A History of Japan: From Stone Age to Superpower (76 page)

Partly a response to Japan bashing, it was an inflammatory piece of writing that appealed, not unlike the
Kokutai no Hongi
of 1937, to basic
emotion rather than intellect. Among other things it repeated a sometimes-heard accusation that America had used atom bombs on Japan and not on Germany for racist reasons.
¹⁰⁹
This overlooked the not unimportant fact that the atom bomb was not successfully tested till July 1945, two months after Germany had already surrendered. Indeed, the book saw American racism as the source of all problems. Then, quite obviously becoming carried away by its own strongly nationalistic line, it suggested that the recent economic success of Asian nations was not unconnected with the fact that they were once occupied – however briefly – by Japan (whereas former western colonies had not achieved such success).
¹¹⁰

On the other hand, while those such as Ishihara met western criticism with defiance, others in the government tried to take a more conciliatory and constructive approach. They promoted Japan’s internationalisation (
kokusaika
), making it a catchphrase of the decade. To some extent this was inevitable, as Japan tried to diversify its international relations away from America, and as its people travelled increasingly overseas. A number of positive moves were made, such as the establishment of scholarships for overseas students and exchange programmes for young people in general. However, criticism was soon made that Japan was abusing the spirit of internationalisation. Instead of bringing Japan and the world together, it seemed to be using internationalisation as a vehicle for explaining Japan to the world – or more exactly, why it was different from (and better than) the rest of the world. The newly established and government-backed International Centre for Japanese Studies in Ky
to (Nihon Bunka Kenky
Sentaa, or Nichibunken), for example, was seeming to produce
Nihonjinron
works that stressed Japan’s uniqueness, and in a way favourable to Japan.

Some of the western criticism of Japan struck a chord among the Japanese public. In the same year of 1979 that Vogel praised Japan as Number One, a European Community Commission report referred to the Japanese as ‘workaholics’ who lived in ‘rabbit hutches’.
¹¹¹
Both these put-down terms deeply hurt the Japanese, particularly because they seemed to contain an element of truth. The Japanese did work some 400 hours more per year than the typical western worker, and they did live in tiny houses, that at around 90 sq.m were only half the size of a typical American dwelling.
¹¹²

These unflattering terms, along with others such as ‘rich nation, poor people’,
¹¹³
also brought to the fore broader questions about the quality of life in Japan, questions that were asked increasingly during the 1980s. The Japanese not only worked long hours and lived in cramped houses, they often had an hour’s crowded train-ride to get to work, and another hour back. Those in the T
ky
region could enjoy only one-twelfth of the green park space per capita that Londoners did. At least most of the houses in T
ky
had sewerage, whereas the national rate of connected sewerage (that is, flush toilets) was still under half. And as land prices rose during the Bubble years, even ‘rabbit hutches’ became so expensive that an inter-generational mortgage was the only way most people could manage to buy one. At the end of the decade, in 1990, long-time critic Jon Woronoff went on to attack Japan’s ultimate accolade, the work by Vogel, by producing
Japan As – Anything But – Number One
, in which he particularly criticised the poor standard of living.

The Japanese public’s national pride was greatly hurt by all this. But it was pointless counter-criticising westerners such as Woronoff, for they were right. The problems lay within Japan itself. What had all the sacrifice and hard work been for? There had been similar grievances about the quality of life and the distribution of wealth in the 1950s, but the Japanese had been assuaged by wage increases and material acquisitions. They had, in the famous words of the social commentator Hidaka Rokur
, become a ‘controlled society’ (
kanri shakai
), in which their meek acceptance of government policies was bought by material affluence.
¹¹⁴
But just how much genuine satisfaction could be obtained from a Gucci handbag or a Cartier watch or designer suits? The public had been promised infrastructural improvements in the early 1970s, but these had been put on hold because of problems such as the Oil Shock. There was now, at the end of the 1980s, no excuse. It was time that the Japanese people received some real benefit from the nation’s wealth.

The Japanese public of the late 1980s were further angered by a particularly serious scandal, the Recruit Scandal. The Recruit company, which had started as a recruiting agency but had diversified into various activities including real estate, made use of the easily available finance of the Bubble era to win political favour by massive distribution of funds. More than 150 officials, politicians, and other people in positions of influence received contributions, cheap loans, and, in particular, pre-flotation shares in the company. These shares increased in value five-fold upon public issue, making a very quick and handsome profit for the recipients in what was known popularly as a ‘stock-for-favours’ scandal. By mid-1989 some 20 or so members of the Diet
(of whom most were in the LDP) had resigned over their involvement with Recruit, including half a dozen cabinet ministers. Resignations included the then Prime Minister, Takeshita Noboru, and his predecessor Nakasone.

Upper House elections that year resulted in an unprecedented majority for the Japan Socialist Party. This was more a reflection of public frustration towards the incumbent conservative government than it was a serious vote for the socialists. It was the Lower House that really mattered, not the Upper House, and so the LDP stayed in control of the country, but it had received a sharp warning.

As Japan approached the end of the 1980s, internationally, foreign anger was mounting towards it, and domestically, public anger was mounting towards the government. A crisis was looming.

Review of Part Six

The Occupation of defeated Japan was essentially an American affair. Based initially on twin aims of demilitarisation and democratisation, it was constructive rather than destructive. For MacArthur and some in Washington, it was a chance to build a Utopia. Demilitarisation policies included demobilising the military, breaking up the
zaibatsu
that had contributed to the war effort, purging unsuitable figures from positions of influence, and punishing war criminals. Thanks to the personal protection of MacArthur, Hirohito was not tried as a war criminal nor even forced to abdicate. Instead, he played an important part in MacArthur’s policies of democratisation. He became humanised and the symbol of the nation, and also gave legitimacy to Occupation reforms. The ultimate demilitarisation policy was the renunciation of war, which was to be enshrined in a new constitution.

The new constitution, drawn up by young Americans with some limited input from the Japanese, embodied most of the Occupation’s democratic reforms. It confirmed Hirohito’s new role, vested sovereignty of the nation in its people, affirmed human rights and equality of the sexes, separated church and state, affirmed various freedoms such as those of speech and assembly, and provided for progressive reforms in labour and education. In addition, party politics returned. Progressive land reforms greatly reduced tenancy, and made more people owners of the land they worked.