From the Fatherland, with Love, page 24
Visually, it was difficult to distinguish between Japanese and North Koreans, and the people occupying Fukuoka Dome could also speak Japanese. Dressed in civilian clothes, it wouldn’t be at all difficult for them to carry concealed weapons on a plane or bullet train, or even drive to Tokyo. They could also get a ferry to Osaka or Shikoku and continue by train from there. Japanese airports didn’t have the infrared or magnetic machines used in the US for searching hand luggage. The terrorists could even send their weapons by courier and travel unarmed—it would be impossible to search all the courier services operating there. Bullet-train passengers were not subject to any security check. Japanese people were not in the habit of carrying around their passports or other ID, so checking their identity on domestic flights and at train stations would be an enormous undertaking. Even if they issued an order for everyone to carry some kind of ID, the terrorists might already have arrived in Tokyo. The light transport planes had arrived just after 9:00 p.m., but there was no telling how long the advance team had been in the country. Even if they had landed at Hakata Airport just that morning, some of them could have flown straight on to Tokyo. It was a nightmare scenario.
“Shouldn’t we be considering the option of attacking North Korea?” inquired Umezu. Seven years ago Umezu and his cronies from the right-wing faction of the old LDP had managed to get a bill passed revising part of the foreign-exchange law, prohibiting the transfer of funds to North Korea. It had taken effect from April the following year, but ultimately there were any number of third countries through which funds could be transferred, so it wasn’t much use as a bargaining chip. “What exactly do you mean, attacking North Korea?” demanded Shigemitsu, again unable to hide his irritation. Umezu loosened his necktie and then thumped both hands down on the table. “What I’m trying to say is that while all this is going on, there’s a rogue state there quietly watching. Behind this rebel army faction, or whatever the hell it is, it’s got to be the little Generalissimo himself pulling the strings. That’s why we mustn’t take the option of attacking them off the table. At the very least, the threat of attack would give us leverage.”
Sitting next to Umezu, Matsuoka Kusuko nodded dutifully at everything he said. She had made a name for herself when, as CEO of the Japan branch of a foreign-owned telecommunications group big in Europe, she had tried to buy out NTT Data Corporation. She wasn’t so much a telecommunications expert as a hard-nosed Western-style businesswoman who, prior to being invited by Kido and Shigemitsu to join the Cabinet, had overseen the buyout of around twenty corporations with the backing of an American investment bank. She had a round, full-moon face, and wore a short red dress cut low in the back. At fifty-four, she was the epitome of an aggressive Thatcher type.
“Well, Article 9 of the Constitution is still in force, you know,” Shigemitsu pointed out. “Good grief, are you still banging on about that?” Umezu shot back, shaking his head, then continued in a quieter voice: “Look, there’s basically no difference between self-defense and attack. The vital issue is whether circumstances force a country to it or whether they just see an opportunity. I say assemble the Maritime SDF in the Japan Sea and give the Generalissimo a bloody nose. Let’s drive it home to them that there’s nothing to be gained by winding Japan up. That’s a more realistic solution, wouldn’t you agree, Ohashi?” Foreign Minister Ohashi said, “The Korean Central News Agency has already stated that North Korea considers these soldiers to be a rebel faction and has offered to dispatch a force to deal with them. But we’ve informed North Korea via diplomatic channels that they should keep out of it. The last thing we want is the ridiculous situation of a North Korean civil war starting on our territory.” Ohashi had started his political career in the Asian and Oceanian Affairs Bureau, but having also worked at the consulate in New York and frequently visited Beijing in his diplomatic capacity, he had strong connections in both America and China. With relations with these two big powers worsening over recent years, Kido and Shigemitsu had contrived to get Ohashi, still in his early fifties, appointed as Foreign Minister. He hadn’t had any striking successes in that position, however.
