Fukoku Kyohei: ‘Rich country, strong army’, a rallying cry of the Meiji Restoration that still resonates today.
Fukushima: A prefecture in northeast Japan and the name of the nuclear complex that suffered a triple meltdown after the tsunami of March 2011.
Hikikomori: A term referring to acute social withdrawal, especially among adolescents and young adults. Often translated as ‘shut-ins’.
Kaizen: A term for ‘continuous improvement’ that encapsulated the management style, worker commitment and attention to detail that underpinned Japan’s post-war economic miracle.
Kamikaze: The ‘divine wind’ – really a typhoon – that is said to have saved Japan from a Mongolian invasion led by Kublai Khan in the thirteenth century. It later gave its name to the suicide pilots sent to crash into US ships at the close of the Second World War.
Keiretsu: A grouping of businesses with interlocking interests and shareholdings.
Liberal Democratic Party (LDP): Founded in 1955, it governed Japan almost uninterrupted until it lost power to the Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ) in 2009. The LDP returned to power in December 2012 with Shinzo Abe as leader.
Meiji Period: Era of the reign of the Meiji emperor (1868–1912).
Meiji Restoration: The movement that overthrew the Tokugawa shogunate in 1868 and led to the modernization of Japan.
Mono no aware: The concept of fleeting beauty epitomized by the brevity of a flowering cherry blossom. Sometimes translated as ‘the pathos of things’, it is often said to express a unique Japanese sensibility.
Nagatacho: The political heartland of Tokyo.
Nihonjinron: The study of what it means to be Japanese. An exercise in exceptionalism, it underpins a strong Japanese sense of national identity but is often taken to fetishistic extremes.
Ofunato: A coastal town in Iwate prefecture, northeastern Japan, that was heavily damaged by the March 2011 tsunami.
Rangaku: ‘Dutch learning’, or study of the west, during the closed period of the Tokugawa shogunate.
Rikuzentakata: A coastal town in Iwate prefecture, northeastern Japan, all but destroyed by the March 2011 tsunami. Location of the ippon matsu, the lone pine, that has come to symbolize regional and national resilience.
Sakoku: Literally ‘closed country’. Used to describe the period of relative isolation under the Tokugawa shogunate (1600–1868).
SCAP: Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers, General Douglas MacArthur’s title during the US post-war occupation. The term became synonymous with the occupation administration.
Senkaku/Diaoyu: Islands in the East China Sea that are administered by Japan but also claimed by China.
Setsuden: Power saving. It became common to see ‘setsuden’ signs all over Japan after the power shortages that followed the Fukushima disaster.
Shimaguni: Literally ‘island nation’.
Shinkansen: The name of the bullet train, which started operating between Tokyo and Osaka in 1964 to the amazement of the world.
Shogun: Military rulers of Japan between 1603 and 1867. The period of the shogunate is called Tokugawa after the family that held power, or the Edo period, after the city in which they lived.
Showa Period: Era of the reign of the Showa emperor (1926–89). During his lifetime, the Showa emperor was called Hirohito.
Shushoku katsudo: The mass hiring of graduates by large companies. Few who are not hired straight out of university have any chance of entering the shrinking ‘lifetime employment’ system.
Taisho Period: The period during the reign of the Taisho emperor (1912–26).
Tepco: Tokyo Electric Power, the electricity utility company that ran the Fukushima nuclear complex along with other nuclear plants in northern Japan.
Tohoku: Northeastern Japan, the area most affected by the March 2011 tsunami.
Tokugawa Period: The period when the Tokugawa family ruled Japan as shoguns (1600–1868).
Yasukuni shrine: A Shinto shrine in Tokyo built to commemorate those who died for the emperor in the Meiji Restoration of 1868. The ‘souls’ of more than 2 million people who have since died in war, including the Second World War, are commemorated at Yasukuni. Among those whose names are listed at Yasukuni are fourteen Class-A war criminals convicted at the Tokyo trials.
Zaibatsu: Business conglomerates or ‘national champions’ originating in early Meiji. The Americans blamed them for supporting Japan’s war effort and sought to break them up after 1945, though many survived in a slightly different form.
