The half-abandoned Japanese island at the heart of tensions with China | Japan

HThe island house is shrouded in fog, but his woolly hat makes it easy to spot Hideya Yagi as he greets the approaching boat. The 80-year-old man, a former head of a construction company, is pleased to see a small group of passengers disembark because he is one of seven registered residents of their destination, the island of Kasasa.

Kasasa is known as the “Hawaii” of Japan’s inland sea because of its warm climate and beautiful coastline. Yagi and his wife Mihoko live a quiet life with another couple and an old woman. The other two residents are almost always absent.

“You can stand on the dockside and reel in the fish,” he says as he stands on the primitive dock, directing his mind back to the hobby that brought him to the island 25 years ago. “And you can eat what you catch right away.”

But its idyllic, secluded location is appealing for other reasons, too. It is located at a sensitive point in terms of national security, close to two important military bases. The Iwakuni US Marine Corps air base is 20 km away, and a Japanese Maritime Self-Defense force base in the city of Kure is 50 km north.

When it was revealed that wealthy Chinese developers had purchased two plots of land and then started developing them, rumors began to circulate that they could be used by Beijing for surveillance, leading one councilor to claim that the island “could end up being a Chinese island”.

Critics pointed out that the same laws applied to landowners regardless of their nationality, but the debate continued regardless in Japan.

Within months, the modest island of just 700 square meters has become a symbol of worsening ties between the two countries, as well as Japan’s fears about Beijing’s ambitions in the region.

Land ownership by foreigners is increasing in politically sensitive areas of Japan. Chinese investors were behind almost half of the hundreds of purchases of land and real estate near locations deemed important to national security in the 12 months to the end of March last year, the public broadcaster said. NHK reported. All purchases were legal and approved by Japanese regulators.

Concerned residents now have a powerful ally in prime minister Sanae Takaichi, who has vowed to tighten regulations on the sale of land and other assets. The conservative leader has tapped into broader public unrest about record levels of immigration, which Japan needs to fill huge gaps in its workforce but has also spurred the rise of small far-right parties such as Sanseito.

Tokyo’s relationship with Beijing has become increasingly shaky after Takaichi warned that his country’s forces could intervene militarily if there was a conflict over Taiwan.

The remarks sparked an angry response from China, including a ban on exports to major Japanese conglomerates of “dual-use” products that Beijing says it supplies to Japan’s military. China’s Ministry of Commerce said the restrictions were designed to prevent Japan’s “remilitarization” and nuclear ambitions. The move was condemned by Japan as “completely unacceptable”.

‘I don’t care where our neighbors are from’

When two plots of land on Kasasa’s southeast coast were purchased almost a decade ago, residents hoped it would be developed into a holiday home and pier; but the years passed without any signs of improvement.

Then late last year a mechanical digger and cement mixer arrived by boat and began clearing the lands. While steel telegraph poles and high voltage distribution lines were being erected, visitors were spotted in the area. According to local campaign group Kasasa Island Conservation Society, the owners were Chinese investors who bought it through a Japanese real estate company that had additional land in Kasasa. Their purchases and activities were completely legal, but their intentions remained unclear. Documents reviewed by the Guardian list a wide range of possible plans, from tourist facilities to cruises and restaurants.

Efforts to reach investors in Shanghai, where the investors are located, were unsuccessful. Calls to the real estate company went unanswered.

“I don’t care where our neighbors come from, but we still don’t know who these people are and what they want to do here,” says Yagi, who has not met the Chinese investors whose land is located at the other end of the island. “Almost no one lives here, so newcomers can do whatever they want and we’ll never know,” adds Yagi, who quit his job and moved from nearby Hiroshima prefecture in his 50s.

In the warmer months, Kasasa comes alive; Its rich soil and natural water source combine to produce watermelons, mikan oranges, blueberries and tomatoes. Clear waters lapping the shore offer rich catches such as bream, yellowtail and octopus for even the most inexperienced fishermen.

However, today the cleaners who got off the ferry are taking shelter in a fishing hut to protect themselves from the cold, their plastic bags full of beach debris. A lone dog walks up and down an empty road overlooking the beach, stopping in front of wooden houses in disrepair and befriending a few passing visitors.

Yagi spends his days fishing, and his fruit covers the table in the couple’s living room. Mihoko takes care of the garden. Their closest neighbors are far away, their front doors left open.

“I’m worried about what will happen to the island’s atmosphere,” Mihoko says, cradling the couple’s dog, Kuro-chan. “We are kept in the dark. I want to continue my life this way, growing fruits and vegetables while my husband fishes.”

A ‘silent invasion’?

Now efforts by residents, local politicians and campaigners to preserve the island’s way of life have snowballed into a debate over how to protect the country’s assets against what some conservative commentators have called a “silent invasion” by a Chinese property pioneer.

Takashi Ishikawa, a conservative councilman in the nearby city of Yamaguchi, claimed that Kasasa “could eventually become a Chinese island.” “It could even serve as a drone base. If the islands in the Seto Inland Sea were purchased en masse, it would be as if Japan were actually occupied,” he told the Sankei Shimbun newspaper.

“Ideally, we want to buy back the land, protect the island’s environment and persuade people to move here to live,” says Hideki Miyagawa, who helped found the Kasasa Island Conservation Society last year. Kasasa was home to 100 people before the Second World War.

The association, whose members recently repaired the island’s only Shinto shrine, plans to organize events to attract young people to the island, where dozens of houses are empty.

“This has nothing to do with discriminating against foreigners,” says Miyagawa. “We just want the government to protect residents’ interests and for new residents to follow the rules. That’s hard to do when we don’t even know the investors’ intentions. How do we know they won’t use the location for something like surveillance?”

Reaction

Kasasa is not the only place where local sentiment has turned against foreign investment in land and property; It’s a right protected by law, but critics say it needs more scrutiny.

In some parts of Japan, residents are taking matters into their own hands. In December last year, a landowner in Fukuoka in western Japan agreed to abandon plans to build apartments for foreign buyers, mainly Chinese and Taiwanese, after protests from residents.

In June last year, authorities in Hokkaido prevented a Chinese national who cut down a forest area without permission from building a villa in the town of Kutchan.

But fears that foreign investors will buy and develop Japanese land with little scrutiny are countered by some experts who say existing laws are sufficient to prevent illegal activity, regardless of the nationality of the property owner.

“Restricting property acquisition by foreigners will not solve the problem,” says Hiroshi Matsuo, a professor at Keio University School of Law. “Effective legal measures exist to deal with illegal development, whether by Japanese or foreign nationals. What we need is a mature approach to land use regulations that currently allows unforeseen developments to occur without the knowledge or consent of existing residents.”

According to Matsuo, the fear that foreign landowners are free to turn their property into something resembling an independent country confuses land ownership with territorial sovereignty and is also encouraged by misinformation spread on the internet. “It is right to want a society where it is normal for foreigners to integrate into local communities. They and the Japanese should follow the same rules.”

Some in China used the controversy to incite Japan’s right wing in comments on social media platforms WeChat and RedNote. One commentator described the land purchase as “a good investment strategy: buy land in Japan, mobilize Japanese nationalist sentiment, and then sell it back to the Japanese at a high price.” Another implored his countrymen to take possession of the entire island and “plant the Chinese flag after purchase.” Another wondered: “Can we crowdfund to buy all of Japan?”

As the island’s day visitors prepare to return to the mainland on the last boat, Yagi’s thoughts turn to fishing again.

“I would love for people to come here and fish, eat and drink together and spend the night,” he says. “I don’t care what country they are from… I would like this to happen before I die.”

Additional research by Lillian Yang