Quotes of the Day

Junichiro Koizumi is a master illusionist. Playing the media better than any of his predecessors, he has managed to create the widespread impression that voters will have chosen reform if they return him and the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) candidates supporting his favorite project to the Diet next Sunday. He insists that this plan—privatizing postal savings—is the sole issue deserving of debate, and he refuses to be drawn out on other subjects that seem to deserve more urgent attention.

True privatization of what is in effect the world's largest bank is unthinkable. The savings deposits held by Japan Post are controlled by the Ministry of Finance and go straight into the zaisei toyushi, more popularly known as "the second budget." The bureaucracy uses this to maintain the informal part of Japan's political economy—never scrutinized and beyond legal control—through a myriad of largely unaccountable administrative entities. Exposure of what is also the main buyer of government bonds to anything remotely resembling the market would cause the collapse of the economy, an earthquake whose tsunami would inundate Wall Street, London, Frankfurt and much more. Hence there are no serious plans for what Koizumi claims to be the first huge step towards an overhaul of the country, which in turn is supposed to help solve all other problems. A quick glance at Koizumi's privatization scheme that the upper house rejected on Aug. 8, prompting Koizumi's challenge to his party and the public, is enough to put worried minds to rest. Legislation designed to be implemented 12 years hence, as the privatization bill is, does not constitute policy in any serious democracy.

Koizumi is the first Japanese Prime Minister who is also a TV celebrity. Helped by the wishful thinking of many in the media, he still comes across as a reformist politician even after four unproductive years. The term "reform" has resonated with the public since 1993, a period of political upheaval when it came to seem not only desirable but possible that fundamental change might actually happen. Koizumi has so far served the agenda of activist officials within the Ministry of Finance who want to constrain absurd excesses in infrastructure spending, and the postal project fits in with their designs as well. But the public has been seduced by his rhetoric into believing that he is, in fact, pursuing genuine reform.

The question now is whether the electorate will wake up in time to the fact that they actually do have a choice next Sunday. The 1993 political shifts gave rise to politicians who understand how they might gradually reform what urgently needs attention. Most of them have joined a party that has displaced the Japan Socialist Party, which had been a dismal failure with its mainly ritualistic opposition. The Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ) has grown into a more believable opposition party that can conceivably form a coalition to end the virtual monopoly the LDP has enjoyed for half a century. The coming election can either make or break the DPJ as a party of lasting significance. Its more eloquent politicians convey a relatively good grasp of Japan's real problems, as they speak of the looming pension crisis and, in a first for Japanese elections, the deteriorating relations with the country's neighbors.

They are up against grand theater. Japan's public political life is hardly ever concerned with the substance of relations and transactions among those who share power; it is made up of gestures, symbols, and scandals. Koizumi thrives in this environment. He has never been suspected of involvement in a scandal. He has projected sincerity in his daily press conferences, and seems to be steadfast, even though he has not found a way to steer a new political course. As his current challenge demonstrates, he is capable of creating quite a spectacle. He has shocked the public by destroying the (supposed) harmony within his party, leaving the impression that the great policy he must fulfill overrides even this fundamental Japanese social command. He has made the story about loyalty, about followers turning against their master. Adding to the drama are the so-called "assassins," handpicked candidates—10 of them female—to run against the breakaways. The only thing lacking is a dramatic love theme, but otherwise it could be grand opera. Koizumi loves opera and, as I discovered in several conversations with him before he became Prime Minister, he is thoroughly familiar with many opera plots. This may be his own finest production. By using harsh tactics against opponents in the LDP he causes the public to believe that he is fighting vested interests. Whereas in fact, and probably unintentionally, he will—if successful—prolong their grip on Japanese politics, allowing the nation's administrators to hang on once again to the status quo, while he chases the illusion of reform.

• Karel van Wolferen
• Koizumi's deft political stagecraft will do nothing to further real reform