Leave the Past Behind

It's time for China and Japan to stop bickering about history
BY BILL POWELL

Monday, Nov. 22, 2004
In the 1970s British comedy series Fawlty Towers—about an innkeeper, his wife and the slightly shabby hotel they run—there was a hilarious episode in which the hotel is expecting its first-ever German guests. Basil, the husband and hotel manager, famously instructs his wife: "Whatever you do, don't say anything about the war.'' But when the guests arrive, it's Basil himself who can't think about anything else. "Milk or lemon with your war, sir?"

Watching China and Japan over the years—I've lived in both countries—is a bit like watching a rerun of this episode, over and over again, with one significant difference: it's not at all funny. They were at it again this month. As Japan tried, justifiably, to get a coherent explanation as to what a Chinese nuclear submarine was doing in its waters off Okinawa, Beijing's ambassador could think of nothing to say, and so initially just hit the rewind button, mentioning Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi's visits to Yasukuni Shrine. Not only did that not go over too well in Tokyo, it left a little to be desired in Southeast Asia, too, where China's rise generates some apprehension.

Start by acknowledging the obvious: Japan brings some of this on itself, with the annual, dreadful pilgrimages to Yasukuni by Koizumi and other leading lights from the ruling Liberal Democratic Party. But it's pretty clear by now that those visits aren't going to stop. In American political terms, this is called playing to your base and, alas, the right wing in Japan is a part—albeit only a small part—of the LDP's base. Unfortunately, nothing China says or does on the matter will change that.

That's why allowing the war to dominate so much of the public discourse between these two governments—obviously the two most important countries in East Asia—has gone beyond mindless. It's destructive. It sucks up, as the saying goes, nearly all the oxygen in the room. And it's no secret that the Japanese—whether diplomats, salarymen working in China or hip twentysomethings hanging in Shibuya—have been thoroughly fed up with it for at least a decade. Their message is simple: The war? It's been over for nearly 60 years. Moreover, as an implicit sign of our guilt, we've paid billions of dollars in overseas-development assistance to China over the years. In fact, the main reason we continue ladling out that kind of cash—to a country that's become an export powerhouse and an economic superpower, with a rising defense budget and a space program to boot—is precisely because of that war guilt. We were already rethinking this (remind us again why we gave China almost $1 billion last year?). Now the submarine fiasco may, thank you very much, put an end to it once and for all.

There is a subtext to the submarine episode that no one should miss. These days the common assumption, worldwide, is that the future belongs to China, and the rest of us are just going to have to get used to it. A huge nation is rising, economically and in every other way, and the other nations of East Asia will just have to sit back (if not genuflect) as Beijing takes its rightful spot at the table's head. It is, after all, a done deal.

Forgive the Japanese. In their quiet, polite and indirect way, they don't buy this quite yet. For all the chatter about China's awakening, it has become too easy to forget that Japan has recently reawakened, finally emerging from its lost decade of deflation and debt. Japan is the world's second-largest economy and still Asia's biggest by far. Further, after decades of inconsequential prattle about it, Japan has, under Koizumi, actually taken steps toward becoming a more "normal" country. It still has a small contingent of troops in Iraq, even after a Japanese civilian was kidnapped and killed there, and the Tokyo press had its predictable nervous breakdown. And though China has long wished it could pry Tokyo from the U.S.'s side, under Koizumi the Japan-U.S. military alliance has never been more robust. Tokyo, moreover, is now looking with a cold eye at greater military spending—spending that is aimed at countering China's growing strength.

Japan, in other words, is not conceding its place in the global pecking order relative to China. Not quite yet, anyway. Last weekend, China's President Hu Jintao met with Koizumi at the APEC meeting in Santiago. Their countries are both benefiting immensely from growing mutual trade and investment. They also compete, with increasing urgency, for energy supplies offshore in East Asia, in Russia and the Middle East, and just about anywhere else that hydrocarbons are or may be found. Whatever they discussed in Santiago, in the coming months they need to talk about Taiwan and in particular about North Korea—specifically, about whether there's anything they can do to get Washington to agree with them on the best way to defuse Pyongyang's nuclear program. And that's just for starters. All of which is to say: Gents, seriously, here's hoping that whenever and wherever you meet, you do yourselves and everyone else a favor—and don't just talk about the war.

