Читать книгу The Chrysanthemum and the Eagle - Ryuzo Sato - Страница 9

Containing Japan. Just as many Americans overreacted to what they perceived as America-bashing in the pirated English version of The Japan That Can Say “No” by Akio Morita and Shintaro Ishihara (see chapter 2), many Japanese have overreacted to James Fallows’s article “Containing Japan,” which they regard as Japan-bashing. This trans-Pacific exchange of bad feelings seems to have been provoked by the titles of these two works rather than by their actual contents.

In English the nuances of the word contain are not nearly as strong as they are for the Japanese word fūjikome, which was used in the translation of Fallows’s article. Fūjikome has strong overtones—it would be used, for example, in describing the sealing off of a nuclear reactor where an accident has occurred. As a translation for the English word contain, it is a bit too strong. The meaning of contain is essentially defensive; the overtones of the word fūjikome are a hundred-percent offensive and imply a preemptive strike.

In one sense, America has already tried “containing Japan.” To counter the flood of Japanese imports in areas like textiles, steel, consumer electronics, and automobiles, it launched a containment policy that forced Japan to accept export controls and voluntary restraints. To counter a soaring trade deficit, it embarked on a containment policy that put pressure on Japan to open its markets and increase domestic demand. The 1985 Plaza Accord was yet another attempt at a containment policy. To redress the trade imbalance, the finance ministers of the five major industrialized countries (the United States, Japan, West Germany, Great Britain, and France) agreed to a currency realignment at a meeting held in September 1985 at the Plaza Hotel in New York. Despite a drastic downward revaluation, from 240 yen to 120 yen to the dollar between 1985 and 1988, the U.S. balance of trade with Japan improved a mere 15 percent, and Japan continues to maintain a healthy surplus.

Theoretically, if the value of the dollar decreases by half, prices of American goods destined for Japanese markets should also be halved, generating brisk sales that should lead to an increase in U.S. exports and a reduction in the trade deficit. Prices for Japanese goods, on the other hand, should double, causing a slowdown in sales. The resulting decline in Japanese exports should bring about a decline in Japan’s trade surplus. That, at least, is what the laws of economics dictate. And, in fact, this occurred in Europe, where a lower dollar led to an American-European trade balance. It did not happen in Japan, however. Foreign goods in Japan remained as expensive as ever, and Japanese goods sold abroad did not double in price. The annual trade deficit with Japan remained—and still remains—around $50 billion. Why? The answer must be that Japan is “different,” that structural differences are at work there that do not respond to economic laws.

This is the background against which the revisionists emerged with their call for a reexamination of U.S. premises about Japan. This is what set the stage in 1989 for the most recent round of U.S.–Japan trade negotiations, the Structural Impediments Initiative talks, which were haunted by the threat that Congress would invoke the Super 301 provision of the 1988 Trade Act and impose economic sanctions on Japan and other countries that engage in “unfair” trading practices. In this dangerous atmosphere the use of the word fūjikome in the title of the translation of “Containing Japan” was irresponsible. It evoked associations with the ABCD encirclement and the international isolation of Japan on the eve of World War II; it also angered and alarmed the Japanese people and stirred up nationalistic sentiments. No one could have been more surprised by this reaction than the article’s author, James Fallows himself.

The Mass Media in the United States and Japan. In November 1989 I had a discussion with James Fallows at the request of a Japanese magazine and television station. Before our talk began, he was very wary of me. His extreme mistrust of the Japanese media seemed quite understandable. The Japanese translation of his article had caused a furor far beyond his wildest expectations, and the Japanese media en masse had made him out to be an enemy of Japan. As he put it, somehow or other, he had become public enemy number one. As an example of the misrepresentations the media had indulged in, Fallows told me the following story.

Fallows had been asked by a television station to discuss his views on the Yellow Peril theory. In the course of that interview, he made the statement that he did not endorse the view that racial prejudice lay at the heart of current American criticisms of Japan. Regrettably, racism did exist in America, but he personally was firmly opposed to those who resorted to this sort of argument, as were America’s leading policymakers. He had accepted the television station’s invitation, he told me, because he thought it provided a good opportunity to convey the convictions of Americans like himself who regard racial prejudice as something to be ashamed of, and he talked animatedly for several minutes on the subject. Sometime later he heard from the television station that his comments had been cut because they did not fit in with its plans. To learn what these plans had been, he later watched the program with considerable interest. To Fallows’s dismay, he discovered the program was not about whether the Yellow Peril theory was valid. It took American racism for granted, and so quite naturally his comments did not fit in.

