The good and bad of Japan on display

Having just arrived back in the U.S. from Tokyo and having followed the Japanese media and spoken to numerous friends and sources in Japan, I believe it is fair to say that the crisis reflected both the best and the not-so-good of Japan. The big question now is whether Japan can capitalize on this crisis and use it to change some of the significant flaws in its system while preserving its heroic elements.

The good, of course, has been the outstanding example of the Japanese people and of Japan’s social fabric in responding to unspeakable tragedy with unique patience, fortitude, sharing, and gentle civility. Unlike many other crises around the world, there was no looting, no rioting, and no pushing and shoving. People voluntarily shared scarce food and provisions, lined up in long queues, and bore with long suffering patience the chaos of streets without functioning traffic lights, the sometimes unannounced power outages, and the unpredictable scheduling of trains, subways, and buses in a country in which such services normally run exactly on time.

This is the product of a society that for a very long time has put extreme emphasis on homogeneity and social conflict avoidance.

But as Hiromi Murakami others reported, the response by the public and private authorities to the danger of a nuclear meltdown and the release of radiation appeared sluggish. At the same time, the release of information to the public made it appear either that the government and TEPCO didn’t know what was happening and what to do about it or were withholding information if they did.

One thing that struck me about this situation was the relative lack of public pressure for more and better information. Of course, in the media there was discontent and voices calling for more. But really serious public and political pressure seemed measured, at least by the standards in other democracies.

This too is the product of a homogeneous society that emphasizes conflict avoidance even to the point that underlings hesitate to tell superiors that things are going wrong until they are going terribly and undeniably wrong.

Even more important in understanding the government and TEPCO reactions, however, is a fundamental element of the structure of Japanese politics and government organization known as amakudari or the descent from heaven.

In Japan, becoming a high-level bureaucrat in a government ministry has long been considered the apex of achievement and this rise confers commensurate power and prestige. Just as top American students might strive to gain entry into Harvard Business School or Harvard Law School as the prelude to a cushy career in private business or private law practice, so in Japan top students strive for entry into the law faculty of Tokyo University as a prelude to a career in the elite bureaucracy. This may be less true today than in the past, but the people involved at the top levels of this crisis are inevitably mostly older people from the past.

The first important thing to understand is that it is the bureaucrats rather than the elected politicians who really run Japan. This is a bit less true today than in twenty or thirty years ago, but it is still largely true. The members and committees of the Diet (Japan’s Parliament) have small staffs and budgets and very limited powers of investigation and oversight of the very powerful bureaucracy run by Japan’s elite. The bureaucrats have always regarded themselves as the keeper of the flame of the true Japan and treat the politicians with disdain if not dismissal.

The second important thing to understand is that the very powerful Ministry of Economics and Industry (formerly the Ministry of International Trade and Industry — MITI — that guided Japan’s postwar economic miracle and before that the Ministry of Munitions during World War II) regulates TEPCO.

The third thing is that Japanese bureaucrats typically retire between the ages of 50 and 55. They are not actually paid very well as members of the bureaucracy but their ministries make enormous efforts to assure that they descend from the heaven of the bureaucracy into a cushy spot in some company or industry association closely associated with the ministry.

Thus, TEPCO is full of former government bureaucrats who are accustomed to ignoring politicians and the public and to giving orders rather than answering questions.

The Wall Street Journal has quoted former TEPCO executive and Japan Atomic Energy Commission member Akira Omoto as saying that TEPCO considered using seawater to cool heating reactors as soon as the day after the quake but hesitated to do so because seawater can permanently disable a reactor and TEPCO hesitated to use seawater because it didn’t want to harm its investment in a valuable asset. Thus TEPCO didn’t use seawater until ordered to do so by the Prime Minister after the first reactor explosion. Said one government official, "this disaster is 60 percent man made. They failed in their initial response. It’s like TEPCO dropped and lost a 100 yen coin while trying to pick up a 10 yen coin."

Although only fifteen miles away, Japan’s Self Defense Forces did not participate in the reactor control effort until five days after the quake because they had to wait for TEPCO to request their help. Indeed at one point Prime Minister Naoto Kan had to precipitate a showdown with TEPCO and demand to know "what the hell is going on."

To those familiar with the values, modus operandi, turf battles, and attitudes of the Japanese government and especially of its powerful bureaucracy and the bureaucracy’s regulated, quasi governmental entities, these reports are all too familiar.

Also familiar is something called gaiatsu — outside pressure. The Japanese government is often unable to change policies and procedures without pressure from some outside government or entity like the United States. I recall that as a U.S. negotiator with Japan in the 1980s, Japanese officials would often come to me quietly to say that they needed gaiatsu from the U.S. government in order to be able to effect a change they wanted to make but couldn’t in the context of the Japanese political/bureaucratic situation. Thus it was statements by U.S. experts and nuclear regulatory officials that were at odds with those of Japanese government and TEPCO officials that opened the way for Japan to admit to a need for greater urgency and openness with the public.

Thus the picture has been one of public heroism coupled with political and bureaucratic infighting and bumbling. This leaves Japan with a big question. Can this crisis be used to carry out a revolutionary reform of the Japanese political and bureaucratic system and to establish strong public watch dogs who will always demand the maximum transparency of the government and its regulated bodies?

Another interesting and important question concerns the homogeneous social fabric of Japan. The emphasis of the country on maintaining homogeneity for the social harmony it produces has militated against any significant immigration into Japan. Yet Japan today faces the problem of an already aging and shrinking population. Without immigration the country faces long term extinction. So the second question is whether Japan can find a way of having both social harmony and immigration.

On these two questions hang the future of Japan.

Note: I want to apologize to Hiromi Murakami for overstating some of her comments on the extent of the radiation release of the Japanese nuclear reactors and the awkward handling of information on the crisis by the Japanese government and the Tokyo Electric Power Company (TEPCO) in one of my earlier posts.