Patriotism Without Legislative Facts

 I voiced my concerns about the "Japanese Flag Damage Crime" bill on this blog last year, and it has finally passed the House of Representatives Cabinet Committee.

"Anyone who publicly damages, removes, or defiles the flag in a manner that causes significant discomfort or disgust to others shall be punished by imprisonment for up to two years or a fine of up to 200,000 yen."

「人に著しく不快、嫌悪の情を催させる方法で公然と損壊、除去、汚損した者は2年以下の拘禁刑または20万円以下の罰金に処する」

When I saw the news, I practically got a headache, despairing at the intellectual decline of Japan as a nation supposedly governed by the rule of law. To begin with, this bill completely lacks both the "legislative facts" and the "protected legal interests" that are fundamental prerequisites for enacting criminal law. If someone destroys a flag belonging to someone else, they can already be adequately punished under existing property damage laws.

In other words, what this new law specifically targets is the act of publicly tearing up your own Japanese flag. How you handle your own property infringes on exactly zero people's rights, and there is no real-world crisis where society is suffering because current laws can't address this. To invent a new criminal penalty under these circumstances just to stroke "patriotic" egos is nothing short of sheer lunacy.

What’s even more terrifying is the sheer fragility of its constituent elements. It seeks to punish those who act "in a manner that causes significant discomfort or disgust to others." But how exactly does one objectively prove abstract, internal emotions like "discomfort" or "disgust" to establish a crime? If you ask me, xenophobes violently waving the national flag while spewing hate speech is the very definition of a highly uncomfortable and disgusting "defilement of the flag." Yet, let's be real, this law, championed by authoritarian politicians, will never be applied to their own base. The inevitable outcome is glaringly obvious, it will be weaponized through arbitrary judgments by those in power to exclusively target anti-government critics and freedom of expression.

Proponents loudly claim that "other countries have flag desecration laws too," but no modern developed nation is pushing for this kind of archaic legislation today. In the US, the Supreme Court has already ruled (in Texas v. Johnson) that burning the flag is protected under the First Amendment as freedom of speech, rendering such bans unconstitutional.

There is also an argument claiming that it’s a "structural imbalance" in our legal system to have Article 92 of the Penal Code (Damage to Foreign National Emblems) without a corresponding law for the Japanese flag. However, Article 92 was specifically designed as a crime concerning diplomatic relations. Its protected legal interest is to prevent diplomatic friction or international conflicts that could threaten Japan's security and the interests of its citizens. That’s precisely why it is a crime subject to prosecution only upon complaint by a foreign government.

The current Penal Code, including Article 92, was enacted in 1907, heavily influenced by the Otsu Incident of 1891. In that historically monumental incident, a Japanese police officer named Tsuda attempted to assassinate the visiting Russian Crown Prince in the town of Otsu. Terrified of Russian retaliation, the Meiji government pressured the judiciary to sentence Tsuda to death under the crime of high treason—a charge strictly reserved for acts against the Japanese Imperial Family. The Chief Justice famously refused, stating that high treason could not be applied to a foreign royal, thereby preserving the separation of powers and judicial independence. Given the specific historical context in which the law protecting foreign emblems was born, arguing that "we need a Japanese flag law just to balance things out" is utter nonsense.

Furthermore, those who hold historical grievances against Japan and target flags in protest typically go after the Rising Sun Flag (旭日旗), not the legally designated Hinomaru (日章旗). However, applying this new law to the Rising Sun Flag, which isn't specified in the criminal code, would be a clear violation of the principle of legality (specifically, the prohibition of analogical interpretation). Ultimately, this law risks being unconstitutional by infringing on the "freedom of expression" guaranteed by Article 21, all while offering practically zero real-world utility.

At the end of the day, this bill is a toothless, purely performative piece of legislation designed to flaunt a twisted ideology that elevates the "authority of the state" and the "national polity" above individual rights. The spirit of Article 13 of the Constitution, which champions constitutionalism and respect for individuals, is being trampled on, leaving only a rampant, excessive identification with state power. I suppose a bill like this passes because an increasing number of people have surrendered their own independence, suffering from the illusion that they become strong by merging their own identity with the will of the state. It’s truly a shame.

By the way, we currently have two typhoons approaching simultaneously. Here in my area, the rain is heavy but the wind is relatively mild. However, it looks like Tokyo is going to take a direct hit. Please stay safe, everyone.

Sacrifice Should Not Be Romanticized

 Prime Minister Takaichi, attending the Okinawa Memorial Service for War Victims, delivered the following speech,

「今日私たちが享受している平和と繁栄は、この地で命を落とされた方々の尊い犠牲と、沖縄の歩んだ筆舌に尽くし難い苦難の歴史の上に築かれたものです。そのことを改めて深く胸に刻みながら、静かに頭を垂れたいと思います」 

"The peace and prosperity we enjoy today are built upon the noble sacrifices of those who lost their lives on this land, and the indescribable history of hardship that Okinawa has endured. Engraving this deeply in my heart once more, I wish to quietly bow my head."

 I simply cannot stomach the phrase "noble sacrifice."

