Building a Westminster system

"Nowadays the members of Parliament, with the exception of the few cabinet members (and a few insurgents), are normally nothing better than well-disciplined 'yes' men," lamented Max Weber in "Politics as a Vocation."

"With us, in the Reichstag, one used at least to take care of one's correspondence on his desk, thus indicating that one was active in the weal of the country. Such gestures are not demanded in England; the member of Parliament must only vote, not commit party treason. He must appear when the whips call him, and do what the cabinet or the leader of the opposition orders."

Essential to the Westminster system — parliamentary cabinet government — is an apparatus linking the cabinet to the ruling party that ensures the cabinet has the votes to smooth the passage of its legislation through the parliament, hence the link between the emergence of cabinet government and the growth of strong, top-down parties in Britain. Even in Britain, this system is not foolproof, as "backbench rebellions" have not been uncommon.

I call attention to this feature of the Westminster system because, of course, the DPJ is keen on growing a similar system on Japanese soil. And few DPJ members are as adamant about reforming how the cabinet and ruling party operate as Ozawa Ichiro, the DPJ's secretary general. Six months into DPJ rule, however, some DPJ members are pushing back against the new system being put into place by Ozawa, having little interest in being "well-disciplined 'yes' men."

The latest example is the party's dismissal of Ubukata Yukio as one of the DPJ's deputy secretaries general after criticizing the party executive for its centralization program and its stifling of debate within the party. As Michael Cucek observes, having been removed from office, Ubukata is going all-out in his campaign against the "Westminsterization" of the DPJ.

Ubukata's insurgency is connected to the push to revive the party's policymaking apparatus, which closed shop when the Hatoyama government took power last September. Ubukata is one of nearly fifty members of a study group that has formed to advocate for a new policymaking body. The intent, it seems, is to create a forum for receiving briefings from the government on current legislation and brainstorm new policies. Coupled with restrictions on the access of backbenchers to bureaucrats, a new policy outfit could be a useful safety valve for the government without unduly undermining the cabinet's ability to formulate policy.

But even with a new policy council within the DPJ, the problems associated with the transition to a Westminster system remain. In truth, Hatoyama, Ozawa, and the other senior leaders of the DPJ face a challenge similar to that faced by William Gladstone and other British politicians who built the Westminster system in the first place. 

During the first half of the nineteenth century, patronage was rampant, as parliamentarians distributed jobs and favors with little regard for party leaders and the cabinet. The result was ineffective government, which, Gladstone and other reformers insisted, was increasingly unsuited the problems facing Britain. Bernard Silberman describes Gladstone in terms that would not be inappropriate for describing Ozawa: "Gladstone was in many respects an étatist who viewed Parliament, but especially the Cabinet, as the necessary source of legislation which would enhance utilitarian and commonsensical economic and social development." According to Silberman, the solution was building a rational, centralized civil service, with admittance based on merit rather than political connections. "Deprived of patronage," he writes, "parliamentary parties were now forced to turn to constructing party organization in order to finally subjugate the backbencher to party discipline."

The DPJ-led government is trying to perform a similar feat, transform the civil service by breaking its ties with the ruling party, and by doing so, centralize the cabinet and ruling party leadership's control of policy (and pork-barrel spending). From the perspective of a backbencher, it is not an especially favorable arrangement. Little wonder that many DPJ members — particularly more senior backbenchers accustomed to the permissiveness of LDP rule — are chafing against the new system. Controlling backbenchers is hard enough in Britain, with its well-established institutions; controlling backbenchers as those very mechanisms are put into place is considerably more difficult.

To a certain extent, the problem is Ozawa. While Ozawa is probably the most enthusiastic advocate of a Westminster system in the DPJ, he may also be the least well suited DPJ member when it comes to inducing backbenchers to accept their fetters. Intimidating first-term Diet members is one thing. Bullying more senior Diet members, including at least one with ministerial experience (Tanaka Makiko), is quite another. Being an effective whip — which Ozawa effectively is — takes more than bullying, especially in the case of more senior members, presumably those most prone to rebellion. It also requires persuasion and timely dispensation of favors and perks. It takes, in other words, subtlety and guile, traits which do not seem to be among Ozawa's strong suits. (For more on the role played by whips and other actors in the Westminster system, I cannot recommend Donald Searing's Westminster's World strongly enough.)

At same time, however, the problem is also structural. After decades of permissive LDP rule, Westminster-style control does look "dictatorial," in the words used by LDP President Tanigaki Sadakazu and others to describe the DPJ under Ozawa. (In which case might we describe LDP rule during the glory days of the 1955 system as "anarchic?) I wonder whether the problem is that actors in the Japanese political system — including voters and the media — are simply not able to wrap their heads around the new system being introduced by the DPJ leadership. Not being clear on the goal of a Westminster system — more effective executive power — the system just looks like heavy-handed suppression of speech, not helped by Ozawa's being the one doing the suppressing. Indeed, to a certain extent the DPJ faces a dilemma. In order for Westminster-style politics to take hold among both backbenchers and the public, it needs to deliver policy results. But to deliver results, among other things the party needs to be able to control its members.

Naturally introducing a Westminster system means trading the LDP system's representativeness for the Westminster model's executive effectiveness. There is no perfect system. But the outcome of the current dispute — which may widen to include cabinet ministers — could determine whether the "statists" like Ozawa are able to succeed in building a more top-down policymaking structure or whether they are forced to make concessions to backbenchers that preserve an important role for them in policymaking and the management of party affairs.

There is a point here about institution building. It is not enough for leaders to draft new institutions on paper and then put them into motion. To be durable, institutions require broader legitimacy. To date, the DPJ's leaders have been mostly concerned about putting new institutions into place. The backbencher insurgency suggests, however, that it may be time to focus on cementing the legitimacy of new institutions.

Why the Hatoyama government matters

As the Hatoyama government's approval numbers have faltered and more recently plummeted, as reports about the inappropriately large role being played by Ozawa Ichiro in the government (despite not being a cabinet minister) have grown, as doubts about Hatoyama Yukio's abilities as a leader have deepened, and as the court of public opinion internationally has handed down the verdict that the Hatoyama government is not only embarrassing to Japan but "risky," I have struggled to keep an eye on the big picture. The twenty-four-hour news cycle makes it difficult to do so: our attention spans shortened, we expect immediate results and solutions to problems that have emerged over years and decades and will take nearly as long to solve. Every drop in public opinion polls triggers panic, every note of discord becomes a crisis, and, closer to home for this Bay Stater, every by-election holds the fate of the nation in the balance.

But given that Japan is in the midst of unprecedented political change, it is essential to take a longer view, to not get so bogged down in cabinet bickering or opinion polls and to consider why the DPJ government matters in the first place.

Many analysts — U.S. alliance managers impatient for Japan to play a wider security role regionally and globally, investors hungry for supply-side reforms — implicitly measure the Hatoyama government's successes and failures on the basis of its progress in advancing their policy goals for Japan. (I don't think it would be wrong to say that these groups are nostalgic for the days of Koizumi Junichiro.) Others might measure the government's success in terms of whether it deliveries on its manifesto promises. Still others might look to raw economic indicators. Few analysts, if any (myself included) have articulated what success and failure mean for a DPJ government. We are sailing in uncharted waters. We do not know how to judge this new government. Should it be judged by the above standards? By comparison with the LDP? If so, which LDP? With Koizumi's LDP? With Koizumi's successors? With foreign governments? How do we judge this government?

In the longer term, we will have to judge it on the basis of its policy achievements — ultimately any democratic government will bejudged on whether the voters believe that they are "better off" since the government took power than before — but for now, a mere 100 days into the Hatoyama government, there is but one way to judge the Hatoyama government. Is it restoring the Japanese public's faith in their government?

The "lost" decades did not just erode Japan's prosperity. It also eroded the public's confidence in their elected officials and public servants. Corruption, trillions of yen of wasteful spending, non-responsive institutions, stymied reform, the promise and despair of the LDP during and after the Koizumi years: the combination of these developments was to shred whatever trust the Japanese people had in their leaders. They watched as their institutions struggled to restart the economy, as poverty increased, as public services withered and even vanished from some corners of the country, as pensions vanished. The election of the DPJ was both evidence of the extent of the breakdown of public trust — at last the voters would try another party — but also of the limits of the public's cynicism, as they were willing to see whether another party could do better.

Accordingly, the DPJ's mandate, above administrative reform, above economic reform, above pensions reform, is restoring the Japanese people's trust in their government. The Japanese government has to be made transparent and accountable. The Japanese people deserve to know what their government has done and will be doing in their names. Because few of the problems that Japan faces can be solved without the government's being able to ask for sacrifices from the Japanese people — and the Japanese people will not accept sacrifices, particularly financial sacrifices, unless they can trust the government that is asking for them. How, for example, can Japan build a more robust welfare regime without raising taxes? And how can the government raise taxes if the public does not trust the government to use the public's money wisely and transparently?

