Jadavpur University
September 30, 2013
September 30, 2013
September 26, 2013
By 19645
Myra Ann Houser is a specialist in African history who received a Sylff fellowship from Howard University in 2012. She conducted research in South Africa using a Sylff Research Abroad (SRA) grant from May to July 2013, collecting archive materials on anti-fascist activities during the twentieth century. Here, she describes the Jewish community’s perceptions of the growing anti-Semitism movement in pre–World War II South Africa.
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Prior to the mid-twentieth century, South Africa was regarded as one of the most Jewish societies in the world. For about a century after 1820, it experienced a high degree of religious freedom, and the prevalence of white settlers in the region made it an attractive place for Jews searching for new homes. It possessed a high population of Jewish individuals, mostly of East European descent, who had emigrated, in most cases, to avoid anti-Semitism and persecution in Europe.
Within the Union of South Africa, particularly following the Second South African War, however, politics between English- and Dutch-descended white South Africans created divisions and distinctions within society as they jostled to gain political control, and the country’s large Jewish population often became the targets of hostilities. Manifestations of growing anti-Semitism include the 1937 mandate by rightist South Africans that the “Jewish problem” be solved and boycotts of Jewish businesses.
Such hostilities increased during the 1930s and 1940s, as South Africa’s radical right became ever more tightly bound to and admiring of European fascist regimes. Nationalists in conservative “brotherhood” organizations, such as the Ossewabrandwag and Broederbond, discovered that individuals sharing their ideals—such as Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini—had risen to positions of power. The nationalists became ever more admiring of them and made pilgrimages to Europe in order to hear speeches by and meet with those whom they idolized.
There is evidence that some Jews viewed South Africa as a proverbial city on a hill prior to their repression during World War II. In a 1936 letter to Interior Minister J.H. Hofmeyer, the secretary of the South African Jewish Board of Deputies cited the country’s history of religious tolerance:
South Africa has a proud past of having liberally treated those who have been compelled for reasons of religious or racial persecution to leave their native land, and seek a new country imbued with a spirit of justice. A great many South Africans proudly claim descent from the Huguenots, who were themselves refugees in a situation similar to those arriving from Germany.1
A follow-up letter to Prime Minister J.B.M. Hertzog later that year indicated that South African Jews had voiced numerous complaints regarding their harsh treatment by both teasing civilians and the political authorities, who subjected them to increased bureaucratic harassment as nationalism increased within government and officials placed increasing immigration restrictions.2 Though the letter mentions no specifics in terms of what it calls “harsh treatment,” it does allude to growing discontent among the country’s Semitic population and states that many who had come to this new land in search of calm and to avoid persecution now found themselves being harassed by both neighbors and state authorities. This presumably would have increased by 1938, when South African officials were following the policies of the Europeans they admired in enacting stringent anti-immigrant laws and severely limiting the number of Jews coming in to the country.3 As the Broderbond and Ossewabrandwag became increasingly enamored with fascist governments, their anti-Semitic propaganda also grew.
A government reply to the first letter mentions “anti-Jewish activities” during “the past two years” and assures SAJDB that it is monitoring the situation. It did not, however, provide further context for the situation.4 These gaps can be filled in using family papers, interviews, and memoirs. These deeply personal documents chronicle the micro-aggressions that South Africa’s Jews experienced during this period, and several place the incidents—such as boycott campaigns and efforts at spreading libel against Jewish community leaders—within the larger context of international fascism. A number of documents directly compare the situation in South Africa to Holocaust-era or pre-Holocaust-era Europe.
