Technology invades the modern world

Chapter 404 Appearance and Substance

Wang Hao listened quietly.

He knew that this question was not a provocation, but rather the other party's most genuine confusion.

This is a question that puzzles everyone.

Why is it so difficult for China to win over allies? Because China is a manufacturing country, and an extremely abnormal one at that, where it has to produce everything itself.

This creates a problem: being your ally is not beneficial. Your domestic companies can absorb your demand, and at best, I can only obtain your goods.

Therefore, this economic structure dictates that China's allies can only be resource-rich countries, and even then, resource-rich countries without much ambition.

Any resource-rich country with a bit of ambition doesn't want to just produce resources; it wants to have some industry as well.

Kimura's dilemma is that you've already returned to the moon, yet you still insist on building everything yourself.

Wang Hao did not answer directly, but instead asked a question in return.

"Mr. Kimura, have you been to the Shenhai Center Building?"

“I’ve been there once,” Kimura said, somewhat surprised. “It was spectacular.”

"Yes, it is 632 meters tall, making it one of the tallest buildings in the world."

Its dome is exquisitely designed, representing the pinnacle of human architectural achievement. "The aerospace technologies you just mentioned are the dome of our own technological edifice, which we are currently building. It's bright and beautiful, and the whole world can see it," Wang Hao said.

“However,” Wang Hao’s tone changed, becoming extremely serious, “the existence of a 632-meter-tall building does not rely on that beautiful dome, but on a foundation tens of meters below the ground, constructed of tens of thousands of tons of steel and concrete.”

It's the internal power supply, water supply, communications, fire protection, and so on—these are unseen and inconspicuous systems, but if they malfunction, the entire building will be instantly paralyzed.

He looked at Kimura with a sincere and firm gaze.

"Mr. Kimura, 28-nanometer technology, as well as 14-nanometer, 45-nanometer... these technologies that you may consider outdated, are the foundation and pipelines of our technological edifice."

They are the chips in our cars, the control systems in our high-speed trains, and the core of our power grid dispatching.

They are not advanced, but they are everywhere.

"In the past, the water pipes in our building were made in Germany, the electrical wires were made in Japan, and the network interfaces were made in America."

We found it very convenient to use, and we always thought that this was globalization.

"Until a few years ago," Wang Hao didn't name names, but Kimura knew what he was talking about, "the person responsible for supplying us with network interfaces suddenly, without warning, threatened to cut off the network to our entire building."

It was at that moment that we woke up.

“We realized that no matter how magnificent your dome is, if the foundation and pipelines are not your own, you will always be just a castle in the air that may be cut off from water and electricity at any time and collapse in the wind.”

"So, to answer your question, it's not that we want to do everything ourselves," Wang Hao concluded, his voice carrying a resolute quality honed by historical lessons.

"Instead, we were taught that we must have the ability to do everything."

"What we want is not to possess one of the most advanced technologies in the world."

What we need is a complete technological system that allows for independent development at every stage, from sand to chips, from foundation to dome.

For this, we are willing to pay any price and maintain the utmost patience.

Kimura Toshiro remained silent.

Japan is different from China. Japan is an island nation, and it can rely on America's global system to leech off others, while China cannot.

China is too big. If China does this, America will be drained dry and turned into the host.

The so-called craftsmen of Japan spend their lives pursuing how to do one thing to the extreme within a system with established rules.

China, however, pursues a completely different goal: to reshape the entire system, in every aspect.

The trending topics on Weibo have quietly changed.

A new term is starting to climb at an even faster rate:
"Beware of Japan's strategic deception"

The simple, unadulterated pleasure of the past has vanished, replaced by a more mature, more ruthless consensus among the people:

"The accounts must be settled separately."

"What we want is not your tears, but your islands, your fleet, and your subservient attitude."

"Don't think we can just let this go. In our script, this is only the first episode."

Chinese netizens would like to see Yokosuka blockaded and Tokyo Bay shoved. At the very least, they would want to see the right to station troops on Shikoku Island restored in accordance with the Potsdam Declaration.
Is that all?

Fortunately, things are far from over.

Just as Chinese netizens were engaged in heated debate and the mainstream opinion had shifted towards accusing him of a self-inflicted injury, an even more shocking news from Tokyo reached China through breaking news from major international news agencies.

"The Japanese Prime Minister resigned abruptly due to health reasons, and Chief Cabinet Secretary Naoki Sugawara took over as interim prime minister."

Immediately afterwards, video clips of Naoki Sugawara's late-night press conference were translated, edited, and subtitled in both languages ​​at lightning speed, and began to circulate online.

