Yoichi Funabashi
Co-founder and Chairman, Asia Pacific Initiative
Since the end of World War II, Japan has been a democratic, pacifist nation, whose main tool for exerting influence across the globe has been soft power. Constrained by a US-imposed war-renouncing constitution, one of those integral tools has been Official Development Assistance (ODA). Japan turned into a full-fledged ODA donor in the mid-1970s after its phoenix-like post-war economic boom, which has seen Japan’s economy become the most complex in the world according to Harvard’s Atlas of Economic Complexity. Many of the foundations for Asia’s economic take-off were laid by Japan’s economic infrastructure building efforts and technical assistance in this era, becoming the world’s top nation for ODA spending in 1989.
However, Japan’s post-war non-military international identity reached a turning point in 1991 when only money, not troops, were sent to Kuwait in assistance of the US, Japan’s ally and security guarantor. Tokyo was criticised for its “chequebook diplomacy”. At this juncture – under pressure to be more involved in global affairs – Tokyo faced a complex and divisive question: how can Japan expand its international influence?
There were two broad responses to this question, which continue to split opinion in Japanese foreign policy circles to this day. On one side, there is an argument that Japan should shoulder more of the burden of international security, contributing to peacekeeping missions and using its Self-Defence Forces productively. Doing so would require Japan to become a “normal” nation, which means having a proper military capable of foreign deployment. The counterargument to this is that Japan should remain pacifist and rely solely on its non-military strengths – economic, technological, and cultural – to increase its influence.
There are two forces driving the case for a “normalised” Japan, which entails changing Article 9 of the constitution, in which war is renounced as a sovereign right. The first is that full participation in UN Peacekeeping Operations (PKO) requires militaries that can operate in conflict zones where violent force may have to be used. The success of the 1993 Cambodian PKO in realising peace and nation-building goals built domestic support for a more active Japanese role in international security. Despite reinterpretation of Article 9 to allow for collective self-defence, meaning that Japanese troops can use force to protect UN and NGO staff in danger, the Self-Defence Forces are still prevented from participating in PKOs unless there is a ceasefire. Japanese troops pulled out of the South Sudan UN PKO in April and May 2017, after a scandal involving a cover-up of the Ground Self-Defence Force’s activity logs, which revealed an operational situation not resembling ceasefire. There are echoes of the 1991 winter of chequebook diplomacy discontent over Japan’s withdrawal.
The second force is the deterioration of the East Asian security environment. North Korea’s nuclear missile development program and China’s aggressiveness in the East China Sea and South China Sea give Japan reason to bolster its hard power at the potential expense of its soft power.
Despite these pressures, there is significant risk that militarisation will create unnecessary friction and tension with neighbours. An alternative is the soft power-centric “global civilian power” concept. It envisions Japan as simultaneously committing to security, through strengthening defence ties and passing security legislation to move towards self-sufficiency, whilst promoting the global system of free trade and cooperating internationally through ODA. There are three pillars to modernise and “proactivise” global civilian power for modern day challenges: human security, capability building for maritime peace, and the rule of law.
In 1998, Prime Minister Keizo Obuchi attempted to make a peoplecentred approach the central principle of Japanese diplomacy. Human security, as opposed to national security, broadens its concept to include threats to health, education, and livelihood. Consequently, Tokyo attempted to promote economic cooperation, instead of projecting military power, to improve the regional security environment.
Japan’s concept of human security differs significantly from the European Union and Canada as it is rooted in a strictly non-military approach. It is not embedded in a broader vision of humanitarian intervention that includes military force as a means to obtain security and rights.
This people-centric Japanese approach is implemented in practice in Japanese ODA initiatives. Tomohiko Sugishita of the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA) was posted in Malawi as a doctor. He realised that the root of the medical crisis in Malawi was due to the ways in which locals viewed sickness and disease, not merely the lack of surgeons. Therefore, when asked to become the chief advisor for a health project in Tanzania, he set about convincing local government officials of the value of modern medicine. Dr Sugishita set up a leadership training programme, which aimed to put local officials in charge of their health services. His technique came to be known as the Catalyst Approach. Technical assistance and training are the catalysts for local empowerment and eventual self-sufficiency. This is one example of a lesson learnt from Japan’s own post-war reconstruction.