Joan Marshall’s 2005 memoir Darling Mutti shares a slightly different perspective of Jewish immigrant life in South Africa. Marshall’s parents had come to the country in 1936 and received work papers. They became active in their large social circle, and their main experiences with anti-Semitism were during their earlier years, when they lived in Germany. They also corresponded regularly with family members in Germany and were well aware of developments in that country, but they did not refer very much to anti-Semitism in their South African lives.5
Much like the Marshalls, the Rahlyn Mann family benefitted from privileges of material comfort and social connections in white South Africa. Mann, the only Free State woman to be deployed to Europe as a postwar social worker, told an interviewer that she did not experience any overt anti-Semitism as a child. She did, however, experience a sense of being different from her peers. Mann was one of few Jewish students in her primary school and the only one in high school. She thus left school early on Fridays to prepare for Sabbath, in contrast to most of her peers, who remained in class for the duration of the week. Mann also told her biographer that she fought hard for Hebrew to be included as a matric subject, not taking for granted that her peers and educators would find it as interesting or important as she did. Mann eventually said that she chose to enlist in the Red Cross as a South African citizen rather than as a Jew, placing her pride of country ahead of her feelings of awkwardness.6
Milton Tobias, on the other hand, felt more subjected to anti-Semitism than Mann did. He recalls that, prior to Germany’s Nazification and its growing ties with South Africa’s radical right, he “hardly ever” experienced negative feelings. Following the outbreak of World War II, however, he said that anti-Semitism was “all around,” manifesting itself through micro-aggressive slurs and taunts, as well as through government policies that were unfriendly toward the nation’s Jewish population. After going to war as a Union soldier in the Royal Air Force, Tobias returned to South Africa thinking about his Lithuanian grandfather and great-grandfather in the light of the concentration camps he had seen. He recalls thinking of the similarity between their situation and his, which though not as dire as that of people living inside the camps, was nonetheless marked by discomfort and oppression.7
Anti-Semitism in South Africa did not begin with World War II. Taffy Adler has traced it to at least the beginning of the twentieth century, when Jewish workers began migrating to the country and its mines as industrialization increasingly brought together people from different races and backgrounds.8 According to Adler, many white collar workers who left Europe due to physical threats or verbal taunts found themselves among the working class in South Africa. Jewish workers in the country were thus subjected to both the micro-aggressions and class-based policies that they sought to leave behind. The harassment became more pronounced as World War II approached, and a rightist movement arose that claimed paradoxically to be “anti-immigrant” and “anti-native” (or, less paradoxically, pro-Afrikaner).
My dissertation has evolved to incorporate the subsequent oppression of socialism as well, as I believe—based on my long-standing interest in World War II—it is important to examine the interactions between these early twentieth-century developments. During the 1930s and 1940s, a number of Jewish individuals—having become aware of the marginalization occurring in South Africa’s racist structure—began lobbying for change. This would continue, as orthodox Jews began turning to radicalism during the apartheid era. It is imperative, therefore, to understand this period as being pivotal in the country’s history and protest tradition, and I will attempt a further examination of this topic as part of my dissertation and, I hope, during my scholarly career.
1“South African Jewish Deputies Board Secretary to J.H. Hofmeyer, June 2, 1936,” British Jewish Board of Deputies Papers, Reel 66, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Washington, DC.
2“South African Jewish Deputies Board Secretary to J.B.M. Hertzog, October 13, 1936,” British Jewish Board of Deputies Papers, Reel 66, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Washington, DC.
3Joan Marshall, ed., Darling Mutti (Jacana Media, 2005), 23.
4“Minister of External Affairs to Secretary of the South African Board of Jewish Deputies, August 19, 1936,” British Board of Jewish Deputies Papers, Reel 66, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Washington, DC.
5Marshall, 1–23.
6Rahlyn Mann, interviewed by Barbara Linz, Sydney, Australia, April 16, 1996, USC Shoah Foundation Collection, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, DVD.
7Milton Tobias, interviewed by Padigail Meskin. Durban, South Africa, December 1, 1995, USC Shoah Foundation Collection, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, DVD.
8Taffy Adler, “Lithuania’s Diaspora: The Johannesburg Jewish Workers’ Club, 1928–1948,” Journal of Southern African Studies, 1979, 6.1, pp. 70–92.
September 20, 2013
September 10, 2013
August 28, 2013
Jordan Matsudaira, a Sylff fellow at the University of Michigan in the early 2000s, has been appointed a senior economist at the Council of Economic Advisers (CEA) to advise President Barack Obama on education, labor, and immigration issues.
