America Abroad

By Strobe Talbott

TOKYO

Prime Minister Toshiki Kaifu is apprehensive about his scheduled meeting with George Bush in New York City this week. Both men know that many Americans want Japan to play a larger role in the Persian Gulf. After the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, Kaifu's government dithered for nearly a month before offering $1 billion to help finance the multilateral response. "Contemptible tokenism!," harrumphed Senator John McCain, an Arizona Republican. The U.S. ambassador in Tokyo, Michael Armacost, was more diplomatic, but just as tough. Two weeks ago, Kaifu raised the figure to $4 billion -- serious money but eminently affordable for a country whose GNP rings up almost that much every 12 hours.

The real issue is not so much the dollar amount as the nature of the Japanese contribution. So far it's all treasure and no blood, all soft power and no hard. Left to its own instincts, Japan's sole instrument of security policy would be its checkbook. That isn't good enough in a world menaced by the likes of Saddam Hussein. The burden to be shared in the gulf is not just financial cost; it is also mortal risk. If U.S., Saudi, Egyptian, British and other soldiers die in the desert, Japan's billions will have bought more resentment than gratitude from its partners.

The Japanese justify keeping their military personnel out of harm's way by citing their "peace constitution," which the U.S. imposed after World War II and which restricts the carefully named Self-Defense Forces to the home islands and territorial waters. Still, some of Kaifu's advisers believe the government could send communications and logistics experts, even minesweepers to the crisis zone. Last week, in an effort to blunt the criticism that Japan is wimping out, the Foreign Ministry dispatched a small team of volunteer medics to Saudi Arabia and promised more may follow. Others advocate dispatching combat units under United Nations authority. However, Japanese officials worry that even strictly non-offensive deployments would arouse anxiety among their neighbors in Asia.

An Indonesian diplomat in Tokyo dismisses this concern as exaggerated and self-serving. "Sure, we remember the militarism and imperialism associated with the Rising Sun in the '30s and '40s," he says. "But this is the '90s, and the threat is Saddam and his ilk. The Japanese are using our hang-ups as a cover for their own."

Seizaburo Sato, a foreign policy analyst and adviser to former Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone, agrees. "The talk of constitutional constraints ^ and demons of the past is all one big alibi," he says. "We mustn't miss a golden opportunity to prove we recognize our responsibilities."

Part of the problem is that Japan has its own trouble with "the vision thing." Despite its status as an economic superpower, the country suffers from global parochialism. The closest approximation of a grand strategy is the goal of keeping the world safe for Japanese exports and investments. The political system depends, sometimes to the point of paralysis, on consensus. The prime ministership has rarely been a bully pulpit, especially in recent years. After a massive stock-trading scandal, the shoguns of the ruling Liberal Democratic Party chose Kaifu in 1989 not just because he was untainted. He was untested and unthreatening as well, a caretaker who would be easy to push around and eventually to push aside.

Earlier this year Kaifu showed signs of being a lot better than that. Demonstrating unexpected skill and boldness, he engineered major progress in trade talks with the U.S. This week he could advance both his own standing and his country's by bringing more than just his checkbook to his meeting with Bush.