Le Japon réarme. Dernier avertissement ?

Japan’s rearmament:

a final warning? This question frames our analysis of the

state of Japanese defence policy. Given Japan’s historical legacy,

this question has profound implications. Is it rearmament? If so,

How much and how significant? Where does Japan stand geopolitically

and in the region, especially in relation to its neighbours: China,

North Korea, and Russia? Finally, what is the wider resonance of this

shift and what conclusions can be drawn? To answer these questions, I am pleased to

welcome Fabrice Ravel back today. Hello, Fabrice.

Hello, Olivier. Hello, everyone. Our theme today is both innovative and,

one might say, unique for the Rendez-Vous de la Géopolitique. What does ‘final warning’ mean

in this context? By the end of the Battle of Midway on 7 June 1942, Japan had lost

far more than four aircraft carriers—the fleet's core. It lost more than a single battle. It lost more than the initiative. Japan had already lost the war. Japan had already lost the war

a mere six months after it began with the attack on Pearl Harbour

on 7 December 1941. Yet the Japanese

people knew nothing by the summer of 1942. Firstly, the Japanese government exerted

every effort to conceal this singularly unpalatable truth. Furthermore, the

populace remained lulled by a relentless stream of good news.

From January to June 1942, news bulletins sang the praises

of an Imperial Army that swept from

victory to victory, conquest to conquest, and appeared to be

utterly invincible. At

this juncture, let’s pause and focus our minds to imagine a young boy

wandering through the gardens,

hurrying each morning to witness a magnificent spectacle:

Japan’s legendary ‘Zero’ fighters, taking off

at daybreak. They were the very emblem of a Conquering Japan and

a profound source of inspiration for him. Every morning, after

watching them in amazement, he returned to his youthful play, especially

a model of an Imperial Navy plane that his elder brother, who was a pilot,

had carved for him. He had already decided his path: One day, he would

also be a daring pilot in the Imperial Japanese Air Force

—a modern-day samurai. He lived in Hiroshima. Today, the sole testament to this boy’s

existence is a shadow etched for eternity upon

the ruins of a city wall. At the instant of the blast, the light was of such

searing intensity that his pulverised form was

effectively sketched onto the stone in that instant: the shadows of Hiroshima. For days, a silent

Hiroshima was isolated and severed from the world. The American pilot reportedly said:

My God! What have we done? Every year

on 6 August,

a minute’s silence and the resonance of a bell

beckon us to remember this singular

moment for eternity. We should thus re-examine the question

of Japan’s rearmament from this vantage point;

for in such a harrowing context, the issue

assumes a most singular meaning. We see clearly how this event

—a global cataclysm that scarred the conscience of mankind—

profoundly wounded Japan and forged a relationship with

the military and war that was no longer that of

the Japanese Empire. To speak of rearmament today

is to acknowledge the long era of disarmament

that followed the Second World War. That is a most

astute observation. Indeed, to truly fathom the magnitude and the

symbolic weight of Japan’s rearmament, I believe it was indispensable to

situate it within the perspective we have

just explored. Moreover, a very significant process of

demilitarisation took place during the post-war period. This is perhaps the point I shall stress

most forcefully, so that we may fully grasp the magnitude of this

swing towards remilitarisation. The 1889 Constitution was repealed

and replaced by a Basic Law,

which is equivalent to a constitution. Article 9 of this law is monumental:

In it, Japan renounced war and the very right of the state to engage in

military action. Let us pause here, because the weight

of this fact bears repeating: this is the only moment in history

where a nation has voluntarily renounced war. Here we see a resolve that is,

in my view, proportional to the sheer magnitude of the trauma

we have forced ourselves to re-evaluate. This article of its Constitution

does not merely renounce war;

it goes further, formally renouncing the

very idea of having Japan establish any sort of land, naval,

or air forces. In this regard, we should also note that

in 1954, Japan only authorised self-defence forces. It is already clear: these are not

military units; they are forces. And they are not military;

they are self-defence forces. Allow me to add one point to reinforce

the understanding of this uniqueness. It is clear it was the Americans

—within a Cold War context requiring rearmament against

the Soviet Bloc— who pushed Japan to maintain

a minimum of combat forces to relieve them, even as they were

just coming out of the Korean War. This is the very centre of the Asia-Pacific. There is one final,

essential point: this demilitarisation

would be mirrored over generations by

a population shifting towards a genuine pacifism

—one all the more justified and likely to endure. It is clear from

these factors that Japan’s demilitarisation

was uniquely profound. Indeed, I would suggest that never in

human history has a country relinquished its military function to such an extent. Today, we are no longer

