DON-1 Tokyo, Japan
October 5, 1966.
Mr. Noel is a 1965 Alicia Patterson Fund fellowship award winner on leave from The Hartford Times. Permission to publish this article may be sought from the Managing Editor, The Hartford Times.
The photograph on the screen, one of several taken to show Japanese friends the reasons for America’s urban renewal, showed a slum block in Hartford, Connecticut. Less than a month earlier, it had looked terrible. In Japan, suddenly, the tired old tenements looked spacious, solid, and attractive. One would not, of course, seriously compare Tokyo’s urban problems with those of Hartford. But it is worth remembering the vastly different scales, which are used to measure prosperity at home and abroad.
Japan is, by every measure applied in Asia, a prosperous economic giant. During a decade’s absence, one kept hearing reports of the new prosperity, seeing photos of new trains, new superhighways, and Olympic stadiums. But returning to gauge personally the progress of ten years, one senses the fragility of this crowded nation’s economic boom. It is a fragility, which cannot but make every Japanese political leader cautious. In the eyes of some Japanese, that caution — however necessary — is diluting Japan’s role in world affairs.
Signs of the boom are all around: private automobiles; a glut of garages and gas stations; neighborhood shops selling TV sets, washing machines, hi-fi radios — to which, ten years ago, only the wealthy or childless could aspire. Incomes of young college-graduate friends — even discounting normal increments and rising living costs — have doubled, some tripled. The rising standard of living appears to have spread, too, to include some “blue-collar” workers, such as barbershop employees.
But not everyone shares. Taxi rides have risen in cost only fractionally. Restaurant workers, and millions of small-shop clerks, still work a 12-hour day, with no overtime. Their wages have risen slightly, and they now get one day off a week (it was one day every two weeks a decade ago.)
Japan’s is, in short, a tenuous prosperity, richest in consumer goods, but able to affect only slowly the basic ills of an overcrowded nation. In transportation, the “New Tokaido” has revolutionized rail travel from Tokyo to Osaka, and both cities have glistening new subways. But the old subways and trains are still in service, still dingy and crowded. Only a quarter of Tokyo, the world’s largest city, is sewered; night-soil collection, or semi-open curbside sewers, are the rule, not the exception, throughout the country.
It is, perhaps, in housing that the slow pace of change is most evident, and most discouraging. I lived, ten years ago, in a small city housing project of 1,000 families. Most were white-collar workers, many civil servants. The little two-family bungalows were originally identical: a 12-by-12 all-purpose room, a tiny kitchen and toilet. They have gradually been expanded, as tenants have saved enough for a spare bedroom or a tiny addition for a bath. There was never more than a tiny little garden, and the expansions have nibbled these still smaller. A forest of TV masts, and several dozen cars, proclaim the new prosperity: there was only one TV set in the project, and no private auto, a decade ago.
People can afford these and similar luxuries, but they do not hope for much better housing. The project is in fact tiny and without privacy; narrow alleys between houses are unpaved; the wood, never painted, is badly weathered; the entire neighborhood is a fire hazard. But it is, nonetheless, a genuine neighborhood, one of the few in Tokyo with a real sense of community. An (American-built) neighborhood center carries on a busy program of classes and clubs for young and old, in which the residents take pride and responsibility. A middle-class community has settled down to make the most of what, in American terms, is almost a shantytown.
The city of Tokyo is talking now of tearing down the two-family houses, and building in their place six to twelve-story apartments. U.S. urban renewal usually means more open space; but here, the prospect is for more than five times the number of families in the same area, less breathing space than before, and the dismal architecture, which still typifies Japan’s public housing. The community is, of course, fighting the change. But they will lose, giving way not to better housing, but simply to more efficient use of space. It is in this context that one should judge Japan’s prosperity. My slides of commercial urban renewal in Hartford looked good, but not out of reach: Japanese banks build handsomely, too. But my slides of airy, attractive renewal housing were of another world.
