Old Memories Die Hard

By James Kelly

Under U.S. pressure, Nakasone tries to change attitudes on defense

As the leaders of the world's seven major industrial powers labored over their joint communique at Williamsburg last May, Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone suggested inserting a sentence that sounded like diplomatese at its blandest. "The security of our countries," it said, "is indivisible and must be approached on a global basis." But the six other leaders immediately recognized the symbolic importance of the Japanese recommendation, which they readily approved. For the first time since 1945, when officers of the imperial Japanese army stood on the deck of the U.S.S. Missouri and witnessed their country's surrender, Japan had publicly acknowledged that it was no less involved in the defense of the West than the West was in protecting the island nation. Yet, as soon as Nakasone arrived back in Tokyo he found himself in a crossfire of criticism. The opposition roundly denounced him, while newspapers bemoaned his "hawkish metaphors."

The reaction aptly illustrates Japan's emotional debate over defense. Since the end of World War II, the country has relied on the U.S. for protection in case of attack. Thanks to the American military shield, Japan has been able to keep its military budgets unusually low: this year, for example, the bill came to $12 billion, or .98% of the G.N.P. In comparison, West Germany is spending 2.6% of its G.N.P., Britain 5.1% and the U.S. 6.3%. As a result of the imbalance, Americans and West Europeans complain increasingly that Japan's world economic success rests at least in part on its failure to pay its fair share of the West's defense, which means the West is paying an undue share of Japan's defense. Under pressure from Washington, Japan is now confronting questions that have been buried under the radioactive rubble of Hiroshima for nearly four decades.

After their defeat in World War II, the Japanese embraced pacifism as fervently as they had taken to militarism in the 1930s. During the U.S. occupation, which lasted from 1945 to 1952, the country's forces were disbanded and its arms factories dismantled. In the constitution that was drafted under the direction of General Douglas MacArthur, which remains in effect today, the Japanese forever renounced war and pledged never again to maintain "land, sea and air forces as well as other war potential." But in 1954 the Japanese government decided that those words did not deny it the right to minimal self-defense. With U.S. assistance, it formed a small army, navy and air force. Still sensitive about the past, the Japanese called their services the Self-Defense Forces.

Since then, Japanese defense policies have evolved gingerly. In 1960 Washington and Tokyo signed a treaty in which the U.S. agreed to come to Japan's aid in case of an attack (Japan did not have to pledge to do the same for the U.S.). In 1976 Japan announced that it would expand its forces so that they could turn back a small-scale invasion, although the country would still depend on the U.S. in case of a major conflict. At the same time, the government imposed a ceiling of 1% of the G.N.P. on military spending.

The U.S. concern about Japan's defense goes well beyond dollars and yen. Japan's geographic situation, 380 miles from the Chinese coast and a mere 155 miles from the Soviet Union, gives the country prime strategic importance. The U.S.S.R. has stationed 10,000 soldiers on four northern islands that were seized from Japan shortly after World War II but that are still claimed by Tokyo. Since 1978 it has also targeted an estimated 120 SS-20 missiles on Japan and China. Soviet ships now track the U.S. Seventh Fleet as it steams through the Pacific, often docking at the Vietnamese naval base at Cam Ranh Bay.

Japan is uncommonly vulnerable, especially to a blockade. With few natural resources of its own, the island nation imports all its oil and much of its food. In 1981 former Prime Minister Zenko Suzuki promised Washington that Japan would be responsible for safeguarding its sea lanes up to 1,000 miles away, but Tokyo was slow in working out the details. Nakasone, however, set up a task force to coordinate strategy with the U.S.

Indeed, Nakasone is quite sympathetic to Washington's concerns. As a former defense director, he has been hawkish and outspoken about bolstering Japanese forces. During a visit to Washington last January, he publicly declared that he wanted to make Japan "a big aircraft carrier" and promised to tighten its control over the Japanese straits, a natural avenue to the Pacific for Soviet ships in case of war.