The council is the president’s primary source of objective research and recommendations on domestic and international fiscal policy.
Matsudaira began his one-year term in Washington, D.C., on August 1, 2013. He is on leave from Cornell University, where he is an assistant professor of policy analysis and management.
He received a Sylff fellowship while in the Economics Department of the University of Michigan, where he earned his PhD in economics and public policy in 2005.
His academic work has focused on the effects of education, health, and welfare policies on the behavior and well-being of vulnerable populations, such as immigrants.
We wish Dr. Matsudaira the best of luck in his new post, where his work is expected to have a direct impact on national policy.
For more details, see: http://news.cornell.edu/stories/2013/06/matsudaira-named-white-house-council-economic-advisers
August 28, 2013
Masaaki Higashijima, who received a Sylff fellowship from Waseda University in 2008, visited the Tokyo Foundation on August 12, 2013. Masaaki is enrolled in PhD programs at Waseda and Michigan State University and is currently writing a dissertation at MSU.
His research analyzes the correlation between elections and economic cycles on the assumption that leaders tend to adopt an expansionary fiscal policy before an election, resulting in post-election slowdowns. Masaaki is paying special attention to autocratic regimes, although the trend had been considered applicable exclusively to multi-party democracies. He is trying to demonstrate that a correlation between elections and economic performance also exists in autocratic regimes.
We believe that Masaaki’s profound analysis can help shed new light on the ties between politics and fiscal policy and wish him all the best with his dissertation.
August 21, 2013
August 21, 2013
August 21, 2013
By 19594
Anindita Roy received her Sylff fellowship from Jadavpur University in India in 2012 and conducted research in the United Kingdom using a Sylff Research Abroad grant from April to June 2013. In this article, she writes of children’s psychological development under adverse conditions in India, based on an analysis conducted in the UK of the field data she gathered over a year of research in Kolkata, India.
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Interests drive passion. Sometimes, they also help to shape paths that lead one to journeys of exploration. In my case, an interest in children and their development have led me into landscapes of the mind and how it constructs meaning. Specifically, mine has been an academic endeavor to understand the meaning-making process and its relation to identity formation, especially in children living in adverse environments. My research was carried out in two red-light districts of Southern Kolkata, and its participants were girls and boys aged between 8 and 14. During this year-long research, I was often asked about my choice of research site: “But, why the red-light district?”
Through a community involvement project I undertook at Jadavpur University, I had the opportunity to access the red-light neighborhoods of Kalighat and Khidderpore (which are the sites I chose in my research for a master of philosophy degree). The project was designed to empower children in economically and socially deprived areas whose needs and concerns, it was felt, were largely under-represented and often misrepresented. The participants of this project were trained to become radio reporters so they could express themselves on the platform of a community radio station located on the Jadavpur University campus.
There was one young and promising participant from Kalighat who suddenly stopped attending the training sessions after an enthusiastic involvement over half a year. We were informed by the institution that introduced us to the children in this sensitive area that the participant had left the city and returned to the village and would no longer be able to join the project. It was some weeks later that this participant was seen (by several members of our project) standing with a couple of young girls on the lanes of Kalighat, trying to get clients. We assumed from what we saw that the child, who was still a minor, had become part of the flesh trade. Over the course of the project, a few more children left to “go back to their villages.” (This is not to suggest, though, that they, too, entered the same profession, for unlike the first participant, they were never seen again.) I was less troubled about the truth of what we were told and why than about the kinds of thoughts that must have run through the children’s minds as they made their choices.
How did they make their choices? This was my chief concern: How do these children perceive their lives and the environments in which they live, as well as the meaning and consequences of the choices they make? The current research is part of an organic work in progress—an attempt to understand some of the questions that had seized my mind a long time ago.
Coming back to this work, made possible when my proposal was selected for a Sylff Research Abroad award, gave me an opportunity to carry out advanced research in the United Kingdom, where I was guided by scientists and teachers in the fields of psychology and childhood studies. A significant objective of my SRA project was to identify patterns from narratives created by children to understand their psychological development. For my fieldwork, participants were asked to take part in semi-structured interviews and story-telling sessions based on pictures that were presented to them.
