Even their name sounds very 19th century: Chambers of Commerce. Yet these curiously named business organizations continue to flourish around the world, and are especially valuable to those trying to establish a foothold in a foreign land.

Nowhere was this more true than in Japan when the CCCJ was founded. Imagine if you were a Canadian small business person attempting to try your luck in the Japanese market in 1975. There was virtually no English spoken or written. There was a very closed and often obdurate Japanese bureaucracy to deal with, even at the ward level. Few possible Japanese business partners would greet you, let alone work with you. Canada’s embassy, in those days, was more interested in dealing with banks, forestry giants and Crown corporations than someone trying to import Alberta beef.

The Chamber could be a godsend to help you navigate these deeply frustrating roadblocks. First, you had a group of Canadian Japan veterans to lean on. They had learned to navigate all that was driving you crazy. They would happily share their roadmaps with you… and share hilarious bon mots to encourage you to stop pulling your hair out.

One Canadian banker, who should remain nameless, listening to a green-as-grass trade diplomat whine about not getting his calls returned, said:
“Robin, success in Japan is like successful embezzlement: keep it small and keep it regular.”

His delicious aphorism was a summary of two “must-dos” in Japan: be patient and reach out to your target with regular calls and invites. Secondly, frequent small gestures were always better than a big trade show exhibit, or even more foolish, a large expensive annual reception.

I remember complaining, early on, to another Chamber member about how slowly decision-making unfolded in Japan. It felt like I was engaged in a Sisyphean climb up Mt. Fuji, covered in sticky mochi. Her response was also an uplifting delight:

“Never forget there are always two decision-making speeds in Japan: instant and eternal. Guess which one you are on?”

“I go home patting myself on the back if I get one important task a day successfully achieved.”

The Chamber was always useful in bridging your isolation, often through working together with other Chambers on “meet and greets.” The Brits, the Aussies and the Americans were often partners. Members also knew the names of English-speaking, and often helpful, members of the Japanese bureaucracy and industry groups.

Canadian cachet

Canadians, then, and I hope still today, had a certain cachet that many other foreigners did not. First, we were not American. In our turbulent Trumpian world that may be an even more valuable asset. By the early ’80s many large Japanese electronics firms, automotive giants and trading companies had established footprints in Canada. Their expat executives returning from multi-year assignments were almost invariably huge Canada fans. The Chamber would regularly tap them to speak to events, to attend small private dinners and to use them as matchmakers.

Such was the power of their Canadian experience, especially for mothers and their teenage children, that they would often remain friends on returning to Japan. I remember one Chamber event, where we had invited many former Japanese expats and their families to a holiday reception. This in itself was a somewhat risky endeavor. Spouses were rarely invited to public events with their husbands; children never.

It was stunning to see first one woman and then two, and then more than one could count, spot someone they knew from their years in Canada. They would literally race across the room and greet each other with tearful hugs. This was unheard of in Japan. Public displays of emotion, very rare; hugging, rare; public tears, never.

One mother, whom I had come to know, explained why. She said with some emotion that they were remembering what they called “the best years of our lives.” I don’t need to parse that explanation for Japan hands reading this today.

Bridging the bureaucracy

Getting through the many layers of bureaucracy was always easier if the Embassy made the first call. Our best ambassadors in those years—Barry Steers, Si Taylor, Don Campbell—were especially helpful. Each side knew the unspoken tradeoff: “The Chamber supplies us with a ‘rent-a-crowd’ for a dull visiting Canadian cabinet minister, and we’ll help with the Gaimusho, Keidanren and MITI.”

The lost decades

Serving as Ontario’s Agent-General at the start of the “lost decades” was challenging. In 1990–91, business held up quite well, later in that decade it got very tough indeed. The Government of Canada along with our business community slowly lost interest in Japan. Japan scholars like Charlie McMillan kept up a steady stream of appeals and research on the value of building the Canada/Japan relationship, often to deaf ears.

Following our several breaches with China in the last decade, and now our nightmare with a sociopathic American president, the pendulum appears to be swinging back. A new generation of Japan experts in key roles—our fluently bilingual and politically well-connected ambassador, Ian McKay; and Ontario’s first bilingual Japan expert representative, and the first employee of the Government of Ontario in more than 30 years, Christian Howes—have injected new interest in Japan.

Here’s to another great half century for the Chamber, and to a deepening of the Canada-Japan ties it has always been important to fostering.

Robin Sears was Ontario’s last Agent-General for Asia, based in Tokyo. He oversaw seven offices across the region from 1990–94, with the oldest and largest in Tokyo. He was forced by the government of the day “for fiscal reasons,” to close the entire network, along with Bob Nixon who was required to do the same in Europe. He later spent six years working in Hong Kong and China. Now retired, he and wife Robin Harris live in Ottawa. A second-generation contributor to the Toronto Star, his occasional columns can be found on their website.