Whether Nakasone can convince his countrymen is another question. Every time he talks of stronger defenses, Japanese newspapers and opposition leaders attack him. In a survey taken in March, 72.6% of those polled disapproved of any increase in defense spending at the expense of social programs. Even of those who saw a need for the Self Defense Forces, nearly 40% said that the main task of the military should not be soldiering but disaster relief.

Postwar pacifism alone does not explain the resistance to stronger defenses. Many Japanese simply do not perceive the Soviets as a menace to their security. Says Sadako Ogata, professor of international relations at Tokyo's Sophia University: "When you look at Soviet strength economically and politically, the threat does not seem all that overwhelming." Some Japanese feel that if their country beefs up its forces, it will become a more likely target for the Soviets; others argue that the country's small size makes it virtually defenseless against a nuclear strike, no matter how large its conventional forces.

Japanese opinion, to be sure, has changed over the years. In 1970, on the tenth anniversary of the passage of the security treaty, tear gas filled the air as protesters and police clashed in the streets. In 1980 there was not a single major demonstration against the treaty's reaffirmation. Though both leading opposition parties, the Socialists and the Communists, have been against strengthening defense, they have never succeeded in converting a majority of voters to their view.

Nakasone's long-range goal is to make Japan strong enough to defend itself, including its skies and territorial waters, and to protect its sea lanes. Despite the recession, Nakasone got the Diet to approve a 6.5% increase (after inflation) in defense spending this year. Two weeks ago, he announced that he would ask for a 6.9% boost in 1984 defense outlays; at the same time, most other departments were ordered to cut their budgets by 10%. But even if Nakasone can raise military expenditures by 7% or 8% over the next five years, U.S. officials will not be satisfied. Says Admiral Robert F. Long, former commander in chief of the Pacific: "At the present rate of buildup, the Japanese will be incapable of carrying out the objectives they set for themselves." Only by cracking the 1%-of-G.N.P. ceiling on military spending will Japan meet its objectives. Nakasone had hinted that he might try to do so, but he now says he will stay within that limit. "I have no intention of removing the ceiling," he told TIME. Nonetheless, he has abolished a longstanding taboo against exchanging military technology with the U.S. Troops from the two countries held joint exercises for the first time earlier this year at Mount Fuji.

As the only nation to suffer the horrors of an atomic attack, Japan decided in 1956 never to acquire nuclear weapons. Nakasone has reiterated that pledge, though he, like his predecessors, must fudge a bit. The government vowed that atomic weapons would never be "introduced" into the country, but it is widely assumed that the U.S. warships that visit the U.S. naval base at Yokosuka are equipped with nuclear arms. The two countries observe a sort of polite fiction: the U.S. does not consider that it is bringing the weapons permanently into the country, so it never informs the Japanese of their presence. Tokyo, in turn, never asks.

For a nation of 119 million, Japan does indeed have a relatively meager military: 13 divisions (155,000 men), 160 ships and 360 aircraft. Because it has not fought in any wars since 1945, not a single member of its forces today has combat experience. The weakest link is the ground troops. The navy, though small and ill equipped, is well disciplined, while the air force enjoys high morale. The army has found it difficult to recruit the 20,000 men needed every year just to keep up its current strength. Coordination among the three branches is poor; commanders rarely speak to each other unless necessary. All services suffer from a chronic shortage of fuel and ammunition.

But the most daunting task facing Nakasone is not so much improving the military as altering postwar Japanese perceptions about defense. The Prime Minister will have little success in bolstering forces until he convinces his people that rearmament will not lead to a fresh wave of militarism. Anyone who doubts that the Japanese are still distrustful of their soldiers need only go by the defense agency's headquarters in downtown Tokyo. Most officers travel to work in civilian clothes and change into uniforms in rented rooms near the compound. "The people have yet to accept us fully," explains an officer. "Memories die hard." --By James Kelly. Reported by Edwin M. Reingold/Tokyo

With reporting by Edwin M. Reingold This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.