Acknowledgements
The cast of people who helped me with this book is Tolstoyan in scope and it would take a War and Peace to thank them all adequately. I arrived in Japan in late 2001 knowing practically nothing about the country and left, nearly seven years later, a trifle less ignorant. For that modicum of progress I have to thank the hundreds of people whom I met over those years, either in formal interviews or more informal encounters. Since the tsunami of March 2011, I have interviewed dozens more people during multiple trips back to Japan for the specific purpose of writing this book. It would be impossible to thank by name everyone who contributed, but to all those, mentioned and unmentioned in these pages, I do thank you.
We should begin at the beginning. Mitsuko Matsutani and Nobuko Juji are the twin pillars of the Financial Times office in Tokyo. It would be hard to find two more graceful, yet sturdy, pillars anywhere. They helped me track down dozens upon dozens of interviewees, both famous and obscure. Mitsuko, in particular, developed a technique to bludgeon even the most reluctant into submission, no easy task given the delicacies of the Japanese language. Both too supported my life in Tokyo in innumerable ways. It goes without saying that I owe you sushi – and plenty more besides.
Thank you, too, to the two families with whom I stayed on month-long homestays as I sought to improve my Japanese. To the Nishida family in Kanazawa, especially Junko and Hiroshi, I am grateful for your generous introduction to Japan’s many delights, from tea ceremony to late-night ramen. Kanazawa will always be my favourite Japanese city. Thank you, too, to Masaya and Yoshie Shin in Inukai, a village in Kyushu, who opened up their home not only to me but also to students from all over Asia. It was in your lovely house that I studied for my final ikkyu Japanese language exam and, much later, started to write this book.
I’d also like to thank my Japanese teachers, Koichi Shimoie in Kanazawa, and Hiroshi Goto and Akiko Koyama in Tokyo, from whom I learned so much, not only about grammar and characters but also about Japan itself. Many journalists turn to taxi drivers when they want to take the pulse of a nation. I turned to you.
At the Financial Times I must especially thank Lionel Barber, our brilliant and dynamic editor, who has supported me for fifteen years and who gave his blessing to this project. I am fortunate indeed to have worked for such a fine news organization for so many years. Much of the material in this book, particularly the part dealing with the Junichiro Koizumi years, was originally researched for the FT.
I would also like to thank Richard Lambert and John Thornhill, who as then FT editor and Asia editor respectively, had the courage all those years ago to send a Japanese novice out to Tokyo to see what he could turn up. John Plender talked to me at length about Japan before I set off and some of the themes we discussed back then feature prominently in this book. Going back further still, I must warmly acknowledge the late Dick Hall, a humanist and a pioneering Africa hand who encouraged me to join the FT, as well as Michael Holman, the paper’s former Africa editor, and Michael Thompson-Noel, a great FT travel editor of years past. All of you placed mysterious trust in me as a writer long before anyone else saw any potential.
In Tokyo, I must thank Gillian Tett, my formidable predecessor, who was never less than generous with her contacts and advice. In the FT bureau, special mention must go to Michiyo Nakamoto, a fount of knowledge and wisdom, and to colleagues past and p
resent, Ken Hijino, Bethan Hutton, David Ibison, Atsuko Imai, Louise Lucas, Ben McLannahan, Bayan Rahman, Gwen Robinson, Mariko Sanchanta, Jonathan Soble and Lindsay Whipp. I learned much from all of you. Thanks, too, to Mure Dickie, my excellent successor in Tokyo and one of the nicest kendo masters you’re ever likely to meet.
In Hong Kong, I’d like especially to thank Demetri Sevastopulo, who knows more than I ever will about Japan but who has always encouraged me in my efforts to learn. In running our FT news operation day-to-day, he also helped create a little space for me to think about a book amid the daily torrent of work. Patricia Wong, my assistant at the FT, has ensured my life runs as smoothly as possible. Without her I would have missed planes and probably left this manuscript in the back of a taxi. Also at the FT, Geoff Dyer and Henny Sender have given me a valuable perspective on Japan from angles I might not otherwise have considered.
