Ozawa looming as 'shadow shogun'

The Japan Times
By ALEX MARTIN
Staff writer

Saturday, Nov. 21, 2009

DPJ heavyweight's clout seen eclipsing Hatoyama's

The Democratic Party of Japan's oldest lawmaker recently had a few bitter words for his old friend, DPJ Secretary General Ichiro Ozawa.

Shadow shogun: Democratic Party of Japan Secretary General Ichiro Ozawa heads to the Prime Minister's Official Residence on Nov. 14, escorted by a security guard. KYODO PHOTO

Speaking in Fukuoka earlier this month, Kozo Watabe criticized what he considered the monopolization of party authority in Ozawa's hands.

"If Mr. Ozawa says turn right, we turn right. If he says turn left, we turn left. And if he says five plus five is 15, then we just have to say, 'Yes, sir,' " Watabe said.

Although the 77-year-old veteran lawmaker was apparently unhappy with Ozawa's decision not to reappoint him as the party's top adviser, his comments did provide a glimpse into how Ozawa almost single-handedly dictates policy, trying to reform the way politics are done.

But his top-down management isn't open to criticism, and his overwhelming authority over the DPJ has led many to fear Ozawa's influence may undermine the government of Prime Minister Yukio Hatoyama, the party's president.

There are already signs.

When the Government Revitalization Unit recruited 32 lawmakers as part of a team of inspectors tasked with examining and recommending cuts in unnecessary state budget expenditures, Ozawa muscled in and demanded first-term lawmakers be excluded, drastically cutting their ranks and in the process highlighting Hatoyama's lack of leadership.

"Even after being a lawmaker for 40 years, I still find it difficult to examine fat budget documents — besides, the party was unaware of the entire process," Ozawa said in an Oct. 26 press conference on his reasons for keeping junior ranks out.

The incident was evidence that Ozawa not only had assumed control of the DPJ, but also had a say in government personnel decisions.

In a recent article for the quarterly journal Bungei Shunju, political commentator Takashi Tachibana expressed concern over Ozawa's increasing clout, and compared his dictatorial style to that of Ozawa's Liberal Democratic Party mentor, the late Prime Minister Kakuei Tanaka, one of postwar Japan's most powerful, and scandal-tainted, politicians. Known as the "shadow shogun," Tanaka's behind-the-scenes clout lasted long after his prime ministership ended.

But with the entry of some 140 freshmen lawmakers who rode the DPJ's tidal wave into power in the Aug. 30 election, and who owe their success to Ozawa, his political influence now even dwarfs Tanaka's. "Ozawa has now assumed command of the nation's future," Tachibana wrote.

Even though Ozawa was forced by financial scandal to give up the DPJ presidency last spring, and faces fresh allegations of receiving illegal political donations, his influence seems to be on an ever-increasing upward trajectory.

He recently ruled that all petitions directed from municipalities to the government be channeled through the DPJ secretary general's office instead of having their targeted ministries handle them.

Ozawa said this "reform" was intended to prevent various organizations from directly petitioning ministries — a practice that often led to cozy ties between bureaucrats and politicians with vested interests.

"Petitions taken directly to the central bureaucracy via political connections contravene our goal of decentralizing power," Ozawa said this month.

While significantly hiking the authority of his office, the petition rerouting simultaneously serves to bolster the DPJ's control over municipal organizations — key vote-generating machines — ahead of next summer's Upper House poll, in which the party aims to win a majority on its own.

But while such tactics may boost the DPJ's chances of winning elections, experts warn it is essential that Ozawa not become a "back seat driver" who pulls the strings behind the scenes and is immune from responsibility.

Hidekazu Kawai, honorary professor at Gakushuin University, said that considering Ozawa's background and political expertise, it was only natural that he assumed command of the party — especially with most of the other DPJ heavyweights in the Cabinet.

Ozawa — a '90s defector from the LDP — was the point man when it came to whittling away the LDP's traditional support base ahead of the last poll, and is doing likewise for the coming Upper House election, and Hatoyama thus has no choice but to rely on him, Kawai said.

But unless the administration can find a way to hold Ozawa accountable, he could become the next shadow shogun, calling the shots without ever having to take any responsibility for the government's actions, Kawai said, adding the key to the political situation will be whether the kingmaker can be held to account.

Ozawa's rapid changes in the way the government does business are having side effects. Since the DPJ abolished the policy research council, lawmakers who aren't part of the government apparatus are having a hard time getting their voices heard.

Out of the 419 DPJ lawmakers, 160 have been assigned to either government, party or Diet posts, leaving more than 200 with time on their hands.

A rookie DPJ lawmaker, who declined to be named, recently said he was still unsure how he could be involved in policy decisions, voicing hope that a way can be paved for young lawmakers' opinions to be reflected in policymaking.

"It's as if we're only here to vote (on) bills," he said.

