After the uprising of the 17th of June
The Secretary of the Writers’ Union
Had leaflets distributed in the Stalinallee
Stating that the people
Had forfeited the confidence of the government
And could win it back only
By redoubled efforts.
Would it not be easier
In that case for the government
To dissolve the people
And elect another?
Bertolt Brecht, “Die Lösung” (1953)
Deputy Prime Minister/Finance Minister Asō Tarō kicked off the second leg of the second Abe government with a fine contribution to the hall of fame of gaffes committed by Japanese politicians.
Speaking at a symposium hosted by the right-wing Japan Institute for National Fundamentals, Asō spoke about how the Abe government should approach constitution revision. He said
Now if you say “let’s do it quietly,” you need to look back at the Weimar Constitution, whose amendment went unnoticed. It was changed before most people realized it had happened. We need to learn from this. I have absolutely no intention of rejecting democracy. But I don’t want to see us make these decisions in the midst of an uproar.
(That’s from a translation by Peter Durfee; the full text of his remarks can be found here
However, in my reading of his remarks, Asō’s interpretation of how the Weimar constitution was revised may have been the least offensive aspect of his speech. What’s offensive about Asō’s speech is the arrogant disdain for the messy reality of democracy, the lament of every would-be utopian in history eager to ram the square peg of humanity into their round hole of choice. Asō repeatedly bemoans the “boisterousness,” “tumultuousness,”and “uproariousness” present in public discussion of constitution revision. He seems to say, Why can’t the people see that we know what’s best for them? Can’t they see that the facts demand revision? I read this less as a blueprint for revision than as a whine about how it’s all the fault of the public and the mass media for how little success Japan’s revisionist right has had when it comes to building a consensus in favor of their vision of the constitution.
Why shouldn’t the debate be boisterous? Why shouldn’t there be uproarious and fierce opposition when the debate is about the document that serves as the nation’s moral center — especially when the LDP’s draft makes no secret of its plans to change the values
enshrined in the constitution? Why shouldn’t Japanese defenders of the constitution feel just as strongly about defending a document — a document that, whatever its origins, has become an important pillar of postwar Japanese society — as the revisionists feel about changing it? Who are Abe, Asō, and company to decide whether a debate is being conducted appropriately or not?
At its best, liberal democracy is “boisterous” and “uproarious,” because if the people have the freedom to speak their minds, there is bound to be a tumult. Politicians seeking order, politeness, and decorum can find some fine examples in Japan’s immediate neighborhood.
In the final analysis, I don’t think Asō was longing for an end to democracy or outlining a secret plan for constitutional revision. Rather, he has once again revealed a fundamental fact about his and Abe’s worldview: they have no problem stating their love for democracy as an abstract idea, a value to be promoted in East Asia and a rhetorical cudgel with which to bludgeon China, but they have little love for democracy as it is actually practiced in Japan.