It is in this context, too, that one must consider Japan’s posture in the world today. Many Japanese are concerned that they take their place among the major powers, as befits their size and industrial strength. Many believe Japan has a major role to fulfill in helping Asia grow and prosper without being, or feeling, dominated by the United States. Many are disappointed by their government’s failure to give the U.S. friendly but pointed advice, particularly regarding Vietnam. But they are hesitant, for they are a nation terribly vulnerable to economic misfortune. Many Japanese are painfully aware of how little room they have for maneuver.
Japan’s economy is prospering, in part, because of the war in Vietnam. This war-boosted prosperity is one of the most sensitive — and secretive — subjects in the country. Emotionally opposed to involvement in any war, and specifically opposed to anything that jeopardizes their delicate progress toward rapprochement with China, most Japanese would like to pretend that the war trade did not exist.
Vietnam procurement in Japan was untalked of until late last fall, when the New China News Agency charged—and a U.S. service, reported the charge — that 92 per cent of napalm bombs used in Vietnam were being manufactured in Japan. The report was vigorously denied. But in January, an explosion in a shipyard where an American LST was under repair, brought procurement again into public scrutiny.
There has since been detailed probing by some parts of the press, with little cooperation either from the government or manufacturers. (One report noted that a leading steel maker, known for diligent trade marking, was now making delivery of some shipments with nothing to show point of origin.)
In May, the Oriental Economist, English-language monthly of one of Japan’s largest economics publishing houses, carried a detailed analysis of procurement. It found direct contracts with the U.S. Army Procurement Agency for diesel engines, power plants, cable, dynamite, automotive parts, jute for sandbags, prefabricated houses, steel runway mats, airplanes, helicopters, bulldozers, jeeps, cars, trucks, blankets, overalls, cutlery and electric appliances, and a growing volume of cement. In addition, under a U.S.-backed technical cooperation agreement, it found Japan sending equipment, arms, and naval and aviation repair parts direct to the South Vietnam government. One Japanese commercial consultant was quoted after a visit to Vietnam as saying a soldier there “can spend 24 hours a day surrounded by Japanese products.”
Not all the trade is direct. The Economist reported many goods reach Vietnam by way of Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong, the Philippines, Malaysia and even Australia. This indirection is not necessarily deliberate concealment. Some goods go via Thailand, for instance, simply to relieve overburdened Vietnam ports. Many are finished or reprocessed more economically in other countries, even though the basic item is Japanese. Some of the two-step trade results from U.S. policy of buying from Vietnam allies whenever possible. Thus, for instance, The Economist estimated that fully half of Japan’s exports to Korea are re-exported to Vietnam in some form or other. Finally, Japan’s export trade is apparently profiting from U.S. industry’s preoccupation with military production. The Economist reported sharp gains not only in such war-related sales to the U.S. as special steels, titanium, aluminum, machine tools and communications machinery, but also in such domestic goods as synthetic textiles, TV receivers, small aircraft and chemical goods.
A recent magazine article said textile manufacturers are afraid an end to the war in Vietnam would shatter this happy market. Some, in fact, are concerned with the potential effect of peace in Vietnam on Japan’s overall economy. The impact of war-related trade is hard to assess. The Economist’s sources said Vietnam procurement, direct and indirect, will surpass 10 per cent of all Japanese exports in 1966. A free-lance writer and frequent critic of U.S.-Japanese policies, Yoko Matsuoka, told me her economic sources say the total (including temporarily inflated U.S. markets for domestic goods) will be 20 per cent. In any case, there seems little doubt that the total this year will easily top the $830 million peak of Korean War purchases in 1953.
This does not necessarily mean the post-Korean War recession will be repeated. Japan’s economy is much bigger and broader now. And the more optimistic observers look for a gradual tapering-off of the war in Vietnam, which will allow re-adjustment by slow steps. Meanwhile, however, many Japanese feel their involvement in Vietnam procurement, like their basic orientation toward U.S. markets, blocks Japan from effectively expressing its opposition to the war itself. The vast majority of Japanese are deeply troubled by the war in Vietnam.
