Reischauer Says U.S.-Japanese Relations Continue to Improve

With little publicity and no fanfare, Edwin O. Reischauer, U.S. Ambassador to Japan, returned to the States at the end of July for the first time in more than two years. He spent a three-week vacation at his Belmont home, interrupted only by a quick trip down to Washington, and devoted much of his time to working on the manuscript of his new book. Work on it had been stalled since President Kennedy snatched Reischauer from his Harvard professorship of Japanese History in March, 1961, and made him Ambassador to Japan.

Understandably, Reischauer regrets the degree to which has job has curtailed his scholarly pursuits, but he has seized the challenge which the Ambassadorship offers with delight and, in the Kennedy tradition, vigor. In the two years and three months he has been in Japan, Reischauer, who speaks Japanese fluently, reads Chinese, and speaks enough French and German "to get by with at cocktail parties," has journeyed to 27 of the 46 prefectures in Japan. As if apologizing for his failure to have visited all of them, he adds that thanks to the gruelling schedules trips outside Tokyo involve, "you can stand about one trip a month."

His extensive traveling reflects his view of the basic challenge which his job offers. As Ambassador, he sees himself in a position to help determine the future course of United States-Japanese relations. More specifically, in Reischauer's view, many of the complications which arise between the two countries are due to a fundamental misunderstanding of the United States and of modern history on the part of the Japanese people.

Relations Improving

His trips invariably include, therefore, extensive speaking engagements and lectures at local universities. Over the years, he points out, the people have become friendlier and more understanding toward the U.S.; Reischauer sees every reason for this to continue, "basically because the truths are all on our side." In spite of this tendency, U.S. defense installations remain major sources of irritation. But even here, he claims, the Japanese are gradually realizing that defense may be necessary, after all. Still, it is not uncommon, however, for "throngs of Communists to flatter me by giving me attention and yelling 'Reischauer go home."

The most vital opposition to the U.S. often came from students, and Reischauer's frequent lectures at Japanese universities brought him into regular contact with this articulate group of critics. He takes great pleasure in relating his encounters with them.

Students rarely fail to question him about the political apathy of U.S. students. Reischauer's by now polished answer is simply to reverse the charge: not only is the charge false, he counters, but in fact, U.S. students are actually more politically active than their Japanese counterparts.

Students Separate Class

Japanese students hold themselves apart as a separate class, according to Reischauer. To be anti-government is to be "political." The result is a sort of utopian movement whose sole function is criticism, and which is separated from the mainstream of politics in Japan.

American students, on the other hand, do not hold themselves a class apart and actually delve into practical politics, taking part in campaigns. In Japan, Reischauer maintains students remain on the political periphery and merely comment. This is a result, not only of their class aloofness, but of stringent electioneering laws which prohibit them from ringing doorbells and participating in other campaign activities. Actual practical politics are generally viewed as "dirty" in Japan.

The net result in Reischauer's opinion is that U.S. students are actually more active politically, and in a healthier way, than are Japanese students. It almost invariably comes as a shock to Japanese students, he said, to learn that their American counterparts participate in campaigning, door-to-door canvassing, and so on.

But despite much misunderstanding of the United States, the Japanese are greatly interested in the U.S., and developments here are carefully reported in the Japanese press. Not so the reverse. Reischauer feels Japan is "the most important hole in the U.S. press's foreign coverage." Ample reasons exist to explain this lack of coverage--the political scene is highly complex and difficult to report--but this neither lessens the problem nor excuses its existence. Yet, he cautions, "no news can also be good news." If six months pass without a big news story, "it would be a great six months."

Reischauer does disentangle himself from current Japanese politics often enough to write many articles for various Japanese magazines. Usually these pieces take the form of semi-scholarly comments on Japanese history. "It's my field, after all," he added with a smile. These articles, however, are only popularizations of ideas he had when he still owned a stall in Widener. Original research and serious writing will have to wait until he leaves the government.

Still Talks

One of his enjoyments which the government has managed to curtail only minimally is his garrulousness When he first accepted the appointment as Ambassador, "I knew that I would have to be much more cautious in what I said." But this restriction has been much less irksome than he had feared. Reischauer estimates that he is still able to express openly about 95 per cent of what he would like to. But he admits with a boyish grin that on occasion he will preface a comment with "Well, I can't answer that as Ambassador, but if you want an answer as a professor, . . ."

It isn't only these occasional questions for which he assumes the guise of professor. Essentially, Reischauer sees himself as a scholar, a scholar gone government, but a scholar nonetheless. This certainly doesn't make him a member of some isolated academic world; in fact, he sees little inherent difference between a professor and a government official. "If a scholar isn't enough of a realist to be able to serve in the government, he isn't much of a scholar. And if an official doesn't have enough perspective, he won't be much of an official."

To the Japanese, however, a professor in public life is an extraordinarily novel occurrence. Reischauer seems to delight in the fact that he consequently puzzles the Japanese no end. They know him as a scholar, but now he comes to them in the guise of a politician, an Ambassador. He believes that much of the trust and respect which he personally is accorded results primarily from his own reputation as a scholar. The singular rapidity with which the Japanese government approved his appointment two-and-a-half years ago could be due to this deep personal respect which they have for him.

One effect Reischauer's government service will have upon his scholarly career will be to make him a specialist in modern Japanese history, although he began as an ancient historian. Previously he had explored fairly extensive areas of Far Eastern history, but had only taken a "few brief looks at modern history. At least, I'll still be in the same country," he observed. He does intend to return to teaching after his stint in Japan ends, but has made no definite plans. As I left him however, there was little doubt in my mind that be would return to pedagogy: the interview had lasted exactly 53 minutes