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News and opinion on human rights issues in Japan
Who says people don't sue in Japan? They do, and sometimes it makes a difference.
By ARUDOU DEBITO
Japan is not renowned for its courtroom dramas. But occasionally a landmark ruling does make the front pages.
Witness the Sep. 14, 2005, Supreme Court decision on absentee voting. Plaintiffs sued the government for not guaranteeing their constitutional right to vote from overseas, and won.
This is big. Big enough maybe, believe it or not, to have a profound effect on human rights for foreigners in Japan.
Non-Japanese residents already have a history of taking racial discrimination cases to court.
To wit: The Ana Bortz case of 1999, where a woman was thrown out of a Hamamatsu jewelry store for being Brazilian; the Otaru onsen case of 2001-2005, where three Caucasians (one a naturalized Japanese) were barred from a bathhouse for having the wrong physical appearance; a case in 2003, where a Saitama realtor screened an Indian renter for the appropriateness of his skin color; and a 2004 case, where a naturalized Chinese was refused entry at a Tokyo bar ostensibly for being foreign.
Early this year, the Osaka District Court will opine on the Steve McGowan case (Zeit Gist: Nov. 30, 2004), regarding an American who was refused entry to a Kyoto eyeglass shop because the manager "doesn't like black people."
No doubt the future portends more suits of this ilk, as "Japanese Only" signs and policies continue to proliferate nationwide. Racial discrimination, lest you forget, is not illegal in Japan.
However, the good news is that plaintiffs above have won their cases, penalizing private-sector businesses for their exclusionism.
That's encouraging. And not only because non-Japanese are slowly realizing that with copious time, money and willpower, they might sue and get some semblance of justice. They might even positively affect legal precedent in Japan.
Now, before detractors resume accusing these "foreign lawsuiters" of "cultural imperialism," of "foisting their Western litigiousness on Japan," consider some facts:
First, it's perfectly all right to sue in Japan. As the Japanese government told the U.N. in 1999, access to the courts is a constitutionally guaranteed right. (They also said Japan needs no laws against racial discrimination precisely because the judiciary will provide redress.)
Second, about that myth that "Japanese don't sue." Time it got a dirt nap.
According to the latest figures on the Prime Minister's Cabinet home page, in 1998 alone there were nearly 5.5 million suits filed in Japan ( www.kantei.go.jp/jp/sihouseido/dai8/saikousai/12s.pdf ).
Filed by -- you guessed it -- Japanese people.
In fact, the Japanese judicial system is so clogged up that there is debate on how to speed things up -- by, say, lessening court deliberation time, or making it easier to pass the Bar exam.
It's not as if you haven't heard of any high-profile lawsuits here. Win or lose, here are a few:
Hansen's disease patients, Minamata mercury poisoning victims, Ienaga Saburo's textbook censorship, salary discrimination by gender, and various wartime issues left unresolved by any other means . . .
Again, these lawsuits were filed not by "litigious Westerners," but by Japanese and other Asians. People with strong senses of social justice, who wanted to be compensated for mental suffering, make public statements of discontent and even set a good judicial precedent.
Some, encouraged by Japanese legal support networks, even file what could be disparagingly labeled as "nuisance" lawsuits: Suing local and national governments for negligence ("fusakui"). Still, they are perfectly entitled to, under the State Reparations Law ("kokka baishou hou"). That's why it exists.
After all, filing suit against individual miscreants is like pounding moles in a mountain range. Suing the government for not serving their taxpayers may offer universal redress at a stroke.
But that's quite a challenge. You know the axiom, "you can't fight City Hall." It's even more true in Japan.
Traditionally, lawsuits against the government have been an exercise in creative illogic. Japanese courts have ruled that the public has no legal ground to expect laws to be passed to safeguard their constitutional rights.
Why? The argument runs: The judiciary cannot force the legislative branch to legislate. That would be a violation of the separation of powers.
But further lawsuits have fortunately eroded that. Let me take you down a line of precedents:
Once upon a time, there was a handicapped person in Sapporo. Unable to leave his house, he could not vote in elections because Japan had no absentee ballot system.
In 1971, he sued the national government for not taking sufficient measures to ensure his constitutionally guaranteed right of suffrage.
In 1985, the Supreme Court ruled that he had no case. Passing laws is, after all, "at the government's discretion."
It also ruled, incredibly, that public policy is a political matter, and that politicians have no absolute duty to protect the rights of individuals. (Ashibe Nobuyoshi, "Kenpou," page 347)
That's nuts. What's the point of having a Constitution, then? One would expect elected representatives to be first in line to follow it.
This affected future lawsuits.
In the onsen case, the Otaru city government was sued for negligence, i.e. for not taking effective measures to force businesses to cease unconstitutional "Japanese only" policies.
Citing the 1985 precedent, courts ruled that a local government had no absolute duty to protect its foreign residents (or its Japanese citizens, for that matter) from racial discrimination. Sapporo High Court made the most sophistic, er, sophisticated argument:
"If there is a law out there, we can rule whether or not it is constitutional or against international treaty.
