold-war-era craft converted to fire Tomahawk cruise missiles, can also be used by Navy Special Operations Forces, who can set off on missions in mini-submarines launched through the Tridents' missile ports. Guam is already home to an undisclosed number of Navy SEALs, many of whom have seen duty in the war on terror, and their number will likely grow.

Guam's new capabilities, however, are designed for more than just low-intensity conflicts. The attack submarines that will soon be based there, for example, probably wouldn't be much use in a conflict with North Korea or Qaeda-allied terrorists in the Philippines; the presence of the subs, experts say, is clearly aimed at the possibility of a naval confrontation with China over the Taiwan Strait. Similarly, analysts argue, the stationing of F-22s and tanker planes on Guam points to the Pentagon's desire to ensure dominance in the air should it have to fight the Chinese. China's media often worry about just this scenario, but not everyone agrees that China is the main target of the Guam buildup. Evan Medeiros of the RAND Corporation says "the initial impetus and primary driver" were to restructure the U.S. military for the wide range of operations it now faces, from fighting the war on terror to chasing pirates and conducting humanitarian missions.

In the complicated post-9/11 world, the United States believes it must be able to respond to various threats as flexibly as possible. This means keeping its forces close to the action. In the past that's required basing them in other countries' territories. But Guam offers an almost unique combination of a good location, excellent facilities (including a topnotch harbor, vast warehouses and massive airfields) and a lack of political restraints. As Kurt Campbell, a former White House staffer and Defense Department official now at the Center for a New American Security, says, "[Guam is] a point from which you can do a variety of things. And it's a place to remind people that you're still focused on the region."

Campbell points out that these secondary missions, such as protecting sea lanes, countering weapons proliferation and conducting relief missions, remain important; the U.S. military's humanitarian efforts after the tsunami of December 2005 gave a huge boost to the country's reputation in Asia. Brad Glosserman, executive director of Pacific Forum CSIS, a Hawaii-based think tank, agrees. The Asia-Pacific region, he says, "is a jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces are changing shape and size all the time. China's the big story--but there are also changes going in on Japan, India, South Korea, Taiwan."

One such development driving the move to Guam has been the steady withdrawal of the United States from South Korea in recent years (more than 9,000 troops have left in the last three years)--a result, in part, of rising anti-Americanism there and Rumsfeld's reluctance to keep troops in politically sensitive places. Some Air Force units that have pulled out of South Korea have already arrived on Guam; others may be yet to come. That, along with the planned removal of the Marines from Okinawa, has led some commentators to characterize the Guam expansion as evidence of a virtual U.S. retreat from East Asia. But Campbell and others disagree: "I would see this not as a retrenchment but as a diversification." Indeed, after years of maintaining an even balance between its Atlantic and Pacific fleets, the U.S. Navy is now clearly emphasizing its force in Asia.

Whatever the rationale, the changes represent good news for Guam's population. The locals were hit hard in the early 1990s when the U.S. military's post-cold-war drawdown, combined with the Asian financial crises and the resulting plunge in tourism, caused the loss of thousands of skilled and unskilled jobs on the island. Guamanians are hoping that the Pentagon's new plan can bring billions in investment into the territory as well as new support for its sagging infrastructure. Contractors are already maneuvering for deals to build housing and other structures. Real-estate prices shot up 50 percent between 2005 and 2006 and there were more property sales in the fourth quarter of last year than in all of 2003.

To be sure, hurdles remain, such as ensuring that the Marines from Okinawa actually make the move. The deal, which requires Japanese cooperation, has already run into political problems there. Then there's the possibility that local activists in Guam will throw a wrench into the works. Some of Guam's indigenous Chamorro people, who wield great influence on the island, have opposed the changes, warning that the military could overrun the island. The Pentagon, which already controls one third of the territory, has promised not to expand this share, but that pledge could prove hard to keep. Still, most Guamanians support the buildup, given their traditional patriotism--traumatic memories linger of Japan's occupation during World War II--and the potential economic benefits the rebasing will bring.

Guam's significance as a regional base and steppingstone for U.S. military power therefore seems set to grow exponentially. Notes Gov. Felix Camacho: "We can no longer be ignored as some distant American territory." He seems right about that. If, as many in the region predict, the 21st century ends up belonging to the nations of the Pacific--and conflict in the region rises--Guam will have to get used to being in the headlines.

URL: http://www.newsweek.com/id/68465

A Risky Game Of Chicken

By Christian Caryl | NEWSWEEK
Sep 18, 2006 Issue

Japan and China's growing assertiveness in the East China Sea could start a military skirmish--or worse.

