Let's Make Nice

[ A version of this story originally appeared in Sept., 1998 on Upside Today. It was part of the "Down the Toilet," a column series I wrote in 1998 examining the foibles and excesses of Silicon Valley.]

Let's Make Nice

In August, 1985, I participated in a 5-kilometer road race through the Little Tokyo section of downtown Los Angeles.

As a kid from suburban Orange County, I can still remember the mixture of awe and fear I experienced as the race passed below exotic pagodas and towering glass skyscrapers, many of which bore the names and logos of the mighty Japanese corporations then taking over hte world.

After about a mile of looking upward, my eye caught something strange on the ground. Spray-painted black images, artistic renderings of human shadows, decorated the sidewalks along the 3-mile route. The shadows appeared twisted and sprawled, much like the chalk outlines you'd expect to see at a multiple-homicide scene.

It was at that moment that I realized the timing of the race corresponded with the 40th anniversary of Nagasaki, the second Ñ some say unnecessary Ñ atomic bomb blast that precipitated the Japanese surrender in World War II.

Thirteen years after that realization and 53 years after the U.S. scientific and military communities banded together to beta test their most fearsome creation, I find myself once again reflecting on the cyclical nature of U.S.-Japanese relations.

A lot of things have changed since 1985. Seven years after the bursting of the Japanese real estate "bubble," thousands of Japanese companies are still fighting to stave of bankruptcy. Dai Ichi Kangyo, the Japanese banking giant that once held the title of world's largest bank in the late 1980s, currently teeters on the brink of economic collapse as many of its top executives face criminal charges of colluding with the yakuza. Less than a decade after praising the virtues of the tireless Japanese workforce, many manufacturers now prefer to look for eager workers in backwater locales like Indonesia, Thailand and Kentucky.

Simply put, the Japanese economic beast that attracted so much media attention during the Reagan years doesn't seem quite so scary any more.

Still, the media-stoked image of that beast remains deep within the genetic memory of most current American corporations. In fact, after years of grumbling about stolen patents and unfair trading practices, American managers, particularly those within the semiconductor and software industries, have stolen a page from their erstwhile Japanese adversaries. Stop by any management conference in Silicon Valley nowadays and chances are you're going to hear less griping and more talk about "quality," "productivity" and "manufacturing on demand," principles that seemed about as alien to American corporations as sea urchin sushi back in 1985.

The role reversal extends all the way down to middle management and, in places where it still exists, the factory floor. Consider this: While you and your workmates were forgoing sleep to meet the latest delivery milestone, the Dentsu Institue of Human Studies was asking Japanese workers to sum up their attitudes toward work and its place in modern life. According to the Dentsu poll, only 28 percent of Japanese respondents believe they live for work, and only 29 percent said they believe their lives will improve over the next 10 years.

Damn. Somebody order those guys another round of sake.

OK, so I doubt many of you are weeping at your terminals for the Japanese. We are stil tallkiing about the same country that for the last 25 years was perfectly willing to vacuum up ever last American consumer dollar while claiming, at the same time, that Japanese consumers were too frugal and quality-conscious to purchase American products. We're also talking about a country that used its sideline position in the Cold War as a chance to channel its annualized 4 percent grwoth rate back into protected domestic industries. A country that has all but shut itself out of the Internet race due to excessive government regulation.

To refresh the old post-Nagasaki argument: They gave us the Honda Accord. We gave them the Plaza Accord. Chalk up one more ugly victory for the good old U.S. of A.

As the Japanese economy struggles through yet another bout of malaise, however, those of us in the high-tech community need to ask ourselves whether we haven't been a bit too zealous in our ongoing efforts to beat back the Japanese monster.

After all, when it comes to defending domestic markets against the U.S. Wintel duopoly, Japanese trade barriers have proved about as effective as rice paper. Before the Asian currency crisis, a 1996 Singapore Business Times article reported that Japan's import ration on office equipment, including PCs, had risen to 74 percent, followed closely by semiconductors at 67 percent. Not exactly what you'd call a trade balance.

Now that the Japanese are preparing to move beyond an economy that measures its strength in terms of durable goods Ñ skyscrapers, steel and silicon Ñ to one that latches onto the less tangible foundations of the knowledge economy Ñ i.e. ideas, software and other forms of "intellectual property"ÊÑ maybe it's time U.S. entrepreneurs extended the olive branch to our former foes. After nearly seven decades of measuring ourselves against our neighbors across the Pacific, both cultures could do with a little reconstruction.

Besides, if history repeats itself Ñ and it usually does Ñ we might even come away with some valuable lessons on what to do should our own economic bubble suddenly burst.

Sam Williams is a freelance writer covering high tech culture and new media. His email address is sam@inow.com