IC you: bugging the alien
New gaijin cards could allow police
to remotely track foreigners
By DEBITO
ARUDOU
(This article, which first appeared in the
Japan Times of May 19, 2009,
is reproduced here in Eyes on Japan by kind permission of the
author.)
When the
Japanese government first issued alien registration cards (aka gaijin cards)
in 1952, it had one basic aim in mind: to track "foreigners" (at that
time, mostly Korean and Taiwanese stripped of Japanese colonial citizenship) who
decided to stay in postwar Japan.
Gaijin cards
put foreigners in their place: Registry is from age 16, so from a young age they
were psychologically alienated from the rest of Japanese society. So what if
they were born and acculturated here over many generations? Still foreigners,
full stop.
Even today,
when emigrant non-Japanese far outnumber the native-born, the government tends
to see them all less as residents, more as something untrustworthy to police and
control. Non-citizens are not properly listed on residency registries. Moreover,
only foreigners must carry personal information (name and address, personal
particulars, duration of visa status, photo, and — for a time —
fingerprints) at all times. Gaijin cards must also be available for public
inspection under threat of arrest, one year in jail and ¥200,000 in fines.
However, the
Diet is considering a bill abolishing those gaijin cards.
Sounds great
at first: Under the proposed revisions, non-Japanese would be registered
properly with residency certificates (juminhyo). Maximum visa durations would
increase from three years to five. ID cards would be revamped. Drafters claim
this will "protect" (hogo) foreigners, making their access to social
services more "convenient."
However, read
the fine print. The government is in fact creating a system to police foreigners
more tightly than ever.
Years ago,
this column ("The
IC You Card," Nov. 22, 2005) examined this policy in its larval stage.
Its express aims have always been to target non-Japanese in the name of
forestalling crime, terrorism, infectious diseases and the scourge of illegal
aliens. Foreigners, again, are trouble.
But now the
policy has gone pupal. You might consider helping chloroform the bug before it
hatches. Here's why:
The "new
gaijin cards," or zairyu kado (ZRK), are fundamentally unchanged:
The usual suspects of biometric data (name, address, date of birth, visa status,
name and address of workplace, photograph etc. — i.e. everything on the cover
of your card) will be stored digitally on an embedded computer chip. Still
extant is the 24/7 carrying requirement, backed by the same severe criminal
punishments.
What has
changed is that punishments will now be even swifter and stricter. If you change
any status recorded on your chip and don't report it to the authorities within
14 calendar days, you face a new ¥200,000 fine. If you don't comply within
three months, you risk losing your visa entirely.
Reasonable
parameters? Not after you consider some scenarios:
-
Graduate
high school and enroll in college? Congratulations. Now tell the government or
else.
-
Change
your job or residence? Report it, even if your visa (say, permanent residency or
spouse visa) allows you to work without restrictions anywhere.
-
Get a
divorce, or your spouse dies? Condolences. Dry your eyes, declare the death or
marital mess right away, and give up your spouse visa.
-
Suffering
from domestic violence, so you flee to a shelter? Cue the violins: A Japanese
husband can now rat on his battered foreign wife, say she's no longer at his
address, and have her deported if she doesn't return to his clutches.
Foreigners are
in a weaker position than ever.
Now add on
another, Orwellian layer: bureaucratic central control (ichigen kanri). Alien
registration is currently delegated to your local ward office. Under the new
system, the Ministry of Justice will handle everything. You must visit your
friendly Immigration Bureau (there are only 65 regional offices — not even two
per prefecture) to stand in line, report your changes and be issued with your
card.
Try to get
there within what works out to be a maximum of 10 weekdays, especially if you
live in a remote area of Japan (like, say, Hokkaido or an Okinawan island). Then
try to explain away a lost workday in this corporate culture.
Now consider
refugees. They don't even get an ID card anymore. They won't be able to open a
bank account, register to attend schools, enter hospital, or qualify for social
insurance anymore. No matter; this country accepts fewer than a few dozen
refugees every year; they shouldn't have come here anyway, thinking they could
impose upon our peaceful, developed country.
