The Powers That Be

By James Kelly

Even by the standards of a country where political campaigns are not so much seen as heard, electioneering reaches a raucous pitch.

From 7 a.m. to 8 p.m., loudspeakers mounted atop cars and trucks blare out the names of candidates. Men armed with bullhorns bellow party names on street corners, while the shouts of supporters assault the ears of those passing by. Japanese politicians have little choice but to woo votes with decibels: not only are television and newspaper ads forbiddingly expensive, but candidates are prohibited from making their pitches door to door. So deafening was the din during last June's campaign for seats to the Upper House that a Yokohama group called the Association of Sufferers from Noise urged citizens (quietly, of course) not to vote for those indulging in renko, the repeated chanting of political slogans and names.

The noise is only one of the features that make Japanese politics different. Distinctions can be found in matters large and small. Few Japanese join the country's political parties, while candidates often wear white gloves to show that their hands are clean of corruption. Although the country has trappings familiar to any Western democracy--a constitution, a parliament, a Cabinet and a Prime Minister--Japan's political practices are definitely homegrown.

When Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone was elected last November, the real race was not for votes from the 3.6 million members of the ruling Liberal Democratic Party, but for the favor of the five men who run the five major political machines within the party. Each machine has its own leader, its own views and its own funds. Feuding is chronic. Nakasone won only after he had got the nod from former Prime Minister Kakuei Tanaka, who remains the party's mightiest power-broker even though he is now on trial for accepting $2 million in bribes (see box).

To stay in office, Nakasone must constantly juggle the demands of the rival

LDP groups. He chose his Cabinet so as to give proper balance to members of the various factions; with seven of the 21 ministries, Tanaka's men won the lion's share. Although he is more outspoken than his predecessors, Nakasone avoids making decisions unilaterally. Like a chairman of the board, he must operate by consensus.

Nakasone's views on the major issues reflect the fact that the LDP, in spite of its name, is basically a conservative, free-enterprise party. He has called for strengthening Japanese defense forces as well as his country's ties to the U.S. and the West. He favors cutting income taxes, trimming the government bureaucracy, and paring the nation's swelling budget deficit, now $57 billion. The Prime Minister wants to transfer control of many state-owned companies to private hands. (At the top of his list: the Japanese National Railways.) On the controversial topic of educational reform, he proposes to end the system of rote learning and allow students greater flexibility in choosing colleges.

With 421 of the 763 seats in the Diet, the Liberal Democrats are the country's most powerful party. The Socialists lead the opposition with 144 seats. Always prepared to challenge anything put forward by the LDP, the Socialists believe Japan should pursue unarmed neutrality and boost corporate income taxes. The Socialists receive strong support from labor unions, although recent squabbles over Marxist philosophy have alienated blue-collar constituents. Other major parties include the Komeito, or Clean Government

Party, the middle-of-the-road political arm of a lay Buddhist group, and the smaller, centrist Democratic Socialists. The well-organized Communists, who hold 43 seats, favor more spending on social programs and fewer funds for defense, but they can be surprisingly pragmatic. They work closely with small merchants, for example, to help them save money on their taxes.

During the past two years, tiny splinter groups devoted to single issues have proliferated. The most popular causes are tax reduction and better social services, but some of the "boutique" parties, as Nakasone derisively calls them, focus on such questions as homosexual rights and the saving of souls. In last June's election, the Salaried Workers Party, the Tax Party and the Welfare Party picked up a few seats.

Still, no party has come close to loosening the grip of the LDP, which has ruled Japan since 1955. The party has been successful in part because the opposition, especially the Socialists, is disorganized. The LDP has profited from the country's glittering economic record of the past 30 years; if the nation is prospering, goes the popular thinking, why change?

The LDP's success may be linked to the excessive role that money plays in Japanese politics. A leading candidate in a hotly contested race spends upwards of $1.5 million. The LDP relies for the most part on donations from businesses, a practice that can encourage corruption.

Once elected, moreover, a Diet member may have to spend as much as $30,000 a month to keep his supporters happy. This money is used to pay for such activities as cultural shows and buying gifts on special occasions. Since Diet members earn $95,900, they must find their funds elsewhere. Thus some politicians may resort to kinken, or money power, in which political favors are performed in exchange for cash. Nakasone himself has not been free of suspicion: in 1972 a Japanese magazine accused him of accepting a $2.8 million bribe from Tanaka in return for supporting Tanaka's election as Prime Minister. Nakasone vowed to sue, and the charge, which received little attention when it was revived during last year's campaign, has never been substantiated.

According to the constitution, the Diet is the most powerful arm of the government, but it does not always exercise its powers. Murmurs of dissent from the opposition can produce a deadlock that lasts for weeks, while attempts to pass a bill before agreement is reached can lead to brawls and boycotts. Laws that are passed are often worded ambiguously. Members, meanwhile, find themselves devoting much of their time to constituents' requests, no matter how outlandish. A hog-farm operator, for example, kept after his representative for months to find him a hotel that would deliver him its leftover food, gratis, for his swine. The politician finally delivered and thus earned the unshakable support of the breeder.

Indeed, the real political power in Japan resides with the country's bureaucracy. Career civil servants not only write most of the legislation but then decide how to administer the laws. Bureaucrats, as a result, occupy a position of high prestige. They work closely with the country's business leaders and politicians, and deserve much of the credit for Japan's economic success. As Tanaka once said, 80% of a Prime Minister's job consists of getting the civil service to do what he wants.

Perhaps the most singular element of any country's political character is how the people view the system. In Japan, many seem to feel that politics is a dirty game and that the most effective practitioners may not be the most honest. There is the feeling that a successful politician should be like a creature, as the Japanese saying goes, "capable of drinking both pure and muddy water at the same time."

Such sentiments may help explain why so many Japanese seem to shun the hurly-burly of party politics. Ask a citizen of Japan about his political affiliation, and he is much more likely to say he is a conservative or a liberal, not a Liberal Democrat or a Socialist. If politics is the very heart of a country like the U.S., it is more like an artificial implant in Japan: perfectly capable of functioning, but not really the flesh and blood of the national character. No wonder the politicians must shout so much to be heard. --By James Kelly. Reported by S. Chang/Tokyo

With reporting by S. Chang This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.