The program dramatically traced historical events such as the extermination of the aboriginal peoples of Central and South America by the Spanish and the mass slaughter of Native Americans in North America by later white settlers. Stressing the whites’ oppression of nonwhites, and relying on the tricks and special effects of television, it conveyed the message that recent American criticisms of Japan are an extension of white America’s historical racial prejudices. Where was the conscience of the Japanese mass media, Fallows asked. This program was inflammatory, an abuse of the power of television. Fallows was profoundly incensed.

I too am well aware of the propensity of the Japanese media to sensationalize, and for that reason I resist making comments about U.S.–Japan relations that might lend themselves to overdramatization. Extreme statements, even those made by people who know nothing of America, are prized by the Japanese media because they are easy to report. But the American media are just as bad. When Sony bought Columbia Pictures, Newsweek described it as “a piece of America’s soul.” Columbia had been a nearly bankrupt company nobody seemed much interested in until it was sold to the Japanese. The media then reported its purchase as if Sony had stolen the crown jewels. The same was true with the sale of Rockefeller Center. The media carried on as if the traditional Christmas tree were going to be replaced with a bonsai. When Konishiki, a Hawaiian, won a sumo tournament in November 1989, how did the New York Times caption its account of the victory? “An American Is Enthroned and Japan Is Shaken.” What nonsense! Far from being shaken, many Japanese were thrilled at Konishiki’s success.

In both the United States and Japan such media distortions are everyday occurrences. Driven only by profit-making and rapidly becoming morally bankrupt, the media constantly sensationalize.

After the Kerlin Wall, the Japanese Wall. James Fallows has argued that allowing Japan to expand indiscriminately and destructively is not in the best interest of Japan or the rest of the world. I agree with him. Whether these views are correct logically speaking, I cannot say, but I believe that now is not the time to think purely in terms of logic. Speaking from the logic of economics, certainly no one can claim that Japan is wrong. Working without a moment’s leisure, saving for the future, caring more about conservation than consumption, offering the world better products at cheaper prices, making money—these are all actions that live up to capitalist ideals.

Capitalism means competition; its dominant principle is that whoever wins, survives. That is the premise upon which neoclassical economic theory is based, and as a modern economist who belongs to this school, I find Japan’s actions both logical and correct. But what happens if we advance that argument one step further? If a highly competitive Japan should continue to be as successful as it has been in offering its goods to the world, naturally its profits will increase. As a result, the yen will rise in value and the dollar and all the other currencies in the world will fall. If Japan one-sidedly grows so strong that it tramples on the livelihood of people in other countries, then no matter how many good products it makes, it will gradually become unable to sell them.

Economic textbooks teach that a system of checks and balances, sometimes referred to as the “invisible hand,” will operate to check Japan’s export strength; there is no need, therefore, for governments to set up safety nets such as tariffs and controls. Viewed from that vantage point, Japan’s behavior is quite rational and it is Japan-bashing that is unfair. But is reality adhering to textbook theory? Are these checks and balances operating between America and Japan? Did sales of Japanese goods decline when the value of the yen went up? Was the Japanese surplus erased and a trade balance achieved? After the dollar became cheaper, was the United States able to rapidly expand its exports to Japan?

Unfortunately, events have not transpired the way the textbooks say they should. The system of checks and balances that operates between the United States and Europe does not work between the United States and Japan. Why not? The answer seems to be, as Fallows says, that the customs and institutions within Japan—as seen from the American side—are “different.” Consequently, insofar as Western logic does not work in Japan, America must come up with some sort of national policy to take the place of the “invisible hand” in the form either of protectionism or of managed trade. This is what Fallows really means when he speaks of “containing Japan.”

The most recent (1989-90) round of bilateral trade negotiations, the U.S.–Japan Structural Impediments Initiative, took place against this background. The SII talks were based on the premise that an underlying factor in the trade imbalance between the United States and Japan was “structural differences”—fundamental divergences in the two countries’ economic and social structures. In an effort to ensure more transparent trade practices and a more open marketplace, American negotiators came to the bargaining table armed with a list of nontariff trade barriers that they claimed prevented U.S. access to the Japanese market. Indeed, many practices that the Japanese take for granted seem strange when looked at from outside and certainly do not conform with international rules. Contractors who meet together to decide which of them will get a certain job or companies that submit a bid of one yen in order to win a contract that will result in a long-term relationship and a virtual future monopoly—sleazy bidding practices such as these are carried out as a matter of course not by gangster-controlled syndicates but by top-ranking computer firms and the construction industry. Such practices would be inconceivable in other countries. Bringing them out into the open is highly embarrassing, but they must be exposed so that Japan can prepare for the future.