The Hatoyama government has to restore public confidence in Japan's political leadership. Reform that weakens the bureaucracy and strengthens the cabinet helps, but it is not enough. The government has to look like a government that can be trusted. None of the problems facing Japan can be solved if the government does not have the trust of the people. And it is for this reason that Ozawa is a problem.

The Tokyo Public Prosecutors Office may well be fighting a spirited battle on behalf of the old guard, as Michael Cucek argues. But to a certain extent that is besides the point. In going all out to defend Ozawa, the Hatoyama government risks looking like anything but a force for greater transparency and accountability in Japanese politics. Even if he manages to survive this latest investigation, Ozawa still ladens the DPJ with his and Japan's recent political past. At some point the Hatoyama government will have to break with Ozawa simply because any government that depends on Ozawa will have to contend with his tendency to secretiveness, his messiah complex, and his political baggage, a terrible combination of qualities.

I recognize that Ozawa is still in some ways indispensable for the DPJ, seeing as how he is able to control the party's backbenchers and manage the party's elections. But it may be worth losing his skills if it helps the DPJ rebuild public trust and pass the reins to a new generation of political leaders with the public confident in the government and some reforms already in place. Because ultimately the Hatoyama government is something of a placeholder, a transitional government from LDP to post-LDP government. The problems facing Japan took years to emerge, and solving them — and adjusting to relative decline — will take just as long or longer to resolve. It will be on Hatoyama's successors to make the greatest progress in fixing them, but whether they will be able to succeed will depend on whether Hatoyama is able to restore the public's trust in government.

That is how we should observe the Hatoyama government. Its policy successes and failures matter. Its budget deficits matters, although I am with Taggart Murphy in wondering whether the Japanese government might have more time than many think when it comes to its indebtedness. But above all, its conduct in the eyes of the Japanese public matters. And on this score, it is simply too early to declare one way or another — although the resolution of this latest Ozawa affair could have considerable significance in determining whether the DPJ is able to rebuild public trust.

The battle for "reform"

In remarkably little time, the LDP has swung from doomed to ebullient and now once again is showing its age and fragility. And all it took was a nominal change in leadership in the DPJ.

Suga Yoshihide and Nakagawa Hidenao's campaign to ban hereditary politics from the LDP has proved to be immensely detrimental for Aso Taro's push to unify the party, with the ironic twist that the proposal gained support beyond the ranks of the reformists as a means of getting at Koizumi Junichiro, whose son is poised to inherit his seat. The proposal is on hold for the time being, as the LDP's Reform Headquarters, headed by Koizumi loyalist Takebe Tsutomu, has issued a final report on the proposal in which it declined to offer a timeline for introducing a ban on the inheritance of seats (or, more properly, candidacies).

More significantly, Nakagawa and the reformists are battling with the LDP's leadership over the contents of the party's manifesto, especially as it pertains to administrative reform. Nakagawa has created yet another study group devoted to administrative reform, this one with twenty-nine members. He is also circulating a petition calling for a more rigorous administrative reform bill than that on offer from the Aso government — Nakagawa insists that there is no time to waste, that the current extended Diet session is the time for radical adminstrative reform, that waiting until after a general election (you know, after the election in which the LDP may be defeated) is too late.

Nakagawa also insists that his target is the DPJ, not the prime minister. For instance, he has declined to sign the petition aimed at rescheduling the LDP's presidential election so that it is held before the general election. Indeed, Nakagawa wants to refight the 2005 postal election as a means of questioning the DPJ's commitment to administrative reform. The LDP ought to stand behind the Koizumi postal reform, he argues, as the first step in the direction of comprehensive administrative reform — and as a surefire way to distinguish the LDP from the DPJ. (The immediate question at hand is whether to retain Nishikawa Yoshifumi as head of Japan Post to shepherd the new company through to privatization.)

Nakagawa and his compatriots have no shortage of zeal, but zeal is no substitute for votes, party leadership posts, and ministerial portfolios. The LDP has spent the past four years running from Koizumi, isolating his supporters, readmitting the so-called "opposition forces," and more or less abandoning the agenda that served to get the current ruling supermajority elected in the first place. This is the big question surrounding Nakagawa and the other reformists. Are they the heralds of a new LDP that will emerge from the ashes of the old? Are they the last remnants of Koizumi's failed experiment to build a new LDP? The core of a reformist party that will emerge after the next general election? Perhaps it is too early to tell which description is right, but I am inclined to think that Nakagawa's battle to once again cast the LDP as the reform party is unlikely to succeed.

It is not just that the LDP has retreated from Koizumi, to the point of Prime Minister Aso's explicitly distancing his government from his predecessor's, but also that the DPJ isn't the enemy of reform that Nakagawa has long maintained it is. On the face of it, the LDP should have a tough time arguing that a party that has never held power is an enemy of change while a party that has held power for a half century can be the most effective agent of change. If Koizumi had actually won his battle for the party, perhaps this notion would not seem so far-fetched, but as things stand, the LDP cannot surpass the DPJ as the part of "change." Nakagawa might dismiss the DPJ's plans as mere rhetoric — rhetoric that is more or less identical to his own — but he has yet to make the case that his own reform ideas are anything but rhetoric, given his anti-mainstream status within the Aso LDP.

Of course, the DPJ actually has plans for change, most notably its ideas for unifying party and cabinet should it take power. The DPJ has had a comprehensive transition plan since 2003, a plan which clearly reflects lessons learned from LDP rule, the central themes of which will be outlined in a forthcoming article by Kan Naoto in Chuo Koron. Keeping powerful figures — whether formally or informally powerful — in the ruling party out of the government undermines the government. The idea is also to beef up the cabinet and its ministers, at the expense of senior bureaucrats and perhaps one might argue the prime minister's office. The DPJ in effect intends to give life to Article 65 of the constitution, by which "executive power...[is] vested in the Cabinet." Perhaps the most notable change would be transferring responsibility for the budget compilation process to the cabinet, presumably going beyond the administrative reform that shifted some macrobudgeting responsibilities to the Council on Economic and Fiscal Policy.

It is revealing, however, that the DPJ's reform plan dates from 2003, having survived the admittance of Ozawa Ichiro to the party and his rise and fall as party president. Indeed, Ozawa's zeal for administrative reform of the kind found in the party program meant that war with Kasumigaseki became ever more central to the party's plans for "regime change." And so it remains despite Ozawa's resignation as party president. The party's message going into the election is remarkably clear: administrative reform in the interest of making government more responsive to the voice of the people. Tellingly, the DPJ will retain its 2007 campaign slogan, "The people's livelihoods are number one." (In other words, it's the economic insecurity, stupid.)

Of course, despite the DPJ's unambiguous message, the general election will not be about policy. as I've argued recently. The campaign will instead feature attempts to muddy the other side's message, to question the other's ability to follow through on their rhetorical commitments to administrative reform and measures to ease economic insecurity. It will not be a particularly enlightening campaign, and it will tell us little about how a DPJ-led government will fare in power.

But then, the question remains. Should this year's general election be a referendum on the DPJ's fitness to govern? Or the LDP's record in power? Having shifted Ozawa into a supporting role, the DPJ has with remarkably little effort made judgment of the LDP's time in office as the dominant narrative of this year's campaign.

The LDP's reformists continue to battle family politics

Surprisingly, given the howls of protest from within the LDP that greeted Suga Yoshihide's proposal to include a ban on hereditary candidates in the party's election manifesto, the LDP appears ready to include restrictions on political inheritances in the manifesto after Suga met with Koga Makoto, the LDP's chief elections strategist, and Ibuki Bunmei, former LDP secretary-general and cabinet minister. Asahi reports that the proposed restriction will take the form of a regulation that will require a retiring politician to transfer his political organization's funds to the party upon retirement.

Given the prime minister's opposition to the idea, I wonder whether the agreement between Suga and Koga will be enough to secure inclusion in the manifesto.

Nevertheless, the party's reformists have latched on to the idea, suggesting that whatever happens with the LDP's manifesto, it will not go away. Restricting political inheritance is only the latest means for the reformists to run against their own party. Yamamoto Ichita, in an explication spanning four posts, frequently notes that forty percent of LDP Diet members are hereditary members — and says (unironically, given the phrase's original context) that the party needs to be able to draw upon the "best and the brightest." Giving preference to hereditary members, he argues, has turned potentially talented individuals away from the LDP. (There may be something to this: I wonder how many of the DPJ's younger members had hoped to earn the LDP's endorsement and turned to the DPJ only upon finding the LDP's doors closed to them.) Yamamoto also is unconvincing on the constitutionality of these restrictions, treating it in the context of restrictions on the freedom to choice one's occupation (Article 22), rather than, say, political discrimination on the basis of family origin (Article 14).