in that situation. Indeed, we have clearly

moved beyond that. Two dynamics

now confirm a powerful and pronounced

pendulum swing. It is essential

to weigh these factors to assess the current

momentum accurately, as this

phenomenon remains somewhat obscure—especially,

I would venture, for Western European nations. The first of these dynamics

is clearly military. Regarding the military dynamic,

there has been a considerable increase

in Japanese forces, both in their initial establishment

and their subsequent evolution. Paradoxically,

this change is not primarily reflected in the number of troops. Within this

military dynamic, some observers will certainly check the most official documents

for the actual state of Japan’s forces. —specifically the 2024 Military Balance. I am referring particularly to

the 2024 Military Balance, as it is the version we shall use

in a few moments; the 2025 version adds little, and this one remains one of

the most recent for putting this dynamic into perspective. This report shows a headcount of

Japanese forces at roughly 250,000. Naturally,

one might easily nuance these comments,

arguing that 250,000 men out of a population of

123 million people remains a very low ratio. Yet, there is

a dynamic to consider above all else:

Japan is consenting to make a considerable effort

financially, and I’ve chosen my words carefully: ‘consenting’

and ‘considerable effort’. Why? Because in 2023,

spending for its self-defence forces

reached roughly $49 billion, placing Japan

—to give our audience a more global perspective—

roughly ninth among the world’s highest spenders. I should specify that I am excluding

Ukraine and Russia, which have been at war since 24 February 2022.

Determining accurate figures for these countries is complicated because they are

actually engaged in war and there’s a lack of readily available data.

Furthermore, we should be precise about

which expenditures are included in such calculations. With these two nations

deliberately left out of the equation,

Japan’s 2023 budget stands as roughly the ninth largest. This represents approximately

1% of the 2023 Gross Domestic Product;

while instinctively associated with Japan, it is relatively modest when held against

the famous 2% threshold. However,

what is truly striking is the 2025 decision:

by 2027, nearly two years

ahead of schedule for such vast, long-term programmes,

Japan will raise its investment to

2% of GDP. This implies a budget

so substantial that, if confirmed, Japan would have

the third-largest military expenditure on earth;

though we must weigh the percentage of the GDP

against what it signifies in absolute terms, given the nation's profound wealth. Given Japan’s financial might, we are

clearly discussing a truly massive investment. This leap to third place

is quite startling when we recall the unique constraints

we discussed earlier. Yet, beyond this significant financial surge,

another factor corroborates

the current dynamic: what goals is Japan pursuing

with these investments? Only by seeing how

Japan uses this additional windfall can we grasp its intent. Japan is buying drones and radars;

it plans to acquire far more fighter jets and interceptors. It’s also in the

process of purchasing American Tomahawks, which is a crucial point we’ll come

back to—and it is completely renovating its frigates. Looking at the scale of the hardware

involved, the significance becomes clear. It’s clear that

we’re looking at a suite of military capabilities

indicating that Japan is seeking to fully restore its military

footprint, ensuring operational readiness

across all land, sea, and air components. This first dynamic

is arguably quite telling, but there is also

a second factor that further corroborates

and perhaps can even amplify the current trajectory

we are examining. Clearly, such a transition would necessitate

a fundamental shift in mindset. While the 1970s

were characterised by Japanese pacifism, it is evident today

that the Japanese government has moved away from its

former strategic posture. This shift is both clear and pronounced. If you’ll indulge me, I want to dig into

a bit of Clausewitz to help us get a handle on what’s

actually happening here. His most famous line is constantly

trotted out but usually mangled in translation. It should be: War is not an independent phenomenon,

but the continuation of politics by other means. Let’s consider what this means. Perhaps some will find it interesting to

revisit our session on him, which is among our most important, as it

is foundational to geopolitical strategy. The keyword is ‘continuation’,

which means an extension of policy and the subordination of military

issues to political authority. Why such a preamble? If we take a magnifying glass to

analyse Japanese politics over the last

twenty years, we would see

a definitive move towards Japanese remilitarisation. A key transitional period occurred during the 2010s,

specifically under the premiership of Shinzo Abe

between 2012 and 2020. Central to this era

was the concept used across Japan known as ‘normalisation’. This choice of

terminology is noteworthy, warranting a brief etymological—perhaps even

psychoanalytical— examination of what such an admission implies. Normalisation, by its very

definition, signifies a return to the norm. This suggests that the

prior situation was not so normal after all— that it was

an exception which was bound to end sooner or later.