It's a glorious late-summer day over the East China Sea, cobalt blue ocean beneath a warm and hazy sky. But this mission is all business for the crew of a P3-C Orion flown by the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Forces (as Tokyo refers to its Navy). Dropping down to a mere 200 meters above the waves, the plane slowly banks to peek at a yellow-and-white drilling platform anchored in the sea below. Suddenly the radio loudspeaker in the plane's cockpit crackles, and a rapid burst of Mandarin Chinese attests that the men on the rig have taken notice of the visitor. "Sometimes you can even see the Chinese flag down there," says one of the pilots.

Not that either side needs a reminder of who's who. The Chunxiao gas fields in the center of the East China Sea--where Beijing is hunting for energy in waters hard against the boundary line of the Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) claimed by Japan--are a long way from the back rooms of Tokyo. But there's no question that events in this lonely corner of the ocean will be much on the mind of Shinzo Abe, Japan's prospective prime minister, as he settles into his new job over the next few weeks. Earlier this month, tensions in the area rose another notch, when the Japanese government protested the completion of yet another Chinese drilling rig in the area. Tokyo fears that the Chinese might siphon off energy resources from its side of the line.

This isn't just a scuffle over scarce natural resources, but one part of a much larger jigsaw puzzle of problems. The dispute over EEZ boundaries, for example, is intimately linked to China's insistence that the nearby, uninhabited Senkaku Islands (Diaoyutai in Chinese) really belong to the mainland. Tokyo begs to differ. And behind the complex tussles over maritime law looms the much more fundamental issue of how to manage potential conflict between the rising naval aspirations of Beijing and the tightly linked forces of Japan and its ally the United States.

"Just look at the map," says Toshi Yoshihara, an expert on naval strategy at the Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island. To the north, he points out, the East China Sea gives way to the Tsushima Strait, one of the strategic linchpins of Northeast Asia, where Russia and Japan fought an epochal battle in 1905. To the south lies Taiwan, which Beijing has pledged to reunite with the People's Republic, and which both Japan and the United States have recently begun to define as a common strategic interest they are obliged to defend. China's rapid naval buildup-- featuring a shopping spree in Russia for state-of-the-art weaponry, including superquiet Kilo subs--is aimed at helping it grab military control over Taiwan in the event of war. Part of its plan, say experts, involves pushing Chinese sea-defense lines far out into the western Pacific. But Beijing won't be able to do that unless it can slip its subs and ships through the chain of the Ryukyu Islands, which extends Japanese territory nearly all the way to Taiwan (particularly if you include the Senkakus). The key there is Okinawa, home to America's main military base in the region and the last bead in the Ryukyu chain.

For strategic purposes, China is trying to map the entire region's sea bottom--and testing the reaction times and capabilities of Japanese and U.S. forces in the area. At the beginning of this year, for example, the Japan Defense Agency revealed that it had scrambled fighter jets 107 times last year in response to Chinese planes that were approaching Japanese airspace. The number in 2004 was 13; the year before that, two. In November 2004, a Chinese submarine actually entered Japanese territorial waters, threading its way through a gap in the Ryukyus. It was pursued by Japanese Navy planes until it left the area. Last fall, just as Japan was preparing for its general election, a group of Chinese warships turned up near the Chunxiao fields in a show of strength. One of the ships even aimed a gun at a Japanese surveillance plane flying nearby. "They were trying to send a message," says retired U.S. Navy Rear Adm. Eric McVadon, a former military attaché in Beijing. "They were saying to the Japanese, 'We used to be inferior to you. Now we have to be taken seriously'." He notes that the main ship in the group was a high-tech destroyer purchased by the Chinese Navy from the Russians, who designed it, says McVadon, to counter U.S. Navy ships equipped with the powerful Aegis radar system.

As a potential flashpoint, the territorial dispute in the East China Sea is much more worrisome than the customary Sino-Japanese squabble over memories of World War II. As both nations maneuver for position, the threat of an accident, misunderstanding or fateful encounter that could draw the two sides into open conflict is rising. In July 2004, a Chinese naval vessel "came close" to a Japanese research ship, according to MSDF officials--close enough, other sources say, that the Japanese ship was forced to veer out of the way. "People play chicken," says McVadon. "And that's when things can happen." The risk is compounded by the paucity of direct military-to-military contacts between the two sides.

There is one positive sign: both countries recently started talks about opening a "hot line" that could help smooth over potential incidents. But until that connection is made, and until the two countries establish more regular diplomatic contact and perhaps seek arbitration of the maritime EEZ disputes, the East China Sea will not be anywhere near as placid as it looks from the air.

With Akiko Kashiwagi