I’d like to thank the many people who read individual chapters of this book or, indeed, the whole thing. Their comments have proved invaluable. Kenneth Pyle, the marvellous historian of Japan, graciously went over what must have seemed to him like an undergraduate’s fumbling attempt to explain, in a single chapter, a period stretching from 1600 to 1945. Misako Kaji, a close Japanese friend, went over several chapters with the sort of scrupulousness perhaps only she can muster. If there’s a comma out of place, you have my sincerest apologies.
Shijuro Ogata read the chapter on Japan’s post-war economic recovery, which includes a section from his autobiography. He has always been one of my favourite people to talk to in Tokyo. An iconoclast and internationalist, in his way he is a disciple of Yukichi Fukuzawa, the great nineteenth-century liberal thinker. I am fortunate, too, to have got to know his even more famous wife (his words, not mine), Sadako Ogata, the former UN High Commissioner for Refugees. Gerry Curtis, the brilliant scholar of Japanese politics, made comments on the Koizumi chapter and has been incredibly generous with his time and keen observations over many years.
Jonathan Soble, Mure Dickie and Kae Hada looked at some or all of the tsunami and post-tsunami chapters. Thank you for your help and support. Jennifer Zhu Scott, a friend in Hong Kong, read several of the chapters and made useful comments. Rahul Jacob looked at an early chapter and was so kind about what I’d written I was minded to carry on. Barney Jopson, a former colleague in Tokyo, read the whole manuscript with his usual precision and sensitivity. I hope he has forgiven me for recommending he return to London to become our accountancy correspondent. (He has since escaped to New York.)
For the economics chapters I was fortunate to have the matchless Martin Wolf, the FT’s ferociously intelligent chief economics commentator, review my work. I sent my efforts off to him with more than a little trepidation. I’d also like to thank Keith Fray, our head of statistics at the FT, who provided me with much of the data. Jesper Koll, who describes himself as Japan’s last optimist, Masaaki Kanno at JP Morgan, and Kiichi Murashima at Citigroup all read chapters and have helped my understanding of Japan’s economy over the years. So, through their tireless tutorials, have Paul Sheard, now chief economist at Standard & Poor’s, Peter Tasker, a man of savage intelligence and rapier wit at Arcus Investments, and Teizo Taya, a wise man at the Daiwa Institute. Richard Jerram, now at the Bank of Singapore, has performed a similar role. Clyde Prestowitz, a Japan expert with whom I have had many stimulating conversations, read the chapter on Japan’s post-war economic recovery and made important suggestions.
Speaking of the economy, I am most grateful to many people at the Bank of Japan, who have spent untold hours with me over the years explaining the intricacies of monetary policy, deflation and structural reform. They include current governor Haruhiko Kuroda, previous governor Masaaki Shirakawa, Hiroshi Nakaso, now deputy governor, and two former BoJ executives, Eiji Hirano and Akinari Horii. Of the current and former officials at the Ministry of Finance, I’d particularly like to thank Yo Takeuchi, whose humour and insights are so refreshing, Masaki Omura, who helped me to get to know Osaka, and Masato Miyazaki. I’d also like to thank Takatoshi Ito at Tokyo University and Heizo Takenaka, who have always been most helpful.
Above all, when it came to reading chapters and making suggestions, I must thank Jeff Kingston, who read practically every word of the manuscript and who provided a detailed and most generous critique. I have shamelessly tapped his encyclopaedic knowledge of Japan and his huge network of contacts. I thank him for his wisdom, but most of all for his friendship and encouragement. His wife, Machiko Osawa, has also been very thoughtful, particularly in helping me to interpret social trends. She once travelled several hundred miles by bullet train for the express purpose of talking to me.
In the ‘above all’ category, I must thank Toshiki Senoue, a great friend and fearless photo-journalist. Toshiki travelled with me to the devastated northeast coast right after the tsunami and on two subsequent trips. He acted as driver, photographer, fixer and even chef on the occasions when food, or time, were scarce. I will for ever be enormously grateful – though I still never brought you that Geiger counter. Toshiki also generously allowed me to use his wonderful photographs of Ofunato and Rikuzentakata for this book. Thanks too to Hikari Ohta and Ega Hiroshi, who helped me penetrate the thick Tohoku accent and, more importantly, provided great companionship during those trips up north.