The Structural Impediments Initiative talks concluded with both sides promising major structural changes. Japanese concessions included promises to curb tax benefits for farmland owners in urban areas, to remove the right of small-store owners to veto the opening of large retail outlets in their neighborhoods, and to increase staff on the Japanese Fair Trade Commission. In return, the United States promised to cut the budget, increase federal support for research and development, strengthen export promotion, and require the adoption of the metric system for federal procurements beginning in 1993. Although the Japanese felt that U.S. interference in Japan’s domestic problems was unwarranted, they have more effectively addressed the compromises reached during the talks, whereas until recently under the Clinton administration the United States made no effort at all to comply with Japan’s demands to increase savings and decrease the government’s budget deficit. Although I do not believe the Structural Impediments Initiative talks produced any significant results, they have somewhat alleviated the tension between the two countries. If they have had the secondary effect of helping to bring Japanese rules in line with international rules, then they were valuable.

By adopting exactly the same policy toward Japan that it has toward its European trading partners, America has incurred a huge trade deficit and run up against an invisible wall that surrounds the Japanese archipelago. Under the circumstances it is not at all strange that Americans have concluded that there is something different about Japan and have decided to rethink their views. Reacting against this new U.S. position, some in Japan have argued that it is America that is different. Certainly, America would appear different from the Japanese perspective; this sort of nationalistic sentiment is quite understandable. But that does not mean Japan can force its rules on the rest of the world. And to believe that America ought to be the one to change is not only impractical but irresponsible. It is unreasonable to expect Americans to understand—let alone put into practice—such Japanese concepts as group solidarity or corporate groupings or to expect them to behave like the employees of Mitsubishi who will drink only Kirin beer. For better or for worse, the postwar world plays by America’s rules. That comes with the territory of world leadership, a subject I will discuss in more detail later.

America can manage quite well economically without Japan, but Japan cannot get along without the United States. Some Japanese commentators seem to be unaware that Japan does not exist independently of the rest of the world. They have projected a rosy-colored future for Japan and predict that the twenty-first century will be “the Japanese century,” but even if such prospects exist at the microeconomic level, I have my doubts about these optimistic scenarios. Since 1989, Japan’s attention has turned in on itself. That year many of Japan’s political elite were implicated in the Recruit shares-for-favors scandal and Prime Minister Noboru Takeshita was forced to resign. Voter wrath over the imposition of a 3 percent consumption tax led to the poor showing of the ruling Liberal Democratic party in the Upper House election that July and brought about the ouster of Takeshita’s successor, Sosuke Uno, who had been discredited by a sex scandal. While Japan was absorbed by the spectacle of three prime ministers succeeding each other within the space of a single year, the rest of the world greatly changed. The democratic movements in Eastern Europe, the collapse of the Soviet Union, and more recently the U.S.-led victory in the Gulf War after Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait have all been taken as proof of the correctness of U.S. foreign policy. As Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union move toward a free-market economy, the world seems to be revolving around the American axis. Under the circumstances, it should come as no surprise that Americans have shifted their focus to the economic arena and that after the Berlin Wall the next barrier they hope will fall will be the one surrounding Japan.

Does Money Give Anyone the Right to Buy Someone Else’s Soul? Economic activities and trends inevitably have their own rules. Economics is the science of finding those rules. The problem is that sometimes an economy operates according to the rules and sometimes it does not. When the latter happens, measures must be taken to counteract events or trends that run counter to expectations.

In the late 1980s Japan was busily buying up American assets with the excess cash from its huge trade surplus. Logically speaking, this activity was a natural consequence wholly in line with the laws of economics. The question is: Should something be allowed to happen just because it accords with economic laws? Shouldn’t some consideration be given to whether the activity is ultimately in the best interests of the parties involved? Viewed in that light, the situation takes on a completely different complexion. This is what makes the laws of economics so much more unpredictable than the laws of physics or chemistry. The field of economics has recently come to make greater use of mathematical models and is becoming a more scientific discipline. In North America and Europe it is now regarded as having more in common with the sciences than with the humanities. Because economics deals with people and its testing ground is society rather than a laboratory, however, we should not insist that it is an exact science. Economic problems have a nasty tendency to develop into political and social problems.