Whether in reconstructing narratives from memories of lived experiences or in creating new tales for characters in their stories, the participants selected and conveyed narratives that were indicative of abuse, violence, and suffering. This repetition of certain information emanating from the participants’ memories defined and described their narratives. Understanding such field texts required a co-construction process based on familiarity with the field of research. Understanding violence starts from reading between the lines of what appears on tape in interviews and stories. The facts that are explicitly stated, though, helped me to categorize various expressions of violence. These categories may help lend meaning to the violence the participants recreate for their characters and elucidate the way they understand it in their own experiences.
Violence renders characters helpless. They protest but without support often succumb to the adversities in their environment. It entraps them:
“He started to hit his son, saying that he should work. The son protested, since his sister was studying, and said that he wanted to study too. He did not want to go to work. But the father hits him again and forces him to work. The son is frustrated and sad. He isn’t being allowed to do what he likes. He is not being allowed to gain an education or obtain a sense of security. The parents are forcing the son to do what they want. The boy weeps and cannot communicate.” (Participant A, story, excerpt)
The voice of the protestor surfaces but is silenced by authority—the father in this case. The “son is frustrated and sad” but has no resources that might extend support to him. In another story, the narrator finds his character equally distressed.
“One day, the boy was sent home from school for not being able to pay the fees. He went to his father and requested that he pay the fees. The father said that he had no money and that all the money was gone. The boy had to leave school. The boy requested that the father take up a job and help support the family. The father slapped the boy and said, “Why should I work? You will work.” And he sent the boy to a brick factory. The boy got 1000 or 2000 rupees a month. The father would snatch all the money from the boy and not even let him eat properly. The father would eat first and then give the leftovers to the son. The son was falling ill from not eating.” (Participant B, story, excerpt)
In the face of discouragement, constant pressure, and abuse, the protestor’s voice is silenced. There is not only a metaphorical annihilation in terms of communication but also a physical extinction in certain cases. This reiterates the sense of seclusion, isolation, and neglect that the participants often mention in the process of their interviews, too. Not many are willing to listen or interact, and possibly the protestor may stop protesting altogether.
In the case of the first example, the narrator ends the story by saying, “He cries and declares finally that he will work, for his sister’s sake. He goes to work.” (Participant A, interview, excerpt). The voice of the character of the child in the story—the protestor—is dead. Their voice is possibly just as dead as their aspirations to study. The lack of voice eventually becomes the loss of voice.
“My parents have a fight between themselves. My mother works even in the night. My father comes in the morning and fights with her for money. He gambles and is unemployed. He comes home, eats, gambles, snatches money from my mother, and goes away. He does not let my mother sleep and hits her. I have tried so much to explain to him, but he will only beat me up. When I was seven, he hit my mother so badly that her skull cracked and was bleeding. I tried to stop him, but he slapped me so hard that I fear him from that day.” (Participant B, interview, excerpt)
Reconstructing the experience, the participant mentions the atrocities and the efforts made to check them by trying to convince the father against torturing the mother but is beaten up in response. It seems that there is no one to whom the participant can reach out for support, none that is consciously available in the participant’s mind at least. In the lack of support and a sense of helplessness, there arises the emotion of fear, which eventually swallows the participant’s voice in expression.
Children celebrating Durga Puja, the biggest festival of West Bengal, where the author conducted interviews for her research
In some cases, the expression of violence as a ‘should’ is also prevalent. This norm is in keeping with a social code of disciplining the child, for example: “If I were to choose between the father and the son, I would want to play the role of the father. I will have to become a father once I get married. I am hitting the boy because he doesn’t listen to me. I asked him to get a bucket from the market but he ran away.” (Participant C, story, excerpt)
It is as if, just like the character who feels he “will have to become a father” once he gets married, he will “have to” hit his children to help them learn. Another participant tells in a story, “If I were to play the role of the father, I would hit my son, too. I would hit him, if there is a need, to get things done. Sometimes it is important to hit, or else children become disobedient.”
