Reischauer: A Scholar-Ambassador in Japan

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 hurried trip 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 his 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 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 points out that trips outside Tokyo involve such gruelling schedules, "you can only stand about one trip a month."

His extensive traveling reflects his dynamic view of the challenge which his job offers. He sees himself in a position to profundly affect the future course of United States-Japanese relations, not only through his official duties, but also by correcting a fundamental misunderstanding of the United States and of modern history on the part of the Japanese people. For, he believes, it is this misunderstanding which causes many of the complications which arise between the two allies.

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 as their understanding of the U.S. has increased; 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 install-ations remain major sources of irritation, though even here, he claims, the Japanese are gradually realizing that defense may be necessary, after all. Still, it is not uncommon for "throngs of Communists to flatter me by giving me attention and yelling 'Reischauer go home.'"

The most vocal opposition to the U.S. often emanates from students, and Reischauer's frequent lectures at Japenese universities brings him into regular contact with this articulate group of critics.

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.

Political Utopians

Japanese students tend to hold themselves apart as a separate class and seem to believe that the only way to demonstrate true political concern is by vociferous denunciation of the present government, according to Reischauer. The result is a sort of utopian movement whose sole function is criticism, and which is separated from the mainstream of politics in Japan. The students are forced onto the political periphery not only by their class aloofness, but by stringent electioneering laws which prohibit them from ringing doorbells and participating in other such campaign activities, considered "dirty" in Japan.

In direct contrast, U.S. students refuse to allow themselves to be grouped into a single political class, and do participate in practical politics to a fair extent. The net result, in Reischauer's opinion, is that U.S. students are more active politically, and in a heal-their way, than are Japanese students. It almost invariably comes as a shock to Japanese students, he says, to learn that their American counterparts participate in campaigning, door-to-door canvassing, and so on.

One-Way Interest

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 doesn't lessen the problem. 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."

Reischaur 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 adds with a smile. These articles, however, are only popularizations of ideas conceived when he still occupied a stall in Widener. Original research and serious writing will have to wait until he leaves government service.

Still Talks

One of his enjoyments which government employment has forced him 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.

He sees no contradiction between these two roles, and insists, in fact there is little inherent difference between a professor and a government official. "If a scholar isn't enough of a realist to be able to serve 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."

Scholar-Diplomat

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 that Japanese no end. They knew 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 scholarly reputation. The singular Capidity with which the Japanese government approved his appointment two-and-a-half years ago probably was 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." He obviously retains his love for the academic world, but claims he has made no plans for his post-government employment. As I left him, however, there was little doubt in my mind that he would return to pedagogy: the interview had lasted exactly 53 minutes.