Mamoru Tsuchiya is worried about the future of Japanese whisky. Sales are booming, but there’s a problem: A large amount of the liquor isn’t actually made in Japan, said Mr. Tsuchiya, one of that country’s leading whiskey experts.

Some of it isn’t whiskey at all.

“There are a lot of situations where you call it Japanese whisky, but they’re using imported Scotch or Canadian whisky,” he said.

Global demand for Japanese whisky has exploded over the last decade — bottles like the Yamazaki 18 Year Old, which once collected dust at $100, sell for five times the price and are now almost impossible to find. The dollar value of exports to America grew by nearly 50 percent in 2019 over the previous year, according to the Distilled Spirits Council of the United States.

But unlike most whiskey-producing countries, Japan has few rules about what constitutes whiskey, let alone what makes it Japanese. Companies can buy spirits in bulk from abroad, bottle and label it “Japanese whisky,” and ship it back out. They can export aged shochu made from grains, like rice or barley, for sale in America as whiskey. Some so-called distilleries don’t even do any distilling; they import the whiskey in bulk and contract another company to bottle it.

It’s a regulatory Wild West that both established distilleries and start-ups are taking advantage of to feed growing global demand. It’s also a potential public-relations disaster: The internet is already rife with articles claiming to pull back the curtain on the myth of Japanese whisky.

While many of the premier brands, like Yamazaki and its 18 Year Old, point out that they are made exclusively in Japan, others refuse to say. “It puts Japanese whisky’s reputation at risk,” said Makiyo Masa, the founder of Dekanta, an online retailer.

In September Mr. Tsuchiya, who runs an advocacy organization called the Japan Whisky Research Centre, proposed a set of rules for Japanese whisky, including a requirement that it be distilled in Japan. The rules would be voluntary, but he planned to use the 2020 Tokyo Whisky and Spirits Competition, which he runs, as a carrot: Only products that met his criteria could enter as “Japanese whisky.”

Mr. Tsuchiya said he had received support from most of the distilling industry, as well as the Japan Spirits and Liqueurs Makers Association, an industry-funded, government-chartered agency that helps set nationwide regulations.

But because of the coronavirus pandemic, the competition and Mr. Tsuchiya’s proposed rules are on hold. While the industry and consumers wait to see what happens next, a new debate is underway: What is Japanese whisky, anyway?

Japan’s laissez-faire regulatory approach is rooted, at least in part, in its complicated history with the West.

Its first recorded encounter with whiskey came in 1853, when Commodore Matthew Perry, during his inaugural visit to Japan, gave his hosts 70 gallons of Scotch and American whiskey. It was a hit among the imperial court, and the gift became a defining memory of a landmark cross-cultural encounter.

As part of its subsequent push to emulate the West, Meiji-era Japan encouraged the production of domestic versions of that same whiskey. Japanese distillers often used sweet potatoes, which were abundant, but they produced a much different spirit than the barley, corn and rye used in Scotland and America.

“From the get-go, Japanese whisky was not whiskey as the rest of the world understands it,” said Liam McNulty, a Tokyo-based whiskey writer. No one gave much thought to defining it, he said, since it was entirely for domestic consumption. The bragging rights that came with having a homegrown whiskey industry, and whatever tax revenue it generated, were more important than the precision of the end product.

The first modern Japanese whisky distilleries, including Yamazaki, didn’t open until the 1920s. While they were modeled on Scottish operations and often produced high-quality spirits, they did little to change the overall character of Japanese whisky, which, especially following World War II, was aimed at everyday salarymen looking for a quick drink after work.

The Japanese government introduced formal definitions for domestic whisky in 1989, but by then the industry was dominated by a few big distilling companies that wanted to keep the rules loose. After 1989, for example, whisky sold domestically had to contain at least 10 percent aged malt whisky; the rest could be unaged alcohol, typically made from imported molasses.

Both domestically and internationally, interest in Japanese whisky began to pick up in the early 2000s, snowballing through the next 15 years as the industry’s premium brands, like Hibiki and Yamazaki, racked up global critical acclaim. But distillers didn’t have enough fully aged product to meet demand, leading many established and start-up brands to start buying in bulk from overseas.

The Japanese whisky industry can be opaque, so it is hard to know which distilleries rely on foreign sources. Still, analysts point to fast-growing exports of Scotch and Canadian whisky to Japan in recent years, even as the retail sales of those whiskeys remain flat — implying that most of the imported spirit is being bought by distilleries and relabeled as Japanese.

One company that has been open about its sources is Nikka, which makes whisky in Japan and owns the Ben Nevis distillery in Scotland. Emiko Kaji, Nikka’s manager of international business development, said that domestic supply shortages force the company to use “a small amount of whiskey from overseas” to meet demand.