Through it all, Yamamoto and the other advocates fail to demonstrate why this is such an urgent problem at this point — and why it should be a prominent subject for discussion in the general election campaign. Ultimately discussions like this amount to political bait-and-switch, efforts by LDP reformists to sell the idea that the LDP has the potential to be the party of change, if only the reformists are given the run of things. 2005 may seem like a long time ago, but I hope voters remember what happened then: voters rewarded Koizumi Junichiro and his "children" with a huge majority, stripped of the hard core of Koizumi's "opposition forces," only to have the LDP readmit nearly all of the postal rebels mere months after Koizumi left office. The past four years have been one long retreat from the promise of Koizumi's new party. Why should the voters trust the LDP to be any different this time around, despite the promises of Nakagawa Hidenao and company?

Mr. Watanabe's rebellion

On Wednesday the House of Representatives voted on a DPJ-backed resolution calling for an immediate dissolution of the lower house followed by a general election.

Watanabe Yoshimi broke with the LDP and voted for the resolution, backing his words with action. He stated that he was prepared for whatever punishment the LDP intends to mete out for his rebellion.

The LDP did opt to censure him. According to Asahi, the LDP has "admonished" Mr. Watanabe, admonishment being the second lightest of the LDP's punishments for disobedient party members. Nikai Toshihiro, head of the LDP's general affairs council, argued that Mr. Watanabe should be expelled from the party, but his proposal was rejected.

In a press conference after the vote, Mr. Watanabe made clear that his vote is not a prelude to a break with the LDP and the formation of a new party. He claimed that he acted alone, not bothering to consult with his fellows. Later in the press conference, he spelled out his credo: "...Party before faction, state and people before party. This is the starting point for a member of the Diet." It seems that Mr. Watanabe was acting in defense of Japanese democracy; he views a general election at this juncture as essential to making progress in solving the problems that plague the Japanese polity. A simple act, but considering that none of his colleagues joined him, an act that may have taken more courage than meets the eye. Despite the bold talk from other reformists, not one did anything more than offer tepid "understanding" of Mr. Watanabe's vote. Naturally his vote garnered praise from the DPJ — Hatoyama Yukio made a congratulatory phone call — which hopes to draw LDP rebels away from the party before a general election. Ozawa Ichiro suggested that if Mr. Watanabe is willing to leave the party, he will discuss electoral cooperation with him. (Not a particularly meaningful offer, I think: there is a reason that the DPJ has yet to pick a candidate to run against Mr. Watanabe in Tochigi-3, namely that Mr. Watanabe has been quite successful in past elections.)

This will not be last we hear of Mr. Watanabe. By giving him a light slap on the wrist, the LDP has ensured that Mr. Watanabe will defy the government again at his next opportunity. Mr. Watanabe dared the party to expel him, but it refused, perhaps out of fear that booting the rebel reformist could finally open the eyes of his colleagues that the party has no place for them. Of course, that may be too much to expect. The LDP, terrified that Mr. Watanabe will encourage others to follow him, acted quickly and softly in the hope of quieting talk of rebellion and not making Mr. Watanabe out to be a martyr. Time will tell whether the party's response will succeed. Mr. Watanabe said in an appearance on TV Asahi Thursday that there is the possibility of further defiance of the government when the second stimulus package comes to a vote next year.

Journalist Uesugi Takashi suggests that there is little danger of the bill's being rejected because the controversial portion — a fixed income and residential tax cut included to assuage Komeito — is not a separate bill but simply part of the larger supplemental budget bill (hence the DPJ's calling for the controversial portion to be submitted as a separate bill). Uesugi instead sees another battle over the plan to move highway funds to the general fund as the critical point when LDP reformists may decide to break with the party.

For now it is simply impossible to predict whether Mr. Watanabe will be able to gather enough rebels to deprive the government of its supermajority. It appears that Nakagawa Hidenao's argument that there shall be no moves towards realignment before a general election has won the day in reformist circles.

Nevertheless, I give Mr. Watanabe tremendous credit for standing up against the government. In what was, to paraphrase W.H. Auden, a low, dishonest year, Mr. Watanabe has provided a glimmer of hope that there might be a leader in either party capable of rising above the pusillanimity that has characterized the behavior of all too many leading Japanese politicians over the past year.

Aso in a tailspin

Prime Minister Aso Taro is in Peru for this year's APEC summit, a summit that will undoubtedly be an even greater exercise in futility than usual.

At home, his administration is faltering.

He is under fire from within the LDP for recent gaffes. (It was only a matter of time before Mr. Aso talked without thinking.) The most politically costly gaffe may prove to be his remark that many doctors lack "common sense." Masuzoe Yoichi, the health, labor, and welfare minister, admonished his prime minister to stay on message, as he has struggled to make the case for the LDP's efforts to fix medical care for the elderly. Mr. Masuzoe is not alone in criticizing the prime minister. Oshima Tadamori, the LDP's Diet strategy chairman, cautioned the prime minister to "be careful with his words." More significantly, Karasawa Yoshihito, the chairman of the Japan Medical Association, called upon Mr. Aso to take back his remark and apologize. Chairman Karasawa's remarks are indicative of a growing rift between the LDP and the JMA, a longtime supporter of the LDP. While the JMA may no longer wield the clout it once did — as Gerald Curtis noted — the JMA can damage the LDP simply by making a public show of breaking with the ruling party. The Ibaraki prefectural medical association has already announced that it will endorse DPJ candidates in the next general election to protest the new eldercare system. How many more will follow Ibaraki's lead after Mr. Aso's remarks?

More significantly, Mr. Aso may be facing a wider rebellion within the LDP on matters of policy. The prime minister told a press gaggle earlier this week that he is considering a plan that will freeze the privatization of Japan Post. It did not take long for the LDP's remaining reformers to recoil in horror. Nakagawa Hidenao, de facto leader of the Koizumians, swore that the prime minister must not be allowed to reverse course on postal privatization. Yamamoto Ichita responded with an angry post at his blog, promising that he (and presumably his fellow reformers) would not remain silent. Mr. Yamamoto noted that if Mr. Aso were to proceed with a freeze, it would be a direct repudiation of the supermajority upon which his government is based, seeing as how the 2005 general election was contested on the very question of postal privatization. I'm not certain that the public is as enamored with postal privatization now that Mr. Koizumi's spell has been broken. But the symbolic effect of reversing course on postal privatization would be unmistakable: it would illustrate clearly that the Japanese people have been the victim of a classic bait-and-switch in the three years since the last general election, voting for a party that promised reform without sanctuary only to be ruled by governments interested in fortifying the walls of existing sanctuaries.

Finally, a group of twenty-four young LDP reformers led by former Chief Cabinet Secretary Shiozaki Yasuhisa and administrative reformer minister Watanabe Yoshimi has appealed to the government for the passage of the second stimulus package during the current Diet session, echoing similar calls from the DPJ. The group called for the government to lead effectively in the face of the crisis. Kawamura Takeo, chief cabinet secretary, responded by saying that the government is reluctant to act because it cannot trust the DPJ to cooperate on the stimulus, thus illustrating the young Turks' point. What's the point of having a supermajority if it cannot be wielded decisively in response to a crisis? (Of course, I'm skeptical about the value of the stimulus package — this article has me convinced.) In any case, both Yomiuri and Sankei speculate whether the new group is the beginning of an anti-Aso group.

Clearly Mr. Aso's landslide victory in September did not spell the end to the LDP's civil war. The LDP is no less divided over its future, and despite being marginalized by Mr. Aso, the reformists are still capable of stirring up trouble for the prime minister. Mr. Aso appears to have little control over his party or the agenda. His government seems reduced to searching for new ways to rally support for the government rather than finding new policies or implementing old ones. MTC describes this as Mr. Aso's "lightness." I agree wholeheartedly. Mr. Aso sold himself as the agent of an aggressive reform conservatism that would reinvigorate the LDP and make the case to the public that under his leadership the LDP can be trusted to fix the problems created by Mr. Aso's LDP predecessors. But it seems that, as MTC suggests, Mr. Aso is little more than the exhorter-in-chief, long on pep talks for the Japanese people, short on policies that will make the least bit of difference in rescuing his faltering country.

And now the LDP is stuck with him, at least until the prime minister decides to call (or is forced to call) a general election.

In the meantime, we will be treated to the spectacle of yet another prime minister's approval ratings take a nosedive.