Very few cases look at violence through the lens of characters that resort to violence for the sake of it or for the fun of it. “There are some people who only need a trivial reason to pick up fights. They are always ready to fight.” (Participant D, interview, excerpt) The readiness to fight seems to be reason enough for a fight as well. Another participant says in a story, “And this older boy is now hitting the younger boy. The older boy just feels like it. The reason could be anything—he just feels like beating up this boy, or he may just feel like creating trouble. If he creates trouble, he will have fun.” Few in number, but qualitatively significant, is the concept of characters deriving pleasure from the troubles they create (usually for others). “We might wonder why the man should hit the boy at all; but the man might be enjoying this act of hitting a boy.” (Participant E, story, excerpt).
Succumbing to violence, whether as oppressor or oppressed, is the dominant pattern in most plots. The characters suffer physically through beatings, psychologically through trauma, and emotionally through frustration and anxiety. The characters’ sufferings could be reflective of the participants’ own suffering, including from the inability to choose more positive alternatives, even in the realm of imagination. I do not present these patterns as predictions about individual development or social adaptation. I only propose that these constructions be regarded as voices that demand understanding and keen attention. There must be an attempt to understand what the narratives mean to the ones making them. In the case of my research, an attempt has been made to understand the meaning of violence as a first step in understanding the environments within which these children live and grow.
In the recent past, the field of child development has been focusing on approaches to promote sustainable growth. While social theories and large-scale data have been constructively prevalent in India, so far, very little attention has been paid to children’s development from the perspective of understanding the child’s mind, emotions, and imagination. Well-meaning programs and policies have been formulated to accelerate growth in adverse conditions. In education, for example, programs have been introduced aimed at improving learning, such as a mid-day meal and free schooling until a certain age to promote education, especially for families in economically deprived conditions.
However, children may not necessarily equate schooling with learning. For example, in the course of data collection, some of my participants said that they would like to go to school, knowing that education is important, but also admitted that they are more interested in either the mid-day meal or in playing on the large school grounds from a lack of space in their own homes or their neighborhoods. The mid-day meal might thus help improve attendance at school but may not help improve learning. If school for these children means food and a place to play, then education will not be their first synonym for school. This is the dimension I hope to elucidate.
Such meanings will become clearer and more audible when the children are allowed to express and speak their minds. But sometimes, their realities are too difficult to share, even if they want to share them. In other parts of my research I have, therefore, analyzed the techniques of narrative construction as a means of expression and as clues to the understanding of the child. Henceforth, it would be interesting to explore and analyze the realm of the imagination and the use of it by children to renegotiate with their realities (or, maybe, to chance upon a completely new understanding).
August 14, 2013
By 19617
The following article is based on Bulgaria and Japan: From the Cold War to the Twenty-first Century, an exhaustively researched 2009 book by Evgeny Kandilarov—a Sylff fellow at Sofia University “St. Kliment Ohridski,” who used his fellowship to conduct research at Meiji University in Japan in 2005. The Tokyo Foundation asked the author, who is now an assistant professor at his alma mater, to summarize his findings, which have revealed intriguing patterns in the history of bilateral ties and international relations over the past several decades.
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The book Bulgaria and Japan: From the Cold War to the Twenty-first Century is almost entirely based on unpublished documents from the diplomatic archives at the Bulgarian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. In order to clarify concrete political decisions, many documents from the Political Bureau of the Central Committee of the Bulgarian Communist Party, Comecon, and State Committee for Culture were used. These documents are available at the Central State Archives of the Republic of Bulgaria. For additional information, memoirs of eminent Bulgarian political figures and diplomats who took part in the researched events were also used.
This article aims to give a brief overview of the political, economic, and cultural relations between Bulgaria and Japan during the Cold War and the subsequent period of Bulgaria’s transition to democracy and a market economy.
Exhaustive research on the bilateral relationship between Bulgaria and Japan have revealed specific reasons, factors, and causes that led to fairly intense economic, scientific, technological, educational, and cultural exchange between the two countries during the Cold War. Furthermore, the study raises some important questions, perhaps the most intriguing one being: Why did the relationship rapidly lose its dynamics during the transition period, and what might be the reasons for this?