When rain falls on a mountain, for example, and forms into a river, it waters the fields at the foot of the mountain and enriches the lives of the people who live there. This is referred to as the workings of nature. But if several inches of rain were to fall in the course of an hour, the river would overflow and the village at the foot of the mountain would be washed away. That, too, is a law of nature, but the villagers do not just sit back and allow this to happen. They build a dam upstream to control a possible flood. And this human action to reverse the laws of nature is praised as a good policy.

Let’s transpose this analogy to the economy. Since the end of the 1980s, $50 or $60 billion worth of Japanese investment a year, the equivalent of Japan’s annual trade surplus, has flooded through the world, much of it buying up American land, buildings, companies, and even people (lobbyists). Should Americans stand idly by simply because an economic law is operating? Isn’t it necessary to build some sort of dam? When a policy runs counter to economic laws, however, far from being praised—as in the case of flood control—it is criticized as protectionism, regulation, or interference. Why? One reason is that natural phenomena can be readily observed, but economic phenomena are not easy to visualize. We can see the flow of water, but we cannot actually see the flow of investment around the globe. This is puzzling for economists and even more puzzling for ordinary people. But when the flow of investment does become visible, shouldn’t policymakers take bold steps, such as containment, even though that means temporarily acting contrary to economic laws?

In the late 1980s Japan’s “buying America” became clearly visible to the naked eye. There seemed no end to the land or the companies the Japanese acquired. Japan has argued that it is not the only country to have bought American property, that British holdings are even larger than Japan’s. But this argument inadvertently lets the cat out of the bag. The truth is that Japanese investment is rapidly catching up with the British, Dutch, and German investments that have been made over a long period of years. It has been a veritable torrent rather than a gently falling rain, and no one can claim that a torrential rainfall in the space of a few hours has the same effect as an equivalent amount of rain falling over a ten-day period.

This situation is most dramatically manifested in the growth of Japanese direct investment abroad. Valued at a mere $10.6 billion during the period 1975-79, direct investment for 1985-89 had risen to $118.8 billion, a more than tenfold increase in just ten years’ time. In the United States alone, Japanese direct investment went from $67.3 billion in 1989 to $83.5 billion in 1990.* Thus, more than half of these acquisitions were in the United States and quite visibly concentrated in Hawaii, California, and New York. This was not just a torrent but more like a flash flood.

The analogy can be taken only so far, however. In the natural world, no one benefits from a flood, but in the economic world, this flow of investment clearly was to the benefit of Japan, and inevitably it inflamed American chauvinism. Excessive growth, excessive gains in any area, are bound to produce a hostile reaction. According to an opinion poll of American chief executive officers conducted jointly by the Nihon Keizai Shimbun and the U.S. polling organization Booz Allen for the Wall Street Journal, only 54.8 percent welcomed Japanese investment in the United States. To give some idea of how low that figure is, the highest approval rate for investment by another country was 93.8 percent for Canada, with Britain, the Netherlands, and Germany falling between 76.8 and 87.7 percent. The number of respondents who said Japanese investment was not welcome was 22.6 percent.

Another reason why this concentrated investment in the United States was not welcome is that, despite the strong yen and the weak dollar, America’s trade deficit with Japan has not been reduced at all. The proposal by Fallows and other revisionists to adopt managed trade as a containment policy is a reflection of American irritation with this situation. The fact that the

* The slowdown in the Japanese economy has temporarily halted the growth of Japanese investment abroad, but as Japan’s trade surplus continues to grow, the excess will have to be invested somewhere, this time most likely in Asia.

United States, the standard bearer for free trade since World War II, has been tempted to adopt a managed trade policy gives some indication of the extent of American frustration. The very term managed trade creates a negative impression. It describes a human activity that interferes with the free working of the “invisible hand”—the golden rule of capitalism. The unspoken assumption behind the U.S.–Japan Structural Impediments Initiative talks was that America would desperately like to avoid resorting to such a course.

This is what happens when economic activity does not operate according to logic. Certainly, as Akio Morita, the chairman of Sony, has said, it is not the concentrated outpouring of Japanese exports, but the concentrated American absorption of these products, that is the problem. There is a certain logic, too, in his statement that if Columbia Pictures is a piece of America’s soul, then the problem lies not with those who bought it, but with those who were willing to sell it. In economics, however, some ideas cannot be put across simply by brandishing the correct argument, particularly when national pride is linked to economic interests.