Those who have helped me in other ways are far too numerous to mention. I could not forgive myself, however, if I did not single out a few. Yoichi Funabashi, one of the great Japanese journalists of his era, has treated me to numerous lunches but, more importantly, to his incomparable experience and insights. Noriko Hama has been scattering me with provocative ideas about Japan for years. Sahoko Kaji generously gave me permission to quote from one of her many lengthy emails to me. Yukio Okamoto, whom I first met in London, has been extremely open with his time and penetrating analysis. Ippei Takeda, the chief executive of Nichicon, has taught me much about Japanese business and treated me to some of the most splendid food imaginable in Kyoto’s fine restaurants. Akira Chiba has been a reliable sounding board on Japanese culture and attitudes.
Karel van Wolferen has always been extremely helpful in chatting over complex issues and never anything but kind about my journalistic endeavours. His book, The Enigma of Japanese Power, remains a work of startling originality and deep penetration. Although I don’t know them well, my hero John Dower, and Donald Keene, a peerless scholar of Japanese literature, spent several hours with me discussing some of the themes of this book. The late James Abegglen, a pioneer in the field of understanding how Japanese business worked, was always helpful and encouraging. Patrick Smith, an author and academic with extensive knowledge of Japan, has always been most helpful.
I am very grateful, too, to Yasuo Takebe and Junzo Matoba, who helped me enormously in exploring the political roots of Shinzo Abe. Tomohiko Taniguchi, Hiroshi Suzuki and Noriyuki Shikata have been diligent and informative over the years. Takao Toshikawa, a man from whom Japan’s politicians can keep few secrets, was always willing to share his hard-won knowledge. Kaoru Yosano, a former economics and fiscal policy minister, and Yuriko Koike, who became well known as environment minister, have always made time for me.
I am also especially indebted to Peter Pagnamenta, who kindly dispatched a box to Hong Kong containing a treasure trove of material from his wonderful BBC series on Japan’s post-war rise, ‘Nippon’. The fascinating interviews contained therein proved invaluable for my chapter ‘The Magic Teapot’.
In Tokyo, I was blessed with many accomplices. David d’Heilly is a dear friend and as steeped in Japanese culture as a daikon radish in broth. He and his wife, Shizu Yuasa, helped me hugely with research and interpretation. Shizu found obscure and colourful historical snippets, including the origins of the 70,000 pines in Rikuzentakata that form the opening of this book.
I have also been blessed with other close friends, including Reiko Yamaguchi, who was bold enough to transform a chance encounte
r at a bus stop into a close and lasting friendship. Kazuto Iida has been a friend ever since he studied with my late father in London in the 1980s. Stephen and Kimiko Barber, frequent visitors to Tokyo, have provided warm words and stimulating conversation over many a fine meal. I’ll never forgot one occasion when Stephen turned white as a ghost on seeing the bill.
To my editors at Penguin, Ann Godoff in the US and Simon Winder in the UK, thank you. This is my first book, and I’m sure at times it showed. Ann’s forthright and insightful comments helped me tighten the structure and sharpen my thinking. Simon’s close editing helped improve the writing. Above all, he instilled in me a confidence to carry on. Bela Cunha, my copy editor in London, caught several infelicities and helped me make sense of my endnotes. My agents, Felicity Bryan in London and Zoe Pagnamenta in New York, have provided valuable comments and cheered me on throughout.
None of what’s here would have been possible without every one of the people mentioned above, and many more besides. While I would love to blame them for my errors and take any credit for myself, convention – and adherence to the truth – compel me to do the opposite. Whatever merit or wisdom is contained in these pages belongs to others. The faults are entirely of my own doing.
Finally, I must turn to my family. I’d like to express my deep gratitude to my mum, a source of inspiration, who selflessly supported me in the journalistic endeavours that have kept me so far from London for so long. Most of all, I would like to thank my wife, Ingrid, my most perceptive reader, my lifelong friend and the great love of my life, as well as my two wonderful (if ludicrously tall) boys, Dylan and Travis. All three set out with me on our Japanese adventure and all three have suffered my long hours and frequent absences. Along the way, we have grown up together. Without their love and support, none of this would have been possible.
Bending Adversity: Japan and the Art of Survival Page 44