"Everyone, the latest plot has been updated."

Last night we were discussing whether Japan was trying to cut its losses with an apology. Now it seems we all overestimated them, or rather, underestimated the power controlling them.

The former prime minister may be like a driver who has seen the precipice and genuinely wants to apply the brakes.

But he forgot that the steering wheel of this car, named Neon, was in the hands of the American, and the other passengers, conservative tycoons and bureaucrats, would rather plunge off the cliff with America than let him, the driver, turn the car around.

So, what happened? A bloodless, highly efficient internal coup.

The only driver who tried to brake was dragged off the driver's seat and thrown out of the car.

Then, a new, more obedient driver, Sugawara, was put on the steering wheel. The first thing he did after taking the wheel was to announce to all the passengers and people outside the car: nothing happened just now, the car did not go out of control, we just encountered a little bump.

This is a fig leaf woven by a nation, at the behest of its master, to cover up its utter defeat.

By morning, the discussions on the Chinese internet regarding this matter had ceased to contain any elation or anger, leaving only the judgment.

The Weibo trending topics list is dominated by several new terms:
"Forced to resign"—the word "forced" is a consensus among all Chinese netizens.

The most insightful discussion revolved around the phrase, "It turns out we only have one real opponent."

Under the hashtag "#It turns out we only have one real opponent," a post that has been shared over 100,000 times reads:

"One night made us see many things clearly."

We used to think that Japan was an independent country, an opponent that we needed to take seriously.

But now we understand that it is not.

It's more like a giant, meticulously maintained humanoid Gundam, with the pilot sitting in the White House in Washington.

The former prime minister's speech yesterday was about how this giant AI system suddenly developed self-awareness and wanted to break free from control.

Today, Sugawara's speech was like the driver kicking the AI ​​off and switching back to manual mode.

So let's stop discussing Japan's strategic deception. How can a puppet without autonomy deceive? All its struggles are meaningless once the pilot pulls the plug.

From now on, our strategy should be clearer and simpler: when beating a dog, consider its owner.

But if you want to make a dog no longer a threat, the most effective way is to break its leg in front of the owner.

Yesterday afternoon's show of force wasn't meant for Japan, it was meant for America.

The political farce that unfolded in Japan early this morning proves that America understands, and she is terrified.

The most upvoted comment on this post is only eight characters long: "Abandon illusions, prepare for struggle."

At a bar in Setagaya Ward, Tokyo, Kenta Tanaka and Makoto Takeda quietly sipped chilled Junmai Daiginjo sake.

The air was filled with the aroma of roasted ginkgo nuts and soy sauce, and all around were office workers chatting in hushed tones after finishing their day's work.

But there was only silence between the two of them.

“Today,” Kenta Tanaka finally spoke, “I spent the entire afternoon with my colleagues at the Ministry of Justice drafting guidelines on dealing with false information on social media that harms the nation’s reputation.”

Upon hearing this, Makoto Takeda let out a short, self-deprecating laugh: "False information? Do you mean the 'we lost' that the former prime minister wanted, or the 'cling tightly to America' that the new prime minister wants?"

In a single sentence, all the pretense of peace and tranquility was torn away, and the core of the problem was revealed.

Tanaka gave a wry smile and did not answer.

He knew that Takeda was right.

Everything they are doing now is essentially clearing away all the noise left by the former prime minister for the old path chosen by the new prime minister.

No questioning of the Japan-America alliance is allowed on social media, even if they have just experienced a defeat that is not a failure.

"So, tell me, Makoto." Tanaka changed the subject, but it was still the same question, "From your Ministry of Defense's perspective, was the former prime minister really wrong? Did we really have no other choice back then?"

Takeda remained silent for a long time, as if organizing his thoughts to describe the brutal conclusion that they had reviewed countless times internally.

“Kenta,” he said in a low voice, “judging from the results of the military simulation, he is right.”

Our options at the time, besides retreating, were to send our most advanced warships to become targets for the enemy's ultra-precision weapons, which would be broadcast live globally.

His restraint was the only rational judgment that could save the fleet.

"So where did he go wrong?"

“His mistake was,” Takeda looked at Tanaka with a complicated expression, “that he wanted to directly transform this cold military rationality into our country’s political rationality.”

"He wanted to tell the people: Look, the old ways of doing things don't work anymore, the protective umbrella has been broken, and we must find a new path. Even if that path requires us to bow down to our neighbors and admit our mistakes."