Waiting for Obama

A new LDP club has formed that some have described as "capable of inciting the overthrow of the government." The group, known as the "Association for the implementation of a new presidential election [for the LDP]," was instigated by Yamamoto Ichita and is a response to the freefall in the LDP's public approval. They will compile three proposals to present in October: (1) a plan for greater transparency in the LDP; (2) a method of cultivating new leaders; and (3) a primary system for LDP presidential elections, to ensure more "dramatic" elections. (A glance at their prospectus — read below — shows not surprisingly that this is in part a response to the US Democratic Party primaries and the interest they attracted worldwide. They must realize, of course, that the candidates make the primaries interesting and not vice versa.)

The group, according to Mr. Yamamoto, has thirty-five members. Mr. Yamamoto also provides the group's prospectus, which is instructive in considering where the prime minister and the LDP stand at the end of the extraordinary Diet session:

The Liberal Democratic Party is on the verge of its greatest crisis since the formation of the party. Not only has an image been established of a "party clinging to established rights and interests," but opposition to the new eldercare system, anger at the vanishing pensions problem, and the recurrence of wasted tax revenue scandals have caused the public's "loss of confidence in the LDP" to raise to levels never seen before. In particular, in last year's House of Councillors election the governing parties lost their majority because "let's give the DPJ a chance" syndrome [I love this phrase] was not just in the cities, but spread to rural areas. Unless we find "ways to bring the party back from the dead," there is a strong possibility that in the next general election we will fall into opposition.

The prospectus then goes on to offer proposals for making "dramatic LDP presidential elections," starting with a proposal to lift the requirement that candidates must have twenty endorsements (which, they argue correctly, makes for faction-centered elections). The prospectus explicitly points to the example of South Korea's 2002 presidential election and the "Obama boom" in the 2008 Democratic primaries as ways in which parties revived their public fortunes through dramatic campaigns. The rest of the prospectus contemplates way to run a primary campaign process that will maximize public interest and revive the LDP.

Call it the Obama plan. The whole group seems organized for the purpose of finding the LDP's Barack Obama (or the LDP's Kimura Takuya in the TV drama "Change" — the prospectus cites both examples), a young, charismatic star who will somehow transform the party. (Speaking of Kimu Taku, in the July issue of Voice, Tahara Soichiro and Takenaka Heizo discuss a dream cabinet for executing reform. Their prime minister? Kimu Taku. Funny, but sad, so very sad.)

If Japan has a Barack Obama, chances are he's not already in the LDP, serving time on PARC and Diet committees. Chances are he's stayed away from politics altogether. And even if the LDP has a young, charismatic reformist waiting to take the reigns, it is unlikely that he (or she) could fix the party. The faction chiefs and zoku giin would swallow the new leader alive, either through constant warnings about the danger of taking one risk or another, or through outright opposition with the help of the bureaucracy. A pretty face and a silver tongue will not save Japan, and will not save the LDP.

Nevertheless, however unlikely the idea that reform of the system for electing LDP presidents will rescue the party, this could be the beginning of a move to push out Prime Minister Fukuda. If enough LDP members go home for the summer and hear from their constituents about the need to replace Mr. Fukuda before the next election, they might be drawn to Mr. Yamamoto's scheme — or if not his specific scheme, then the underlying idea that the party can rejuvenate itself through a leadership election.

Fukuda looks to political reform

In the July issue of Bungei Shunjyu, Akasaka Taro paints a portrait of Fukuda Yasuo at the present time as ebullient as the current Diet session draws to a close. (Part one here. Part two here.)

The prime minister is reportedly pleased with his achievements during the current Diet session, having faced down the LDP's road tribe — for now — and blunted the DPJ's attacks by borrowing liberally from their agenda. He reportedly said to Mori Yoshiro, former prime minister, and Aoki Mikio, former president of the upper house, "Don't worry. I won't imitate Prime Minister Abe."

It does seem that the prime minister is increasingly finding his voice and looking to carry his party into the next election. He is increasingly looking to take up the mantle of Koizumi Junichiro, however tentatively and with reservations. He told Columbia's Gerald Curtis in a meeting, "In reform, the problem should not be assessed quantitatively. Qualitative value is important." In short, the prime minister is looking to stake out a Fukuda agenda to distinguish himself both from his rivals in the LDP and Ozawa Ichiro, head of the DPJ. (Regarding the former, Akasaka suggests that the Mr. Fukuda's foreign policy vision is in direct contrast with Aso Taro's "arc of freedom and prosperity," an assessment that I share — he is explicitly rejecting the foreign policy approach of his two most recent predecessors, especially regarding the US-Japan alliance.)

In continuing his "silent revolution," the prime minister is now prepared to turn his attention to political reform. On Wednesday he attended a general meeting of the LDP's headquarters for realizing party reform. Takebe Tsutomu, LDP secretary-general under Mr. Koizumi, heads up the group, which shares his mission of keeping the flame of the Koizumi revolution burning in the LDP. The LDP reports that the group will consider reforming the Diet, liberalizing restrictions on political activity and political funds, and strengthening the party. It is too early to say what will emerge from this process. Diet reform, for example, may specifically refer to reform of the procedure for approving officials like the Bank of Japan's executives (according to Mainichi), which is less inspiring than these ideas for Diet reform. Lifting the restrictions on political activity, meanwhile, is badly needed. Many of those restrictions, however, have served to protect incumbents, which will undoubtedly make said reform popular in the LDP. So whether Mr. Takebe's group will produce anything of lasting value remains to be seen.

But what's important to note is that Mr. Fukuda is looking both at what made Mr. Koizumi successful and what arguments the DPJ will muster in its next general election campaign. Mr. Koizumi succeeded in part because of his promise to destroy the LDP; the DPJ, especially under Mr. Ozawa, is running on the same platform. Making political reform a priority will bolster Mr. Fukuda's reformist credentials at the same time that he weakens the DPJ's best argument for regime change.

Pushing for political reform will not spare the LDP from a devastating blow in the next general election — but it and every other effort by the prime minister to borrow from the DPJ to undermine the LDP's reactionaries could mean the difference between a total defeat of the LDP and a lesser defeat that leaves the LDP with a parliamentary majority.

An ebullient Mr. Fukuda looking to burnish his reformist credentials puts the DPJ on the defensive, despite the DPJ's censure motion. The tide may turn against Mr. Fukuda eventually — he will not be able to antagonize the reactionaries forever and escape unharmed, because he doesn't have Mr. Koizumi's theatrical (or perhaps prestidigitatorial) skills and public support. But for now he will escape the Diet session intact and play host in Hokkaido before having to rejoin the battle against enemies inside and outside the LDP.

Matsuzawa Shigefumi's experiments

Working out in Kanagawa-ken , I had the opportunity to become familiar with Matsuzawa Shigefumi, Kanagawa's reformist DPJ-backed governor. Mr. Matsuzawa, who worked for former Congresswoman Beverly Byron (D-MD-6) when he was younger and won three elections to the House of Representatives before being elected governor of Kanagawa in 2003, is one of those Japanese politicians who single handedly gives me some hope for Japan's future. (I suppose I might also group Masuzoe Yoichi in the same category.)

He recently made national news by pushing for term limits in Kanagawa (explicitly suggesting that Kanagawa should serve as an example for the nation, i.e., a laboratory of democracy), which prompted criticism from the national government. His push for term limits is wholly consistent with the reformist thrust of his businesslike campaign manifesto, which he has announced should be the yardstick by which his government is measured. This may sound simple, but look at the manifestos put out by both parties in 2007 and ask yourself whether they can really be used as yardsticks. Mr. Matsuzawa's 2007 manifesto also reminded voters of his 2003 promises, and showed whether he succeeded or failed at implementing his agenda. A token measure, perhaps, but I think it goes a long way to making candidates more accountable to voters — and I think it's no accident that Mr. Matsuzawa won reelection by a resounding margin in April.

With that as an introduction, I strongly recommend this challenging essay by Mr. Matsuzawa at the Genron NPO blog.

As the governor of one of Japan's most populous and economically dynamic prefectures, Mr. Matsuzawa takes aim at the notion of the revenue gap between urban and rural prefectures, suggesting that contrary to public perception, the gap between wealthy prefectures like Tokyo and Kanagawa and poorer, sparsely populated rural prefectures is not all that great, because urban prefectural governments have greater responsibilities (due to burgeoning populations) but get less revenue from the central government. Central government subsidies, according to Mr. Matsuzawa, effectively close the gap between urban and rural. He argues, in fact, that once central government taxes distributed to local governments are added to local taxes, rural prefectures like Shimane, Tottori, Kochi, and Fukui receive the most tax revenue per person, with Kanagawa receiving the least per person in all of Japan.

