The Forgotten Player.

• Author: Green, Michael J.
• Position: Japan

UNTIL HIS STROKE this past April, Prime Minister Keizo Obuchi's ruling coalition had repeatedly challenged the pacifist consensus that has prevailed in Japan since 1945, knocking over half century-old taboos and replacing them with the symbols of a "normal" state. A telling example occurred in March 1999, when Japanese destroyers fired on North Korean spy boats, driving them from Japan's territorial waters. The fusillades were the first fired in anger by the Japanese navy since the Second World War, and though they were only warning shots, the ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) promptly crafted legislation that would enable Japanese ships to fire for effect the next time. Support for the Obuchi cabinet increased by 5 percent in the wake of the confrontation.

Subsequently, the Japanese Diet passed legislation authorizing logistical support for U.S. forces in the event of a military conflict in Asia--support the United States had sought without success since the 1970s. In August the Diet passed laws awarding official recognition to the hinomaru flag and to kimigayo, the national anthem, which opens with a refrain revering the emperor. Then in February of this year, two commissions in the Diet opened a debate on amending Japan's postwar constitution. This came on the heels of polls showing that 60 percent of the Diet's members supported revision and 40 percent were dissatisfied with its "Peace Clause." All this has been accompanied by a chorus of commentators and editorials championing a more assertive Japanese stance toward China, North Korea and the United States.

The sudden transformation of Japan's strategic culture has not been unanimously well received. "Japan Returns to Nationalism", trumpeted the Asian edition of Time magazine last year. In a more sober assessment, a June 1999 memorandum prepared by the U.S. National Intelligence Council cautioned that Japan is "pursuing greater autonomy or independence." The official Chinese press has warned of a return to the Japanese militarism of the 1930s. In a survey last year of Asian business executives, a majority expressed the opinion that Japan was becoming more nationalistic. Commentators throughout the region are today echoing Lee Kuan Yew's famous quip that encouraging Japan to play a larger security role is akin to feeding a reformed alcoholic chocolate liqueurs.

But Japan is not returning to militarism or embarking on a campaign of revanchism. Taboos have fallen, but the framework of postwar pacifism remains in place. Japan's allergy to nuclear weapons remains strong, and Tokyo continues to hold an idealized view of international institutions such as the United Nations. Japan's aging demographics also conspire against resurgent militarism--Japanese rightists will not build a new Kwantung Army out of the aging "salarymen" who constitute the country's bulging demographic middle. In many respects, indeed, the Japanese are developing a more transparent, liberal and civil society; the same Diet that blessed the anthem and flag also passed sweeping legislation for the establishment of nonprofit and charitable organizations. More important, Japan is not bolting from the U.S.-Japan alliance, which lately has become even more crucial to Japanese security given uncertainties about China and North Korea. Quite the contrary: for the first time in postwar history, all of Japan's political parties (except the Communists) openly champion the alliance.

Still, Japan is changing. After years of cautious international behavior and paralyzing domestic debates about security policy, a broad consensus is emerging that Japan should assert its national interests more forcefully and be a more "normal" nation. In part, this new wisdom reflects the pent-up ambitions of Japanese leaders of a younger generation that appears more comfortable on the world stage and less encumbered by war guilt than its elders. In part, it reflects a growing realism about threats to peace in Northeast Asia posed by North Korean and Chinese missiles.

There is a nationalistic dimension to the changes in Japan as well, one rooted in resentment toward a domineering American foreign policy and anxiety about the nation's economic future. Taken together, this mixture of ambition, realism and angst has so far yielded more passion than strategic coherence, but the momentum behind a more independent Japanese security policy has become irreversible.

For the United States, the emergence of a more normal Japan represents an opportunity rather than a threat, but it is an opportunity that is being squandered. Ironically, after years of cajoling Tokyo to assume a larger security burden, Washington has lost its bearings. While seven years ago the Clinton administration was alarmed at the prospect of a formidable economic competitor across the Pacific, today Japan rarely receives attention above the middle layers of the bureaucracy. Tokyo is still seen as a source of funds, but hardly a strategic partner.

Distracted by the "rise" of China, Washington seems to have lost sight of the fact that there are today two aspiring powers in Asia. Rather than taking a patronizing and aloof approach, American policy toward Japan should seek to assure Tokyo that the United States is both committed to the alliance and is listening to the concerns of its ally. This means actively supporting Japanese diplomatic initiatives that serve broad U.S. strategic interests in East Asia. It means dropping the hollow rhetoric of "strategic partnership" with China. And it means encouraging a more "normal" security policy for Japan, albeit one premised on the current division of roles in which Japan assigns offensive and strategic missions to the United States.

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