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Japan: voyeuristic games

Michel Temman and Yves Bougon, French journalists based in Tokyo.
photo
Sony unveils the “world’s smallest and lightest” digital still camera, weighing just 26 grammes.
Gadgets and “electronic leashes” are the rage in Tokyo where people don’t just spy on their neighbours but on the latest star in vogue

Akihabara, Tokyo’s electronics retail district, has been bustling since 1998, when the new economy really took off in Japan. “New computers and cell phones with Internet access are the best-selling products,” says Toshihiro Miyazaki, a salesman at Laox, a huge mass-consumer temple devoted to electronics.
But another section of the store is also packed: the one selling gadgets for spying on spouses, neighbours and co-workers–miniature digital cameras with pictures that can be viewed from a distance, micro-chips, miniature recorders and electronic “leashes” so small they are almost invisible. Researchers and engineers in the laboratories of Sony, Sharp, Panasonic and others are busy developing more and more miniaturized devices. Prices range from 30,000 yen ($255) to 200,000 yen ($1,700), and sales at Laox have been rising since 1999. These items are especially popular with 15 to 25 year-olds (the sedai video-game generation) and with otaku (children of the virtual empire). Others, known as the camera kozô , get their share of fun from snapping embarrassing pictures with remote-controlled miniature cameras.
In Japan, a society influenced by Confuciansim, control over the self and others has always been the norm. The neighbourhood police station (koban) and foot patrolmen still frequently draw up detailed lists of local residents and inquire about the identity of newcomers as soon as they move in. Neighbourhood committees (tonarigumi), an institution dating back to the 16th century, were used during the Second World War to punish activities deemed anti-Japanese. Although the committees are on the wane, they still exist.
Today, these traditional ways of watching people seem harmless compared to the spying being done with new electronic products. There are regular reports on television about acts of voyeurism. Some people specialize in spying on public toilets, while others hide cameras and microphones in the homes of friends or young, single women. Others have turned into Internet paparazzi, broadcasting their stealthy pictures on the Web. Recently, the marathon runner Naoko Takahashi, who has become a star since bringing home a gold medal from the Sydney Olympics, found that her fame had stretched beyond acceptable limits. Thousands of copies of a video featuring her naked in her bathroom have been illegally sold. A miniature camera filmed the pictures without her knowledge.
The Japanese are increasingly concerned about the rising number of abuses. In January, a high school teacher was arrested for filming his students changing in the locker room, and a cameraman from the national NHK television network filmed people at home without their knowing it. Debate is stepping up over an inexpensive service called Imadoko (“where are you?”), which allows parents to track their children’s every move. A microchip built into a cell phone tells the company where the user is at all times. At the parents’ request, the company sends them a map showing their child’s exact whereabouts.
The Japanese feel even more anxious because the government has recently passed a law strengthening the powers of the central police authorities (NPA) and the justice ministry to use spying tools such as phone taps and email screening. “This law is designed to help criminal investigations, not to interfere in people’s daily lives,” the NPA says. But some specialists, such as Shin Mizukoshi, a media expert at Tokyo University, are asking uneasy questions: “Has Big Brother broken into our homes? Isn’t police interception of communications a new invasion of privacy?”
These methods are mainly used to combat computer piracy. A law “forbidding illegal access” has just come into force – it punishes computer crimes with a year’s imprisonment and a 500,000-yen fine ($5,000). Eighty engineer-police officers stalk criminals at the NPA’s High-Tech Crime Technical Expert Center, a cyber-surveillance centre with an annual budget of 190 million yen ($1.85 million).
But trouble-makers are also honing their electronics skills. Recently, a pair of kidnappers used prepaid phones to announce their ransom demands and conditions. “The omnipresence of advanced mobile communication systems creates new challenges,” says an NPA official. “Compromises are necessary in the interest of the public and its security.” As legal expert Yoichi Higuchi observes, the right to privacy may remain “virtual” in Japan.

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