She also said that imported Scotch is a critical ingredient in creating Nikka’s flavor profile, in the same way that an American baker might swear by French butter in making an apple pie.

“Unlike in Scotland, we do not have the custom of exchanging casks with other producers within the country,” Ms. Kaji said. “In order to create a complex blended whisky to meet this demand, blenders in Japan needed to look outside our country for whisky to realize their visions.”

Nevertheless, as more American whiskey fans learn that Japanese whisky isn’t 100 percent Japanese, they’re increasingly unhappy. Much of the critical praise over the past decade leaned on generalizations about Japanese craftsmanship and ingredients, and drinkers are understandably angry to learn that the whisky in their glass might not even be made in Japan.

Some distilleries are coming clean by labeling their whiskies “world blends,” meaning a combination of imported and domestic products, said Flavien Desoblin, who carries several of these bottles at his two Manhattan whiskey bars, the Brandy Library and Copper and Oak. (These include Ao, from Suntory, one of the largest distilling companies in Japan, and Ichiro’s Malt & Grain World Whisky, from Chichibu, a highly regarded craft producer.)

“I believe it’s a great first step,” Mr. Desoblin said. “Since we have to pay a premium for just about any whisky that comes from Japan, we need to be told the truth.”

Mr. Tsuchiya wrote his proposed rules to move even further. They would require distilleries to use only barley in their mash, ferment it with yeast (shochu uses a different process), distill it entirely in Japan, and then age it for at least two years in a wood cask.

“We require two years, instead of three like in Scotland, because in Japan we have a more temperate climate and whisky may age faster,” he said.

So far, Japan’s largest whisky companies have said they are receptive to Mr. Tsuchiya’s proposal. But some experts question whether the industry will end up supporting it. Japanese whisky may have earned a global following, but its largest market is among everyday, value-conscious domestic drinkers who don’t pay attention to technical details.

Mr. Van Eycken wonders if producers want to create a polarized landscape by explaining that Japanese whisky, their bread and butter, isn’t what people thought it was. “Call me a skeptic, but from a business point of view, that’s very unlikely.”

He may be right. But if distillers end up rejecting Mr. Tsuchiya’s proposals, it’s possible that Japanese whisky’s newfound fans will reject them in turn.

“They need to decide if their interests are good for the industry, or for consumers,” said Yoshitsugu Komasa, who founded the Kanosuke distillery in southern Japan in 2017 and has pushed other craft producers to be more transparent. “If these rules are not adopted, I think things are going to get worse.”

TOKYO — As the world tries to get a handle on the coronavirus and emerge from paralyzing lockdowns, public health officials have repeated a mantra: “test, test, test.”

But Japan went its own way, limiting tests to only the most severe cases as other countries raced to screen as many people as possible. Medical experts worried that the approach would blind the country to the spread of infection, allowing cases to explode and swamping hospitals.

It hasn’t happened. Japan — the grayest country in the world and a popular tourist destination with large, crowded cities — has one of the lowest mortality rates from Covid-19 among major nations. The medical system has not been overwhelmed. And the government never forced businesses to close, although many chose to.

This week, Prime Minister Shinzo Abe declared Japan’s battle against the outbreak a resounding success, taking the country off an emergency footing — a sort of “lockdown lite” that lasted only a month and a half.

“By doing things in a uniquely Japanese way, we were able to almost completely end this wave of infection,” Mr. Abe said, adding that what he called the “Japan model” offered a path out of the global pandemic.

It’s still unclear, though, exactly what accounts for Japan’s achievement and whether other countries can take lessons from its approach. Critics say Japan undercounted coronavirus deaths. And some warn that further waves of infection could undermine the government’s self-congratulatory pronouncements.

Instead of testing widely to understand and limit the virus’s spread through the general population, Japan has focused on quickly containing small outbreaks through contact tracing. Instead of dictating strict constraints on daily life, it has focused on educating people about measures like social distancing and gently prodding them to follow along.

Theories for the country’s relatively low mortality rate run the gamut from cultural attributes — widespread mask wearing, a practice of regular hand washing, a near absence of physical greetings like hugs and handshakes — to just plain luck.

A combination of many other factors, including government measures and changes in behavior among a public that feels strong pressure to follow the rules, could also be at work.

Individual actions “may seem small or mundane,” said Keiji Fukuda, an epidemiologist who directs the School of Public Health at the University of Hong Kong. But, he added, “the cumulative impact of all of those efforts across the entire country to really implement some kind of distancing” may have been substantial.

Whatever the formula, Japan has so far succeeded in keeping deaths low. The country has recorded fewer than 900 deaths even as the United States and European countries have reported tens of thousands.

Epidemiologists say widespread testing for the virus is important because it allows officials to isolate those who test positive, and to track trends in infection rates to help determine when it is safe to reopen schools, businesses and other places where people congregate.