“What’s more, I doubt whether America and China would welcome any retaliation on our part,” Ohashi added. Umezu turned red in the face. “What the hell has it got to do with America and China?” he bellowed, leaning forward. “We don’t owe them anything! Can’t we do anything without worrying about their reaction? And all those American troops here in Japan, why aren’t they doing anything? The whole point of the Security Treaty was in case something like this happened, wasn’t it? So what has America got to say for itself? I heard that we couldn’t even contact them!” The Prime Minister raised both hands. “Calm down, Umezu. This is a matter of the utmost importance, so let’s keep our wits about us.” Umezu nodded, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Pathetic, thought Yamagiwa. He could understand how Umezu felt, but the man had just gone and contradicted himself, lamenting the need to consider America and China’s reaction, while objecting to the lack of action by US troops based in Japan.
It had been under Umezu’s leadership all those years ago that the fundamentally anti-US right-wing faction of the old LDP had sent SDF troops to Iraq to demonstrate their allegiance to the Bush administration. Japan could not afford to offend the US, still a great power, and needed its support in order to stand up to its neighbors. But in just a few years circumstances had changed. With the dollar’s collapse, the US had been toppled from its position of supremacy. There was even a theory that it had deliberately ceded the number-one spot; once a leader was weakened, it cost too much to maintain preeminence. Of course the US was still militarily strong, but the euro was on the rise as settlement currency, especially for oil. And then the US had announced its appeasement policy toward North Korea without even consulting Japan. America didn’t give a damn about North Korea, of course, but it did take relations with China seriously. America was like a philandering big shot, with Japan the kept woman unceremoniously dumped when the money ran out. Being kept by a big shot wasn’t necessarily bad or unreasonable. As long as the woman had chosen to stand by the man for her own reasons, she shouldn’t have any real regrets even when dumped. If she’d stayed with him out of some romantic notion of wanting to make him happy, however, she would end up hating him.
The right-wing faction of the old LDP and indeed the majority of Japanese people considered the US disloyal and resented them for it. They were equally unhappy about the US-North Korean détente. Umezu wasn’t a hardline militarist, but he was a classic example of a Japanese man whose pride had been wounded by America. To condemn politicians like Umezu as foolish was perhaps overdoing it. From now on Japan was bound to take an increasingly hard line in diplomacy. If public opinion tended to the hard line, then diplomats seeking to compromise would be seen as letting the country down, making negotiations more difficult. There were already moves to revise the Constitution, and politicians were increasingly vocal about changing Article 9 to allow for a large-scale military build-up, including nuclear capability. Yet this would obviously attract hostility in East Asia and lead to Japan’s further isolation in the region. If Japan broke away from the US, isolated itself in East Asia, and antagonized China, how could it keep body and soul together? This was the quandary, as Yamagiwa saw it.
“There’s nothing else for it,” said Kido gloomily. “We’ll have to blockade Fukuoka.”
A groan came from several of the ministers and bureau chiefs. Umezu pressed his lips into a thin line, folded his arms, and stared up at the ceiling. Matsuoka’s shoulders slumped as she looked down at the documents in front of her, while Oikawa removed his glasses and started polishing the lenses. Moriyama Kazue smoothed out the creases in her skirt, and Nagano massaged his temples. It was hard to tell whether Ohashi was nodding or shaking his head. Takahashi fiddled with the strap on his cellphone, and Atoda alternately removed and replaced the cap of his silver fountain pen. Minami took out his handkerchief, perhaps to wipe the beads of sweat on his forehead, but he just stared at it for a few moments and then put it back in his pocket. Everyone fidgeted aimlessly, and sighed sporadically—even the aides in the chairs along the wall. So it’s come to this, thought Yamagiwa, feeling the energy drain from his body. The PM looked vacant, his eyes glazed. Of course, he was from Oita, Yamagiwa remembered. How many other people in the room were from Kyushu? Shigemitsu covered his face with both hands. It felt as though the room itself was heaving a mournful sigh. “Hasn’t the Transport Minister arrived yet?” Shigemitsu asked a staffer, who looked at his watch and said, “He’s due to arrive in a few minutes.”