"However, if there is no law, there is nothing we can rule upon.
"Therefore, the nonexistence of a law is not actionable in court."
That's even more nuts. This gives governments an incentive to avoid passing a law because doing so will take away their "discretionary power," moreover make them liable in court. So do nothing. This ruling demonstrated there's no penalty for that.
Should be cause for defenestration. But take heart. If enough people file suit, eventually something good gets through.
As an example, let's go back to that decision in September, where plaintiffs sued over the lack of absentee voting for overseas Japanese.
When the Supreme Court agreed, it created the legal precedent to say the government can be held responsible for not passing laws.
This opens an avenue for Japan's foreign community. The lack of a racial discrimination law is now technically legally actionable.
Slow. My legal consultants caution against over-optimism. The right to vote is rightly seen as the cornerstone of Japan's postwar democracy. Judges will see this right as more deserving of special protection than most.
But courts didn't see that as so important 20 years ago. Or even last year.
So who knows what will happen if somebody takes the national government to court for not passing a law against racial discrimination? Despite 50 years of the postwar Constitution and a decade of treaty promises to do so?
Someone ought to. Because even lawsuits that get derided as "frivolous" and "nuisances" act as incessant drops upon the stone. Years later, an impression gets made.
Few things cause change faster than exposing for public critique the hitherto unspoken illogic that perpetuates flawed systems.
Sapporo Lawyer Toshiteru Shibaike contributed to this essay.
The Japanese media have seized upon the arrest of a Peruvian man accused of murdering a young girl as evidence that the nation is in the grip of a foreign crime wave
Justin McCurry in Tokyo
Tuesday December 6, 2005
Guardian Unlimited
Juan Carlos Pizarro Yagi stands accused of a truly appalling crime. Late last month, it is alleged, he approached seven-year-old Airi Kinoshita as she walked past his apartment on her way home from school in Hiroshima.
Some time during the following 90 minutes he allegedly killed her, placed her body in a cardboard box and dumped it in a nearby car park.
The crime shocked Japan, a country known for its safe streets and relatively low rates of violent crime.
Momentary panic is a natural response to the murder of a child; but the media's loss of perspective is less forgivable.
No sooner had the suspect been identified as a Peruvian national, possibly of Japanese descent, than the media announced that the country was in the grip of a foreign crime wave.
Decent headline writers learn early on in their training that the nationality of a crime suspect is, in the vast majority of cases, irrelevant. Not so in Japan, where the "respectable" broadsheets were as guilty as the tabloids of pandering to their readers' xenophobic instincts.
The Asahi Shimbun, one of Japan's more liberal dailies, ran with "Manhunt for Peruvian". Almost without exception the print and broadcast media played up Yagi's nationality.
Rent-a-quote experts all but ignored the real issues raised by Kinoshita's murder, such as school security, preferring to focus on the threat foreigners apparently pose to their law-abiding Japanese hosts.
Grim-faced reporters on daytime television referred to the suspect as "Carlos", dispensing with the usual practice of using a suspect's surname. But then to do that would have drawn attention to his Japanese ancestry and diluted his "otherness".
The tactic has angered human rights campaigners. "The majority of people in Japan want to feel that the people committing these crimes are different from them," said Hideki Morihara, secretary general of the International Movement Against All Forms of Discrimination and Racism in Tokyo.
"If they think that way then they can be satisfied that the criminals are indeed different. That creates an atmosphere of xenophobia, and the media are facilitating it."
With official help, it appears. With impeccable timing the police chose the day of Yagi's arrest to release figures showing that a record 10,860 foreigners had been arrested during the first six months of this year.
In the space of a few days, the justice ministry announced a review of its policy of issuing long-term visas to foreigners (Yagi, who was sacked from his job in a car parts factory for absenteeism, had allegedly been carrying a false passport) and the government announced the formation of a panel to discuss measures to stamp out foreign crime.
Morihara believes the timing of the crime figures' release was no coincidence. "It was very much politically motivated," he said.
"Politicians want to strengthen their control over the population and one way they do it is to say to the majority that they are protecting them from danger - from foreigners."
He also questioned the value of the official statistics, which the local media faithfully reported with no attempt to put them in context.
"First of all the police only report the number of arrests. If you target a specific group (as the police have done with foreigners since 2003) then it is only natural that the number of arrests will rise," Morihara said.
"But if you look at the number of crimes proportionate to the size of the foreign and Japanese populations, the rate is about the same. It isn't right to say that foreign crime alone is the problem."
Many Japanese share his concerns. Yuki Takahashi, 18, said on the Japan Today website: "I think the Japanese media play a big role here - they are creating a stereotyped image of foreigners as a menace to our society. Japanese tend to discriminate against foreigners but it's nothing to be proud of."
But as long as the media-driven atmosphere of suspicion and ignorance continues, those views will remain in the minority.
"The government should be increasing opportunities to bring Japanese and foreign people together, to improve understanding," Morihara said. "But with the help of the media they are just driving them apart."