Quotes of the Day

The military convoy arrives just as the sun is starting to set. Four vehicles rumble to a halt atop a partially destroyed bridge spanning the Euphrates River. As children swarm and grownups stare, one soldier cautiously surveys the crowd. Four others inspect the damaged bridge. Their commander strolls with a man from the Iraqi Ministry of Housing and chats about the repairs they will be making over the next few months. After ten minutes of discussion and handshakes all around, the soldiers remount their vehicles.

These soldiers in green fatigues have accomplished nothing of note here, but as soon as they pull away, a dozen cars and trucks filled with photographers, TV cameras and reporters chase after them in a dizzying, almost reckless, pursuit. As members of the Ground Self-Defense Force, the troops are part of Japan's first military dispatch to a genuine hot zone since World War II. Every move they make is historic—and a source of intense interest to the scores of journalists who trail their every move, every day.

Japan's small advance team is still acclimating to the heat, the bugs, the dust—and to the danger that hangs over them like a permanent haze. And now, the first wave of a combined air, sea and ground force that will grow to roughly 1,000 troops has begun deploying out of Komaki Air Base near Nagoya in central Japan. "Our mission is to support the development of water-purification projects and the reconstruction of schools and medical facilities," says Colonel Masahisa Sato, commander of the Samawah advance group. That might sound like a modest agenda. But for Japan, it is an epochal turn of events. Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi recently compared this mission to Japan's 19th century Meiji Restoration, when the country reopened its doors to the outside world after 300 years of isolation. "Are we going to be a peaceful country in solitude?" he asked in a radio speech. "Or are we going to build our country's peace by joining the international community?"

Japan is the 38th nation to respond positively to U.S. President George W. Bush's call to join a "coalition of the willing" to rebuild Iraq—following a war waged by just five countries (the U.S., Australia, Britain, Poland and Spain). Already, 443 Thai troops are stationed in the southern Iraqi city of Karbala. Some 700 South Korean engineers in Nasiriyah, further to the south, are soon to be joined by more than 3,000 compatriots, including 800 combat soldiers.

A 96-member contingent from the Philippines is training Iraqi police recruits in Hillah, 80 kilometers south of Baghdad. There is even a force of 130 Mongolian troops working guard duty on bases and strategic installations in Hillah and neighboring Babylon.

Asia's soldiers are not off to war, at least not technically. Each country has assiduously tried to avoid that inflammatory step by saying that their contingents are limited to humanitarian and relief efforts. But this is not exactly a carefree Mesopotamian amble. Since Bush's now infamous declaration on May 1 last year that major combat operations have ended, not only have 391 American soldiers died, but so have 24 British soldiers, 4 Bulgarians, 19 Italians, 2 Japanese diplomats, 2 Poles, 2 South Korean engineers, 10 Spaniards and 2 Thais, not to mention dozens in attacks on nonmilitary organizations such as the U.N. and the Red Cross.

And if the real rockets, bullets and bombs are not worrying enough, Iraq might prove to be a geopolitical minefield for each country putting boots on the ground. In recent years, Asian soldiers and civilian volunteers have been dispatched to several violence-wracked lands—Cambodia, East Timor, the Golan Heights, Haiti and Somalia—but they were part of U.N. peacekeeping missions. The soldiers wore distinct blue berets, the civilians rode in white jeeps emblazoned with the U.N. insignia, and their governments at home had the cover of a nonpolitical, international mission. In contrast, the rebuilding of Iraq—like the war proceeding it—is run by Washington. The Asian governments that cooperate will absorb the hatred of anyone who opposes the U.S. occupation, from angry Baathists in Iraqi cities to terrorist groups that target America and its allies. Oppositionists at home can accuse the governments of cravenly bowing to U.S. pressure. If reconstruction takes much longer than expected, it's not hard to imagine such cooperation straining ties between Asia and the U.S.—especially if lots of body bags start shipping east. Since the capture of Saddam Hussein the frequency of terrorist attacks may have tapered, but their destructiveness has increased, as the suicide bombing in Arbil that killed more than 100 people last week demonstrated. U.S. soldiers are being killed at a rate of one a day on average. Says Yi Sung Phil, a South Korean activist who has protested against sending troops to Iraq: "Many South Koreans died during the Vietnam War. Now, more South Korean soldiers look to lose their lives. Must we help America with every war it gets into?"

Public opinion on the operations in Iraq has been volatile in Asia, often changing with major news events. Protesters against troop dispatches have taken to the streets in Bangkok, Seoul and Tokyo. Not every citizen is opposed, of course, and sentiment is positive so far among the troops and their families. "I think the Philippine contingent is doing well," says Lydia Tulawie Ikbala, wife of Colonel Sukarno Ikbala, who is training Iraqi soldiers. "They are doing our country proud." Cho Kyu Kwon, the father of a South Korean private who volunteered for duty in Nasiriyah, says, "I never opposed his decision. My son is helping the Iraqis recover and alleviating their burden." Cho, a property developer, also notes that South Korean construction companies stand to gain mightily from rebuilding contracts in Iraq: "What he's doing is good for South Korea."