From TIME Asia Magazine, issue dated November 29, 2004 / Vol. 164, No. 22

Respect and Resentment

Monday, Nov. 22, 2004

Japan is becoming impatient with demands that it should constantly apologize for what happened more than 60 years ago
BY JIM FREDERICK | TOKYO

KATSUMI KASAHARA / AP

HONOR Koizumi's regular trips to the Yasukuni Shrine feed anti-Japanese sentiment abroad

It's nine o'clock on a Thursday night, and six friends from Tokyo's Keio University are sharing a few beers and many plates of Okinawan-style food at a bar in the Azabu-Juban neighborhood. They are all currently students in Professor Ryosei Kokubun's seminar on modern Chinese politics, so the conversation is focused, as it often is, on the complex relationship between Japan and its giant neighbor to the west.

Yuji Hashiguchi, 21, says that when growing up, he was profoundly influenced by the beauty of classical Chinese literature and captivated by the stories his grandmother would tell of the time she spent in China before and during World War II, when his grandfather worked for a firm associated with the South Manchurian Railway Co. Hashiguchi knows all about the atrocities committed in China by Japan during that period, but he has always been inspired by his grandmother's love for the country and its people. "My grandmother told me the Chinese were always very nice to them," he says. "When there wasn't enough food, the Chinese shared with them the little that they had." He strikes the most conciliatory note among the group, decrying Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi's visits to the Yasukuni Shrine. Hashiguchi says that better relations between the two countries are not just possible, but with a little work, highly likely. "Most people in China have goodwill toward the Japanese," he says. "But the Chinese are a very proud people, and the Japanese scarred their pride by invading. We need to be sensitive about that."

It's a nice sentiment, but it isn't universally shared. Hashiguchi's classmate Kenji Sato, 21, allows that the Chinese individually may be wonderful people, but thinks that the two countries' attitudes toward each other make them virtually destined for friction. And he is skeptical that political tensions are going to ease anytime soon, because he believes the very foundation of Chinese identity is now tied to being anti-Japanese. "I think that even if the Communist Party loses power, the next regime will still remain anti-Japan," he declares.

Hashiguchi and Sato—and their equally well-educated, opinionated friends—are a microcosm of Japan's younger generation and the highly conflicted, often contradictory attitudes it harbors toward China. Nearly 60 years after the end of World War II, Japanese youth are witnessing what they believe is a dramatic shift in power, as the political and economic momentum (to say nothing of military might) in Asia swings inexorably from Tokyo to Beijing. Yet even as they acknowledge that China is the ascendant force of the 21st century, many resent what they describe as China's insistence that they answer for issues they believe should long have been consigned to history.

True, within Japan there is no certain consensus on attitudes to China. Some agree that Japan has never properly atoned for its brutal occupation of much of Asia, but others are exasperated with what they see as Beijing's cynical leveraging of the issue for political and economic gain. For all those who do not support Koizumi's regular visits to the Yasukuni Shrine, there are others who dislike what they see as China's gall in presuming to tell Japan's Prime Minister what he can do in his own country. Some argue against a revision of Japan's pacifist constitution; others become apoplectic at Chinese accusations that "militarism" is on the rise in democratic, nuclear weapon-free Japan, when China is estimated to outspend Japan on defense by up to $20 billion a year. Many acknowledge that the Japanese school system has a tendency to whitewash unsavory events in history, but other Japanese have begun to look with anxiety at China's "patriotic education" program. These issues go beyond college bull sessions. They reach up to the very highest levels of both governments. Increasingly, say analysts, the two great powers of Asia are missing the chance to determine how they plan to coexist in this new century.

While the Chinese and Japanese media whirl into a frenzy over everything from stray Chinese submarines in Japanese waters to stray Japanese sex tourists in China, one issue has become an emblem of impasse: Koizumi's visits to the Yasukuni Shrine. He has gone there four times in three-and-a-half years of his term, and each time China's government has expressed its dismay, calling the trips a hurtful homage to Japan's warmongering past. Japan has grown impatient with what it considers to be China's pathological nurturing of remote grievances. China, on the other hand, is infuriated by what it sees as Japan's haste to bury unexamined history. "The two sides have locked themselves into a position where they cannot bridge the gap," says Jeffrey Kingston, a professor of history at Temple University's Tokyo campus.

