TASHKENT, November 2025
What began as a sober discussion on endangered species at the CITES conference in Uzbekistan quickly turned into a culinary spectacle when Japan’s delegation unveiled its secret weapon: a portable charcoal grill. As delegates debated stricter regulations on eel trade, the unmistakable aroma of kabayaki wafted through the hall, prompting hunger pangs, laughter, and ultimately, a decisive rejection of the proposal.
The Scene
The CITES conference, a global forum where nations debate how to protect endangered species through trade restrictions, was in full swing. Delegates from over 180 parties sat in tense rows, their voices heavy with urgency as they weighed the fate of eels worldwide. Charts of declining populations flickered on the screen, and the atmosphere was grave.
Then, Japan requested the floor. The room hushed; all eyes turned toward the delegation, expecting a carefully reasoned defense of cultural heritage or a scientific counterargument. Instead, aides wheeled in a small cart, and skewered eels glistening with soy glaze appeared. A staffer raised a uchiwa (paper fan) and began fanning the grill, sending smoky waves of kabayaki fragrance into the chamber.
The effect was immediate. Delegates blinked, some stifling laughter, others visibly confused. “It was as if a Shōtengai fishmonger had teleported into the conference hall,” recalled one observer. The surreal collision of solemn conservation debate and sizzling street‑food theatrics left the room in stunned silence. Until stomachs began to rumble.
Kabayaki as Cultural Seasoning
In Japan, eel is more than food; it is a ritual. The sizzling of kabayaki marks midsummer’s Doyo no Ushi no Hi, when families line up at supermarkets and fishmongers, drawn by the smoky perfume of grilled eel. The sight of clerks fanning skewers to lure customers is as seasonal as fireworks or shaved ice.
By recreating this scene in Samarkand, Japan’s delegation wasn’t merely cooking; they were staging a cultural performance. The message was clear: eel is woven into the rhythm of Japanese life, inseparable from summer evenings, nostalgia, and identity.
Past Debates
This was not the first time eels had taken center stage at CITES. In 2007, the European eel was added to Appendix II after stocks collapsed and smuggling surged, requiring permits for international trade. That decision was framed as a scientific necessity, backed by data on population decline.
By contrast, the 2025 proposal sought to regulate all 18 species of Anguilla, including Japan’s beloved Nihon‑unagi. For Europe, the debate had been about extinction and enforcement. For Japan, the stakes were cultural as much as economic: while Europe spoke of biodiversity loss, Japan spoke of summer rituals and the smoke of kabayaki. The clash revealed how conservation science and culinary heritage collide on the global stage.
Culinary Soft Power
Japan’s tactic, dubbed “Grilled Diplomacy,” has sparked both amusement and outrage. Supporters argue that the demonstration highlighted the cultural significance of eels, while critics claim it trivialized serious conservation efforts.
EU representatives protested: “This is supposed to be science, not street food marketing!” Yet even they admitted the scent was persuasive. One whispered: “If they had offered rice bowls, I might have switched my vote.”
Beyond the culinary theatrics, observers noted the delegation’s remarkable composure. As smoke curled toward the ceiling, Japanese officials spoke with unwavering confidence, insisting that “the aroma itself is evidence of cultural heritage.” Their tone suggested not embarrassment but pride, as if grilling in a conference hall were the most natural diplomatic maneuver.
This bravado mirrored Japan’s broader diplomatic style: a blend of tradition and performance, where cultural exports are wielded as tools of persuasion.
Reactions at Home and Abroad
Back in Japan, reactions were mixed. In Tokyo, a fishmonger cheered that the government had finally recognized “the power of aroma,” declaring that charcoal was more persuasive than any white paper. Environmental activists, however, lamented that “we can’t grill our way out of extinction,” calling the stunt literal smoke and mirrors.
Global outlets seized on the spectacle. The BBC described it as “the most aromatic lobbying ever attempted at a UN‑linked forum.” Le Monde ran the headline ‘Diplomatie au soja’, noting the irony of culinary heritage clashing with conservation science. American late‑night shows mocked the scene with skits of diplomats waving chopsticks instead of ballots. Yet some commentators acknowledged the effectiveness: “Japan reminded the world that culture is not only argued, but it is smelled,” wrote one columnist.
The Outcome
When the votes were tallied, the proposal to regulate eel trade was soundly defeated. Analysts now debate whether the scent of soy sauce tipped the scales more than any policy argument.
The eel debate concluded with delegates still chuckling and still hungry. While the fate of eels remains unresolved, one lesson was clear: in international diplomacy, arguments may be forgotten, but aromas linger.