Shigemitsu began making a list of all the ministries and agencies, and their respective bureau chiefs and section heads, that would have to be involved in implementing the blockade. Oikawa asked whether it should apply to Fukuoka alone, but Kido responded that in practice it would have to include the whole of Kyushu. There was no point sealing off only Fukuoka Airport when it would be just as easy to drive to Saga or Nagasaki and catch a plane from there. A staffer brought in a large map of western Japan and mounted it on a display panel. Nagano asked which law would give them the grounds to set up a blockade, and Shigemitsu responded that the Emergency Acts would cover it, adding that this legislation also enabled them to dispense with the approval of the Diet. Kido called Shimada and Oikawa over to where he was seated, no doubt to discuss a possible role for the SDF in this. There was practically no precedent for the SDF and police to work together, but the North Koreans were so heavily armed the police alone would probably not be able to cope, and the understanding and cooperation of both would be vital.
After a short consultation, it was agreed that the SDF would take charge of sealing off the airports, stations, ports, bus terminals, and roads in Kyushu, while the police would set up checkpoints on the mainland. This would be the first public security deployment of the SDF since their establishment in the post-war period. It was decided that engagement with the terrorists would be avoided as far as possible. This didn’t mean that the SDF would retreat if attacked, only that they would not be the ones to initiate contact. If the terrorists resisted and it was impossible to avoid a confrontation, then the appropriate response would be left to the judgment of the commanding officer on the ground. “What about international flights to and from airports in Kyushu?” asked Ohashi. “We’ll have to suspend them,” Kido said. Motoki of the Asian and Oceanian Affairs Bureau and Imaizumi of the Trade Policy Bureau started speed-dialing their counterparts in China, Taiwan, South Korea, and the United States.
On arrival, Doihara, the Minister for Land, Infrastructure and Transport, was left speechless by the news of the blockade of Kyushu. He hadn’t yet been informed that the terrorists were headed for Tokyo, and had not summoned the chiefs of the respective bureaus for road, rail, and civil aviation. There wasn’t time now, he said, so they would just have to contact each individual airport, station, and port, and each airline, railway, and ferry operator to order the suspension of all services. He also summoned all his ministry’s section heads on standby to the crisis-management room. Minami, the Minister for Health, Labor, and Welfare, asked Shigemitsu what the duration of the blockade was likely to be. Shigemitsu, who was in the middle of phoning around Kyushu’s prefectural governors, said, “How the hell should I know?”
Minami was clearly miffed. “You realize what you’re doing, don’t you?” he said. He had originally worked for a labor union and had been prominent in the former Democratic Party, but being a realist familiar with economics he had announced that the age of labor unions was over and had promptly become a neoconservative, retaining his political base with the support of the Japan Federation of Economic Organizations. He was initially branded a traitor by his allies, but later gained points for crossing swords with the medical association and succeeding in semi-privatizing the hospitals. Shigemitsu interrupted a conversation with the mayor of Fukuoka, putting his hand over the mouthpiece to respond to Minami. “And just what do you mean by that?” he said.
“The blockade won’t only stop all traffic out but all traffic entering Kyushu as well, is that correct?” Minami asked. “Naturally,” said Shigemitsu. Kido, Umezu, and other ministers were listening intently to this exchange. “I suppose you do realize that you are also preventing the delivery of goods?” Minami’s voice was low and carried well, and at over 1.8 meters tall, he was an imposing figure. Many said it was his smooth, authoritative presence that had won out against the medical association. Even the aides in the chairs by the wall were now hanging on every word. “Medical supplies will soon run out, you know,” he continued. Shigemitsu’s eyes glazed over as he sat with the phone receiver still in his left hand. “Hospital supplies of dialysis fluid and blood, especially for operations, are particularly vulnerable. And that’s not all. If the blockade drags on, food and fuel will run low. I can’t give any details without consulting the people on the ground, but distribution systems have changed, you know, regardless of whether you’re dealing with things like medical supplies, food, fuel, and raw materials. Especially in retailing, the trend has been toward drastically reducing stock, so any disruption to transportation routes will have considerable repercussions.” Looking grim, Minami dabbed at the sweat on his face as he spoke. Shigemitsu thanked him, then told the mayor of Fukuoka at the other end of the line to check up on hospital supplies, warning him also to watch out for stockpiling and unscrupulous traders withholding goods. “No, I’m afraid I don’t know,” he repeated a number of times. The mayor was probably asking him how long the blockade was to continue.
