<i>Sympathique</i> for former Prime Minister Taro Aso

By Metro President David Bragdon of Portland, Oregon.

If only Japanese Prime Minister Taro Aso knew how to hang on, little tomato, he and his Liberal Democratic Party might not have ended up as ketchup in yesterday’s election.

Oh, I know, his defeat on August 30 came as no surprise to observers of Japanese politics, and a party that has ruled through nearly two decades of a sluggish recession was probably bound to get the boot eventually. Still, having had an opportunity once to meet Prime Minister Aso, I tell myself now that if only I had been able to give him the magic words I wanted to, he might have been able to hang on.

The soon-to-be-former Prime Minister and I met at an "Eco-Cities" conference in Kita-kyushu, Japan, last December. Japan takes its leadership role as the host nation of the Kyoto negotiations seriously, and its government has encouraged municipalities to adopt localized strategies to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. During a period when the U.S. Bush administration was hostile to local initiatives, Prime Minister Aso and his predecessors provided grants and other assistance to cities which agreed to implement GHG-reduction strategies involving public transport, non-fossil fuel use, and stewardship of resources. At the invitation of the government of Japan, I got to witness one feature of this "Eco-Cities" program: a convention, convened by the national government including cabinet ministers at the highest level, where representatives from cities across Japan show and tell each other how each of them is reducing reliance on carbon. It’s both competitive and cooperative: imagine our U.S. President – plausible since January 20 of this year - calling together localities from across the country and listening to communities audition for federal funding based on commitments to reduce GHG: Cleveland might boast it is going to install wind turbines along Lake Erie, only to be upstaged by a presentation from Denver saying it is going to cut automobile use by doubling its transit system, before New York City takes the floor to say with the right support it will plant two million trees. That’s what an "Eco-Cities" conference in Japan is like, with cities trying to out-do each other in carbon reduction.

I was privileged to be at their conference in December 2008 because (again unlike how the U.S. often is) the Japanese government believes it can learn from, and share expertise with, other nations. In addition to the nearly 100 cities from Japan, they invited representatives from the regions of Malmo, Sweden and Freiburg, Germany to speak, along with me to describe the Portland region’s Metro Council approach to transportation planning, recycling, and natural areas acquisitions. During three days in Japan, the Swedes and Germans and I were given tours of energy-recovery facilities, transit systems, and environmental education classrooms. On the final day we were given a major honor with the surprise announcement that Prime Minister Aso would be coming to the convention hall in person to give his endorsement to the "Eco-Cities" program and meet with us. The Japanese officials who had been escorting us grew more earnest than ever: it was a big deal that the Prime Minister was coming.

I grew nervous too, never having met a Prime Minister, and believing that especially in Japan it would be appropriate to present him with some diplomatic token of my homeland. Unfortunately the gift boxes of hazelnuts and smoked salmon that I carried were in my larger bag, on the other side of the security cordon, so I hurriedly looked through my briefcase to see what Oregon trinkets I still had. Ah ha! My bag contained the perfect gift: an autographed copy of Pink Martini’s CD, "Hang on Little Tomato." The album even contains the Portland band’s version of the Japanese song, Kikuchiyo to Mahshimasu, originally written by Michio Yamagami and Yoichi Suzuki for a Japanese film noir over forty years ago.

When the Japanese protocol officer told us where to stand and how to approach the stage, I showed her the Pink Martini CD and asked if I could present it to Prime Minister Aso as a symbol of international understanding conveyed by music. She looked politely stricken, and ran off with the CD to a security officer, who I saw in turn dashed behind a curtain to consult with someone higher-up. Was I inadvertently creating an international incident, all with the intention of giving a gift of music?

The security officer returned to the protocol officer who returned to me, apologetically. "We are sorry," she said, "the Prime Minister cannot accept gifts." I reluctantly stashed the CD back in my bag.

Moments later, the crowd rose, and I was ushered to the stage. The Prime Minister and I shook hands. He looked me in the eye and said, in English, "Portland is a beautiful city. Congratulations." In Japanese, I said, "Arigato gozaimasu," thank you.

That exchange was the extent of our conversation. But now that Prime Minister Aso is leaving office, I wish I could have a second chance to thank him for Japan’s commitment to averting climate change, and tell him to "Hang On, Little Tomato," and not allow yesterday’s election results to discourage him. Even after a bruising campaign, there’s still music in the world. So, if we were to meet again, I might breach protocol this time, and give him the Pink Martini CD, so that he could be consoled by listening to Timothy Nishimoto croon on the Japanese-language song: "Why this sadness... why this sadness/I wish it could have gone on forever... "

Then I’ll turn my attention to the next goal in my multi-lateral campaign to give CDs by Portland bands to the appropriate heads of state: an attempt to get through the Kremlin’s gates and hand a Decemberists album to Vladimir Putin. If his security is rough and you don’t hear back from me on Blue Oregon soon, send the C.I.A. to look for me where the original Decembrists ended up – Siberia.