the Lessons of Carlos Ghosn: Irrational Nationalism and Weak Border Security in Japan
The sudden escape of former Nissan chairman Carlos Ghosn from house arrest in Tokyo has captured the attention of the world, however briefly, of how the Japanese justice system works. Unfortunately, the attention has been a largely negative one, seen from the Japanese perspective. In so many words, the international news outlet has expressed mild sympathy for Ghosn, who they see as destined for a lengthy legal battle that he cannot possibly win fair and square, given Japan's 99% conviction rate and a prosecution system that can repeatedly arrest released suspects whenever new charges emerge.
But even more negatively reflected than Japan's leaky justice system is two issues that, in their own particular ways, show that the Japanese populace and government institutions are not ready to come out to underlying isolationist tendencies. The former is marked by the Japanese general public's all-round condemnation of Ghosn, simply for the fact that he is a foreigner. While there is no denying that Ghosn has done questionable things with Nissan's money, popular sentiments captured in Japanese language sections of social media reflect a populace that resort to nationalism, rather than evidence of a crime, as the primary reason to oppose Ghosn.
That sentiment is best captured by statements that simply states that "I cannot support Ghosn, in this case, in any way, because I am Japanese." While people speak about the possibilities of Ghosn's crimes being exaggerated and conveniently charged just as Nissan's relationship with Renault is at a crossroads, the conclusion remains that by damaging an icon of Japan Inc. that is Nissan, Ghosn has made himself an enemy of Japan and the Japanese people. Such a belief has largely drowned out a minority that seeks to remind the general public that, ironically, without Ghosn's turnaround efforts some two decades ago, Nissan likely would not exist today.
The sentiment of the Japanese general public, unfortunately, only helps Ghosn to enforce his consistent assessment of his entire fall from grace: that the whole episode is engineered by Nissan's Japanese executives, in collaboration with the Japanese government and industry lobby, to prevent Nissan falling into greater control by Renault and its powerful shareholder, the French government. That fear of the French state takeover of Nissan has become a strong undercurrent in Japanese popular opinion on the Ghosn case despite any lack of government statements or a dimension of national security protection.
But what is shown as a serious national security lapse in the Ghosn case is the ease with which the man left the country, despite supposed 24-hour surveillance of his Tokyo residence. The episodes that precede his departure from the country almost borders on absurdity. After slipping out of his Tokyo residence, Ghosn took a bullet train to Osaka, along with carriages full of unsuspecting passengers. He was reportedly then placed in a large box that somehow avoided the X-ray machine at Osaka's Kansai International Airport, before being whisked onto a private jet for a flight to Istanbul.
Ghosn's smooth getaway from Japan illustrates that many security measures in Japan are simply a form without substance. The fact that a man under 24-hour surveillance can move about and out of the country with little detection by the general public and public security officers show that it is not at all difficult for criminal syndicates to traffic drugs, weapons, and illegal immigrants. While global criminal syndicates have not been known to operate extensively in Japan today, watching Ghosn's escape, they will be comforted by the fact that they certainly can if they choose to do so.
Together, the issue of irrational nationalism and border security in Japan illustrates just how unready the country is, both in terms of public sentiments and government institutions, when it comes to handling inflows of "foreign elements," whether it be people, goods, or ideas. Just as the disappearance of hundreds of foreign students in the Tokyo University of Social Welfare, the Ghosn affair spooks the Japanese public about how the government is not in control of its foreign residents, thereby spurring them to become more defensive of the mythical ethnic Japanese identity and idiosyncratic culture.
The result is a quiet surge in public sentiment against greater foreign influence in Japan, even beyond the boardrooms of Japan Inc.'s major icons. When given the choice between having plenty of foreigners in the country that they cannot control, and having none at all, the wider Japanese citizenry is likely to choose the latter even though there is a greater recognition that foreign labor and ideas are increasingly indispensable to keep the country's economy running and innovative. As Japan reassesses its relationship with foreign lands and peoples, the Ghosn affair is likely to continue casting a dark cloud.
But even more negatively reflected than Japan's leaky justice system is two issues that, in their own particular ways, show that the Japanese populace and government institutions are not ready to come out to underlying isolationist tendencies. The former is marked by the Japanese general public's all-round condemnation of Ghosn, simply for the fact that he is a foreigner. While there is no denying that Ghosn has done questionable things with Nissan's money, popular sentiments captured in Japanese language sections of social media reflect a populace that resort to nationalism, rather than evidence of a crime, as the primary reason to oppose Ghosn.
That sentiment is best captured by statements that simply states that "I cannot support Ghosn, in this case, in any way, because I am Japanese." While people speak about the possibilities of Ghosn's crimes being exaggerated and conveniently charged just as Nissan's relationship with Renault is at a crossroads, the conclusion remains that by damaging an icon of Japan Inc. that is Nissan, Ghosn has made himself an enemy of Japan and the Japanese people. Such a belief has largely drowned out a minority that seeks to remind the general public that, ironically, without Ghosn's turnaround efforts some two decades ago, Nissan likely would not exist today.
The sentiment of the Japanese general public, unfortunately, only helps Ghosn to enforce his consistent assessment of his entire fall from grace: that the whole episode is engineered by Nissan's Japanese executives, in collaboration with the Japanese government and industry lobby, to prevent Nissan falling into greater control by Renault and its powerful shareholder, the French government. That fear of the French state takeover of Nissan has become a strong undercurrent in Japanese popular opinion on the Ghosn case despite any lack of government statements or a dimension of national security protection.
But what is shown as a serious national security lapse in the Ghosn case is the ease with which the man left the country, despite supposed 24-hour surveillance of his Tokyo residence. The episodes that precede his departure from the country almost borders on absurdity. After slipping out of his Tokyo residence, Ghosn took a bullet train to Osaka, along with carriages full of unsuspecting passengers. He was reportedly then placed in a large box that somehow avoided the X-ray machine at Osaka's Kansai International Airport, before being whisked onto a private jet for a flight to Istanbul.
Ghosn's smooth getaway from Japan illustrates that many security measures in Japan are simply a form without substance. The fact that a man under 24-hour surveillance can move about and out of the country with little detection by the general public and public security officers show that it is not at all difficult for criminal syndicates to traffic drugs, weapons, and illegal immigrants. While global criminal syndicates have not been known to operate extensively in Japan today, watching Ghosn's escape, they will be comforted by the fact that they certainly can if they choose to do so.
Together, the issue of irrational nationalism and border security in Japan illustrates just how unready the country is, both in terms of public sentiments and government institutions, when it comes to handling inflows of "foreign elements," whether it be people, goods, or ideas. Just as the disappearance of hundreds of foreign students in the Tokyo University of Social Welfare, the Ghosn affair spooks the Japanese public about how the government is not in control of its foreign residents, thereby spurring them to become more defensive of the mythical ethnic Japanese identity and idiosyncratic culture.
The result is a quiet surge in public sentiment against greater foreign influence in Japan, even beyond the boardrooms of Japan Inc.'s major icons. When given the choice between having plenty of foreigners in the country that they cannot control, and having none at all, the wider Japanese citizenry is likely to choose the latter even though there is a greater recognition that foreign labor and ideas are increasingly indispensable to keep the country's economy running and innovative. As Japan reassesses its relationship with foreign lands and peoples, the Ghosn affair is likely to continue casting a dark cloud.
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