The study also poses a series of questions concerning how bilateral relations influenced the economic development of Bulgaria during the 1960s and 1980s, throwing light on the many economic decisions made by the Bulgarian government that were influenced by the Japanese economic model.
The analysis of Bulgaria-Japan relations can be divided into two major parts. The chronological framework of the first part is defined by the date of the resumption of diplomatic relations between Bulgaria and Japan in 1959 and the end of state socialism in Bulgaria in 1989, coinciding with the end of the Cold War. This timeframe presents a fully complete period with its own logic and characteristics, following which Bulgaria’s international relations and internal policy underwent a total transformation at the beginning of the 1990s.
The second part of the analysis covers the period of the Bulgarian transition from state socialism to a parliamentary democracy and market economy. This relatively long period in the development of the country highlighted the very different circumstances the two countries faced and differences in their character.
The inner boundaries of the study are defined by two mutually related principles. The first is the spirit of international relations that directly influenced the specifics of the bilateral relationship, and the second is the domestic economic development of Bulgaria, a country that played an active role in the dynamics of the relationship. In this way, the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s (through 2007, when Bulgaria joined the EU), and the years since 2007 represent five distinct stages in the relations between Bulgaria and Japan.
The first stage began with the resumption of diplomatic relations in 1959. This was more a consequence of the general change in international relations in the mid-1950s than a result of deliberate foreign policy. After the easing of Cold War tensions between the two military and political blocs and the restart of dialogue, the whole Eastern bloc began normalizing its relations with the main ideological rival, the United States, as well as with its most loyal satellite in the Asia-Pacific region—Japan. From another point of view Japanese diplomatic activity toward Eastern Europe, including Bulgaria, was motivated mostly by the commercial and economic interests of Japanese corporations looking to extend their markets.
This period in Bulgarian-Japanese relations in the 1960s was characterized by mutual study and search for the right approach, the setting up of a legislative base, and the formulation of main priorities, aims, and interests.
Analyses of documents from the Bulgarian state archives show that Bulgaria was looking for a comprehensive development of the relationship, while Japan placed priority on economic ties and on technology and scientific transfer.
One of the most important industries for which the Bulgarian government asked for support from Japan was electronics, which was developing very dynamically in Japan. In the mid-1960s Bulgaria signed a contract with one of Japan’s biggest electronics companies, Fujitsu Ltd. According to the contract, Bulgaria bought a license for the production of electronic devices, which were one of the first such devices produced by Bulgaria and sold on the Comecon market. The contract also included an opportunity for Bulgarian engineers to hone their expertise in Japan.
In the 1960s the first joint ventures between Bulgaria and Japan were established. In 1967 the Bulgarian state company Balkancar and the Japanese company Tokyo Boeki create a joint venture called Balist Kabushiki Kaisha. Another joint venture that was established was called Nichibu Ltd. In 1971 these two companies merged into a new joint venture, Nichibu Balist, engaged in trading all kinds of metals and metal constructions, forklifts and hoists and spare parts for factories, ships (second hand), marine equipment, spare parts, electronics, pharmaceuticals, and chemical products.
In 1970 Bulgaria and Japan signed an Agreement on Commerce and Navigation, which was the first of its kind signed by the Bulgarian government with a non-socialist country. According to the agreement, the two countries granted each other most-favored-nation treatment in all matters relating to trade and in the treatment of individuals and legal entities in their respective territories.
At the end of this stage of Bulgarian-Japanese bilateral relations, by participating in the Expo ’70 international exhibition, Bulgaria already had a clear idea of the “Japanese economic miracle” and how it could be applied to Bulgaria’s economic growth.
The Bulgarian government led by communist ruler Todor Zhivkov were very much impressed and influenced by Japan’s industrial, scientific, and technological policy, which led to the so called Japanese miracle. That is why the economic reforms and strategies adopted in Bulgaria over the following few years, although conducted in a completely different social and economic environment, were influenced to some extent by the Japanese model, especially in the field of science and technological policy.