Another important aspect of this capability-building approach central to Japanese aid is the focus on hard infrastructure assistance. Japan’s focus differs slightly from Western aid’s focus on social infrastructure, such as schools and hospitals. Japan instead builds bridges (literally and metaphorically) through the construction of vital infrastructure. Infrastructure projects contribute to long-term economic growth by facilitating supply-chain participation and providing connectivity to larger markets, so that local industries can thrive. In addition, Japan uses its projects as an opportunity to transfer engineering technology and provide design, construction, and maintenance training.
As countries cross the recipient-donor plateau, like China and Thailand, Japan’s approach can find fresh relevance. For example, local training schemes and empowerment could be vital for stemming backlash to infrastructure projects in China’s pan-Eurasian One Belt and One Road Initiative.
The second pillar of global civilian power is capability building for maritime peace. China’s assertiveness has pushed Tokyo to build ties with other Asian countries facing similar maritime and territorial pressures. Japan has made strategic use of ODA to strengthen these nations’ nonmilitary capabilities, such as their coast guards. Japan formalised this strategic deployment of ODA in its 2013 official National Security Strategy. This was followed by a revision of the ODA charter in 2014, which allows for the use of Japan’s overseas aid to export defence equipment to countries that meet specific conditions, such as limiting its use to their own borders.
The final piece of the puzzle to update global civilian power is the rule of law. Japan places a growing emphasis on seeking peaceful settlements through the rule of law. This approach is a continuation of Japan’s identity as a non-military nation. It applies universally for the purpose of peace and stability in the Asia Pacific, and is not an engineered attempt to undermine Beijing’s interests.
The three pillar non-military approach to international relations centred upon soft power offers Japan its best route forward to enhance its influence. However, there are growing grey-zone areas between the military and non-military spheres. For example, China has attempted to seize islands using non-military forces like its Coast Guard and Maritime Militia. Moreover, the world’s attention was drawn to the blurred lines of possible state collusion with rogue criminal hacking groups when the WannaCry ransomware attack crippled the British National Health Service (NHS). Cyberspace and outer space are emerging, ill-defined battlegrounds in which Japan can take leadership to establish rules and norms. Because of these new, potentially crisis-inducing challenges, a strategy that emphasises soft power tools, befitting Japanese citizens’ pacifist sense of identity, should be coupled with the strengthening of hard power capabilities as a last resort.
Dr Yoichi Funabashi is Co-founder and Chairman of the Asia Pacific Initiative.
Dr Funabashi is also former Editor-in-Chief for the Asahi Shimbun and has been a Nieman Fellow at Harvard University as well as Ushiba Fellow at the Institute for International Economics. His publications include “Managing the Dollar: From the Plaza to the Louvre”, “Asia Pacific Fusion: Japan’s Role in APEC”, and “Alliance Adrift”.
Philip Hall
Partner, Portland
Jordan Bach-Lombardo
Senior Consultant, Portland
If the political surprises of the last 18 months have taught us anything, it is that supposedly influential journalists and publications have less influence than ever. Hillary Clinton had more newspaper endorsements than any presidential candidate in history – and lost. Jeremy Corbyn, the UK Labour party leader, was pilloried by the tabloid press – and now has more power than ever.
The truth is that the influence of most high-profile journalists and outlets has been radically constrained by changes in how people consume information.
Previously, the public sought out – and, by and large, accepted – the opinions and reporting from elite news outlets. Because these outlets had a monopoly on connecting with the population at large, their only rivals for influence were each other.
This changed with the arrival of smartphones and social media. Suddenly everyone, more-or-less everywhere, could connect with whoever they liked. And it turned out people mostly liked connecting with other people who thought like they did.
Media was left reeling – but not knocked out. This has been the story of the last five or so years: Elite influencers invested time and energy in open platforms like Twitter and Medium, multi-channel strategies, and free-to-read, ad-supported business models.
It did not work. Traditional media is now clearly on the mat. It will survive, but the shape and extent of its influence has fundamentally changed.
A huge part of this change is due to the rise of closed networks.
Closed networks are self-contained systems that are only influenced from the inside. For the first time, they are proving large and powerful enough to resist external forces and create self-reinforcing narratives. They have flourished on platforms like Facebook and WhatsApp.