The reasons for this unease are several. First is the very deep pacifist trend of Japanese thought since World War II. The United States left Japan with a “peace constitution” which the minority Socialist Party has stoutly and successfully defended against sporadic conservative efforts to amend it to allow greater defense capability. Thus, although Japan has a missile technology probably second only to the U.S. and Russia, its use has so far been reserved to scientific research. The majority Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) is said to believe the present constitution can successfully be interpreted to allow “defensive” nuclear weapons, which Japanese technology could surely produce. And a leading Socialist told me he fears Japan might, in the not-too-distant future, be tempted by the French “force de frappe” concept of renewing its world prestige.
But for the time being, such a decision would strike fear into the hearts of millions of Japanese, who believe that they, as the only nation ever to suffer atomic attack, have a special responsibility to oppose such armaments. Japan has methodically protested all atomic-nuclear tests, including China’s. The recent visit of the U.S. nuclear submarine “Sea Dragon” stirred demonstrations probably less intense than greeted the first such visit a few years ago, but nonetheless enough to show the issue is not dead.
Nor is Japan’s sensitivity limited to nuclear warfare. Millions of Japanese were bombed out of their homes near the end of World War II. They readily put themselves in the shoes of today’s North Vietnamese, whose plight is regularly reported by Japanese newspaper correspondents. Almost every person I spoke with about Vietnam brought into the conversation his own or his close relatives’ wartime experience with bombing.
The second source of Japanese malaise over Vietnam is the underlying issue of China. Even a decade ago, Japan was yearning for rapprochement with the Chinese mainland. There is an emotional kinship: the common written language, the many parallels of religion, ethics, historical exchange, and of course, race. Beyond emotion, China is a trade magnet. It does little good to say that the Chinese market is — for reasons both economic and political — unlikely to measure up to Japanese dreams. Even staunch business supporters of the LDP yearn for trade with China. A long list of “friendship firms” conducts a growing trade. China, of course, considers economics and politics inseparable, and recently chopped off the friendship list several large firms, which had too warmly supported the pro-Russian “revisionists” in the Japan Communist Party. Japan, on the other hand, has insisted on separation, and Japanese trade missions to China — even when manned by high government officials — have been carefully “private.”
But the trade grows. China, apparently accepting for the time being the role of an exporter of raw materials, has apparently been cooperative with trade firms, albeit unable to produce top-quality material in many cases. Figures for the first half of this year showed China growing toward Japan’s second trade partner, even though far behind the United States. Mid-year figures also showed an 81 per cent gain in Japanese exports to China. The boost in exports to the U.S., despite Vietnam-related growth, was only 31 per cent.
Japan’s reluctance to be drawn into the Vietnam War can be viewed cynically as simply an effort to work both sides of the street. (In fact, the Oriental Economist, commenting on industrialists’ fears that they are over-committed to war-related trade, said that “Leaders of commercial houses playing major roles in catering to offshore procurements for Vietnam reportedly are equally eager for increasing trade with Communist China.”) But opposition to the war goes much deeper than simply wanting the best of both worlds. Many Japanese are deeply afraid of a war between the United States and China, regardless of what role Japan might play in such a war. One of Japan’s most respected political analysts, in an off-the-record seminar, said he believes there remains no more than 12 to 18 months before such a conflict will become inevitable.
Kinhide Mushakoji, a professor of the prestigious Gakushuin University, writing in the relatively conservative Yomiuri newspapers, referred several times to the “one-track runaway policy” of the U.S., and urged that a third party should restrain the U.S. and serve as mediator. The appeal had a wistful quality. For few Japanese seem to feel they are able to play that role.
“Asia for the Asians” is a phrase Japanese, sensitive to lingering resentment of the “Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere” of World War II, are understandably reluctant to use. But something closely akin to that concept runs deep in the thinking of many Japanese today. Japan is rapidly rebuilding its markets In Southeast Asia and China. Its reparations, in the form of capital projects, which provided immense boosts for Japan’s own economy, are now being replaced by an ambitious loan-and-grant program. Japan plans to commit one per cent of its gross national product (GNP) to helping underdeveloped countries. It would be Impossible for Japan not to catch some of the contagious nationalism which resents — even while accepting — Western aid, and which deeply suspects Western motives.
