Silent Partners

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he U.S.-written constitution for post-World War II Japan prohibits the country from going to war. For decades, that curb on Japanese militarism was much appreciated by Asian nations colonized or brutally occupied by Japan (China, Korea and Taiwan) during the war. But since the Gulf War of 1991, when Japan felt humiliated by its inability to contribute anything but a large check, the country has reappraised its constitutional pacifism. Starting in 1994, it started sending small military missions to troubled countries such as Cambodia and East Timor. New laws were passed to allow the missions, and the troops never fought: they built roads, water purification systems, and medical clinics. Last year, Tokyo sent 600 troops to Iraq to support Bush's Coalition of the Willing, although they are based in relatively placid Samawah and are protected by Australian and Dutch contingents. In Japan, this is referred to as a process of becoming a "normal" country—one that isn't just focused on manufacturing and corporate profits, or utterly dependent for its safety and diplomacy on its big brother, the U.S.

This process has picked up steam under Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi. "Koizumi and Bush see each other, talk to each other, and like each other," notes Jack Pritchard, also a visiting fellow at the Brookings Institution. "That has made all the difference in the world in terms of how the Japanese perceive their relationship with the U.S." Washington wants Japan to take a bigger role globally. "In the words of key members of the administration, Japan ought to become the England of Asia," says Lieberthal, "a security partner who will act with the U.S., not simply a piece of real estate that the U.S. defends and the U.S. uses as a forward base."

At the same time, diplomatic relations between China and Japan have been tense. Beijing carps about Koizumi's visits to Tokyo's Yasukuni Shrine, which honors some Japanese war criminals, and the two governments squabble over disputed territories such as the Diaoyu Islands (known in Japan as the Senkaku Islands). The Japanese public is also suspicious of Beijing's economic and diplomatic support of North Korea, which has a history of kidnapping Japanese citizens. A government survey released last December showed that 58% of the Japanese polled said they "do not have friendly feelings toward" China.

But they like Taiwan: Japan accounts for the largest number of tourists visiting the island, and Japanese corporations are the biggest foreign investors there after the U.S. Taiwan likes Japan, too: although the 50 years of Japanese rule were sometimes harsh, Tokyo developed the island, educated its people, and helped give Taiwanese an identity different from their mainland cousins. "The Japanese brought security, peace, and law and order," says Joe Hung, a retired journalist and diplomat who has written a history of Taiwan. "And that started Taiwan's modernization."

The bond remains tight. Lee Teng-hui, the first native Taiwanese to become president, speaks far better Japanese than he does Mandarin, and has frequently been criticized by political adversaries for "thinking like a Japanese." A few weeks ago, over Beijing's vociferous objections, Japan allowed Lee a private visit to Kyoto, Nagoya and Kanazawa; likewise, President Chen's wife, Wu Shu-jen, may be granted a tourist visa to visit Japan. It's inconceivable that Koizumi and Chen could meet or even officially communicate: Tokyo doesn't recognize Taiwan's existence as a nation. But at least it no longer ignores the potential threat to Asia's stability posed by the state of the strait.