So what exactly DID make Fukuda resign?

In the world’s biggest economy, the job of running the show is something you would sell your soul to Beelzebub to possess. The White House is like Tolkien’s One True Ring in its ability to provoke covetousness, conflict and face-twisting extremes of emotion.

And absolutely rightly so. It is a prize of unparallelled worth and one which, once obtained, is ceded only under the most extreme circumstances. You scream to take the job and you scream when people try to take it away. US Presidents have been killed for what they were, how they got there and the astonishing power they wielded.

The passionate oratory of Obama, the flint-brained tenacity of McCain, the twists and turns of who has raised what in terms of campaign finance. The sanity of their choices of running mates. The nuance, the fight, the mudslinging, the depravity, the visible rawness of ambition...the tooth and claw thrill of it all.

In the world’s second biggest economy, meanwhile, the job of running the show is something you would ditch in a second if there was something good on television that night.

Why? Why has it come to this in Japan? Why should the job of ruling such a huge economy, such a vibrant and stimulating society, such an energetic contributor to the realms of science, design and culture, and such a fundamentally stable people be so cheaply regarded?

Why does every Japanese not yearn to become prime minister and shape this extraordinary island nation to his or her view of the world? Is this not a prize every bit as worth striving for as the leadership of Russia, China, Britain or, come to that, Thailand? Why is this not a job that inspires the hearts of backbench MPs to explode with the yearning to lead? And why, most critically, is this a job that you would give up when the going gets only slightly tough?

Well, perhaps both the Japanese and regular Japan-watchers already know the answer to all that. Or at least, a hefty sheaf of plausible answers.

Japanese politics are have caved-in to a superstructure that gives the PM very little actual power. The bureaucracy is too strong. The young have got better things to do than become MPs, or think they do. Most PMs are second or third generation politicians – they are in politics as a continuation of the family business rather than as idealistic firebrands.

Perhaps the best explanation came from one of the big Japanese editorials yesterday: that the prime minister’s job in Japan has become like any other salaryman role where promotion, demotion, sideways moves and general “cog in a machine” worthlessness are all part of the scene.

But I wonder.
I wonder exactly how Fukuda’s surprise resignation actually went down. I wonder if it went something  like this...

We are in the Kantei on Sunday morning. Mrs Fukuda has brought Yasu-chan a nice cup of tea, and he is reading the papers. He does not look happy.

Yasu-chan: Oh balls. Balls, balls balls.

Mrs Fukuda: Darling?

Yasu-chan: They immediately saw through it. Saw my economy plan for the vapid, unimaginative and ineffectual crud it was. I really thought they’d go for that thing about lower tolls on the motorway..
Mrs Fukuda: Yes but the other $85 billion was going to go on making sure that companies that should go bankrupt don’t go bankrupt. You know how those economists at foreign banks notice that stuff.
Yasu-chan: It’s sick – most of those guys are ex-BOJ. You’d think they’d be on my side...
Six bloody hours I spent putting that giant fiscal stimulus plan together. It was hell in there with my new cabinet.

BEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEP!

Mrs Fukuda: What was that!
Yasu-chan: Oh, nothing.

BEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEP!

Mrs Fukuda: There it is again! What the hell is it? I think it’s coming from under the bed...
Yasu-chan: Really nothing, dearest. Could you make me some udon for lunch? I like udon.

BEEP! BEEEP! BEEEEP!

Mrs Fukuda: No udon for you, speccy, until you tell me what’s going on. Out with it...
Yasu-chan: (reluctantly) Oh very well. But I told you, it’s really nothing.
The weary PM reaches behind the magnificent ivory and whale-bone headboard of the Kantei bed and pulls out a dusty, wood-effect alarm clock with the words “A gift from Mr Miyazawa” on a small, gold-effect plaque.

Yasu-chan: (stalling)...it’s...er....

BEEEP! BEEEEP! BEEEEEEP!

Yasu-chan: (fumbling for the “snooze” button) It’s my one year alarm...
Mrs Fukuda: Your what?
Yasu-chan: (miserably) We all get them. All the really crap prime ministers. Well, ever since 1991 anyway. Basically it goes off after exactly eleven months and a day to give the party time to find a new leader so that by the time he hands over the keys to the Kantei, each PM has served exactly one year in office.
Mrs Fukuda: You what? Well turn it off, put it back behind the bed and put your trousers on. It’s udon time.
Yasu-chan: Well....
Mrs Fukuda: Don’t even think about it, four-eyes! I’ve only just had the new curtains for this place delivered.
Yasu-chan: It would give us a bit more time to visit your mother. We didn’t get to see her at Obon because of, you know, the inflation crisis and all that...You know, we could go on a cruise. I wouldn't have to pretend I care about the US elections. You know how tired I am. It has been a year...
Mrs Fukuda: how quickly can you get out of this?
Yasu-chan: Make me some udon, sweetie, and I’ll resign tomorrow.

Comments

[MBP]

Seppuku takes place on acceptance of the role. Twelve months is the Mandatory Bleeding Period. Who would have it different?

[aragoto]

Most importantly, though, Fukuda's resignation has led to what must surely be one of the greatest t-shirts of all time:

http://madpla.net/post/48838565

[Wakarimasen]

For a nation that reveres "Gambaru" the top dogs have no staying power at all.

Is anyone surprised at the way this bunch of clowns continue to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory?