Troubled Times Ahead for Aso
By Stratfor
On Tuesday, Japanese Prime Minister Taro Aso became the first foreign leader to visit U.S. President Barack Obama. There was nothing particularly earth-shattering on the agenda: Obama lauded the bilateral alliance, Aso heralded the two countries’ ongoing economic cooperation, and then both moved on to other things.
Which is not to say that all is well in the Land of the Rising Sun. Aso’s approval ratings are so low that he might have reason to envy the ratings of former President George W. Bush’s during his final days in office. Were Aso the leader of Indonesia, Venezuela or Nigeria, we probably would be writing about the risks of a coup while he is out of the country. But our concerns are not so much for the country’s leader as they are for the country itself. Japan is what we refer to as an “earthquake society.”
To explain that, it is best to start with a country on the other end of the spectrum: the United States. In the United States, the culture is defined by change. When the original colonists settled the country they found wondrous arable land and abundant resources on every horizon. One cultural consequence of this is that Americans, at their core, believe that their lives can, will and should get a little bit better with every passing year. Combine a land of relative abundance with a lasting belief in the consistent improvement of the natural order, and the result is a cultural boldness. In good times, Americans are so convinced of their power as to believe that to be American is to be invincible. As a culture, Americans are manic.
But there are downsides. Because Americans do not face threats of invasion by bordering countries, it is easy for them to tune out the rest of the world and become complacent. So when anyone does pay the United States a visit, there is little context or understanding, and the threat is blown completely out of proportion. For example, although 3,000 people died in the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, a dozen such attacks would not have threatened the reality and stability of U.S. power. Americans suddenly forgot that they have a continent-sized chunk of land from which to project power and became convinced that the end was nigh. The United States’ manic episodes are countered and contained by bouts of depression.
The thread that binds the two together is the central role that change plays in U.S. life. When Americans are manic, nothing fazes them. When they are depressed, they move as if the hounds of Hell are at their heels. Americans change jobs, even careers, with regularity. Moving from city to city and state to state is perceived as normal. In times of economic stress, layoffs happen in days. In times of expansion, jobs are created in days. The Americans are change.
Japan is a very different case. It is not a country of relatively rigid traditions by accident. With very little arable land — and that itself perched on the edge of the world’s largest landmass — the Japanese always recognize that they are vastly outnumbered in population, land and resources. They know, at their core, that they must stick together if they are not to be plowed asunder. Only in unity can they hope to survive. This takes planning, structure and order.
The result is a culture fearful of any sort of disruption, and of change in general. The Japanese do not move domiciles or jobs with a light heart, and most Japanese considered cradle-to-grave economic sponsorship by one’s employer a God-given right. Such characteristics carry over into business life. Whereas in the United States there are hundreds or thousands of companies in every sector, in Japan there are only a few. Competition — except with outsiders — is broadly frowned upon. The boat must not be rocked, for fear of being flooded by the outside world.
And so the Japanese actively avoid the changes that Americans have accepted as part of their day-to-day existence. That is, until the pressure builds to levels that explode in earthquakes that fracture the very bedrock of their society.
The last time the Japanese experienced a self-inflicted earthquake was during the 19th century-Meiji Restoration, which eliminated the samurai as a class. Its most recent earthquake, which originated elsewhere, was triggered by events that immortalized the names Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Japan is nearing another earthquake. Its population is well past its peak and is now aging even as it shrinks, leaving the country with fewer resources to deal with deepening problems. Japan’s obsession with maintaining employment means that its financial system is moribund, weighted down by dud loans granted to prevent zombie companies from going bankrupt. Efforts to maintain economic growth have cursed Japan with a national debt that is the largest in human history — both in relative and absolute terms. The situation is so bad that the government has resorted to reclassifying the money raised from issuing bonds as “revenues” so that the budget appears to be something other than massively in deficit.
And this was all before the global recession began.
Aso is in trouble. He could have — quite literally — only days remaining before his party purges him. But a leadership transition and Aso’s passage into history would be nothing compared the real — and long-deferred — change that awaits Japan.