Researchers at Harvard have said the goal should be to test nearly everyone who has at least mild flulike symptoms, as well as an average of 10 contacts for each person who tests positive.

Countries like South Korea and China that faced fast-growing outbreaks early in the pandemic quickly ramped up testing. China performed more than three times as many tests in Wuhan in a single day than those Japan has conducted nationwide since Feb. 18 — about 455,000 tests on around 278,000 people.

Japan initially told people who suspected they were infected with the virus not to seek help unless they had experienced a fever for four days, or two days if they were over 65. Even some people with seemingly severe symptoms were refused, provoking theories that the government was trying to hide the true extent of the problem.

Medical experts said the guideline was intended to conserve hospital resources. A national law on infectious diseases mandated that anyone who tested positive, even those who were asymptomatic, had to be placed in one of the country’s few isolation wards, creating a strong disincentive for doctors to test patients with milder symptoms.

The Japanese government also said early on that test kits must be rationed because they were in short supply. That argument has since faded, however, as Japan has never used even half of its testing capacity on any given day, and it has increased its testing capacity to just over 24,000 a day.

Japan has since eased its rules to allow those who test positive but are asymptomatic to stay in hotels. It is preparing to begin limited testing for antibodies, hoping to get a better grasp of the number of people who have been infected. It also plans to introduce a smartphone app to help with contact tracing.

Despite the constrained testing for the virus, the rate of positive results has dropped below 1 percent, a fact that the government’s expert panel on the virus says demonstrates that current testing levels are sufficient.

But a group of prominent Japanese academics, businesspeople and other figures has called on the government to take a much bolder step: build a capacity of 10 million tests a day and offer testing to anyone who wants it. Consecutive negative results, the group argues, could allow people to fully resume social and economic activities.

As the country has seemingly defied the odds, many public health experts, including some in the government, have warned against drawing any definite conclusions from Japan’s experience.

They caution that Japan is not in the clear yet, and that a second or third wave of infections could strike at any time. As more data on deaths from this year becomes available — there are indications that Tokyo has undercounted dozens of coronavirus deaths — the picture may not look quite as good.

Some say Japan may have a large hidden population of asymptomatic cases. Shigeru Omi, the deputy head of the government’s expert panel on the coronavirus, told lawmakers that the real number of infections could be as much as 10 or 20 times as high as currently believed. Japan has reported fewer than 17,000 cases, versus more than 1.7 million in the United States.

Norio Sugaya, an infectious diseases expert at Keiyu Hospital in Yokohama, noted that Japan’s mortality rate, while vastly lower than those in hard-hit countries like Spain or Britain, is one of the worst in Asia.

In February, an outbreak of the virus aboard the cruise ship Diamond Princess left officials scrambling. The response was widely seen as a disaster, but health experts turned it into a learning opportunity.

Epidemiologists and public health experts used the data from the ship to help develop a framework for stopping the virus’s spread in Japan.

The approach emphasized reducing people’s exposure to the conditions that led the pathogen to spread on the ship. A public education campaign urged people to avoid the “Three C’s” — closed spaces with poor ventilation, crowded places and close contact.

On TV talk shows, hosts took a “no question is too stupid” approach to talking about the virus, assuaging viewers’ anxiety and stressing the basic science of prevention: wash your hands, wear a mask, keep your distance from others.

At the same time, community health centers raced to investigate clusters using a monitoring system that had been developed to trace cases of influenza and tuberculosis.

Another key factor may have been Mr. Abe’s decision to close schools in late February, well before almost any other country. The decision was hugely unpopular, but it appears to have provoked an almost instantaneous change in behavior, according to polling conducted by researchers at Hiroshima University.

The day after the announcement, the percentage of people who were avoiding crowded places nearly doubled, rising to almost 60 percent. By mid-March, it was over 75, the study found.

In April, as cases began to spike, Mr. Abe declared a state of emergency. Businesses were requested to close or reduce their hours. People were asked to make only necessary trips. There were no penalties, but many complied anyway.

Makoto Sasho, 50, decided to close his grilled eel restaurant in the Meguro neighborhood of Tokyo and focus on delivery and carryout, despite assurances from the government that businesses like his could continue table service.

“We conformed to society’s expectations of us,” he said, adding that “when I thought about the future, I knew we absolutely could not be responsible for a cluster.”

As Japan now begins to reopen, some experts fear that people will begin to let down their guard.

In a speech on Monday night, Mr. Abe emphasized that the end of the state of emergency did not mean a return to normal life.

“What we need to aim for,” he said, “is establishing a new normal.”

Mr. Sasho said that his customers were clamoring for him to reopen, but that he was not sure he was ready.

“It’s a new way of life,” he said. “Maybe I’ll just stick with delivery and takeout.”

Motoko Rich contributed reporting.