Few Japanese, apart from the most ideologically committed left wing, suspect American motives. But many believe Japanese policies must at key points diverge from American, even though motives and goals may continue parallel. One indication of this came in September, when liberals in the ruling Liberal-Democratic Party tried to have Japan drop its sponsorship (though not its support) of the “important question” formula by which China’s UN entry is blocked. Despite strong support from most newspapers, they failed.
Another Indication is the continuing unease over the war in Vietnam. Whatever the economic advantages In Japan’s present ambivalent role, the government’s hesitant voice must be read as in part, at least, responsive to wide public opposition to the war. There are, in fact, some who see Japan as uniquely fitted to take on the role of Asian leader, combining its advocacy of peaceful solutions with its unique abi1ity to bring technological change and development to Asia through Asians. Such a role, it might be added, would be greatly to Japan’s long-range economic benefit.
To what extent is Japan deterred from that role by her economic fragility, or by her heavy reliance on U.S. trade? To what extent does current offshore procurement add to the Japanese dilemma? Not at all, according to a leading officer of the conservative faction of the ruling LDP. In a not-for-attribution interview, he said in late September that the U.S. should close Haiphong harbor and go all out to win that Vietnam War while China is diverted with internal problems. He not only accepted, but advocated a Japanese role in Southeast Asia tied directly to U.S. policies. Because Japan is not a military power, he said, her economic aid should be “hand in hand” with American military aid. This is probably a stronger position than most in the LDP would take, and seemed one he was reluctant to take publicly.
A contrary view was expressed by Shimpei Fujimaki, deputy director of the policy research board of the opposition Socialist Party. He agreed that Japan must use its growing aid program as a wedge to open new trade markets. But he advocated a long-range view, in which “progress toward social justice, rather than short-range military security, is decisive” In where Japan bestows her favors. In Vietnam, he argued, social progress has been too little, too late, and he did not believe significant progress possible in the war context.
Fujimaki also suggested that while one part of Japan’s “China policy” must be for recognition and increased trade, an equal part must recognize China as ultimately Japan’s major competitor in Asia for both trade and influence. For several decades, he said, Japan will have clear superiority in the strength of her economy, particularly in view of Chinese agricultural backwardness. But he urged that the advantage not be lost through shortsighted and restrictive alliance with the U.S. Fujimaki feels Japan can afford to take a more independent policy line. Even if trade with the U.S. and its close Asian allies were to suffer as direct or indirect “reprisal,” he said, Japan can quickly develop new markets, some of which it is already exploring. Moreover, he added, since all trade is mutually beneficial, any significant “reprisal” is unlikely.
Social critic Matsuoka took a far more pessimistic view. She described having recently given a speech against the Vietnam War at a large industrial union, one noted for its past militancy. “At the end of my talk,” she said in obvious shock, “a young worker rose to ask if prosperity were not more important than opposition to the war. A few years ago, that kind of question would never have been asked at a union meeting.”
An independent economic observer and personal friend took a position, which discounted economics, but recognized Japan’s timidity. The real reason, he said, is the traditional Japanese preference for subtlety. Recent Ambassador Edwin Reischauer, he suggested, was so well loved in Japan because of his ability to interpret the Japanese to America. I pressed my economist friend on this point. In view of his own opposition to Vietnam, and his express fear that the conflict would widen, did he not feel more direct statement was called for? On the verge of World War,” I reminded him, Emperor Hirohito had said — with traditional Japanese subtlety — that he hoped war could be avoided. Was there a parallel now?
He agreed that the parallel was apt. But he quickly added that Hirohito, in those final crucial days, probably said as much as he could without risking being deposed.
“The Emperor recognized the limits of his freedom to move, and so must we,” he said. “I hope our quiet voice can be heard and understood. If not, I think the consequences could be grave. But we must be realists.”
Received In New York October 10, 1966.