People now predominantly consume their information in these systems. Four of the five most popular social platforms worldwide are insular messaging apps. This means that the media’s model for maintaining influence is not just disrupted. It is so outdated as to be irrelevant.
The new, network-based model – which allows people to shelter themselves in silos – creates clusters that can be wholly distinct from one another. This has drastically diminished, and in cases eliminated, information flow across groups. It is a setting based primarily on personal preference, with little-to-no guidance or moderation from media elite.
Influencing narratives now requires “getting inside the loop” by going where people are, rather than relying on them coming to you. This is bad news for the traditional media.
News outlets like The New York Times have realised that the only way to survive is to create closed networks of their own. The papers expressing confidence in the future are committing to a subscription model. Just compare the Times, which has more than 2.5 million paying subscribers, to the Guardian, which recently reported an operating loss of £69 million.
But it is unlikely this will be enough, whether in the US or globally. With trust in media institutions so low, journalists will only be pushed further out of the information chain. In the US, for example, just 4% of Trump voters have strong confidence in national news media. The figures for Clinton voters were not much more reassuring.
This trend is even stronger in emerging markets. In focus groups we have run in the Middle East, for example, participants were directly asked who they trusted most to give them the accurate version of current events. The answer was uniformly their friends and family – who they primarily connected with over Facebook.
Traditional media outlets will always exist, but the likelihood is that they will only speak to an ever-smaller and more elite segment of societies.
But the new model still provides avenues for influence for those willing to work within it.
To look at two starkly different examples, the Trump campaign’s highly targeted and large-scale Facebook campaign (supported by niche media outlets) and ISIS’ decentralised communications infrastructure provide very different, but successful, blueprints for forming networks and shaping narratives.
There are other ways to develop approaches for penetrating closed networks.
Success will revolve around developing compelling content, then identifying entry points into existing networks (or building those loops organically) and pushing it through them.
Portland has put this approach – Total Communications – to use in everything from complex national campaigns to the communications around class action lawsuits. Total Communications is the new model for influence, and the most effective way to exert soft power.
Philip is a Partner at Portland and leads the firm’s disputes practice. He has particular expertise in litigation, conflict and crisis communications, and in developing complex digital campaigns. Qualified as a Barrister and Solicitor in New Zealand, Philip has a Master’s degree (LL.M Hons) in international public law.
Jordan Bach-Lombardo is Senior Account Manager at Portland. Jordan specialises in government advisory and the Middle East with expertise in digital communications. He was previously a social media consultant at the Royal Hashemite Court of Jordan.
Tom Fletcher
British diplomat and former HM Ambassador to Lebanon
It should be a rule of modern diplomacy that a British embassy can never have too many pictures of David Beckham on the wall. Ditto Argentina and Messi, Portugal and Ronaldo.
When I was a UK Ambassador, we never missed the chance to fly the largest flag we could find over a Bond car, super yacht, Royal Wedding, iconic brand, Premiership footballer, or visiting celeb. This was not because we were star struck, though perhaps we were a bit. It gave us the best possible platform for our message about Britain’s global role. This was not treaties, Ferrero Rocher, or protocol. But it was diplomacy.
As the Second World War raged across Europe, a diplomatic adviser approached Josef Stalin – tentatively, as most people did. Stalin despised diplomats, and saw diplomacy as an effeminate business of compromise and capitulation. He wanted to understand power, but only so that he could have more of it.
Nevertheless, his nervous advisor wanted to make the case that the Soviet leader should stop repressing Catholics in order to reduce hostility to Russia in Europe and curry favour with the Vatican. Stalin was underwhelmed. “The pope? How many divisions does he have?”
Throughout history, many leaders have seen power as pure military might. The strength to conquer, intimidate, and subdue, the art of survival. When you have power, you use it. When you’re strong and winning, why compromise? When you are weak and losing, why compromise?
Of course, the Vatican had no tanks. But, unlike Stalin’s system and Stalin’s statues, it is still standing. Nations that succeed in the future will measure themselves by something more than the number of people they have the power to kill. And – though no one has yet told Donald Trump – diplomacy is more than a competition to secure the biggest arms deal.