The problem, he suggests, exists, but is not as large as the media would have the Japanese people believe.

Accordingly, he is vehemently opposed to the government's plan to enable Japanese citizens to pay a portion of their taxes to places where they are not in residence (their former hometowns, for instance). Mr. Matsuzawa is quick to see that the costs of this plan would be paid by urban prefectures such as his own, which are swollen with "refugees" from rural prefectures who under this plan could send some tax money home, thereby depriving his government of revenue that rightfully belongs to it. Without denying the desperate economic conditions in rural Japan (for which he credits Mr. Koizumi and his attacks on public corporations), he attacks this problem from a variety of angles. He argues that this plan violates the basic principle of "no taxation without representation" — in other words, why should the vote of someone who pays full taxes to one prefecture be worth the same as someone's whose taxes are divided among jurisdictions ? (And from the perspective of a taxpayer, why should a taxpayer pay taxes to a jurisdiction in which he has no vote and thus no way of holding the taxing authority accountable?)

Moreover, Mr. Matsuzawa wonders how money will be transferred from one jurisdiction to another. Who will build and maintain a computer system to ensure that it happens smoothly? (And, I would add, echoing Mr. Masuzoe, can bureaucrats be trusted to handle the transactions without losing or embezzling the funds?)

I am not in a position to debate Mr. Matsuzawa's numbers, but he provides an important reminder that in the rush to solve the "Yubari problem," Japan's stressed metropolises must not be forgotten.

Mr. Matsuzawa, I think, represents the best of the DPJ. (Yes, he's officially independent, DPJ-backed, but as a former DPJ representative, it's fair to say that this distinction is meaningless in this case.) An urban governor, he is sensitive to the needs of urban voters and aware that jaded Japanese voters, disappointed by their government over and over again, desire accountable, transparent government, even if they can't quite articulate it that way. His critique is just one way for the DPJ to remind urban voters why they can't trust the LDP, ensuring that by the time another general election rolls around, the DPJ will be in a position to trounce the LDP in urban Japan.

The question is whether the DPJ, under the rule of Mr. Ozawa, the "king" of Iwate, can fully stake a claim as the true representative of the interests of urban Japan, or whether Mr. Ozawa's efforts to appeal to rural voters will undermine the party's message in the cities. If the latter — and I fully expect this to be the case — a general election campaign will be simply a matter of two nearly identical parties struggling to balance a message of reform in the cities with pork-barrel promises in the countryside.

In this scenario, urban Japan will, as always, lose.

Will Fukuda have a honeymoon?

In his initial remarks yesterday, Mr. Fukuda indicated that he recognizes what Mr. Koizumi recognized, namely that the LDP is responsible for the state of the economy and politics.

Describing the election results, he insisted, "This is not old-style solidarity among factions." His task: "Regaining the people's trust." He spoke at length on the problem of trust in politics, sounding like the most forthright of "outsider" American presidential candidates.

"In particular, concerning the pension problem, the truly big problem is that the people have been given the impression that they cannot trust politics and government," he said. "I think this is an exceedingly big problem. Regarding this problem, each ministry is responsible, but I think that it is also the major responsibility of politicians, who have the position of directing this. In particular, I think the responsibility of the LDP, which has sustained governments for a long time, is great. I fully realize this responsibility, and it is essential to be committed to the idea that the LDP must be reborn."

I have to imagine that we would not be hearing the word "caretaker" if these words came from a new prime minister twenty years younger and considerably more telegenic than Mr. Fukuda. As it is, it's an open question whether Mr. Fukuda will be able to repeat Mr. Koizumi's feat of leading the LDP to victory by campaigning against the LDP. [Ed. — Fool me once...] But I think he means it when he dismisses the idea of his being a cat's paw of the factions. He has his own ideas about the LDP and its future — and they might be disappointing to his backers, Mr. Mori included. The question is whether he will be able to implement them.

Meanwhile, the tone he took on the looming problem of the anti-terror special measures law was distinctly different than that of his predecessors. Namely, he conceived the law in largely negative terms, as a way to avoid the opprobrium of other countries (which have been so kind as to thank Japan for its contribution). Not surprisingly, for this way of thinking Mr. Fukuda has earned the appellation of "realist" from Michael Green. The Fukuda cabinet will likely mean a turn away from the exuberant embrace of the US that characterized Japanese foreign policy under Messrs. Koizumi and Abe. As Mainichi suggests, a flexible, prudent approach will undoubtedly characterize Mr. Fukuda's foreign policy in all areas. The perfervid ideological thinking that resulted in the Abe cabinet's scheme for an "arc of freedom and prosperity" is set to retreat to the back benches and study groups of the LDP, for the time being anyway.

It's actually an amazing trick Mr. Fukuda has pulled: he has managed to convince everyone (or the media, which has subsequently convinced everyone) that he is a mellow conciliator, when in fact his positions will make plenty of people unhappy. For all the talk of LDP unity, how long before young firebrands and old faction bosses get fed up with his way of governance and make their gripes known, loudly and persistently?

One thing is certain. Mr. Fukuda will not enjoy a honeymoon in his relations with the DPJ, no matter how eagerly he tries to reach out and cooperate. The DPJ has signaled that it will not relent in its confrontational stance and will continue to push for an early general election. Whether this strategy will succeed is entirely different question.

The beginning of divided government

The DPJ, now calling the shots on the administration of the Upper House, has announced the distribution of the chairmanships of Upper House committees, and in a gesture that strikes me as magnanimous, has given the chairmanship of the Budget Committee to the LDP. The LDP has named Konoike Yoshitada to fill the post.

While the House of Representatives has ultimate responsibility for the budget, it is important to remember that the budget committee in both houses is the main forum for questioning the government on all manner of subjects. With the LDP holding the chairmanship, it will have the power to end questioning and send the budget bill to the whole house.

As Asahi emphasizes in an article today (not online), Japan is in for an experiment in divided government akin to that seen in France and the US. I'm not sure if anyone really knows what will happen from Monday on: will the DPJ wield its new powers forcefully, or will it hold back, act cooperatively and let the government destroy itself? Inter-party cooperation is by no means a new phenomenon in Japanese politics, but the process is about to be turned inside-out. Whereas cooperation previously was the result of the LDP's trying to include opposition parties in the policy making process through compromises behind closed doors, cooperation and competition will now take place publicly, along the institutional battle lines between Upper House, Lower House, and government.

Indeed, Asahi's editorial today views the start of the special Diet session as the first act of a new stage of political reform.

"If there is misgovernment, the majority should be exchanged, and administration should change hands," writes Asahi. "This tension has activated Japanese democracy. This debate has proceeded from the introduction of single-seat electoral districts and the reorganization of political parties. With the reversal of the majority in the Upper House, the power to reject the governing coalition's bills has been given to the opposition. Without the opposition's cooperation, the government cannot be administered; the opposition bears this responsibility. This means that the circumstances coming into being should also be called 'half change of government.'"

Whether the experiment in divided government will be long-lived remains to be seen. The DPJ will continue to push for an early dissolution of the House of Representatives and a general election, and with the floodgates open on reports of corrupt practices by members of the government and LDP executives, the DPJ will have a lot of help from the media. The Nelson Report, citing the analysis of Peter Ennis of The Oriental Economist, suggests that Mr. Abe could be gone by November and that the anti-terror special measures law will be allowed to expire, giving the DPJ a not-inconsiderable victory.

Meanwhile, the Yosano-Aso team may have ignited a civil war in the LDP by inviting Mr. Hiranuma back to the party. Undoubtedly the younger members of the LDP can see the writing on the wall for their political careers.

It is unclear how much longer this turmoil in the political system will last, but the pressure for change appears to be swelling relentlessly; when all is said and done, Japan may find itself with a more transparent, dynamic political system.

The frog and the scorpion?

From August 3rd to 6th, Jiji asked voters what kind of government they would prefer. The top? An LDP-DPJ grand coalition, with 27.5% of respondents supporting it. Only 11.9% wanted the LDP-Komeito coalition to continue, while only 10.8% wanted a solely LDP government. Respondents seemed indifferent to which party was at the center of the coalition, with 22.7% wanting an LDP-centered government and 22.8% wanting a DPJ-centered government.

Seemingly feeding off of this finding, Yomiuri used its most self-righteously nonpartisan tone in an editorial Thursday to argue for an LDP/DPJ coalition based on the recognition that the LDP stands no chance of regaining an Upper House majority in 2010 or 2013, and that the procedures for a Lower House override of an Upper House "veto" are cumbersome. Not surprisingly, Yomiuri looks to Germany and argues that Japan's serious, long-term problems depend a new, broad-based coalition: "Considering the life of the people and the national interest, there are probably more than a few cases in which they will not be able to avoid pragmatic compromises."