Modifying the word "sacrifice" with "noble" attaches a nuance of voluntary devotion, a willing surrender of one's life for a sublime cause. The reality of the Battle of Okinawa was that it was merely a stalling tactic to buy time for the defense of the mainland. To slap the label of "noble sacrifice" on deaths forced upon people stripped of any avenue of escape by the military and the state—on gruesome deaths they were simply dragged into—is nothing short of a desecration to those who died in profound despair.

Human sacrifice should never be romanticized. And this glorification of sacrifice is by no means confined to the realms of politics or history.

There are many anime series I love, but there are also those I simply cannot accept, specifically, the tropes common in shōnen manga, "With enough willpower, you can overcome anything," or "Sacrificing oneself for the sake of one's comrades." While many extol these narratives as "touching" or "passionate friendship," to me, they look like nothing more than totalitarian propaganda.

The ethos that "strong willpower can overcome any hardship" easily flips into a cruel, illogical fallacy: "If you couldn't overcome it, it's because you were weak-willed." It reeks of wartime Japan, where citizens practiced thrusting bamboo spears to shoot down B-29 bombers, somehow believing that sheer spirit would somehow get the job done.

The glorification of "self-sacrifice, the casting aside of one's own life and happiness for a cause or for one's companions" is nothing less than a barbaric set of values that stands in direct opposition to the spirit of Article 13 of the Japanese Constitution, which guarantees supreme respect for the individual. Is there any entertainment more unsettling than consuming the sacrifice of others as an inspiring story?

What is truly noble is ensuring no one has to be sacrificed in the first place. The belief that sacrifice itself is noble is profoundly dangerous.

The Beauty of Decay

 According to the preliminary figures from the latest five-year national census released late last month, Japan's population has shrunk by 3.09 million compared to the previous count. It's the largest drop on record. Here in my home prefecture of Ehime, we've lost about 75,000 people (a 5.6% decline).

Take a look at the graph below. It shows the long-term population projections for Japan released by the government back in 2011.

「国土の長期展望」中間とりまとめ 概要 平成23年2月21日 国土審議会政策部会長期展望委員会

("Long-Term Vision of National Land" Interim Report Summary)

Year	Population	Aging Rate
2004	127.84 million	19.6%
2030	115.22 million	31.8%
2050	95.15 million	39.6%
2100	47.71 million	40.6%

Since government demographic forecasts practically make a sport out of being overly optimistic, the reality will likely be even sparser.

While it's generally best to separate the macro, the national economy, from the micro, individual living standards, considering the yen's relentless depreciation and the continuous drop in real wages, the financial reality for most Japanese people is going to be incredibly grim.

I could write endlessly about the myriad social issues destined to arise from a rapidly shrinking population in a domestic-demand-driven economy. But I’ve beaten that drum plenty of times before. So today, I'll step away from the soapbox and lean into my personal, perhaps overly sentimental, feelings about Japan.

Ehime's rural landscape

I love the Japanese countryside. For me, nothing beats the rural scenery of my home here in Ehime.

In late April, the rice paddies are flooded. Planting happens in May, and as the temperatures rise, the stalks shoot up. By midsummer, the paddies that once mirrored the sky are transformed into a green carpet of rustling leaves. But my absolute favorite time is late September, right before the harvest, when the heavy, golden ears of rice bow down. The contrast is simply stunning: the vivid red of the spider lilies blooming along the footpaths, the brilliant gold of the rice, and the rich green of the surrounding foliage.

Spider lilies blooming in late September

My husband's hometown of San Francisco is postcard-perfect from virtually any angle. Yet, as a country girl at heart, I have a deep affection for the unpolished, rustic landscapes of Japan. It’s not the curated, look-at-me beauty of a theme park, it’s an unapologetic, frugal lived-in-ness. You can feel the traces of human lives, a raw, breathing humidity of the place. I can even find genuine beauty in the rusted signboard of a roadside shop that probably went out of business twenty or thirty years ago.

Japan will undoubtedly continue to fade alongside its rapidly shrinking population. A few years ago, the local 24-hour convenience store started closing its doors at 9 PM. As someone who clearly remembers the glittering, neon-drenched streets of the 90s, it's undeniably lonely watching the nights grow steadily darker. But the decay of regional cities didn't just start yesterday. In hindsight, the rot had clearly set in thirty years ago, right in the middle of all that glitter.

For me, the charm of the Japanese countryside isn't tethered to economic indicators. While our modern conveniences will drastically plummet year by year, the unpolished, decaying beauty that I hold so dear will likely only multiply.

Now, having waxed poetic about my love for rural Japan, let me offer a massive caveat: I do not recommend moving to the middle of nowhere. When I sing the praises of the countryside, I’m talking about the suburbs of mid-sized regional cities. I am absolutely not talking about "marginal settlements" (限界集落) deep in the mountains.

In those dying hamlets with only a handful of households left, everyone is essentially "family." Because of that, they can be brutally exclusive to outsiders, even to fellow Japanese. Since everyone views each other as kin, the boundaries of personal space are wildly different from the norm. An acquaintance of mine who married into one of these extreme rural areas told me that a neighbor once waltzed into her house uninvited, rummaged through her drawers, and casually helped themselves to groceries from her fridge.

And honestly, she was one of the lucky ones because she was at least accepted as "family." I’ve lost count of the stories I've heard about families moving from the city to the deep country, only to be completely ostracized and driven out by the village.

At the end of the day, people leave places for a reason.