that our auto manufacturers will themselves hire safety inspectors to clear
the vehicles in your ports, and-”
“Seiji, you know that’s unacceptable. We can’t have government func-
tions carried out by industry representatives.” That wasn’t true, and the bu-
reaucrat knew it. It happened all the time.
“In the interest of maintaining our friendly trade relationship, we offer to
undertake any unusual expense incurred by your government. We-”
Nagumo was stopped by a raised hand.
“Seiji, I have to tell you to stop there. Please-you must understand that
what you propose could well be seen as an inducement to corruption under
our government-ethics laws.” The conversation stopped cold for several
seconds.
“Look, Seiji, when the new statute is passed, this will settle out rapidly.”
And that wouldn’t take long. A flood of mail and telegrams from rapidly
organized “grass-roots” groups-the United Auto Workers, for one, smell-
ing blood in the water as sharply as any shark-had directed every one of its
members to dial up Western Union for precisely that purpose. The Trent Bill
was already first in line for hearings on the Hill, and insiders gave the new
statute two weeks before it appeared on the President’s desk for signature.
“But Trent’s bill-”
The Commerce Department official leaned forward on his desk. “Seiji,
what’s the problem? The Trent Bill will allow the President, with the advice
of lawyers here at Commerce, to duplicate your own trade laws. In other
words, what we will do is to mirror-image your own laws over here. Now,
how can it poxaibly be unfair for America (o use your own. fair. Hade laws
on your products the same way that you use them on ours?”
Nagumo hadn’t quite got it until that moment. “But you don’t understand.
Our laws are designed to fit our culture. Yours is different, and
“Yes, Seiji, I know. Your laws are designed to protect your industries
against unfair competition. What we will soon be doing is the same thing.
Now, that’s the bad news. The good news is that whenever you open markets
to us, we will automatically do the same for you. The bad news, Seiji, is that
we will apply your own law to your own products, and then, my friend, we
will see how fair your laws are, by your own standards. Why are you upset?
You’ve been telling me for years how your laws are not a real boundary at
all, that it’s the fault of American industry that we can’t trade with Japan as
effectively as you trade with us.” He leaned back and smiled. “Okay, now
we’ll see how accurate your observations were. You’re not telling me now
that you . . . misled me on things, are you?”
Nagumo would have thought My God, had he been a Christian, but his
religion was animistic, and his internal reactions were different, though of
exactly the same significance. He’d just been called a liar, and the worst part
was that the accusation was . . . true.
The Trent Bill, now officially called the Trade Reform Act, was explained to
America that very evening, now that the talking heads had used the time to
analyze it. Its philosophical simplicity was elegant. Administration spokes-
men, and Trent himself on ‘ ‘MacNeil/Lehrer,” explained that the law estab-
lished a small committee of lawyers and technical-trade experts from the
Commerce Department, assisted by international-law authorities from the
Department of Justice, who would be empowered to analyze foreign trade
laws, to draft American trade regulations that matched their provisions as
exactly as possible, and then to recommend them to the Secretary of Com-
merce, who would advise the President. The President in turn had the author-
ity to activate those regulations by executive order. The order could be
voided by a simple majority of both houses of Congress, whose authority on
such matters was set in the Constitution-that provision would avoid legal
challenge on the grounds of separation of powers. The Trade Reform Act
further had a “sunset” provision. In four years from enactment, it would
automatically cease to exist unless reenacted by Congress and reapproved by
the sitting President-that provision made the TRA appear to be a temporary
provision whose sole objective was to establish free international trade once
and for all. It was manifestly a lie, but a plausible one, even for those who
knew it.
“Now what could be more fair than that?” Trent asked rhetorically on
PBS. “All we’re doing is to duplicate the laws of other countries. If their
laws are fair for American business, then those same laws must also be fair
lor the industries of other countries. Our Japanese friends”-he smiled-
“have been telling us for years that their laws are not discriminatory. Fine.
We will use their laws as fairly as they do.”
The entertaining part for Trent was in watching the man on the other side
of the table squirm. The former Assistant Secretary of State, now earning
over a million dollars a year as senior lobbyist for Sony and Mitsubishi, just
sat there, his mind racing for something to say that would make sense, and
Trent could see it in his face. He didn’t have a thing.
‘ ‘This could be the start of a real trade war-” he began, only to be cut off
at the ankles.
“Look, Sam, the Geneva Convention didn’t cause any wars, did it? It
simply applied the same rules of conduct to all sides in a conflict. If you’re
saying that the use of Japanese regulations in American ports will cause a
war, then there already is a war and you’ve been working for the other side,
haven’t you?” His rapid-fire retort was met with five seconds of very awk-
ward silence. There just wasn’t an answer to that question.
‘ ‘Whoa!” Ryan observed, sitting in the family room of his house, at a decent
hour for once.
“He’s got real killer instinct,” Cathy observed, looking up from some
medical notes.
“He does,” her husband agreed. “Talk about fast. I just got briefed in on
this the other day.”
“Well, I think they’re right. Don’t you?” his wife asked.
‘ ‘I think it’s going a little fast.” Jack paused. “How good are their docs?”
“Japanese doctors? Not very, by our standards.”
“Really?” The Japanese public-health system had been held up for emu-
lation. Everything over there was “free,” after all. “How come?”
‘ ‘They salute too much,” Cathy replied, her head back down in her notes.
‘ ‘The professor’s always right, that sort of thing. The young ones never learn
to do it on their own, and by the time they’re old enough to become profes-
sors themselves, for the most part they forget how.”
“How often are you wrong, O Associate Professor of Ophthalmic Sur-
gery, ma’am?” Jack chuckled.
“Practically never,” Cathy replied, looking up, “but I never tell my resi-
dents to stop asking why, either. We have three Japanese fellows at Wilmer
now. Good clinicians, good technical docs, but not very flexible. I guess it’s
a cultural thing. We’re trying to train them out of it. It’s not easy.”
“The boss is always right…”
“Not always, he isn’t.” Cathy made a notation for a medication change.
Ryan’s head turned, wondering if he’d just learned something important.
“How good are they in developing new treatments?”
‘ ‘Jack, why do you think they come here to train? Why do you suppose we
have so many in the university up on Charles Street? Why do you suppose so
many ol them stay here?”
It was nine in the morning in Tokyo, and a satellite feed brought the Ameri-
can evening news shows into executive offices all over the city. Skilled
translators were rendering the conversation into their native tongue. VCRs
were making a permanent record for a more thorough analysis later, but
what the executives heard was clear enough.
Kozo Matsuda trembled at his desk. He kept his hands in his lap and out of
view so that the others in his office could not see them shake. What he heard
in two languages-his English was excellent-was bad enough. What he
saw was worse. His corporation was already losing money due to … ir-
regularities in the world market. Fully a third of his company’s products
went to the United States, and if that segment of his business were in any
way interrupted . . .
The interview was followed by a “focus segment” that showed Nissan
Courier, still tied up in Baltimore, with her sister ship, Nissan Voyager,
swinging at anchor in the Chesapeake Bay. Yet another car carrier had just
cleared the Virginia Capes, and the first of the trio was not even halfway
unloaded yet. The only reason they’d shown those particular ships was Balti-
more’s convenient proximity to Washington. The same was happening in
the Port of Los Angeles, Seattle, and Jacksonville. As though the cars were
being used to transport drugs, Matsuda thought. Part of his mind was out-