The second stage in bilateral relations in the 1970s marked the peak of political and economic activity between the two countries. The goals set during the previous period were pursued and achieved slowly and steadily. The legislative base was broadened, and the number of influential Japanese partners increased. The international status quo in East-West relations, marked by the Helsinki process, presented the possibility for Bulgaria and Japan to enjoy a real “golden decade” in their relations.
In 1972 the Japan-Bulgaria Economic Committee for the development of trade, economic, and scientific and technological ties between the two countries was established in Tokyo. Committee participants included a number of large Japanese manufacturers, financial institutions, and trading companies. The head of the Committee was Nippon Seiko (NSK) President Hiroki Imazato. The same year in Sofia, Bulgaria established the Bulgaria-Japan Committee for Economic, Science, and Technical Cooperation, headed by Minister of Science, Technologies, and Higher Education Nacho Papazov.
In the mid-1970s the Bulgarian government undertook some legislative changes regarding the rules for foreign company representation in Bulgaria. These changes were influenced mainly by the attempt by the Bulgarian government to encourage the further development of Bulgarian-Japanese economic relations. After the legislative changes Japanese companies received the right to open their own commercial representative offices in Bulgaria, and in just a few years 10 Japanese companies opened offices: Mitsubishi, Mitsui, Sumitomo, C. Itoh, Fujitsu, Tokyo Maruichi Shoji, Nichibu Balist, Marubeni, Nissho Iwai, and Toyo Menka Kaisha. In 1977 the Japan External Trade Organization (JETRO) also opened an office, greatly contributing to the promotion of the trade and economic relations between Bulgaria and Japan.
A political expression of the peak of Bulgarian-Japanese relations during the 1970s was the first official summit visit in the history of bilateral diplomatic relations—the visit by Bulgarian state leader Todor Zhivkov to Japan in March 1978 for a meeting with Japanese Prime Minister Takeo Fukuda.
During the visit, the two sides agreed to establish a Joint Intergovernmental Commission for Economic Cooperation, which has held working sessions every year, engaging both governments to further promote and extend the bilateral economic relationship.
Following the state visit by Todor Zhivkov, the Bulgarian government created a very detailed strategic program for the development of Bulgarian-Japanese relations for the decade up to 1990. The main focus of the program was the following idea: “The strategic direction in the economic relations between Bulgaria and Japan consists in the rational use and implementation of modern and highly effective Japanese technologies, equipment and production experience for the promotion of the quality and efficiency of the Bulgarian economy.”
Another key point was that the Bulgarian government would focus its efforts on strengthening cooperation with leading Japanese companies in such fields as electronics and microelectronics, automation and robotics, heavy industries, chemicals, electronics, and engineering.
In response to the Bulgarian state visit in 1978, the next year, in October 1979, Bulgaria was visited by Crown Prince Akihito and Crown Princess Michiko as the official representatives of Emperor Hirohito.
During the third period of Bulgarian-Japanese relations, the momentum of the preceding stages still kept the relationship stable and growing. The sphere of cooperation and mutual interest widened, and the Bulgarian government relied more on the Japanese support and the advantages offered by the Japanese economic model.
At the beginning of the 1980s the Bulgarian government undertook another step toward the liberalization of the Bulgarian economy. It gave an opportunity for Western companies to invest in Bulgaria by concluding contracts for industrial cooperation and creating associations. These changes in the Bulgarian economy caused great interest among Japanese economic circles, and within the next few years six Bulgarian-Japanese joint companies were created. The names and activities of the joint companies were as follows:
— Fanuc-Mashinex with the participation of Japanese company Fanuc Co: Service and production in the fields of electronics, automation, and engineering.
— Atlas Engineering with the participation of Japanese companies Mitsui, C. Itoh, Toshiba, and Kobe Steel: Design, supply, and implementation of projects in Bulgaria and third countries in the fields of mechanical engineering, chemicals, and metallurgy.
— Sofia-Mitsukoshi with the participation of Japanese companies Mitsukoshi and Tokyo Maruichi Shoji: Production and trade in the field of light industry as well as the reconstruction of department stores.
