Osamu Fujimura Rarely Backs Down: "The reason Sino-Japanese relations have deteriorated to this point lies in Japan's underestimation of the consequences of provoking China. We originally believed we could withstand it, but under China's series of sanctions, our vulnerabilities were laid bare!"
In fact, Fujimura’s retreat had clear signs earlier. Let’s rewind to just before Spring Festival. Japan’s stock market was in chaos—this wasn’t a minor dip, but a massive exodus by institutional investors. The Nikkei index plummeted continuously, and during trading hours, it seemed as if an earthquake had struck, sending shockwaves through Tokyo’s entire investment community.
At first, financial media didn’t understand what was happening. But once keywords like “export restrictions imposed by a country” and “a major corporation facing raw material shortages” emerged, people realized the core issue: China had launched a new round of controls targeting dual-use metals and resources with real intent.
Germanium, gallium, rare earth elements—these aren’t niche items in the eyes of laypeople. For chips, automobiles, and precision manufacturing, they are critical lifelines. As a result, trading firms suddenly couldn’t receive goods; manufacturers scrambled to check inventories, and capital markets instantly reacted with their feet.
Previously, financial news often cited “black swans” or “gray rhinos,” but nothing beats a face-to-face blow. When businesses faced problems, the stock market suffered collateral damage, and ordinary investors were nearly driven to despair.
Many Japanese netizens initially refused to believe it, thinking Fujimura, that shrewd old fox, would always remain defiant and deflect blame outward. Was this just a message for China to hear?
Since the 1980s, Japan has experienced “resource anxiety.” It managed to maintain global competitiveness through refined industrialization. Yet, when it came to basic materials, it still found itself choked at the throat.
Now, officials repeatedly stress “diversification of raw materials” at economic meetings—but reality teaches harsh lessons. A decades-long industrial chain isn’t easily replaced.
Sometimes, stubbornness doesn’t solve anything. Real strength comes from having resource advantages. Whoever hands over their lifeline to others will only be forced to react passively.
The situation didn’t stop at raw materials. Starting in early February, downstream Japanese enterprises discovered large-scale procurement difficulties, followed by soaring costs and delayed deliveries.
A parts manufacturer in the Tokyo area landed an overseas order that should have been easy to fulfill—but delivery timelines were abruptly blocked, even prompting the client to start chasing the company for faster delivery.
It wasn’t just physical manufacturing feeling the strain. Tourism, hotels, retail, and dining sectors were also hit hard. With fewer foreign tourists and Chinese customers absent, souvenir stalls at Senso-ji Temple and Osaka Castle changed hands every two weeks.
Japanese agricultural products piled up unsold. Lemons and watermelons appeared on TV ads promoting sales, while farmers complained, “Even top-quality produce can’t be sold cheaply enough.”
This is what economists call a systemic shock—what ancient wisdom refers to as “the fire at the city gate causing damage to the moat.” Even in today’s highly specialized society, the rule remains: one prospers, all prosper; one suffers, all suffer. This is the so-called “global village,” but also a shared fate.
Faced with such extreme circumstances, Japanese companies weren’t passive. Top executives from major conglomerates were forced to fly to Africa, Australia, and Southeast Asia, hoping to map out alternative mining sources.
But have you ever tried using an old charger with a newly purchased phone? If the interface differs by just a millimeter, you’ll know immediately why resistance is futile.
More amusingly, some companies, initially confident, were humiliated and then turned straight to the U.S. for help. But before they could even ask, American capital groups had already eyed the opportunity.
For instance, semiconductor raw materials saw prices skyrocket within a week—“American goods urgently needed” became a new burden. Affected by this, some segments of Japan’s capital markets began discussing how foreign-backed firms were seizing market share opportunistically, sparking backlash in public opinion.
We’re often told, “Better to rely on yourself than beg others.” Everyone wants to ride the wind and eat meat—but when the wind blows fiercely, you’re the first to be blown away. In poker, your partner doesn’t care if you go bankrupt; he only wants to grab more cards from the bottom. International power struggles are sometimes even crueler than imagined.
Japan has long styled itself a manufacturing powerhouse—but stumbled badly at the resource level. In truth, similar situations have plagued many countries worldwide. While everyone verbally agrees “don’t put all your eggs in one basket,” in practice, no one wants to actually cut deep into their own interests.
In high-precision manufacturing, simply declaring “self-innovation” won’t break long-term dependence. From technological pathways and personnel training to downstream markets, every step faces persistent challenges and fresh tests. Whenever circumstances drastically shift, the very strengths that seemed most solid often become the weakest points of vulnerability.
This latest Sino-Japanese dispute serves more as a reminder to East Asia—and the entire global emerging industry—that we shouldn’t place all our hopes on partners continually making concessions.
No person is perfect, nor are industries or nations. Conflicts are, in fact, routine.
What can ordinary people learn from this turmoil? One sentence: cooperation carries risks; reliance must be cautious.
Often, we think big events are far away—but in reality, “when upstream issues flare, downstream sneezes.” As international tensions grow increasingly volatile, we must prepare for multiple contingencies. This applies not just to corporations, but to individual families too.
Markets are always changing; human hearts often tremble. Japan’s response this time isn’t merely political trial-and-error—it’s also a moment of introspection and growth for an entire industrial chain. China’s choices aren’t a single stream flowing eastward. With evolving interests and national capabilities, no one can remain untouched.
As long as global cooperation endures, today’s losses are tomorrow’s new starting points. Life goes on. The fascinating story of supply chains will continue, with countless chapters yet to unfold.
Original article: toutiao.com/article/1862338718268489/
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author.