The calculus of helping the U.S. in Iraq was a complicated collision of political and economic interests, as the case of Thailand demonstrates. After 9/11, Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra was ambivalent about America's war on terror. Thais in general were sympathetic to the U.S., but they also believed that Washington had abandoned their country during the 1997 Asian economic crisis. Sympathy dried up when the U.S. said it was prepared to take unilateral action against Iraq. "Thaksin's thinking," says Panitan Wattanayagorn, a political-science professor at Bangkok's Chulalongkorn University, "was influenced by populist sentiment." For the Iraq war, Panitan says, Thaksin sought "silent partner" status, offering the U.S. behind-the-scenes logistical support for its soldiers, hoping this would meet Washington's expectations from a treaty ally. But in a dramatic about-face meeting with Bush in June, the Prime Minister promised full cooperation and pledged to send about 1,000 troops. Thailand, in return, has been rewarded with major non-NATO ally status, a new bilateral free-trade agreement treaty, and eligibility for participating in reconstruction projects in Iraq. Despite ongoing opposition at home, the first Thai troops shipped out last October. "The U.S. made it clear that if you are part of the coalition of the willing you will be rewarded," says Panitan. "If you are not, you will be punished. Thaksin is very pragmatic."

Nowhere are the stakes higher, or the issue more controversial, than in Japan, which is still mindful of the runaway militarism that led to its entry into World War II. Until recently, Japan's almost radical pacifism was a point of cultural pride.

The Iraq mission, the first time Japanese soldiers have been sent abroad without a U.N. sanction, carries tremendous political risk for Prime Minister Koizumi, and it is the most dramatic step yet in Japan's decade-long emergence from its pacifist shell. In the aftermath of World War II, Japan adopted a constitution that renounced not only "war as a sovereign right" but even the "potential" to wage war. But following the end of the cold war and the humiliation of being unable to send troops to the first Gulf War, the country started making tentative steps toward transforming its Self-Defense Forces (SDF) into a full-fledged military. Under Koizumi's watch, the SDF has begun planning to add a slew of new, high-tech weapons such as a missile-defense shield and an aircraft carrier specifically for helicopters. He has also repeatedly suggested that Japan's previously sacrosanct constitution should be amended to modify its antiwar and antimilitary provisions. In the past, such a suggestion would have caused a national scandal. But today, more than 80% of respondents in one poll taken last December agreed that the constitution should be changed.

Critics say Koizumi isn't exerting greater international responsibility: he's just kowtowing to America. "The SDF deployment to Iraq wouldn't be a problem if it really were for humanitarian reasons," says Yasuo Ichikawa, an opposition member of Japan's parliament. "But it is first and foremost a show of support to the U.S. The U.S. invaded Iraq without a U.N. resolution, and Japan is now aiding in that act." Others assert that such initiatives can only culminate in a debilitating arms race sure to include both Koreas, mainland China and Taiwan. And many claim the mission is a flagrant violation of Japan's constitution. Opposition leader Naoto Kan has repeatedly charged that it's impossible to discern what is and is not a combat zone in today's Iraq, and has called for Koizumi to resign. There is no chance of that happening, but with parliamentary elections coming up in July and Koizumi's coalition government maintaining only a slim majority, the Prime Minister's political fortunes look tied more than ever to success in Iraq.

Even in the snowy, northern city of Asahikawa, home to the unit contributing the majority of the soldiers that are headed to Iraq, residents are circumspect about the mission. Atusko Kubo, a 51-year-old city councilwoman who also runs a yakitori shop, is spearheading an effort to modify the town's well-publicized yellow-ribbon campaign. Adopting the American symbol of troop support, the city's leaders and the chamber of commerce have encouraged shops and banks in the town to display the talisman. But to Kubo, the gesture has been hijacked by conservatives to support the mission, not the soldiers themselves. "It is naive, this attempt to depoliticize a political issue," she says. Instead, she is attempting to popularize a white and yellow ribbon combination. Its message: support the troops, oppose the war.

Public approval of the Koizumi administration has spiked to 53%—up 7% in the last month—as early pictures of Japanese soldiers surrounded by smiling Iraqi children began streaming out of Samawah. But that goodwill could evaporate instantly with one spectacular attack against them. And keeping Japanese troops free from harm might be a tall order. Though Samawah is not an area of heavy Iraqi resistance, terrorists have already shown a willingness to target not only military forces but also relief organizations such as the U.N. and the Red Cross. "If there is one thread of consistency you can tease out of the insurgents' actions," says Japan watcher Karel van Wolferen, a Dutch author, "it's that soft humanitarian targets are just as good as more traditional military ones."

Thailand's experience in Iraq offers an unsettling, cautionary tale. Arriving at Camp Lima outside Karbala on Oct. 28, the Thai contingent quickly grew to more than 400, including engineers, military medics and soldiers. While Polish and U.S. troops handled combat operations in the area, the Thais provided humanitarian and support functions only, believing their low profile and humble bearing would buy them an added measure of safety. Just two months after their arrival, however, a car rammed one of their base's gates and detonated, killing sentries Master Sergeant Amporn Chulerd and Master Sergeant Mitr Klaharn. The soldiers' deaths, the first Thai combat fatalities on foreign soil since the Vietnam War, had an immediate and polarizing effect on the Thai public. The day after the attack, 57% of people in one poll in Thailand thought the government should bring the rest of the troops home.

Koizumi insists that Japan will remain in Iraq even in the face of lethal attacks or eroding public opinion because the time has finally come for the country to expand its role abroad. Other Asian leaders have voiced similar resolve. Whether they manage to complete their missions in Iraq with minimum casualties and a robust relationship with the U.S. and the rest of the world might depend on plain old grunts' luck. But by putting their troops on the ground in the first place, each country has taken a step into unknown territory.

• Jim Frederick | Tokyo
• Despite noisy opposition at home and plenty of peril on the ground, Asia is deploying soldiers and civilians to help rebuild Iraq. Is it worth the risks to clean up America's mess?