There is an implication here that this status

was imposed upon them, but now that they have regained the capacity of a

normal state, they are reassuming their military strength. I believe this concept of

‘normalisation’ is vital. Similarly, the 2015 Legislation for

Peace and Security reveals a

perceived need for a new legal footing,

even while Article 9

of the Basic Law remains stubbornly unamended. The name of the game now is flexible

interpretation—stretching the meaning as far as it'll go. We are entering a realm of

linguistic gymnastics—a play of syntax— that forces us to

reconfigure our perceptions. The core argument is that Japan is entirely within its rights to

exercise self-defence. But there is a further extension:

not only is self-defence legitimate,

but it may even justify the projection of forces

abroad, provided such projection better ensures

the security of self-defence. To call this a broad interpretation

is actually putting it rather mildly. The momentum is

clearly growing; the latest Japanese Prime Minister,

Sanae Takaichi, gave a speech on 7 November 2025

that did more than just confirm this trend —she pushed it much further.

She moved beyond mere confirmation of existing trends, explicitly

stating that Japan’s strategic outlook now includes the deployment of troops to defend Taiwan against Chinese

intervention. By naming specific countries, she framed

this not just as a right, but as an obligation. To conclude,

a comprehensive political realignment is taking place, which corroborates

our initial thesis. This military shift seems to be

both validated and intensified by a corresponding

political transformation. Consequently, we are

observing a Japan that is, de facto, undergoing complete remilitarisation. These things seem

very clear to me. Indeed,

we should understand this within a broader geopolitical and

regional context—the very one you began to describe with your mention of China. There is China, but also Russia

and North Korea. These factors explain the

Japanese dynamic. To comprehend the unfolding situation,

it is necessary to acknowledge these factors, which,

as we’ve seen, are indisputably driving the dynamic. It is certainly appropriate,

as a classic exercise in geopolitics, to re-examine Japan within

its immediate environment and geographical context. Indeed, when we examine a map of

Asia-Pacific and focus on Japan—as you can see

from this map on the screen—

it should become clear that among the neighbouring

states, three in particular hold considerable

geopolitical interest. Firstly, there is China,

which you have just noted, followed by Russia and North Korea. I would further suggest that

the notable aspect of the three countries mentioned is that

China—in a manner that is becoming increasingly conspicuous

and tense—is persistently asserting its territorial claims,

specifically over Taiwan. That represents an initial cause for concern. Regarding Russia,

one need only recall the war with Ukraine since 24 February 2022

to appreciate the complexity of the situation involving such a neighbour. Finally, there is North Korea,

which has remained technically at war with

South Korea for 72 years at the time of this recording. This is a point of frequent

misunderstanding among observers. While an armistice was

indeed signed, we should bear in mind that this represented only a temporary

cessation of hostilities but did not end the war. As a result, we are looking at

a state that is evidently capable of situating Japan within

a deeply unsettled strategic perspective. Furthermore, there is a second point

warranting emphasis within our current

analytical framework. What is this second point? What particular tensions

might Japan have with each of these countries? A clearer understanding

of these frictions may help explain

the genuine apprehension felt by Japan. Let’s begin with North Korea. It is evident that

North Korea’s possession of nuclear

weaponry and its frequent missile testing

have subjected Japan to the unsettling experience of

projectiles traversing its sovereign airspace,

missiles flying overhead even during routine exercises. Such developments are hardly

reassuring when considering the geographical proximity and

the underlying ballistic implications. Furthermore,

Japan’s prompt condemnation of Russia's invasion of Ukraine

has exacerbated tensions with Moscow,

intensifying a sense of animosity

rooted in the unresolved dispute over

the northern Kuril Islands, which was a point of contention

between Japan and the USSR, and now Russia, since 1945. Regarding relations with China, the situation is increasingly noteworthy due

to the status of several islands, namely the Senkakus, which are currently

under Japanese administration, though explicitly contested by China. Let’s return to a work we’ve cited

once or twice by Jean-Pierre Cabestan: Facing China: The Prospect for

War and Peace. Chapter 5

(page 201 in the French version) is entirely devoted to the tensions

between Japan and China. The title says it all: War Risks

over the Senkaku (Diaoyu) Islands.

This highlights a deteriorating situation with a grim drift

toward armed conflict. We might add another wrinkle to the story

—one that is rather telling of just how deep the fault lines run. The simple fact is that Beijing rejects the

