The question raised by this title may come as a surprise and might even seem absurd or even ridiculous at first glance. In any case, the answer it demands is not as obvious as one might think.
Is being “Asian” a slander?
In 1966, as a young Chinese living in Hong Kong, which at the time was still governed by the British administration, I left my family to complete my higher education in the Land of the Rising Sun. At the time, Japan was on its way to becoming the world's 2nd economic power. The whole country was bathed in seemingly boundless optimism. Having been defeated in a catastrophic war, the Japanese were beginning to realize that it was possible for them to reach the highest level in the world by embracing an economic model, this time without having to resort to war.
Just a few days after my arrival, I made a serious mistake, which, judging by their reaction, had wounded the self-esteem of my hosts.
I was speaking at a friendly meeting between Japanese and foreign students. To conclude my speech, I called on my Japanese interlocutors to show comradeship and brotherhood “among Asians”. To my great surprise, I had provoked, without realizing it, an expression of anger from some of the Japanese audience present: “What an insult! He dared to call us Asians! We Japanese!”
It was my first encounter with the many realities of my host country, which were still enigmatic to me. I learned the hard way that day that it was a dishonor in this country to be considered Asian, and, at the same time, that Japan had lived for over a century under the same slogan of national unity: “Let's leave Asia and join Europe” (Datsua-Nyuô). This slogan was said to have been attributed to Fukuzawa Yukichi,[1] the great 19th-century thinker and founder of the prestigious Keio University, the very first university in Japan from which my grandfather, my father and I graduated in succession.
Today, more than a century and a half later, in the 21st century, I continue to encounter Japanese people who are offended by being referred to as Asians in the streets of Paris, London, or Los Angeles. Japanese people who feel humiliated and insulted even by an innocent question such as, "Which country in Asia are you from?" There are also Japanese who have lived in Paris for decades without ever setting foot in the Asian neighborhoods of Belleville or Porte d’Ivry, for fear of being mistaken for one of those "pathetic slant-eyed people." Some Japanese nostalgically recall the era of apartheid in South Africa, where, due to their national wealth, they enjoyed the status of "honorary Whites." A grotesquely racist status, but one that they found highly flattering, and which many in Japan still dream of restoring and applying to Japanese people living abroad. Some Japanese envy me for being a French speaker, yet at the same time mock me because I am also capable of speaking Chinese.
Others still strive to prove that they are not Asian, and go to great lengths in front of their Western white interlocutors to disparage everything that comes from Asia.
In the 1980s, for instance, the head of courses at a prestigious school in France spent a few days in immersion at a renowned Japanese school that trained the country's political and economic elites.
During his stay, this director engaged in lengthy discussions on major geopolitical issues with the students, some of Japan’s brightest minds, who have since gone on to become ministers, parliamentarians, and even CEOs of major companies. In these exchanges, the French director was deeply impressed by the depth of his young Japanese interlocutors' knowledge on everything related to Europe and America: culture, history, political and economic affairs of both the old and new continents. Their understanding of the Western world seemed to him to surpass even that of Westerners themselves!
However, as soon as the Frenchman tried to steer the conversation toward Asia, he was met with an uncomfortable silence. These young Japanese elites had nothing to say about the region in which they lived! When the French director pressed further, the exasperated young Japanese replied, "Let’s not waste our time with Asia. It’s a barbaric and uncultured land of no importance. Let’s focus instead on *our* civilized Western world!"
Out of respect for the Japanese, it should be noted that this strong and disdainful rejection of Asia is not necessarily shared by everyone in Japan today. There are, of course, Japanese people—mainly among the younger generation—who are aware, whether they like it or not, of their place in the world and their Asian identity. To varying degrees, they are in favor of strengthening ties between Japan and Asia, or, in other words, of a "return" of Japan to the rapidly growing Asia of today. Cognizant of the uncertainty and instability of the international situation affecting their country, these Japanese know that Japan’s salvation lies in a reconciliation with the Asia that their elders so vigorously distanced themselves from a century and a half ago.
Yet, does this very desire to "reconcile" Japan and Asia not already betray a differentiation between the two entities, as if Japan were not already a part of Asia?
On an official level, the Japanese government today consistently and solemnly emphasizes the importance of relations with Asian countries that share the same democratic values. However, once again, the genuine commitment seems absent.
Asia is undeniably a large market, vital to what is now the world's third-largest economy. But, as a Japanese saying goes regarding relations between Japan and Southeast Asia, "friendship stops at the edge of money." The ties Japan maintains with Southeast Asian countries are almost exclusively dependent on trade and economics. Post-war Japan has remained too reliant on its extreme subordination to the United States to have the will to restore a sincere relationship with the rest of Asia, one that goes beyond economic interests. This is the same Asia that, though its memory of Japanese disdain remains distant, still harbors a lingering bitterness over the military aggression of the former Japanese Empire.
