hHis island home is shrouded in fog, but his woolly British flag hat makes Hideya Yagi easy to spot as he waves to the approaching ship. The 80-year-old, former president of a construction company, is happy to see the small group of passengers disembark, mainly 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 due to its warm climate and beautiful coastline. Yagi and his wife, Mihoko, lead a quiet life with another couple and an elderly woman. The other two residents are almost always absent.
“You can stand on the dock and just reel in the fish,” he says as he stands on the rudimentary dock and lets his mind wander to the hobby that brought him to the island 25 years ago. “And you can eat what you catch immediately.”
But its idyllic and secluded location is attractive for other reasons as well. It is located in a sensitive location for national security, near two key military bases. The US Marine Corps Air Base at Iwakuni is 20 km away and a Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force base is 50 km north in the city of Kure.
When it emerged that wealthy Chinese developers had purchased and then begun developing two plots of land, rumors began to circulate that Beijing might use them for surveillance, leading one councilor to claim that the island “could eventually become a Chinese island.”
Critics have pointed out that the same laws apply to landowners regardless of their nationality, but the debate has continued within Japan.
In just a few months, the modest island – 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.
Foreign ownership of land in politically sensitive areas of Japan is increasing. In the 12 months to the end of March last year, Chinese investors were behind nearly half of hundreds of land and real estate acquisitions near locations considered important to national security, public broadcaster 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 promised to tighten regulations on the sale of land and other assets. The conservative leader has tapped into broader public unrest over record levels of immigration, which Japan needs to fill big gaps in its workforce but which has also helped fuel the rise of minor far-right parties like Sanseito.
Tokyo’s relationship with Beijing has become increasingly unstable after Takaichi warned that his country’s forces could be involved militarily in the event of a conflict over Taiwan.
Those comments prompted a furious response from China, including a ban on exports of “dual-use” items to major Japanese conglomerates that Beijing says supply Japan’s military. The restrictions were designed to curb Japan’s “remilitarization” and nuclear ambitions, the Chinese Ministry of Commerce said. The move was condemned by Japan as “completely unacceptable.”
“I don’t care where our neighbors are from”
When two plots of land on the southeast coast of Kasasa were purchased nearly a decade ago, residents hoped they would eventually become a holiday home and jetty, but years passed without any sign of development.
Then, late last year, a mechanical excavator and a cement mixer arrived by boat and began clearing the plots. Steel telegraph poles and high-voltage distribution lines were installed, and visitors were sighted in the area. According to local campaign group Kasasa Island Preservation Association, the owners were Chinese investors who had bought it through a Japanese property company that owns additional plots in Kasasa. Their purchase and activities were completely legal, but their intentions were unclear. Documents seen by The Guardian list a wide range of possible plans, from tourist facilities to cruise ships and restaurants.
Attempts to reach investors in Shanghai, where they are based, were unsuccessful. Calls to the real estate agency went unanswered.
“I don’t care where our neighbors are from, but we still don’t know who these people are and what they want to do here,” says Yagi, who has not met with the Chinese investors, whose plot is on the other end of the island. “Almost no one lives here, so newcomers could do whatever they wanted and we would never know,” adds Yagi, who left his job at age 50 to move from nearby Hiroshima prefecture.
In the warmer months, Kasasa comes to life; Its famously rich soil and natural water supply combine to produce watermelons, mikan oranges, blueberries and tomatoes. The crystal clear waters that bathe the coast offer rich prey (bream, yellowtail and octopus) even for the most inexperienced fishermen.
Today, however, the cleaners who disembarked from the ferry take refuge from the cold in a fishermen’s cabin, with their plastic bags full of remains from the beach. A lone dog walks up and down an empty coastline road, stopping in front of dilapidated wooden houses and befriending the few visitors who pass by.
Yagi spends his days fishing, the fruits of which cover the couple’s living room table, while Mihoko tends to her garden. Your nearest neighbors are far away and the front door is open.
“I’m worried about what will happen to the island’s atmosphere,” Mihoko says, hugging the couple’s dog, Kuro-chan. “They keep us in the dark. I just want to continue with life as it is, with my husband fishing and me growing fruits and vegetables.”
A ‘silent invasion’?
Now, a push by residents, local politicians and activists to protect the island’s way of life has turned into a discussion about how to protect the country’s assets against what some conservative commentators have called a “silent invasion” by a Chinese real estate vanguard.
Takashi Ishikawa, a conservative councilor from the nearby city of Yamaguchi, said Kasasa “could eventually become a Chinese island.” He told the Sankei Shimbun newspaper: “It could even serve as a base for drones. If the islands in the Seto Inland Sea… are purchased collectively, it would be as if Japan was effectively being invaded.”
Hideki Miyagawa, who last year helped launch the Kasasa Island Preservation Association, says: “The ideal would be to buy back the land, protect the island’s environment and persuade people to move here to live.” Kasasa was home to 100 people before World War II.
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 sit empty.
“This has nothing to do with discriminating against foreigners,” says Miyagawa. “We just want the government to protect the interests of the residents and for the new residents to follow the rules. It’s hard to do that when we don’t even know the investors’ intentions. How do we know they won’t use the place for something like surveillance?”
The reaction
Kasasa is not the only place where local sentiment is turning against foreign investment in land and property, a right protected by law but which critics say needs greater scrutiny.
In some parts of Japan, residents are taking matters into their own hands. In December last year, a landowner in Fukuoka, western Japan, agreed to abandon plans to build apartments aimed at foreign buyers – mainly Chinese and Taiwanese – after protests from residents.
In June last year, Hokkaido authorities prevented the construction of a villa in the town of Kutchan by a Chinese national, who had cut down an area of forest without permission.
But fears that foreign investors are grabbing and developing Japanese land with little scrutiny are misplaced, according to some experts, who say existing laws are sufficient to prevent illegal activities, regardless of the nationality of the owner.
Restricting the ability of foreigners to acquire property will not solve the problem,” says Hiroshi Matsuo, a professor at Keio University School of Law. “There are effective legal measures to address illegal development, regardless of whether it is by Japanese citizens or foreigners. “What we need is a mature approach to land use regulations, which currently allow unexpected developments to take place without the knowledge or consent of existing residents.”
Fear that foreign landowners will be free to turn their holdings into something resembling an independent country confuses land ownership with territorial sovereignty, and has been encouraged by inaccurate information spread online, according to Matsuo. “It is right to want a society where it is normal for foreigners to integrate into local communities. Both they and the Japanese should follow the same rules.”
In China, some have used the controversy to provoke the Japanese right in comments on social media platforms WeChat and RedNote. One commentator described buying land as a “good investment strategy: buy land in Japan, stir up Japanese nationalist sentiment, and then sell it to the Japanese at a high price.” Another implored his compatriots to take over the entire island and “plant the Chinese flag after purchasing it.” Another wondered: “Can we crowdfund to buy all of Japan?”
As the island’s daytime visitors prepare to depart on the last boat back to the mainland, Yagi’s thoughts turn to fishing again.
“I would love for people to come here to fish, eat and drink together and spend the night,” he says. “I don’t care what country they’re from… I’d just like that to happen before I die.”
Additional research by Lillian Yang