“But the new prime minister and our entire system have chosen a different path.” Takeda poured himself another glass of wine. “It’s to tell the people: No, the protective umbrella hasn’t broken, it just needs us to pay a higher price to repair it.”

We don't need new paths; we just need to walk the old paths more firmly and more obediently.

"So our daily work now is to tell everyone that the former prime minister's lucidity was a dangerous madness, while the new prime minister's feigned sleep was a responsible composure."

Kenta Tanaka downed his drink in one gulp, feeling a burning sensation in his throat. He recalled the online posts that afternoon that had been questioning the new cabinet's foreign policy, which he had ordered his subordinates to delete.

At that moment, he felt like a dutiful jailer, personally reinforcing the walls of a magnificent and comfortable cage called Neon.

"Are we just supposed to stay in this cage and watch it slowly rust and decay?"

Makoto Takeda, a friend of the Ministry of Defense, also finished his drink.

He shook his head.

“No, Kenta,” he said. “There’s always a way, but you might not like this new one.”

"What do you mean?"

Takeda leaned closer, lowering his voice even further.

"The former prime minister's gamble, though politically unsuccessful, left behind a legacy."

He used his political life to secure for us, the patchers still within the system, a precious excuse to speak the truth behind closed doors.

“Just this morning,” Takeda said, looking at Tanaka, “the newly established National Security Strategy Review Committee, led by Representative Kenji Sato, held its first secret preparatory meeting.”

I attended as a representative of the Ministry of Defense.

"At the meeting, the new prime minister's national security advisor put forward our new, dual-track national strategy for the next ten years."

"Dual-track operation?"

“Yes.” Takeda held up two fingers. “The first track is for the Americans and most of the population; it’s called Doubling Down.”

"We will strengthen our alliance in an unprecedented manner."

We will agree to deploy their Typhon or Dark Hawk in Okinawa and Kyushu; we will embed our command structure more deeply into the Indo-Pacific Command network; we will truly increase the defense budget to 2.5% or even 3% of GDP.

We will transform ourselves into the sharpest knife.

"Isn't this just the same old approach?" Tanaka asked, puzzled.

“Yes, this is the facade. It’s about saving face,” Takeda said. “This is the tribute we have to pay to keep that protector who is no longer reliable.”

But at the same time, we will launch a second track.

"The second track is a closed-door plan, known only to our own people, called the Jade Shattering Plan."

"Shattered jade?" Tanaka felt a wave of dizziness.

That's not a good word.

In Japanese history, this signifies a collective suicidal attack, a willingness to die rather than surrender.

"Yes. We all know perfectly well that if war really breaks out, the Americans will not wage a world-destroying war for us."

"They'll eventually stand by and do nothing, just like they did in the recycling center." Takeda's tone was icy.

"Therefore, the core of the Jade Shattering Plan is not to win the war, but to increase the cost of defeat."

We must make it clear to potential adversaries that attacking the Japanese archipelago is not an easy surgical operation, but a nightmare that will drag the entire East Asian and even global economies into hell.

"We will make preparations in advance at all key transportation hubs, ports, and semiconductor factories."

We will no longer pursue a fleet that can rival our adversaries, but will instead invest resources in asymmetric warfare capabilities, such as thousands of smart mines and anti-ship missiles that can be launched from fishing boats.

"We must let our enemy know that he may be able to occupy a piece of scorched earth, but he will never be able to conquer a nation that is prepared to die a glorious death."

Tanaka Kenta was stunned.

That's a bit too crazy; it's practically a suicide bomb.

Takeda continued, "Of course, we wouldn't be that crazy. Nobody wants to actually go to war with China."

We wouldn't have come to this.

Besides this, the "Gyokusai" (suicide attack) also includes a plan for an inseparable community of interests, known only to ourselves, the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry, and a few others within the Keidanren (China Economic and Trade Association).

"A community of shared interests?"

"right.

Since military confrontation is a dead end, the only way out is deep economic ties.

We must make it clear to potential adversaries that attacking Japan is, economically, tantamount to suicide.

"We will unilaterally and gradually lift restrictions on China's investment and technology exports in non-military high-tech fields, without violating core constraints."

For example, our strengths in advanced materials, precision machine tools, optical components, hydrogen energy technology, and high-end medical equipment will be leveraged to more deeply integrate with the Chinese market through joint ventures, technology transactions, and other means.

"We want to let Japan's technology and capital, like capillaries, permeate every corner of China's high-end manufacturing industry."

We want their electric cars, their large aircraft, and their healthcare systems to all rely on Sumitomo's specialty chemicals, Fanuc's industrial robots, and Olympus's endoscopes.

