Quotes of the Day

In dealing with the delicate issue of Taiwan, most governments follow the American model. They vow at regular intervals that they recognize only One China—the People's Republic—but then send diplomatic personnel to Taipei (under commercial cover), trade with the Un-China, and maintain discreet official contact. The much heavier burden of maintaining peace in the Taiwan Strait—making sure China doesn't try to take Taiwan by force, or Taipei doesn't provoke Beijing into trying—is shouldered by Washington alone.

Now Japan is lending the U.S. support on that potential battle line. Two weeks ago, Washington and Tokyo issued a joint communiqué that specifically cites peace in the Taiwan Strait as a common objective of the two allies. That came just weeks before China's National People's Congress is expected to enact an anti-secession law that may require the mainland to declare war if Taiwan declares independence, and days before U.S. President George W. Bush went to Europe and tried to dissuade the E.U. from lifting its 16-year embargo on selling arms to China—arms that would be most useful for invading Taiwan. As a result, the cross-strait chessboard has become more like a game of go: more subtle and unpredictable. "I do think it was a surprise," says Kenneth Lieberthal, a visiting fellow at the Brookings Institution in Washington and former senior director for Asia at the National Security Council. "If you had asked before, most specialists would have said, 'the Japanese don't do that.'"

That they did is a reflection of Japan's eagerness to reassert itself as an Asian power, its concern about the rise of China, and its traditional ties with Taiwan. The Japanese describe their country's relationship with China as seirei keinetsu—"politically cold, economically hot." Bilateral trade reached $56.8 billion last year, the highest since 2000, but Tokyo is alarmed at China's growing military might. (In its most recent national defense outline, Japan said "attention must be paid" to China's increasing military capabilities.) The joint declaration with the U.S. over Taiwan, says Terumasa Nakanishi, professor of international politics at Kyoto University, "is a warning to Beijing ... that military action toward Taiwan is the one line China cannot cross. Japan cannot back down." Beijing's reaction to the communiqué was appropriately icy: it considers Taiwan a renegade province and reunification (at some future time) is carved-in-marble national policy. Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesman Kong Quan warned that "any irresponsible remarks on China's efforts to enhance national defense aimed at safeguarding its national security and territorial integrity are untenable."

Japan's new stance won't alter the fundamentals of the nearly 60-year cross-strait standoff, and isn't likely to nix what appears to be a minor thaw between Beijing and Taipei. The recent Lunar New Year holiday saw the first nonstop commercial flights between the mainland and Taiwan, and last week Taiwan President Chen Shui-bian made a pact with James Soong, a rival politician who wants better ties with China, not to declare independence, change Taiwan's formal name from the Republic of China, or rule out eventual unification with China.

Tokyo's joint communiqué with Washington, however, puts Japan and Taiwan in a unique, post-colonial bear hug. Japan wrested the island from the Qing dynasty in 1895 and colonized it for 50 years before surrendering it to Chiang Kai-shek's army in 1945. Now the former colonial master is effectively promising to watch-guard its former subjects and their tense relationship with mainland China. If Taiwanese were skeptical or ambivalent, they didn't express it. "The joint declaration is a check on China," says Lai Hsin-yuan, a former adviser to Taiwan's National Security Council. Says Koh Se-kai, Taiwan's de facto ambassador in Tokyo: "We are very happy."

The U.S.-written constitution for post-World War II Japan prohibits the country from going to war. For decades, that curb on Japanese militarism was much appreciated by Asian nations colonized or brutally occupied by Japan (China, Korea and Taiwan) during the war. But since the Gulf War of 1991, when Japan felt humiliated by its inability to contribute anything but a large check, the country has reappraised its constitutional pacifism. Starting in 1994, it started sending small military missions to troubled countries such as Cambodia and East Timor. New laws were passed to allow the missions, and the troops never fought: they built roads, water purification systems, and medical clinics. Last year, Tokyo sent 600 troops to Iraq to support Bush's Coalition of the Willing, although they are based in relatively placid Samawah and are protected by Australian and Dutch contingents. In Japan, this is referred to as a process of becoming a "normal" country—one that isn't just focused on manufacturing and corporate profits, or utterly dependent for its safety and diplomacy on its big brother, the U.S.

This process has picked up steam under Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi. "Koizumi and Bush see each other, talk to each other, and like each other," notes Jack Pritchard, also a visiting fellow at the Brookings Institution. "That has made all the difference in the world in terms of how the Japanese perceive their relationship with the U.S." Washington wants Japan to take a bigger role globally. "In the words of key members of the administration, Japan ought to become the England of Asia," says Lieberthal, "a security partner who will act with the U.S., not simply a piece of real estate that the U.S. defends and the U.S. uses as a forward base."

At the same time, diplomatic relations between China and Japan have been tense. Beijing carps about Koizumi's visits to Tokyo's Yasukuni Shrine, which honors some Japanese war criminals, and the two governments squabble over disputed territories such as the Diaoyu Islands (known in Japan as the Senkaku Islands). The Japanese public is also suspicious of Beijing's economic and diplomatic support of North Korea, which has a history of kidnapping Japanese citizens. A government survey released last December showed that 58% of the Japanese polled said they "do not have friendly feelings toward" China.

But they like Taiwan: Japan accounts for the largest number of tourists visiting the island, and Japanese corporations are the biggest foreign investors there after the U.S. Taiwan likes Japan, too: although the 50 years of Japanese rule were sometimes harsh, Tokyo developed the island, educated its people, and helped give Taiwanese an identity different from their mainland cousins. "The Japanese brought security, peace, and law and order," says Joe Hung, a retired journalist and diplomat who has written a history of Taiwan. "And that started Taiwan's modernization."

The bond remains tight. Lee Teng-hui, the first native Taiwanese to become president, speaks far better Japanese than he does Mandarin, and has frequently been criticized by political adversaries for "thinking like a Japanese." A few weeks ago, over Beijing's vociferous objections, Japan allowed Lee a private visit to Kyoto, Nagoya and Kanazawa; likewise, President Chen's wife, Wu Shu-jen, may be granted a tourist visa to visit Japan. It's inconceivable that Koizumi and Chen could meet or even officially communicate: Tokyo doesn't recognize Taiwan's existence as a nation. But at least it no longer ignores the potential threat to Asia's stability posed by the state of the strait.

• Anthony Spaeth
• They never meet, but a de facto alliance has formed between the leaders of Japan and Taiwan