But Koichi Nakano, political science professor at Sophia University, said that while it was unlikely Ozawa will loosen his grip on power, he also believed the media might be going overboard with his image as a backroom fixer.

Despite fears of Ozawa's influence, there's a limit to how far his authority can stretch, he said, adding, "After all, he's neither the prime minister nor the president of the DPJ. He can't possibly assume complete control."

Australia apologizes for child migrant programs

CANBERRA, Australia (AP) — Prime Minister Kevin Rudd apologized Monday to thousands of impoverished British children shipped to Australia in past centuries with the promise of a better life, only to suffer abuse and neglect thousands of miles from home.

At a ceremony in the Australian capital of Canberra attended by tearful former child migrants, Rudd apologized for his country's role in the migration and extended condolences to the 7,000 survivors of the program who still live in Australia.

"We are sorry," Rudd said. "Sorry that as children you were taken from your families and placed in institutions where so often you were abused. Sorry for the physical suffering, the emotional starvation and the cold absence of love, of tenderness, of care. Sorry for the tragedy — the absolute tragedy — of childhoods lost."

The apology comes one day after the British government said Prime Minister Gordon Brown would apologize for child migrant programs that sent as many as 150,000 poor British children as young as 3 to Australia, Canada and other former colonies over three and a half centuries.

The programs, which ended 40 years ago, were intended to provide the children with a new start — and the Empire with a supply of sturdy white workers. But many children ended up in institutions where they were physically and sexually abused, or were sent to work as farm laborers.

Rudd also apologized to the "forgotten Australians" — children who suffered in state care during the last century. According to a 2004 Australian Senate report, more than 500,000 children were placed in foster homes, orphanages and other institutions during the 20th century. Many were emotionally, physically and sexually abused in state care.

Some in the audience wept openly and held each other as Rudd shared painful stories of children he'd spoken with — children who were beaten with belt buckles and bamboo, who grew up in places they called "utterly loveless."

"Let us resolve this day that this national apology becomes a turning point in our nation's story," Rudd said. "A turning point for shattered lives, a turning point for governments at all levels and of every political hue and color to do all in our power to never allow this to happen again."

At that, the audience erupted into loud cheers and applause.

John Hennessey, 72, of Campbelltown, 40 miles southwest of Sydney, struggles to make himself understood through a stutter — a never-healing scar from a thrashing he received from an Australian orphanage headmaster 60 years ago.

Hennessey was only 6 when he was shipped from a British orphanage to an institute for boys in the country town of Bindoon in Western Australia state.

At 12, he was stripped naked and nearly beaten to death by the headmaster for eating grapes he had taken from a vineyard without permission because he was hungry.

"What terrified me most was that in my mind I thought: 'that's my father; what's he doing?' — I had nobody else and he was the one I'd looked up to," Hennessey said. "Before that I didn't have a stutter. I've sought medical advice since and they've said: 'John, you're going to take that to the grave with you.'"

The British government has estimated that a total of 150,000 British children may have been shipped abroad between 1618 — when a group was sent to the Virginia Colony — and 1967, most of them from the late 19th century onwards.

After 1920, most of the children went to Australia through programs run by the government, religious groups and children's charities.

A 2001 Australian report said that between 6,000 and 30,000 children from Britain and Malta, often taken from unmarried mothers or impoverished families, were sent alone to Australia as migrants during the 20th century. Many of the children were told that they were orphans, though most had either been abandoned or taken from their families by the state. Siblings were commonly split up once they arrived in Australia.

Authorities believed they were acting in the children's best interests, but the migration also was intended to stop them from being a burden on the British state while supplying the receiving countries with potential workers. A 1998 British parliamentary inquiry noted that "a further motive was racist: the importation of 'good white stock' was seen as a desirable policy objective in the developing British Colonies."

Australia had an immigration policy that favored British and white immigrants until the 1970s.

"We were used as white fodder," Hennessey said. "The Archbishop met us at Fremantle (in Western Australia) and I can still remember his words. He said, 'Welcome to Australia. We want white stock because we're terrified of the yellow peril.'"

British Children's Secretary Ed Balls said the child migrant policy was "a stain on our society."

"The apology is symbolically very important," he told Sky News television.

"I think it is important that we say to the children who are now adults and older people and to their offspring that this is something that we look back on in shame," he said.

Britain has been trying to make amends since the late 1990s by funding trips to reunite migrants with their families in Britain.

Brown's office said officials would consult with representatives of the surviving children before making a formal apology next year.

Official apologies for historical wrongs have proved controversial.

Former Australian Prime Minister John Howard initially resisted calls to apologize to institutionalized children and Australian Aborigines, arguing that contemporary Australians should not take responsibility for mistakes made by past generations.

Rudd reversed the policy after he was elected in 2007 and apologized to Aborigines for 200 years of injustice since European settlement.
Copyright 2009 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Harvesting Season in Japan

Cabbage Harvesting Season on a farm in Yokohama, Japan, November 05, 2009