Japan's government come and go ...

On Aug. 8 The Jakarta Post editorialized that Japan is "still trying hard to conceal from its own people numerous atrocities committed by its troops throughout Asia". With almost unbelievably bad timing, very late that same day, the newly- appointed Japanese Minister of Education provided additional proof. Asia correspondent Harvey Stockwin reports on the incident and the cabinet reshuffle which preceded it.

HONG KONG (JP): Annual Cabinet reshuffles are a tradition in Japanese politics, even at the height of the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) 1955-1993 hegemony over the Japanese political scene, when one team could easily have held sway for much longer, had it wanted to do so.

These annual rituals are an excellent example of the distinction which the Japanese like to make between the tatemae (outward show) and the honne (inner substance).

The tatemae was that the Prime Minister of the day advertised the reshuffle in terms of renewed focus on a certain policy, the need for greater cohesion in the face of crisis, the desirability of diminishing intra-LDP faction fighting, or the necessity of improving the government team in the face of electoral losses. Prime Ministers themselves were regularly replaced, as a result of the faction-fighting, so that meant yet another cabinet reshuffle, too.

Of course, these explanations were not mere excuses, and had varying degrees of validity. However, the fact that very little, if anything, changed as a result of the regular reshuffles indicated that the honne lay elsewhere -- in the paramount need to provide jobs for the party faithful.

Essentially, LDP backbenchers with sufficient seniority had to be rewarded for their loyalty to their respective factions. Whether a particular person had talents suitable for appointment to a certain ministry was besides the point. Cabinets were not built to last. That is why Japan has had more cabinets than even high-scoring Italy, since World War II.

In other words, Japanese Prime Ministers seldom, if ever, set about a reshuffle with a determination to produce a talented cabinet, capable of meeting the challenge of the day. In most ministries, it was assumed that bureaucrats were firmly in command, and that few, if any, appointees would take real charge of their portfolio.

So, reshuffles often became prolonged bargaining sessions between the factions on the basis of "jobs for the boys". The stronger Prime Ministers aimed at an acceptable balance of power, and did their own balancing. The weaker Premiers simply appointed those recommended by the factional bosses.

Most of these tendencies have been present in the recent reshuffle conducted by current Prime Minister Tomiichi Murayama. Often they have been so exaggerated as to provide almost a caricature of the tradition.

Thus, Murayama duly produced his tatemae. The reshuffle was necessary, he said, in order to continue administrative and economic reforms, and to secure Japan's economic recovery. "I have to consider a fresh cabinet, to respond to all these things," he added. The trouble was that he said this almost at the end of two weeks of devious maneuvering, which preceded the Aug. 8 announcement of the new government line-up for the ruling coalition between the Socialists, the LDP and Shinto Sakigake (New Pioneer Party).

Sheer opportunism had brought the three parties together thirteen months ago, and expediency finally held them together again, in the wake of the recent House of Councilors election in mid-July.

The Japan Times provided the best honne for the whole exercise. Dubbing the reshuffle "Mr Murayama's midsummer farce", the paper editorialized that "the change best illustrates the current political mess in Japan".

Faced with the coalition's perceived poor performance in the election -- it won 64 seats at the polls instead of an anticipated 75 -- initially the reshuffle was reluctantly agreed to by the coalition, to head off a barrage of criticism. Ironically, now that the reshuffle has been completed, another such barrage is being fired by the nation's media because of the cynical way in which the reshuffle was handled.

Once the need for a reshuffle was reluctantly conceded, Murayama felt that he should stand down as Prime Minister, and that LDP president, and foreign minister, Yohei Kono should take his place. Such a move would have had the virtue of placing the premiership where the real power of the coalition lies.

But it would also have meant the break-up of the coalition. Sakigake, made up of former LDP members, would not serve under the leadership of the party from which they had rebelled. Conversely, the Sakigake leader, Finance Minister Masayoshi Takemura, could not replace Murayama either, the LDP would not serve under a former rebel. So, Murayama stayed on as Prime Minister by default.

Takemura then made it known that he, too, should leave the Finance Ministry, to take responsibility for the poor Sakigake performance in the election. Takemura ostensibly wanted to devote time to rejuvenating Sakigake before electoral defeat eliminates it as a political force altogether.

Then it was Kono's turn to insist that he should depart from the onerous duties of being the Foreign Minister, while retaining the title of Deputy Prime Minister.

Minister of International Trade and Industry Ryutaro Hashimoto would have none of it. He insisted that, if Kono left the Gaimusho, he would depart from MITI.

Kono placed his desire to go in the tatemae context of "not (being) for personal, selfish reasons."

But the real (selfish) reason for these gambits was soon obvious to all. Kono's two-year term as LDP President is almost finished. The next LDP presidential election is on Sept. 22. Worrying about the time-consuming problems of foreign policy is hardly the way to go, with that date and contest looming. Hashimoto, who aspires to replace Kono, was not about to conceded plenty of time for campaigning to his rival.

Kono insisted that Murayama retain Hashimoto in the burdensome post of keeping Japan's restive trade partners in line. Hashimoto insisted that if Kono took time off from affairs of state, so would he.

Eventually, after much to-ing and fro-ing along these lines, Murayama's reshuffle predictably resulted in no change at the top.

Critics pounced on the fact that the prime, finance, trade and foreign ministers all retained their posts, even though, at various times, they had all said that they did not want to retain them.

The consolation for Murayama was that his Socialist Party retained five other ministries, so five of the most senior party members were appointed, no doubt on the principle that they had waited the longest.

But the Socialists, despite the fact that Murayama remains prime minister, still lost control of the crucial construction ministry. This post went to former LDP secretary-general, Yoshiro Mori, who is thought to be an ally of Kono.

Traditionally, the construction firms, which are naturally beholden to the ministry, have donated large sums to the LDP's factional and party coffers. Mori's services will no doubt be invaluable, prior to the Sept. 22 contest, and the next general election.

Kono, seemingly, won another tactical advantage as he appointed Hiroshi Mitsuzuka to take Mori's place as LDP secretary-general. When the LDP formally dissolved all party factions last January, Mitsuzuka's faction was then the largest. So far, Mitsuzuka has been a Kono supporter.

The appointment laid bare another aspect of the reshuffle. The tatemae is that the LDP factions have been dissolved. The honne is that they still exist.

In the new 20-man Cabinet there are six Socialist ministers, plus one from Sakigake. The other thirteen ministers are all from the LDP and clearly, Murayama's appointments reflected the wishes of the old LDP bosses and the old factional line-up, which was ostensibly abolished.

Against this background, it can be clearly seen that in dealing with the education minister's historical outburst about World War II, Murayama simply could not do what he should have done.

An appropriate response, bearing in mind the proximity of the 50th anniversary of the end of World War II, would have been for Murayama to dismiss Shimamura for flouting his reported instruction. Such a move might have at least given South Korea, China and other Asian countries the hope that historical lapses by Japanese politicians would no longer be tolerated.

But the prime minister could not do that. He had not really appointed Shimamura in the first place.

Perhaps the most important result of the reshuffle is the visible degree of public distaste and disillusion with all the political shenanigans. It could lead to more public apathy regarding politics. The hope must be that it will create more public anger, which will be eventually reflected at the polls.

Fifty years ago, Japanese leaders showed a lamentable lack of resolve in dealing with the grave issues that then faced the nation. Fifty years on, in this respect, not much has changed.