From the Japanese point of view, they have been talking into a void for years. Although Japan may not have reached out as contritely to its former enemies as Germany did following World War II, many Japanese insist that the dawn of the cold war, when Communist China and half of the Korean peninsula became its enemies again, constrained any attempts at coziness. Others maintain that Japan has apologized to China publicly and often, including Emperor Akihito's expression of "sadness" at a Chinese state dinner in 1992 for "an unfortunate period in which my country inflicted great suffering on the people of China." Younger Japanese freely and loudly claim they bear no responsibility for the sins of their fathers (if not grandfathers and great-grandfathers). Hiroshi Kaga, 22, an art student in Tokyo, says, "The war is very over. It has nothing to do with me or my generation, or even my parents' generation. What am I supposed to say about it? Apologize to the Chinese people for what happened 60 years ago? I think that's even more insulting."

It's not that Japan is free of radical nationalism. For every sincere expression of contrition for Japan's conduct in World War II, there have always been a headband-wearing revisionist or a bigoted old-boy politician ready to declare that the Nanjing Massacre never happened or that Korean comfort women were "volunteers." But in modern Japanese society, such voices are of increasingly marginalized fringe elements. Nowadays, Japan can debate issues like the role of its flag, the national anthem, the Emperor and the constitution in a way that it could not do so even 10 years ago. "Japan is at a shifting point," says Koji Murata, an assistant professor of diplomatic history at Doshisha University in Kyoto. "Changes both in Japan and global politics, as well as the flood of information, have made Japanese more practical and pushed them to re-examine their world in a different light."

For businessmen, anti-Japanese sentiment in China is particularly vexing. China trades more with Japan than with any other nation, and only Japan's trade with the U.S. is greater than that with China. But managers and investors fear that if things are left unchecked, what should be a solid and important economic partnership will be derailed. Japan's Nikkei Weekly business newspaper recently launched a special series called "Dark Clouds over China." Its first installment was headlined, "Anti-Japanese Sentiment Sours Business." Inside was chronicled the tale of a business boycott organized against Canon for launching a new digital camera in Japan on Sept. 18, the 73rd anniversary of the Mukden Incident, a railroad bombing Japan used as a justification for annexing Manchuria. (Canon pointed out that it releases more than 100 products a year, that the date was pure coincidence, and that the camera was not even introduced in the China market.) Masaki Yabuuchi, a senior analyst at the Japan External Trade Organization, says many Chinese consumers still believe that Japan sells its best goods domestically and passes off the shoddy stuff to China. Such conspiracy-laden complaints gain a following in China via the Internet, and eventually migrate to the general public. Yabuuchi says anti-Japanese sentiment in China is encouraged by senior Party officials, taught by teachers and internalized by students. "Ever since the 'patriotic education' campaign started, Chinese feelings toward Japan have worsened dramatically," he says.

Even if Sino-Japanese relations are at their lowest point in years, powerful forces on both sides of the Sea of Japan are rallying to ensure they do not deteriorate further. In October 2003, 15 academic, business and media leaders came together to relaunch the 21st Century Committee for Japan-China Friendship, a bilateral advisory board designed to promote dialogue and understanding. Co-chaired by Fuji Xerox chairman Yotaro Kobayashi and Zheng Bijian, the head of the China Reform Forum, a think tank, the group has held two meetings so far during which it discussed strategies for resolving historical grudges and increasing trust. Halfway across the globe, a foundation based at the University of Montana honoring former U.S. ambassador to Japan Mike Mansfield and his wife Maureen runs periodic three-day retreats that bring together six young people of influence from each country to discuss the two nations' different approaches to history and ways to overcome their persistent obstacles. Through repeated gatherings like these at every level of society, including more high school exchange programs, Japan and China have a genuine opportunity to build mutual understanding, say many experts.

But for those Japanese not involved in such exercises, incidents like the harassment of Japanese soccer fans at this year's Asian Cup final in Beijing carry more weight. Says Keio University student Sanae Takasugi, 21: "It came as a shock that anti-Japanese feelings in China could be so strong and massive. Whatever unfriendly feelings the Japanese may hold against the Chinese are completely different in scale compared with that of the Chinese. I think that caught the Japanese off guard." Shingo Nishida, 22, traveled to China to watch the Japanese team's games. He describes with a mixture of disbelief and sadness how he and his compatriots were booed and heckled every time the Japanese side played. "They were yelling, throwing their food and drinks at the Japanese fans," he says. "It wasn't a simple show of hostility. It was more complex than that. Was it Japan? Was it the heat of the moment? Was it soccer? I was there and I still don't know." And then he sums up perhaps the essence of young Japanese's feelings about China. "We need to stay respectful to the feelings of the Chinese, but I can't apologize for what happened. Instead of being tied to the past, why can't we start from the present and look ahead? Let it go."