Japanese name, and prefers its own. It’s more than a squabble

over semantics. In geopolitics, this sort of head-butting over

the names of cities or regions stems from a

legitimate desire to demonstrate that the country contesting

authority possesses the arguments —or perhaps the sophistry—capable of

a long-term challenge to political power. We are clearly witnessing

a state of ‘friction’, to use Clausewitz’s term. There’s one final case

that illustrates this point. The landmass involved is

admittedly small: Yonaguni Island. In fact,

what really lays bare the scale of the current friction between Beijing

and Tokyo involves the 2,000 kilometres between

Tokyo and this island, whose closest point is 108 kilometres from Taiwan. Taking that

into account, one can see that the geopolitical

atmosphere surrounding Japan is remarkably claustrophobic

—anxiety-inducing, even. That goes some way toward explaining

the sudden shift in perspectives. That moves things beyond a purely regional

issue now; there is a third party looming over Japan and

the region at large. We should also acknowledge

that this power is there. Lo and behold: the United States. Make no mistake:

the waters we’re navigating are risky. A few points should suffice

to convince us that the perspective and current

line of reasoning truly hold water, we need only look

at a few key facts. First,

the military cooperation treaty that the USA and Japan signed in 1960. It is important

to recall this, as the United States clearly came

to view Japan not as a defeated enemy, but as

a reliable partner that Washington could count on

in future conflicts. In line with this law,

or, in fact, this treaty, what else should we consider? The American contingent

currently numbers around 60,000 troops. To put that

into perspective, it is the single largest concentration of American forces

anywhere on the globe outside of the continental United States. That should give a fairly clear picture of just

how high the stakes are for Washington. What’s more,

let’s deliberately choose a date not so distant in the past,

since 2016, there were no fewer than 16 US bases in Japan. Yes, 16. We can clearly see

that the United States claims a major role and has significant aspirations

in the region. This was confirmed by Donald Trump during his

visit to Japan in the latter half of 2025, where he

assured the Japanese of his full support. It is rare for Donald

Trump to offer such unconditional backing; many other countries would certainly welcome the chance

to rely on that level of support. Therefore,

what we’re laying bear here effectively rounds off the case

for Japan’s remilitarisation. Moreover, it is doing so with the approval of a former

adversary, who became its protector and now acts as its ally. The demonstration is now

firmly on the table. With the groundwork laid,

I’ll return to the question I posed at the beginning:

Is this the final warning? We began in 1942, but now

I’ll ask the question for 2025. And you were quite right to point out that

'final warning' does have a rather ominous ring to it. That’s exactly how I’d like that

to be understood and intended. I also think we

should use the plural form, since there are at least two

different ways to interpret the phrase ‘final warning’. If you'll bear with me,

I’ll address them one by one. The first is fairly

self-evident: it’s a warning that

the Asia-Pacific has become the most dangerous

corner of the globe. Given the numerous

issues at stake and the powerful actors involved,

we are clearly facing a challenging situation. You’ll recall, that we actually

flagged this years ago. Back in early 2021,

we ran a session with a title that rather

hit the nail on the head: 'The Taiwan Strait:

The Balkans of the 21st Century?’ We used that rather surprising

analogy to show that we were at a spot where, in the

context of 2025—the 21st century— one might find the triggers

for a war that military leaders today describe as ‘high intensity’,

though we’d prefer the term ‘generalised war’. Simply look at the cast of characters

to see why: North Korea, Russia, China and the USA. It goes without saying that the prospect of an

actual military clash would be harrowing, and thus: a final warning. We have to tread very carefully here;

the situation is, quite frankly, explosive. But there is a second warning to

consider, and this one has a much broader, global reach. It extends well beyond the immediate

boundaries of the Asia-Pacific. And who, you might ask, is the target of

this final warning? The Europeans. It’s aimed straight at Europe. The crux of the matter is this: you have

a country that went further than any other to outlaw

war, to strike it from the record entirely. Now it’s

being hemmed in by the return of geopolitics, a trend we’ve seen since

the Cold War ended, and a topic we’ve tackled often at

Rendez-Vous de la Géopolitique. For a country like Japan,

which may be viewed as a martyr of the Second World War

regarding the event mentioned, to feel compelled to

remilitarise is in my view, a clear sign

that the Europeans must agree to

transform their worldview, their

understanding of their global role, and the perspectives

they need to evolve. That reconnects with our discussion on

Clausewitz and that Forum des Humanités session to which you so kindly invited me

as a guest, Olivier. It was, if I recall, entitled

Thinking about War, where we noted that

thinking about war is perhaps the surest way

of preventing it. To

conclude this session, I am drawn to

reflect upon Raymon Aron’s famous barb,

which he was inclined to attribute, not altogether kindly,

to his contemporaries. This barb actually targeted someone specific.

This quote is essentially: His misfortune or tragedy

is that he forgot that history is tragic. And he was targeting someone in particular,

believe me. I think that Europeans should recall

this phrase to safeguard their future. Well, Fabrice, since you haven't named the

mysterious target of Raymond Aron’s famous words, perhaps our audience knows who it is

and will tell us in the Comments section. Thank you for tuning in for this

Rendez-Vous de la Géopolitique. I’ll see you right back here

for the next episode very soon.