— Tobu-M.X.: Manufacture and sale of machinery for magnetic abrasive treatment of complex-shaped parts. Production was based on Bulgarian technology, and the products were sold in Japan and in third countries.
— Medicom Systems with the participation of Japanese company Tokyo Maruichi Shoji: Research, production, and sale of equipment and software for the medical and education markets.
— Farmahim-Japan with the participation of Japanese company Marubeni: Collaboration in the pharmaceutical field.
The subsequent crisis in East-West relations in the 1980s, the growing economic crisis in the Communist bloc, and changes in the political leadership in Moscow brought about the end of the Cold War and the beginning of a new era in international relations. During the 1990s, these new factors completely transformed the relationship between Bulgaria and Japan.
In the next period, during which Bulgaria began a long and arduous transition to a democratic political system and functioning market economy, an abrupt switch came about in the direction of Bulgarian foreign policy. The governing parties during this period made every effort to incorporate Bulgaria into the Euro-Atlantic military and economic structures, namely, the North Atlantic Treaty Organization and the European Union.
This required a great deal of effort to transform the political and economic systems. The focusing of national energy on these social transformations created a totally different environment for Bulgaria-Japan relations. Bulgaria became a developing country and was placed in an unequal position in terms of the international hierarchy. For a long time, relations between the two countries consisted largely of Japanese disbursements of official development assistance (ODA).
Despite the dialogue between Bulgaria and Japan from 1959 to 1989, the 1990s was a period of steady decline and stagnation in the bilateral relationship, being reduced, to a large extent, to one between donor and recipient.
All this led to a paradoxical situation: economic relations between Bulgaria and Japan were much closer when the countries were politically and ideologically far apart than during the period after 1989, when they stood in the same ideological framework. The underlying reasons for this are related to the question of what were the driving forces of the relationship during the Cold War.
A detailed study of the relationship between 1959 and 1989 shows that for the most part the initiative came mainly from the Bulgarian side, which showed keen interest in and reaped benefits from the relationship. Bulgaria was driven by commercial and economic interests and the need for scientific and technological cooperation. Moreover, Japan was both a good model and a suitable partner for Bulgaria. Japan saw in Bulgaria and other socialist countries an opportunity to expand its export markets and to import cheaper food commodities and raw materials.
At the same time, ties with a highly developed country like Japan provided an opportunity for the Bulgarian government to identify the defects and shortcomings of the closed, centralized, planned economy. This underlined a persistent set of problems, the major one being the lack of competitiveness of Bulgarian products stemming from poor quality, low labor efficiency, poor level of technology, unstable stock exchange, limitations in the number and variety of goods, mediocre design, and the failure to adapt to a highly dynamic and competitive market environment.
As late as January 1, 2007, both countries took a step to set up a new partnership framework on equal terms. After Bulgaria joined the EU, relations between the two countries became almost entirely dependent on the geopolitical, economic, and to some extent cultural interests of the respective counties in the region. From this perspective, the starting points of the relations between Bulgaria and Japan at the beginning of the twenty-first century did not seem very strong. This could be clearly seen in the empirical data on Japanese investment in Bulgaria, financial transactions, the traffic of tourists, cultural presence, and other areas, as well as in the peripheral position of Bulgaria in Japan’s foreign strategy toward the region, underlined by then Japanese foreign minister Taro Aso’s 2006 concept called the Arc of Freedom and Prosperity.
Unfortunately, even almost seven years after Bulgaria joined the EU there has not been any significant change in Bulgarian-Japanese relations, which remain very much below their optimal potential. The reasons for this can be found both in the lack of political and economic stability in Bulgaria as well as in the continuing economic instability of Japan over the last 20 years. Whether Japan and Bulgaria will once again see a merging of interests and revive a mutually beneficial relationship is a matter for another analysis. The most important thing is that there is already a very good base for a fruitful relationship, even though it was set during the Cold War, and it should be used as a starting point in the attempts by the Bulgarian government and its Japanese partners to find a more efficient and beneficial approach in developing bilateral relations.