The Economist December 5th - 11th 1998 Issue

 Japan in the right In refusing to bow to Chinese demands to apologise for past
crimes and to isolate Taiwan, Japan did the world—and itself—a service

EVERY few months, Japan comes under pressure to offer a
“proper” apology for its conduct during
some ofthe bloodier parts of this century. Then,
almost regardless of what it says, it finds itself under some sort
of fire.  During Emperor Akihito’s state
visit to Britain in May it was criticised for seeming niggardly in its
contrition; and even during the recent successful visit to Japan of South Korea’s
President Kim Dae Jung, in which warm words were exchanged and a
Fulsome apology provided, some unkind souls wondered why it had
taken Japan so long to say sorry for its colonial deeds. This past
week, however, Japan has been firmly in the right—but this time for not
offering a fulsome apology.

The occasion was the visit to Tokyo of China’s President
Jiang Zemin, the first ever by a Chinese head of state (see article). For
sure, Japan has plenty to feel sorry about concerning its actions in
Manchuria and elsewhere in China during the 1930s and 1940s; the only
sensible debate about the period turns on how many millions of Chinese
citizens were slaughtered, not the reality or morality of the actions,
and it would be best if Japan, particularly its schools but also its
politicians, were to come to terms with this past. But sometimes, even in the
contrition business, the wider context also matters. And it is that which makes
this Japanese refusal welcome.

That context begins with President Jiang and his fellow
communists. To treat this Chinese leadership as fitting recipients of
an apology would frankly be pretty stomach-churning.

The only entity that this century has outdone the
Imperial Japanese army in the killing of Chinese citizens is the Communist
Party of China itself—in policy-induced famine, in prison camps, in the mayhem of
the Cultural Revolution, and in Tiananmen Square in June 1989. Where
today’s Japanese government is genuinely of a different
generation and political system from its 1930s predecessors, the difference
between President Jiang’s government and those of Mao Zedong and Deng
Xiaoping is one of degree, not kind. For all his urbane charm, and
willingness to cite poetry and sing songs, President Jiang remains head of a nasty
regime. To use him as courier for a contrite message to the people his
party still brutalises would be ironical, to say the least.

Then there is the use to which the war-guilt issue is
put. Plainly, and for many years, the Chinese have deployed it as a
negotiating weapon, often in association with entirely groundless claims that
Japanese militarism is again on the rise. It has no moral value to them nor is
the sincerity or otherwise of the apology of particular relevance.
Rather, it is a way of putting Japan on the defensive and of extracting
concessions from it, usually in financial form. Indeed, despite China’s
apparent outrage about this week’s apology-refusal, the tactic nevertheless
still worked: Japanese loans worth ¥390 billion ($3.2 billion) over the next
two years were announced while President Jiang was in Tokyo.

But the most important piece of context is the island
which China calls a “renegade province”: Taiwan. Japan has long retained
close business and political links with its former colony. Under new
security-treaty guidelines agreed with the United States, Japan has left open for
itself a possible role for its navy and air force as far south as Taiwan, and
China would dearly like that role to be renounced. Yet Japan refuses to do
so—and maintained that refusal during President Jiang’s visit
this week.

The right approach to Taiwan in general, and to the
question of whether outsiders would intervene militarily to support the
island, is one of aggressive ambiguity. Outsiders should not, by their
actions or threats, give China an excuse for military action. But they deter such
action most effectively when China is left guessing about what they
might do, while the outsiders still make it clear that military moves
against Taiwan would be considered merely an internal Chinese affair.
That is why Japan’s flat refusal to close off its options is so welcome.
Indeed, it has given less ground on Taiwan than did President Bill Clinton on his
visit to China this summer, when he signed up to a Chinese declaration
against Taiwanese independence or political recognition.

In the longer term, relations between China and Japan
promise to be among the region’s prickliest. Many in China think it
will soon be able to take its rightful position as East Asia’s economic and
political superpower, and that the country standing most clearly in its way is
Japan. Another, plausible view is that Asia’s next big problem is
Chinese economic collapse, with possible consequences for internal
political stability and rising nationalism. Either way, an important ingredient
of regional stability is for Japan to stand firm: to make it clear that it is
not going to be pushed around. That was the welcome sight in Tokyo during the
past few days.