Japan In the Diet, It's All in the Family

By KUMIKO MAKIHARA TOKYO

Former Foreign Minister Zentaro Kosaka, 78, wasn't running for anything; yet there he stood at an election rally before 2,000 people wearing white headbands marked VICTORY. Thanking them for their longtime support, he said, "I have put all my might into working for this town, but there's still a lot left to do." Then he suggested who might do it: "Please let Kenji work with you to carry that out." The elder Kosaka was campaigning for his son in hopes of continuing a family tradition. Three generations of the Kosaka clan have controlled the mountainous Nagano district, north of Tokyo.

As the old leaders of Japan's long-ruling Liberal Democratic Party begin to retire, more and more young sons are riding into office on their parents' coattails. About 40% of the 325 L.D.P. candidates running in the Feb. 18 Lower House elections are children of Diet members. These elections will determine whether the ruling party, now in jeopardy after losing its majority in the Upper House last July, can hold on to control of the government it has dominated for 35 years. But the prevalence of the nisei giin, or second- ^ generation politicians, has raised fears that Japanese politics is increasingly being restricted to an elite kinship network.

About one-third of the 512-member Lower House and 10% of the 252-member Upper House are sons, sons-in-law or legally adopted successors of Diet members. Even more politicians are linked by marital and familial ties. Six of the 20 Cabinet ministers, including Finance Minister Ryutaro Hashimoto and Foreign Minister Taro Nakayama, are sons of former Diet members. Former Prime Minister Noboru Takeshita and L.D.P. kingmaker Shin Kanemaru are related through the marriage of their children. Former Foreign Minister Shintaro Abe, a son of a parliamentarian, is married to the daughter of former Prime Minister Nobusuke Kishi. In the upcoming elections, the sons of former Prime Ministers Takeo Fukuda and Zenko Suzuki hope to succeed their fathers in the Diet.

Following in the footsteps of one's father is a strong tradition in Japan, evident in fields as different as Big Business, the Kabuki theater and sumo wrestling. But in politics the custom has been intensified by the commitments of money and time involved in cultivating constituents.

Under Japan's constituency system, members of the same party often run against each other in the same district. Unable to campaign on different platforms, the candidates stump on their ability to bring special benefits like new roads and factories to their towns. Nisei have a distinct advantage because they inherit the so-called three bans: jiban (constituency), kanban (name or recognition) and kaban (suitcase or campaign chest); they don't have to spend their early careers building these up.

Defenders of hereditary politics say this has helped cultivate "many nisei in their 40s who are educated like a prince and have expertise in policymaking." Michitoshi Takabatake, a political science professor at Tokyo's Rikkyo University, points to former Defense Minister Koichi Kato, a Harvard-educated nisei and an authority on foreign and agricultural policy. On Japan's northern island of Hokkaido, the deceased former Agriculture Minister Ichiro Nakagawa was nicknamed "the brown bear" for his rough manners, while his nisei son Shoichi, who is running for a third term in the Lower House, is a graduate of the University of Tokyo who worked at the Industrial Bank of Japan.

But critics charge that such easy access allows inept offspring into the Diet. Minoru Morita, a political commentator, says, "A self-made politician ; will have a basic amount of experience and common sense that nisei don't have." Admits Zentaro Kosaka: "From my own experience, nisei lack perseverance and doggedness."

Still, the perception that nisei have an unfair advantage discourages others from entering politics. Masatoshi Wakabayashi, who is running for a third term against Kosaka's son, recalls how he hesitated to enter politics because he had no family ties. His mentor told him to run for that very reason. Wakabayashi warns, "If nisei fill more than half of the seats, then the public will assume that only special people can enter politics, and the government will lose vitality."

So far, Japanese voters show little dissatisfaction with clan politics. An apple farmer who has supported Zentaro Kosaka for 40 years has already decided to cast a vote for his son. Says she: "It's advantageous because he can put to good use what his father built up."

It is that kind of blind faith in the status quo that has kept the L.D.P. in power for so long. Yukio Hatoyama, a fourth-generation parliamentarian, explains, "Passing a seat on to one's son arises from the values of giri- ninjo ((obligation and compassion)) that shape politics. That's not likely to change easily."

Or so the L.D.P. hopes. Around the country, the ruling-party candidates are warning voters not to disrupt the established political order. Said Prime Minister Toshiki Kaifu: "I want you to think carefully about whether to choose the L.D.P. or the hastily assembled opposition coalition." But unless Japan's voters begin to realize that what was good in the past may not be good for the future, politics is likely to become increasingly a family affair.