That's still
not the worst of it. I mentioned that embedded computer chip. The ZRK is a
"smart card." Most places worldwide issue smart cards for innocuous
things like transportation and direct debit, and you have to swipe the card on a
terminal to activate it. Carrying one is, at least, optional.
Not in Japan.
Although the 2005 proposal suggested foreign "swiping stations" in
public buildings, the technology already exists to read IC cards remotely. With
Japan's love of cutting-edge gadgets, data processing will probably not stop at
the swipe. The authorities will be able to remotely scan crowds for foreigners.
In other
words, the IC chip is a transponder — a bug.
Now imagine
these scenarios: Not only can police scan and detect illegal aliens, but they
can also uncover aliens of any stripe. It also means that anyone with access to
IC chip scanners (they're going cheap online) could possibly swipe your
information. Happy to have your biometric information in the hands of thieves?
Moreover, this
system will further encourage racial profiling. If police see somebody who looks
alien yet doesn't show up on their scanner (such as your naturalized author, or
Japan's thousands of international children), they will more likely target you
for questioning — as in: "Hey, you! Stop! Why aren't you
detectable?"
I called the
Immigration Bureau last week to talk about these issues. Their resident experts
on ZRK security said that data would be protected by PIN numbers. The bureau
could not, however, answer questions about how police would enforce their
next-generation gaijin card checkpoints. Those police are a different agency,
they said, and there are no concrete guidelines yet.
Come again?
Pass the law, and then we'll decide law enforcement procedures? This blind faith
is precisely what leads to human rights abuses.
One question
lingers: Why would the government scrap the current alien policing system? For
nearly six decades, it effectively kept foreigners officially invisible as
residents, yet open to interrogation and arrest due to a wallet-size card.
What's broke?
Local
government. It's too sympathetic to the needs of its non-Japanese residents.
Remember
Noriko Calderon, whose recently deported parents came to Japan on false
passports? Did you ever wonder how she could attend Japanese schools and receive
social services while her parents were on expired visas?
Because local
governments currently issue the gaijin cards. At their own discretion, they can
even issue ID to visa overstayers. Rendered as zairyu shikaku nashi (no
status of residence), the card can be used to access social services. They can
live relatively normal lives, as long as they avoid police gaijin-card
checkpoints.
Why are local
governments so sweet? With high concentrations of non-Japanese residents, many
see foreigners as human beings needing assistance. After all, they keep local
factories humming, pay taxes and add life to local infrastructure. Hamamatsu in
Shizuoka Prefecture and Yokkaichi, in Mie, have long petitioned the national
government for improvements, such as facilitating foreign access to public
services and education, and easing registry and visa applications.
After years of
playing deaf, the central government took action. Under the rhetoric of
"smoking out illegal aliens," Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi in 2005
pledged to "make Japan the world's safest country again" by halving
the number of visa overstayers by 2010.
Never mind
that the overall trend in Japan is toward devolving power to the provinces (chiho
bunken); Japan now wants to rein in local governments because they poke
holes in their dike. It's still a shame the proposed plugs make life impossible
for refugees, and harder for any law-abiding non-Japanese resident with a busy
life.
Still, did you
expect the leopard to change its spots? Put immigration policy in the hands of
the police and they will do just that — police, under a far-removed
centralized regime trained to see people as potential criminals.
This is
counterproductive. As we've said in this column many times before, an aging
Japan needs immigration. These new gaijin cards will make already perpetually
targeted foreigners (and foreign-looking Japanese) even less comfortable, less
integrated members of society.
Why stop at
bugging the gaijin? Why not just sew gold stars on their lapels and be done with
it?
Fortunately, a
policy this egregious has fomented its own protest, even within a general public
that usually cares little about the livelihoods of foreigners. Major newspapers
are covering the issue, for a change. The opposition Democratic Party of Japan
wants the bill watered down, vowing to block it until after the next general
election.
The coalition
group NGO Committee against Resident Alien Card System (www.repacp.org/aacp)
has as its banner "Less policing, more genuine immigration policy that
promotes multiethnic co-existence."
© Debito Arudou for the Japan Times 2009. All rights
reserved
This page last updated 2009-12-31
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