I can understand why the Japanese people, who have long since lost confidence in Japan's political leadership (aside from Mr. Koizumi, of course), would desire a grand coalition that would put national interests before partisan interests and make policy for the nation. This is probably the kind of thing Ozawa Ichiro would have been pushing for if he was still in the LDP.

But that's exactly why this idea is impossible, because if the DPJ were to join a coalition with the LDP, it would be a death sentence for the DPJ, whether because it would force a split in the party or because the DPJ's presence in a coalition government would make it a convenient scapegoat for policy failures and should serious reform prove impossible taint the party in the eyes of reform-minded urban voters. Surely the former Socialists in the DPJ remember their old party's pact with the devil in 1994 that resulted in Murayama Tomiichi's serving as prime minister on the back of the LDP — and drove a stake into the heart of the onetime leading opposition party. Meanwhile, with Ozawa and the DPJ leadership intent on using momentum from last month's elections to force the government to dissolve the Lower House prematurely, there is not a chance that they would entertain the idea of assisting the LDP in stopping the hemorrhaging of its support. Also, I have to wonder who exactly would serve as prime minister in Yomiuri's dream cabinet. I think it is safe to say that the DPJ will not become party to an Abe government.

Philosophically speaking, I have a problem with bipartisanship elevated to the level of a grand coalition. One of the benefits of partisan competition is that the party in opposition is capable of holding the government accountable — even if in some (or all) democracies this role is sometimes taken to extremes. Who will hold the government accountable if there are only a handful of small parties on the opposition side of the aisle? Yomiuri would say — has said — that the national interest supersedes partisan competition, but partisan competition is not solely or even primarily about policy, at least not in Japanese political system, with considerable overlap between LDP and DPJ policies. A strong opposition and the emergence of a proper two-party system with the LDP and DPJ alternating in power should result in better policy making for Japan, with governments punished for failing to deliver, meaning that future elections may well resemble the July Upper House elections in being more about the competency and priorities of the government than any particular disputes about the policy agenda. But in that case, it is imperative for the DPJ to take its role as the leading opposition party more seriously, questioning the government's failures to deliver whenever they occur. (And why should the DPJ join the government to try to force the LDP to compromise on policy when its control of the Upper House for the foreseeable future provides an excellent platform from which to force the government to bargain?)

Meanwhile, Yomiuri provides a list of national problems that must be addressed (social security, North Korea, the rise of China, tax reform, nursing care, et al). But if these issues are as important for Japan as Yomiuri insists, ought they not be deliberated upon publicly in Japan's elected legislature, rather than within the less transparent confines of the government? The solutions ought to be national, not the product of decisions made by a coven of two parties foisted upon everyone else.

Beyond this, I have to wonder whether an LDP-DPJ grand coalition would ultimately resemble the parable of the frog and the scorpion, in which the scorpion offered a frog a ride across a river, only to start stinging the frog midway across, drowning them both. A grand coalition would most likely serve as catalyst for the much-ballyhooed political realignment, essentially turning the clock back to 1993 and raising the possibility for a more rational two-party system. All the more reason to dismiss the possibility, because neither party seems ready to commit suicide.

Abe after the election

With the government still defiantly rejecting suggestions that Prime Minister Abe should take responsibility for a major defeat in Sunday's election — a debate that is about as clear as a sign one can get of the LDP giving up and perhaps praying for rain (or a heat wave) — I cannot help but wonder what exactly the basis for Abe's government will be, beyond the super-majority inherited from Koizumi.

Let's review the facts. His personal approval rating and the approval rating of his cabinet has dipped under 30%, with negative ratings over 50%. The discontent can be found in nearly all demographic categories. While the cabinet shuffle that is almost guaranteed may alter those figures somewhat, especially if the new cabinet were to have a decidedly more Koizumian flavor, there is little reason to suspect that Abe will ever be able to recover the confidence of the Japanese people, especially if Sunday results in an overwhelming landslide for the opposition.

In fact, what I conclude from this opinion poll posted at What Japan Thinks is that the Japanese people, younger Japanese especially, not only have fond recollections of former Prime Minister Koizumi, but they are hungry for a politician genuinely capable of overcoming of reforging the political system — among the ten most highly rated politicians (given a free choice), nearly all of them are figures who have been outspoken mavericks or otherwise built or tried to build new political systems. (Koizumi was overwhelmingly the most popular, receiving 18%, with Aso Taro surprisingly coming in second with 5%.) Meanwhile, the poll finds that the quality most desired in a politician is "the ability to get things done." The pattern established by Prime Minister Abe since taking office does not fit this mold by any means, despite his frequently stated desire to leave the postwar regime behind. He evidently lacks the political judgment, the courage, and the "common touch" required to become a popularly acclaimed systems builder, preferring superficial reforms and symbolic gestures to the tough decisions about Japan's future that would actually constitute a break from the past.

But in addition to losing the confidence of the public, what kind of support within the LDP will Abe take from this election? Will the party barons — and the backbenchers — continue to support a loser, even one whose ideas they share? With Koizumi reemerging on the hustings, I have to wonder whether he might be the greatest beneficiary from the looming disaster. In recent days, it seems that kaikaku (reform) is once again being heard on the lips of Abe Shinzo. Reform — not revision, not ending the postwar regime. On a trip to Tohoku on Tuesday, Abe declared to voters, "The DPJ cannot reform at all. To execute reform, it's the LDP." If Koizumi's help actually manages to soften the blow suffered by the government, it seems reasonable to expect that Koizumi and his followers will emerge from the election strengthened within the LDP — which would no doubt raise the hackles of his enemies within the party, who would begin to wonder whether they can rely on Prime Minister Abe as a buffer from the return of "Koizumism" (or, as seems more plausible now than before, the return of the man himself).

In any case, it's hard to see the LDP not falling into disarray in the aftermath of this election, a new struggle for the soul of the party. If the worst-case scenario comes to pass and the LDP loses big even in once-reliable strongholds in western Japan, Koizumi's hand will undoubtedly be strengthened even more, as his argument on the need to modernize and urbanize the LDP will have new life ("We cannot even rely on the countryside anymore").

In the midst of all this, what will Abe do? Will he begin to tack to the Koizumi line, rediscover the value of structural reform and shift his agenda accordingly (whether rhetorically or substantively)? Or will he revert to the pre-campaign policy of distancing himself from Koizumi? It is difficult to see him lasting another year if he decides to maintain his distance. Does he recognize that, or perhaps more accurately, do the people whispering in his ear, the ubiquitous Abe shuhen, recognize that? And if Abe decides to make his cabinet into a de facto extension of the Koizumi Cabinet, will the bandied-about political realignment occur? Or, on the other hand, could the now slightly more realistic prospect of being forced into opposition for only the second time ever be enough to bring the party's leaders to see reason and prevent a civil war?

I don't have the answers to these questions, but they show that however much control Abe had over the LDP in the first ten months of his premiership, it will not survive past Sunday. If he survives as prime minister, it will be because of decisions made by others. He is bloodied, perhaps unbowed — but no longer the master of his fate.

Viva the lifestyle restoration!

Jun Okumura gives a thorough fisking to a BBC article that completely misses what's actually going on in this election campaign. In fact, the article seems to be little more than a bundle of cliches strung together with, as Jun notes, a few illustrative anecdotes.

All the BBC had to do to get this story right was look at the Yomiuri Shimbun's editorial today. Yomiuri complained, once again, about the supposed inadequacies of the national debate leading up to the Upper House elections. About the constitution, Yomiuri asks in its headline, "Why are we not debating the country's image in the future?"

The fact that this election hasn't been about the constitution, despite Prime Minister Abe's solemn declaration in January to make the election about revision, actually gives me hope for the future of Japanese democracy. In opinion poll after opinion poll, in every newspaper, the Japanese people have said "Thanks, but no thanks — we would rather talk about our pensions, education, and health care systems."

No one is spared Yomiuri's wrath for this intervention of the people's mundane concerns into an election that ought to be about the figure cut by Japan on the international stage. Prime Minister Abe? "Prime Minister Abe, who floated the idea of 'getting rid of the postwar regime,' simultaneously declared, 'constitution revision is the point of contention of the Upper House election.' The promise at the start clearly expressed the aim of proposing constitution revision to the Diet in 2010. But during the election campaign, it appears there has been a weakening of his attitude." Ozawa and the DPJ? "We also have doubts about the stance of the DPJ President Ozawa," due to his history of taking a firm stand in favor of constitution revision in the past but now backing away because of political opportunism (i.e., the desire to see power in the Upper House change hands).