“Besides shattering the very foundation of our empire,” Takeda said, looking at Tanaka, “we also need to achieve a completely new economic balance of terror.”

We must ensure that within our adversaries' decision-making bodies—the tech giants who rely on our technology and the vast middle class who enjoy our products—we become their most steadfast defenders of peace.

Kenta Tanaka finally understood.

The former prime minister's idealism has failed.

Instead, a more realistic survival strategy has emerged.

This country, having abandoned its naive illusion of being benevolent to its neighbors, did not choose the madness of annihilation.

It chose the oldest and most practical path: subservience to the great.

On the surface, it will become America's most loyal military vassal, charging into battle for her.

But beneath the surface, it aspires to become China's closest and most indispensable economic partner, binding its own destiny inextricably to the prosperity of its rival.

"So now, my daily work involves deleting posts that criticize America in order to maintain a facade of loyalty."

Meanwhile, colleagues at the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry are approving more investments in China in order to build ties within the country.

Takeda Makoto's strategy of "dual-track approach" and "deep economic integration" shocked Tanaka Kenta.

But his bureaucratic rationality led him to immediately spot a seemingly fatal flaw in the plan.

“I understand, A-Cheng.” Tanaka put down his wine glass, his brows furrowed. “This plan sounds flawless.”

On the surface, we reassured the American people, but secretly we aligned ourselves with the Chinese. However, there is a fundamental problem here.

He looked directly into Takeda's eyes.

"Does China really still need us?"

Takeda was taken aback.

“Look at the situation now,” Tanaka continued, his speech becoming increasingly rapid, as if conducting an internal stress test. “Electric vehicles, they have BYD and NIO, which have already caused our car companies to suffer repeated defeats.”

For smartphones, their Huawei and Xiaomi brands can manufacture almost everything themselves, except for the most advanced chips.

Solar energy, drones, high-speed rail, 5G communications—these are industries we were so proud of ten years ago; which one isn't their area of ​​expertise now?

"If we sell those non-core technologies to them now, wouldn't that be icing on the cake, or even something they wouldn't bother with? We think we're deeply tied to them, but could it just be wishful thinking, a self-comforting exercise using assets that have already depreciated?"

Makoto Takeda remained silent for a long time.

Instead of answering directly, he downed the rest of his drink in one gulp and said to the owner, "Another Juyondai, please."

After the new wine glass was filled, he slowly spoke, his eyes becoming unusually deep.

"Kenta, that's a very good question."

Because, like 90% of analysts in the world today, you only see the crown of the tree, not the roots.

“You’re right. In end products, in those tangible, visible canopy-like products like cars, mobile phones, and home appliances, we are indeed losing our edge.”

Because they possess a market size and iteration speed that we cannot match.

“But,” he said, dipping his finger in the liquor and drawing a circle on the bar, “what truly determines the height and stability of a modern industrial building is never the luxury suites on the top floor, but the unseen foundation buried underground.”

In today's global high-tech industrial chain, we play the role of the deepest, most crucial, and most easily overlooked foundation.

He began to explain one by one:

"First, the mother of industry, machine tools. China can build the world's most advanced electric vehicle factory, but who made those ultra-precision machine tools in the factory that are used to process core engine components with a precision of micrometers? It was FANUC and Mazak."

They can manufacture mobile phones, but the ultra-precise molds used to produce mobile phone lens modules require our equipment for processing.

"Second, cutting-edge materials. The most crucial carbon fiber material for their C919 large aircraft to be mass-produced is Toray Industries."

If they want to manufacture their own high-end chips, they absolutely cannot bypass the photoresist from Shin-Etsu Chemical and JSR.

Every high-end screen they produce requires polarizers from Sumitomo Chemical.

These things cannot be built up in a short time by the market and capital; they require decades of basic scientific research and technological accumulation.

"Third, core components and sensors. Their robots can dance, but the most critical component that determines their accuracy, the reducer, most likely comes from Nabtesco."

No matter how high the pixel count of their phone's camera, the most crucial CMOS image sensor will most likely still be from Sony.

From miniature ball bearings to high-end capacitors, these seemingly insignificant components—the things that make any machine impossible without—remain our domain.

Takeda looked at Tanaka and gave his final summary.

"So, Kenta, do you understand? Our economic ties plan isn't about selling cars and televisions."

Instead, we aim to ensure that our irreplaceable, core technologies—those at the very top of the industry chain—continue to take root in Chinese soil in a more subtle and in-depth way.

(End of this chapter)