Exodus from Asia? A Historical Reminder
To understand Japan’s complex national sentiment towards Asia, particularly its sometimes irrational eagerness to distance itself from the region and identify with the West, we must go back nearly two centuries to the Meiji Restoration of 1868.
During the long reign of the Tokugawa Shogunate (a government dominated by a Shogun, the supreme commander of the samurai warrior class) from 1603 to 1868, Japan was a country that was open internally but strictly closed to the outside world. For two and a half centuries, all contact with foreign nations was forbidden. Only a small group of Dutch merchants were allowed to conduct limited trade, geographically confined to Nagasaki, far from the capital of Edo (the former name of Tokyo). It was these Dutch traders who introduced the Japanese to *Rangaku*, or Western science, particularly in the field of medicine.
By the 1860s, as the Tokugawa Shogun’s grip on the country began to weaken, Europeans other than the Dutch began cautiously knocking on Japan’s door, hoping to establish trade relations with the country Marco Polo had made famous as *Zipangu*, the Land of Gold. The first to arrive on the archipelago—Russians and British—were either shipwrecked or sent as ambassadors to negotiate the country’s opening, but they were invariably turned away, often forcefully, by the Japanese authorities.
The samurai government was resolutely opposed to the idea of opening the country. However, this was not the case for various regional feudal clans, who, taking advantage of the loosening control from the central authorities in Edo, began to see the immense profits that trade with Europeans could bring.
Yet, on a national scale, Japan remained firmly closed to the outside world until the pivotal year of 1853.
In the meantime, the sporadic arrivals of Europeans had caused an increasing number of Japanese intellectuals to wonder about the true intentions of these white foreigners knocking at Japan's door. The actions of Westerners in the rest of Asia, before reaching the farthest edge of the Asian continent, left them deeply perplexed.
What they observed was far from reassuring: the entirety of Asia, particularly the vast Middle Kingdom that had always served as a model for Japan since its earliest history, was being inexorably carved up by European colonial powers. There were hardly any independent countries left in Southeast Asia. China, for its part, was barely holding out against the onslaught of Western powers, thanks to the sheer size of its territory.
The alarm of Japanese observers intensified with the First Opium War (1839-1842) and then the Second (1856-1860), which pitted China against the United Kingdom. Following its defeats at the hands of these foreign invaders, the Manchu Qing dynasty lost sovereignty over entire territories of its empire, which it ceded as part of the "unequal treaties" imposed by the gunboat diplomacy of the British and other European powers exploiting China's evident weakness at the time.
Faced with this distressing spectacle, the Japanese of the era were plagued by a single, anxious question: "When will it be our turn?" Who could doubt that the Western imperial powers would spare Japan, the land reputed to be Zipangu, the "Land of Gold"?
Ironically, the first real threat to Japan did not come from Europeans. It was the Americans, with their blunt and direct manners, who forced open the gates of a country that had been closed off for more than two centuries.
The Japanese nightmare materialized in 1853 when, suddenly, a fleet of the U.S. Navy, commanded by Commodore Perry, appeared off the coast of Uraga in Tokyo Bay, near the capital of Edo (now Tokyo).
The sight of these massive, heavily armed "Black Ships" sparked a wave of panic mixed with curiosity among the population and the Shogunate authorities.
During his first visit, Commodore Perry was content to force the panicked Shogunate officials to accept a letter from the U.S. President, expressing a desire to establish diplomatic and trade relations with Japan.
In his second visit the following year, Perry was far less concerned with formalities. With his cannons pointed at the Shogun's castle, the American admiral, unlike the Europeans who had been more diplomatic, demanded and obtained the immediate opening of the country to trade with the United States.
Having achieved his objective, Perry departed, satisfied, with his armed fleet and in his possession the first "Treaty of Friendship" that Japan had ever concluded with a foreign nation.
Like a widening breach in a dam, the Japan-U.S. Treaty of Friendship led to a flood of similar agreements with Europeans, with the Russians and British leading the way, capitalizing on the American precedent to secure lucrative deals with Japan.
In the span of a few years, Japan was radically transformed. It was no longer a closed country, and Caucasian diplomats and traders were seen everywhere, not only in the streets of Edo but even in the countryside.
This new reality was not to the liking of a growing number of patriotic samurai at the time. The forced opening of the country was, in their eyes, an unacceptable infringement on national sovereignty.
Furthermore, the way in which their country had gradually been stripped of its sovereignty by Western "barbarians" felt all too familiar to them. It was an exact replica of what they had observed across Asia, especially in China: Westerners showed up uninvited, demanded the country open its doors, were rebuffed, then returned with modern naval forces to force the gates open, seizing entire territories and securing the commercial privileges they had sought.
The indignation of these Japanese patriots led to the formation of the Sonno Joi movement, meaning "Revere the Emperor, Expel the Barbarians." This xenophobic movement, loyal to the Emperor, brought together samurai from various feudal clans who opposed the Shogunate. The movement quickly radicalized, going as far as assassinating "white barbarians" and Shogunate officials, while simultaneously advocating for the restoration of the Emperor's prerogatives.