The atmosphere around the table was even gloomier after Minami’s warning. Minister of State for Defense Shimada and Shinomiya, chief of staff for the Ground SDF, were on the phone to the GSDF Western Army and the GSDF 4th Division HQ, consulting the map as they discussed the blockade points and allocation of men. Doihara proposed closing the Kanmon undersea tunnel connecting Kyushu to the mainland, and the PM agreed to the immediate deployment of the 40th Infantry Regiment, based at Kokura, to the tunnel entrance at Moji. The other end of the tunnel, at Shimonoseki on the mainland, was to be closed by the Yamaguchi prefectural police. Oikawa of the Police Agency wondered whether it was wise to station troops at transport hubs within Fukuoka City, such as Hakata Station, Nishitetsu–Fukuoka Station, and Hakata Port, and on the city’s thoroughfares. Their presence in the area around the terrorists’ main camp might unnecessarily raise tensions and even provoke a clash. After consulting the head of the Defense Agency, Shigemitsu decided to put the police in charge of blockading Hakata Station and other locations in the city, although the SDF were to go to their aid if they came under attack. Oikawa agreed that the SDF should take care of Fukuoka Airport, an obviously important hub.
Kido meanwhile was discussing the details of an emergency press conference with an aide. Blockading Fukuoka was such an extraordinary measure that the Prime Minister would have to appear on TV and explain it in person to prevent panic. Yamagiwa wondered what on earth he intended to say. Apart from anything else, did it really make sense to seal off Kyushu when the terrorists were already headed for Tokyo? The measure was being taken under the legal framework of the Emergency Acts, yet in this case it wasn’t to safeguard the entire nation; if anything, it was to protect important places and people in Tokyo. What would the people of Fukuoka and Kyushu think about being cut off from the nation under a law that was originally designed to protect them?
All the room’s occupants were now clutching phones and issuing instructions, focused on getting the blockade in place. “I know it’s impossible to seal all the roads off,” someone yelled. Foreign Ministry personnel from the minister down were busy explaining the suspension of all flights in and out of Kyushu to the air travel authorities in the US, China, South Korea, and Taiwan. The American response to the suspension of flights from Hawaii was apparently rather curt. Meanwhile, telegrams expressing both regret and encouragement were coming in from the US President and Secretary of State, and from top officials in China and South Korea. All said more or less the same thing: they expressed shock at this deplorable act and offered to help in whatever way they could; they pleaded for calm in any response to North Korea, given that this was a rebel faction; and they hoped for a quick resolution and for the safety of Japanese citizens. Yamagiwa wondered doubtfully why the US President hadn’t called in person. And why wasn’t the US ambassador present, or any representative of the US forces in Japan? Was the Foreign Ministry even consulting with the Chinese and Korean ambassadors?
Yamagiwa remained in the seat farthest from the Prime Minister and was ignored throughout. He alone had nothing to do amidst the whirling chaos of loud voices, endlessly ringing phones, and staffers running around. In all of his long years at the Bank of Japan or even as a politician he had never felt so humiliated. But he had discovered something unexpected. As a non-participant, he could clearly see how bizarre this typically Japanese decision-making process actually was. All the ministers, bureau chiefs, and their respective underlings were entirely focused on the blockade of Fukuoka. There was no denying that stopping all traffic in and out of Kyushu was an enormous undertaking, but in the meantime the basic approach to dealing with the terrorist incident hadn’t been decided—it hadn’t even been discussed. In other words, no overarching priorities had been established. The highest priority should probably be to disarm the terrorists, in which case shouldn’t Kido, as Prime Minister, be laying the groundwork for negotiations to that end?
