Two weeks ago, Wal-Mart Stores Inc. announced a deal with local supermarket chain Seiyu that would give the U.S. cut-price retail colossus a foothold in the Japanese market: a 6.1 percent share in Seiyu now, with an option to increase its stake to two-thirds by the end of 2007. The announcement has been met with an odd blend of skepticism and hope -- skepticism that even the world's No. 1 retailer can succeed where so many other foreign aspirants have stalled (Carrefour, Costco) and hope that it will. Curiously, no one seems to fear that it will. But maybe a little fear is in order.
The one thing everyone seems to agree on is that the Japanese economy needs all the help it can get, and that if Wal-Mart manages to do for the ailing Japanese retail sector what Toyota and Sony did for the U.S. automotive and electronics industries, then more power to it. Competition is a precondition of reform, and even Wal-Mart's rivals concede that the discount powerhouse has a better chance than most of shaking up Japan's hidebound, high-priced retailing practices. "Wal-Mart is pretty smart," said Mr. Richard Chavez, head of Costco's Asian operations. "If anyone can figure out how to do retail in other parts of the world, it's them." If they do, the consensus is, benefits will ensue for all: lower prices on basic goods for customers and more sales for those retailers that survive.
The one thing no one seems to have asked is whether the price of a Wal-Mart triumph in Japan -- bland megastores metastasizing across the landscape -- is worth it. Nor has anyone stopped to ponder the paradox that has accompanied Wal-Mart on its dizzying 40-year ride to the top (this year the Arkansas-based retailer overtook Exxon as the world's biggest corporation, with revenues exceeding the gross domestic product of 161 countries). While the chain clearly rakes in the customers, it also inspires a near-fanatical degree of loathing, even in its native America. It's worth pausing to ask why.