It seems that the only party talking about constitution revision — judging from their campaigning outside the station on my way home tonight — is the Japan Communist Party, and obviously they are resolutely opposed to the idea.

Let me say it again: I think it's a cause for hope that the parties, especially the LDP, have been forced, in no small part due to the DPJ's questioning in the Diet, to bend to the will of the people and address the issues that are the source of widespread insecurity among the Japanese people. An election based on constitution revision, an abstract matter far removed from the lives of 127 million Japanese, would be a travesty, a sign of the moral bankruptcy of the political class in the face of mounting challenges. It's not entirely clear to me why an election grounded in strong doubts about political corruption and government failures in Tokyo is somehow removed from a consideration of Japan's "image in the future." Arguably, it has more to do with how Japan will be governed over the coming decades; the idea of Japan's being a regional or a world power with the aging Japanese public living in fear that they won't be properly cared for in their old age and with an attenuated LDP trying to hold power at all costs is laughable.

And so with nine days to the election, the DPJ has gotten its wish: this is a lifestyle election. Will the Japanese people take this golden opportunity and actually turn out to punish the government? And if given a stake in the leadership of the Upper House, will the DPJ be able to parlay that into a serious run for control of the Lower House?

Who misses Koizumi more, the Japanese people or the foreign press?

This week's Economist and today's FT both carry articles discussing the shadow cast by former Prime Minister Koizumi over the Upper House elections — and over his hapless and, according to Mr. Koizumi, kawaiso successor.

I have no doubt that there are segments of public opinion and sections of the LDP that would be glad to see Mr. Koizumi sweep back into the spotlight and the premiership, the greatest comeback since Michael Jordan decided that baseball really wasn't his thing after all. But these articles suggest another part of the story: foreign correspondents responsible for Japan are longing for the bygone Koizumi days, when the prime minister was always good for a quirky story for the readers back home.

David Pilling's article in the FT shows "Samurai" Koizumi on the campaign trail in Saitama, and documents how he wows the crowd, making Prime Minister Abe an object of pity, not of scorn. Pilling, of course, is sure to note the problem with leaning on Mr. Koizumi too much: "While helping to rally the LDP faithful, they also remind voters of the differences between his charismatic term and that of the less experienced Mr Abe, who has struggled to win over the Japanese public." It is not for nothing that Mr. Abe turned down earlier offers of support from Mr. Koizumi; the Abe camp is all-too-aware of the differences between their man and the beloved Mr. Koizumi. Of course, now, with his government's back firmly to the wall, Mr. Abe will hold nothing in reserve and so Mr. Koizumi is on the trail, cracking jokes.

The Economist goes a step further and asks the question of whether Mr. Koizumi or Mr. Abe is the exception as far as twenty-first century Japanese prime ministers go. I have weighed in on this matter before (also here and here) — I think Mr. Abe signifies a reversion to pre-Koizumi LDP governance. The Economist seems to fall on the other side of the divide, largely on the basis of the persistence of a Koizumi "anti-factions, non-faction" faction in the LDP, a study group of some thirty Koizumi followers who are "market-oriented and internationalist" and who will not, according to Inoguchi Kuniko, leave the LDP and can in fact draw DPJ members into the LDP fold.

I think The Economist overstates the significance of this Koizumi coterie. These Koizumians are a tribute to the power of his reformist ideas, for certain, but the very existence of the group does not automatically suggest that they carry weight within the party. Indeed, the strength of the Koizumi "faction" will be tested this month as the Upper House members elected by way of Mr. Koizumi's coattails in 2001 face their first post-Koizumi challenge while being led into the fray by a prime minister who has actively distanced himself from their champion. And in the aftermath of the election, the LDP's ability to entice members of the DPJ to defect may be tested if the governing coalition has to struggle to cobble together a working majority in the Upper House.

Whatever the future of the LDP, it does not seem to be going in the direction desired by Mr. Koizumi. Having fended off Mr. Koizumi and his calls to destroy the LDP, the party's barons are not about to go down that road again — which could very well hasten the party's demise, particularly as the political system shifts to reflect the ongoing urbanization of Japan.

Buying the hype?

Michael Auslin, a history professor at Yale and soon to be scholar at the American Enterprise Institute, has a somewhat challenging survey of contemporary Japan at American.com, AEI's online magazine.

As the article's title — "A Beautiful Country" — suggests, Auslin buys into the confident rhetoric that has emanated from Tokyo in recent years, but at the same time, he does not deny that Japan is beset with a host of problems that make Japan's future prospects far from certain. As he writes, "From a shrinking population to a static military budget, from alienated youth to a declining savings rate, the country will be forced to make major choices in the coming decades. What has changed, however, is not only that real reform seems to have taken root, but perhaps more importantly that the expectations of the Japanese themselves have moved beyond both the irrational exuberance of the 1980s and the gloom of the 1990s."

Has real reform taken root? I guess that depends on what one makes of recent developments in Japanese politics. Who is the aberration, Koizumi or Abe? Did Koizumi permanently knock the Japanese political system onto a new course, and Abe's problem-laden government is just a temporary detour to better governance? Or is it the reverse? And where does Japan's dissatisfied public — as shown by Asahi's poll on attitudes towards politics — fit in the picture? Can that aimless discontent be channeled to productive ends, or will it simply serve to punish the LDP next month before returning to the LDP's side the next time a Lower House election rolls around?

As such, I cannot necessarily share Auslin's optimism. There is potential for real, lasting change to how Japan is governed — but it will not happen automatically. The Japanese people will have to forge a coherent program out of inchoate discontent, which of course leads one to wonder whether Japanese citizens are prepared to exercise their rights.

And as for Japan's changing security policy, there has been real change in the past decade, but it is an open question as to the extent of that change. How far along has Japan come, forces in the Indian Ocean and Iraq notwithstanding? What role are the Japanese people willing to countenance? Without the abductions issue — used to great effect by Abe and others to present the North Korean challenge in terms individuals can understand and provide a "softer" basis for a firmer Japanese defense posture — would the public be quite so eager to support "normalization"? And what to make of the abiding unease about being dragged into American wars abroad?

The more closely one looks at what Japanese are saying and thinking, the more questions arise, and far from being vibrant and confident, Japanese society seems rife with insecurity — about the future, about Japan's place in Asia and the world, and about the ability of the durability of the Japanese system in the age of globalization.

Atlas shrugs in Japan?

This afternoon one of the local DPJ politicians supported by my boss was in the office, resting, and he asked whether I have read "Einrando." After some initial confusion, I finally figured out that he was asking about Ayn Rand — because he's in the process of reading Atlas Shrugged in Japanese (there are few books for which "in the process" is as apt as Atlas Shrugged).

We then proceeded to discuss the various "philosophers of liberty" — Hayek, Hume, Locke, Smith, Popper, Oakeshott — and he insisted upon the need for more liberty and smaller government in Japan.

I was taken aback, not necessarily because of his admiration, but because I had been discussing the applicability of Atlas Shrugged to Japan with Colonel Sturgeon just the other day. My point wasn't so much about Japan's needing smaller government and less exploitation of the government for private ends — it does — but the applicability of the novel's mood.

In the novel, the various sectors of society and economy fail, like a body wracked with disease that systematically attacks different organs. There is a pervasive gloom, with the action of the plot punctuated by news reports about one industrial sector after another failing. As I have watched reports of massive corruption in corporations in every sector of the Japanese economy — the latest example being NOVA, the leading English conversation school — and throughout the government, I cannot help but recall the atmosphere in Ayn Rand's dystopian America. While Japan might not be experiencing serial organ failure, it is suffering from a pervasive infection that has weakened every sector of the body politic.

Now, no one should construe this post as an unqualified endorsement of Ayn Rand. I consider my youthful infatuation with her thinking as one of those things that people should grow out of, like wearing velcro sneakers. As Stephen Fry said in an episode of A Bit of Fry and Laurie, "I don't believe in market forces. I used to, of course, when I was a child, but like everybody else, when I grew older, I discovered it was all made up." Now I would not go quite so far as that, but I did grow out of Rand: the world is far too complicated to be divided neatly into craven collectivists and heroic individualists.

But the discussion of the applicability of liberal (in the old sense, or the current sense for Europeans) thought to Japan is interesting. As I have written before, I have a hard time with importing Western political concepts into the Japanese context. Modern Japan has never known liberalism — it has had liberals, but never liberalism. Its institutions and political culture is steeped in constant interaction between state, economy, and society. Some would say that it is so as a function of Japanese culture, and is thus impervious to change. To me, that is neither here nor there. As far as I am concerned, it is a function of political culture, which while being slightly more susceptible to change is still a function of unique conditions in a given polity. As an Oakeshottian, I am content to let political culture be. Political culture grows over time, and is resistant to attempts by outsiders to change it. (Imagine what the New Dealers who came over to Japan with SCAP would think about what they wrought.) Would more liberalism in a political sense, with greater respect for the individual and a more dynamic civil society be enormously welcome in Japan? Absolutely. Would more economic liberalism, with more risk-taking, more dynamic enterprises, and less collusion among bureaucrats, politicians, and corporations be welcome? I must answer again in the affirmative.