Of course, wars are not going away anytime soon. Soft power without the threat of hard power quickly becomes “speak loudly and carry a small stick”. “We will not stand idly by” quickly becomes “watch us standing idly by”. As the 2014 Russia/Ukraine crisis demonstrated, “you must not invade your neighbour” becomes “you should not invade your neighbour”, and then “let’s discuss how we can ensure that you don’t invade another neighbour”.
But even the most brutal empires recognised the need to balance military and non-military force. Genghis Khan would have been unlikely to describe anything he did as soft, nor appoint a soft power guru. But he realised that it was easier to maximise his own influence if people felt that they were better off with him than without him. He even invented diplomatic immunity. The Romans were also weak when they forgot the importance of bread and circuses, relying on subjugation alone. Instead, Rome was at its strongest when it offered a sense of magnetism, the early version of US President Reagan’s “Shining City on a Hill”.
Soft power alone is also insufficient. Like hard power, it has its limits, as photos of jihadists drinking Pepsi in Levi’s jeans remind us. On visits to universities in the Middle East, I am often harangued about Western cultural imperialism by students wearing Premiership football jerseys.
So any government now needs to think far more strategically about how to become a smart power superpower. Portland’s league table is a competition that should matter, and not just to diplomats.
In my experience, it comes down to three ideas: having a national story; knowing how to tell it; and knowing how and when to mix the tools at your disposal.
Firstly, know thyself. A nation needs to understand its own story and tell it well. That story is most effective when it is aspirational, inclusive, and does not rely only on killing people from other nations. It makes it easier for us to persuade others to support our agenda, on the basis that it is theirs too. It makes it easier for us to persuade others to share our values, because those values work for them too. And it makes it more likely that they buy our goods, because they want them too. Danny Boyle’s brilliant telling of Britain’s island story during the 2012 Olympics opening ceremony moved many of us to tears, and a small number of bigots to rage. History is rightly contested, and any attempt to define a nation even more so.
Becoming a soft power superpower also means understanding how to tell that story. In the internet age, marketers can no longer simply pump out their messages. Instead, they must engage with those they want to influence, building trust. The same applies to nations, especially in a time of distrust in traditional institutions. The BBC is the world’s most trusted broadcaster because it is committed to debate and inclusivity, not propaganda and exclusivity. It sets out to be a global institution rather than a British one. The British Museum calls itself “a museum of the world, for the world”. The English Premier League is the most international in the world.
A nation’s brand is most credible when carried not by Ministers or diplomats but by sportsmen, artists, or businesses, and most importantly by people. It is often easier to promote modern British music rather than traditional British values, or the power of Premiership football rather than our position on human rights. Governments have to draw on the power of those that can best promote the national brand, while avoiding looking like an awkward uncle dancing at a wedding.
So Conchita Wurst, Austria’s transvestite winner of the Eurovision song contest in 2014, a glorious cross between Shirley Bassey and Russell Brand, did more for its reputation as an open and liberal country than years of government speeches and press releases. The Nobel Peace Prize will keep Norway near the top of the soft power league table as long as leaders aspire to win it. The 2014 World Cup in Brazil had a huge impact on Brazil’s reputation, for better or worse.
However, governments can and should do more to refine the instruments directly under their control. This starts with greater coherence between development, defence, and foreign affairs ministries. Overseas aid should not be tied to foreign policy outcomes, but should amplify a country’s smart power. The fact that Britain funded all the schoolbooks in Lebanon gave me much more political credibility and access. When navies help deliver humanitarian aid following natural disasters, it increases the attraction of their government. Likewise, when diplomats secure and use influence, it is easier to deliver policy changes that help deliver development. There will naturally be tensions between these three arms of overseas work, but they must be creative tensions.
The Obama Presidency was a struggle between competing visions of how you project power. By seeking to draw back many of the harder power instruments, which were overused by George W. Bush, the US faced charges of weakness and neglect. By “leading from behind”, Obama created the sense of a driverless world. But he was right that “just because we have the biggest hammer does not mean every problem is a nail”. The nations climbing the soft power table fastest get this. And they will be the superpowers of the Digital Age.
Tom Fletcher is a British diplomat and former HM Ambassador to Lebanon. He is also Visiting Professor of International Relations at New York University and the Diplomatic Academy, as well as an Honorary Fellow of Oxford University.