With reporting by Hanna Kite and Toko Sekiguchi/Tokyo

From TIME Asia Magazine, issue dated November 29, 2004 / Vol. 164, No. 22

Asia’s Odd Couple

Monday, Nov. 22, 2004

The region's future depends on whether China and Japan can get along. Are the countries' leaders up to the task?
BY HANNAH BEECH

For centuries, Japan was a tribute state of mighty china. But in A.D. 607, Japan's Prince Shotoku sent to Sui dynasty China an emissary, who startled his hosts by addressing the Chinese Emperor as an equal. We come from the land "where the sun rises," announced the Japanese ambassador, while referring to China as the land "where the sun sets." Countless sunrises and sunsets later, Asia is still caught between the orbits of its two great powers, each one now imbued with a renewed sense of confidence about its position in the world.

Last weekend, Hu Jintao, President of the world's presumptive superpower, and Junichiro Koizumi, Prime Minister of the world's second-largest economy, met at the APEC summit in Chile. Tensions between the two nations had boiled up after a Chinese nuclear submarine veered into Japanese waters for several days starting on Nov. 10. Japan immediately lodged a formal complaint with China, but Beijing remained silent. Finally, Tokyo said it received a brief expression of "regret" from China, instead of the more wholehearted apology Japan surely wanted.

The Santiago summit was a rare meeting between the current leaders of Asia's two powers. Despite a year filled with flash points—ranging from disputes over the ownership of a sprinkling of islands in the East China Sea to the heckling of Japanese fans at an August soccer match in Beijing—neither Hu nor Koizumi has made reciprocal visits to the other's nation. Because of his repeated trips to Tokyo's Yasukuni Shrine, where several of Japan's most notorious World War II criminals are honored, Koizumi has been unwelcome in Beijing. Hu has found time to tour Gabon and Algeria but has yet to visit Tokyo.

Economically, the two nations have never been closer. Japan is China's largest trading partner, while only the U.S. trades more with Japan than China does. But politically, the Asian heavyweights are barely talking. Nowhere are attitudes more alarming than among the nations' youth. In China, many young people, primed by years of "patriotic education," feel their island neighbor hasn't done enough soul searching over its brutal war record. In Japan, youngsters are tired of apologizing for what their grandfathers did, and some are calling for their country to emerge from its pacifist shell.

Asia's century—the world's, too—will surely be partly shaped by how the two great East Asian powers get along. It's not too late for Chinese and Japanese politicians to follow the example of many of their business leaders, who have long understood that the interpenetration of the two economies works to the benefit of all. If the Chinese and Japanese political classes fail to live up to the challenge, muscular nationalism will gain strength among those who will one day lead Asia. We may all then find that the path the sun travels has become far more perilous than Prince Shotoku or the Sui Emperor ever imagined.

From TIME Asia Magazine, issue dated November 29, 2004 / Vol. 164, No. 22

手球歌

丸 竹 夷 二 押 御池 丸 竹 夷 二 押 御池
まる たけ えびす に おし おいけ
ma ru ta ke e bi su ni o shi o i ke
姉 三 六角 蛸 锦 姐 三 六角 蛸 锦
あね さん ろっかく たこ にしき
a ne sa n roっ ka ku ta ko ni shi ki
四 绫 仏 高 松 万 五条 四 绫 佛 高 松 万 五条
し あや ぶっ たか まつ まん ごじょう
shi a ya buっ ta ka ma tsu ma n go jo ji
雪駄 丁当 鱼の棚 行囊 钱 声 鱼之棚
せった ちゃらちゃら うおのたな
se ta cha chi cha chi u o no ta na
六条 七条 通过了六条七条
ろくじょう ひっちょう とおりすぎ
ro ku jo jia hiっ cho chia to o ri su gi
八条肥 东寺道 过了八条就是东寺路
はちじょうこえれば とうじみち
ha chi jo ji ko e re ba to u ji mi chi
九条大路 九条大路连成片
くじょうおおじで とどめさす
ku jo ji o o ji de to do me sa su

南無阿彌陀佛

南無阿彌陀佛

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小和尚敲木鱼

小和尚敲木鱼

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