But these will result only from long-term structural change; Japan will not change overnight. And as it changes, it will necessarily reflect Japanese conditions: for example, a more active civil society, but one that cooperates with the government and more risk-taking, but a strong safety net to protect people from getting too hurt. And with more than a quarter of Japan's population set to be over sixty-five in a few decades' time, there is a floor below which the Japanese welfare state will not recede. An aged society is necessarily a society in which the state will have an active role.

Nevertheless, the question of whether and how Japan will become more liberal is a fascinating one, that will only grow more interesting with time.

Meet the new daijin, same as the old daijin

On Friday morning, Prime Minister Abe summoned forty-eight-year-old Akagi Norihiko to Kantei and requested that Akagi serve as Matsuoka Toshikatsu's successor at the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries (MAFF). Akagi, a Tokyo University graduate, MAFF old boy (OB), and grandson of an agriculture minister in the cabinet of Abe's grandfather Kishi, was first elected the same year as Matsuoka (1990) and served in a similar succession of posts in LDP policy organs as Matsuoka.

In other words, he's a younger, more elite version of the late Mr. Matsuoka. (I say more elite because, as I wrote in this post, Matsuoka was not a Todai grad, not a ministry generalist OB, and not a hereditary politician.)

There are no indications that the policies Akagi will pursue will be any different from Matsuoka, and there are already signs of inappropriate monetary dealings between Akagi's koenkai and groups seeking contracts from MAFF. As Abe made clear when appointing him, Akagi will, like Matsuoka, seek to promote further reform of Japanese agriculture, work to the target of one trillion yen in agricultural exports, and act as a tough negotiator in WTO negotiations. In other words, agricultural mercantilism and favoritism on behalf of companies and farmers supporting the LDP.

Akagi's accession to the cabinet is a clear illustration that the problem is much bigger than Matsuoka: the problem is systemic. No cabinet-eligible LDP politician has clean hands.

Change the LDP, change Japan — now more than ever

David Pilling, the FT's Japan correspondent, indirectly responds to a point I made earlier this week when discussing Matsuoka's suicide in an op-ed entitled "No way back to old Japan" (subscription required).

As the title suggests, he argues that Matsuoka's suicide actually marks the death throes of the old political system:

The postwar system that is now morphing into something new depended on fast growth to survive: the LDP shovelled tax money from the cities to the countryside via huge public works programmes. It reaped dividends in the form of votes from over-represented rural constituencies and "political donations" through grateful interest groups. That system is no longer viable, for the simple reason that the money has run out. The public works budget has been savaged in the past decade. The system of paying for roads and dams with post office savings is being wound down. Indeed, the post office itself, the world's jangliest piggy bank, is being privatised.

Gerald Curtis, a Japan expert at Columbia university, says that Japan is undergoing the third great change in its modern history. The first was the Meiji Restoration, when leaders ditched feudalism. The second was the postwar construction of a machine to deliver rapid economic growth. Professor Curtis calls the third phase a "20-year decade", a glacial but valley-carving response to domestic economic crisis and globalisation. That adjustment has meant the slow breakdown of convoy capitalism, reflected in the unwinding of cross shareholdings. It also heralds the abandonment of egalitarian income distribution. In politics, it means the end of elections by money-stuffed envelopes and the rise of prime ministerial power and accountability.

Interestingly, he also argues that Abe's emphasis on education and constitution revision are signs of change, rather than examples of how Abe is interested in anything but midwifing the creation of a new political system.

I wish it were so. I wish the old system were transforming before our eyes, the Abe Cabinet being the swansong of the old era. But I think the evidence to support Pilling's argument is thin.

Undoubtedly the money is running out. There's no way around that. Politicians like the late Mr. Matsuoka have a smaller pot to fight over — but how will that affect the system? Will pork-barrel politicians decide to become reformers when faced with difficulties in earmarking funds for their constituencies? Will the incumbency advantage actually fail them as the amount of money they send home shrinks? On the contrary, won't politicians simply compete that much more fiercely to earn their share of the shrinking pie?

As for the rise of the prime minister in the policy making system, the new power of the Kantei can and has been overstated; as Mulgan argues, what's happened is that the prime minister is now the third leg of a triangular policy making system, forced to contend with the LDP's policy making organs and the bureaucracy (who still collude with one another).

The implication in Pilling's argument is that the new political system is going to emerge organically, without any individual or party actively shaping its creation. But I disagree. I don't see how Japan's political system will transform into a system in which policy is made in service of public and national interests without an LDP president willing to impose discipline on party ranks, cut PARC down to size, sharply limit interaction between bureaucrats and Diet backbenchers, and centralize campaign funding in the party. Each of these steps would require the willingness to overcome fierce opposition from the LDP. Is there anything Abe has done that would lead someone to think that he will be the man to create a new political system?

What is likely to happen that even as the old system loses its potency, it will limp along in the absence of someone stepping forward to propose a replacement. The problem is that Japan cannot wait forever to reform. Its demographic sword of Damocles (hat tip: GLOCOM), together with the inexorable rise of China and India, mean that failure to act now to "rationalize" its political system will doom Japan to irrelevancy.

Matsuoka Toshikatsu, RIP

Beleaguered Agriculture Minister Matsuoka Toshikatsu was found dead by his own hand this afternoon.

I am somewhat hesitant to comment on the political ramifications, seeing as how this is a grim end to a sordid affair (and career); but it demands some response. Obviously I mean no disrespect to those grieving. This is a terrible end, and it should not be celebrated.

Nevertheless, as the campaign for the 2007 Upper House elections ramp up, Matsuoka's suicide may have dramatic ratifications for the outcome of the election. Consider that just before his death, newspapers reported that the Abe Cabinet's popularity had suffered a drastic decline (Mainichi reported 32% support versus 44% opposed; Nikkei reported 41% support versus 49% opposed, with a 12% drop in support). It is difficult to see how Matsuoka's suicide will stanch the government's hemorrhaging of support. If anything, Matsuoka, by his death, may have raised the "money and politics" issue to greater prominence in debates leading up to the election. It is certainly hard to see the election being contested on constitution revision after this, no matter how much Abe insists that it should be.

The unknown factor is whether there will be a sympathy vote, and if so, will it be big enough to turn the tide in the LDP's favor. Obviously it is much too early to tell. But this election will be closely contested, and every little twist in the coming days could have an impact come July.

In any case, Matsuoka ought not to pass on without leaving his mark on Japan. With luck, the full extent of his gross misuse of his office since his first election in 1990 will see the light in the coming days and weeks — spurring the Japanese people to demand an end to, once and for all, the LDP-controlled policy making system that has enabled Diet members to direct public funds to private ends and to place private interests before the public interest. Now that would be a fitting tribute to a man who lived on a steady diet of pork-barrel spending and borderline bribery.

Does anyone really think that a political system headed by a cabinet in which one minister commits suicide to avoid facing questioning over his alleged corruption, two others resign due to corruption charges, and a third stonewalls when criticized for calling women "machines for making babies (with the prime minister defending each in turn) is healthy? (But as Shisaku rightly points out, it is not the suicide that makes Japan's political system problematic, seeing as how it's the first suicide of a cabinet minister in the postwar era.)

UPDATE: I should add that I actually had a grudging respect for Matsuoka. Unlike many of his peers in the Diet — who either inherited their seats from their fathers or glided effortlessly from Tokyo University to elite, generalist positions in the bureaucracy to the Diet — Matsuoka was a self-made politician. After failing to earn admission to the National Defense Academy, he went to Tottori University, where he studied forestry, after which he began work as a specialist at the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry. Being a specialist and not a generalist, there was a limit to how high he could rise in the ministry.

When he quit the ministry to enter politics, he had to struggle to acquire the three "bans" necessary for a Japanese politician: the jiban (local support base), kanban (name recognition), and kaban (money). Elected in 1990 under the old medium-sized electoral district system, he ran without LDP endorsement against four LDP incumbents in a five-seat district.

In short, whatever limits he encountered, Matsuoka strived to overcome them. The shame is that once he acquired power, power became an end in itself. (All of this is discussed in Aurelia George Mulgan's excellent — and timely — Power and Pork, discussed in this post.)