Life, Liberty, and Property… but mostly Property

Central to the very concept of capitalist societies is the right to the possession of “property.” At least in part, the United States was founded on this very principle, as implied by the paraphrasing of John Locke’s 17th-century treatise on “natural rights” in the Declaration of Independence, which Locke identified as “life, liberty, and estate (property).” Centuries later, it appears as an institution that characterizes economically “free” nations throughout the world.

Even the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights recognizes the right to ownership of property in Article 17, with the statements:
(1) “Everyone has the right to own property alone as well as in association with others.
(2) “No one shall be arbitrarily deprived of his property.

However, acceptance of this principle also compels consideration of what exactly can be considered as “property,” and what limits can be placed on rights of ownership. And this is not a simple issue. While few contemporary capitalist societies would dispute a right to own a tool, a home, land, or even a business, social realities present a considerably more complex range to that which may, or may not be patentconsidered as property. Where the concept was once confined to physical objects, at times inclusive of human beings, it may now consist of such incorporeal matter as images, ideas, information, patterns, and ways to perform tasks.

The concept of ownership may also be limited, as with “public” properties, properties which act as collateral to loans, or software or music that cannot be reproduced or that expires. Current debates include property of a human nature, such as personal data, perhaps even a person’s own genetic information. And this compels further consideration of cases where property rights might be outweighed by human rights or by individual needs.

In some cases, profit may also result from instances where the impetus is merely to “sit” on property for the sole purpose of preventing benefit to others. To some extent, past generations have attempted to address these questions by allowing that some property rights must be limited in consequence or must expire after an interval of time, usually when the benefit to an owner is no longer seen to outweigh a benefit to society, as in copyrights or pharmaceutical patents.

Property is not simply the manifestation of inflexible laws intended only to maintain civil order in capitalist societies. Rather, it is also a meritocratic social principle, justified by an intent that it works to encourage individual contributions which serve ultimately to benefit society as a whole. Confirming this view, a recent Supreme Court ruling allowed for the legal seizure of private property for the purpose of private economic development, thus upholding the idea that a more economically beneficial utilization of property outweighs the right to unproductive ownership, at least in cases of physical properties such as land and homes.

Regardless, the implication of this kind of limitation to property rights is apparent in some events that many contemporary Americans would see as “injustices.” For example, Native Americans’ perceived non-utilization of the lands upon which they lived was also used as a justification for the seizure of those lands for agricultural, natural resource and industrial development through concepts of “adverse possession” or “squatters’ rights.”

My interest in this isn’t merely academic.  During the process of obtaining a graduate degree, I pursued the development of an idea that turned out to have significant financial potential.  The result of an intuitive speculation, it resolved an especially troublesome industrial problem through the application of a physical phenomenon.  However, as the result of my work would financially benefit only the university, I was eventually compelled to drop the project and pursue development of a working idea through other resources.

Eventually, I held major interests in two rather valuable patents, rights to one of which was sold to an industrial concern, with the other purchased/acquired by the US government (something that could be considered either a blessing or a curse).  And the latter case resulted my assisting in the development of four variant applications.

In later years, however, I developed an increasingly adversarial familiarity with several “patent trolls.” This is the admittedly derogatory term for legal offices and large corporate entities that collect or create masses of patents, many simply vague descriptions or descriptions of desired outcomes for which they have no intent to create or develop anything at all.

Entire business models are now built upon patent litigation, either by sitting on patents with no intent other than to use the threat of legal costs to profit from others who develop arguably similar ideas, or by exacting money from those who file such patents in exchange for promises not to engage in future litigation.

This shouldn’t be confused with compensation for rights to access legitimately developed ideas, approaches or devices that actually make something new possible. Rather, these are simply academic obstructions to the development of real and practicable technologies and applications.  And the idea isn’t to prevail in courtrooms so much as to cost developers more in court fees than their products are worth. Like weed-choked expanses of land standing the way of a new road, these vast tracts of idle patents serve no purpose other than to be used as footholds to exact payments from serious developers.

For most of my career, I was fortunate to have had access to legal resources, external funding, or government bureaucratic shelters with which to fight this kind of nuisance litigation. However, it has become a serious obstacle to the development of new ideas, especially with regard to smaller businesses and startups.

Even assuming that one knows with fair certainty that she or he will prevail in court, delays and legal costs may overwhelm a small business without significant legal or financial resources. For this reason, most such cases are settled out of court, sometimes by a pre-payment to invoke “protection” from the source of litigation. In some circles, this kind of activity would be labeled with the parlance of a “shakedown.”

So herein lies the paradox. On one hand, it is legal (though not necessarily ethical) to seize a home or land for more socially or economically beneficial, government or private commercial development. However, the actual developer of an idea cannot infringe upon the intellectual property (patent) of a person or corporate-entity who is merely parking it, and in fact may be subject to litigation by that entity, even in cases where a claim is overtly tenuous.

Intellectual properties, therefore, enjoy a special protection that may be used to legally hinder progress for the sole purpose of profit from the threat of litigation. And this suggests some larger questions in general regarding property and property rights.

● Should productivity justify property, or should civil “ownership” trump everything else?
● While it may be legal in some instances, is it ethical to justify the seizure of one’s property for the purpose of greater social benefit?  If so, who determines that benefit?
● Is the actual objective of property an improvement of the human condition (the pursuit of “happiness”)? If not, then what is its purpose? And if so, then for whom?
● What if the property in question was the information contained in your own genetic code, perhaps needed to save your own life?
● What of secret knowledge, intentionally unexpressed ideas, or proprietary knowledge that is assumed to be held in one’s mind?  Can thoughts be property?

The Peculiar Politics of Japan

According to its 1947, post WWII Constitution, Japan’s political system is essentially parliamentary. Two legislative houses are formed through a complex system of popular voting. The Sangiin, or “House of Counselors” forms the upper house, with 242 members who serve 6-year terms, half elected in three-year intervals. And the Shūgiin, or “House of Representatives” forms the lower house.  It is composed of Featured image475 members who serve 4-year terms. An election for new members of the Shūgiin occurred in mid April of this year. Together, both houses of the Japanese government are known as the Kokkai, or “National Diet of Japan.”

A Prime Minister is appointed from the Diet by the Emperor, but only at the direction of both houses. However, the House of Representatives could technically make a unilateral selection of a Prime Minister due to a power it has to settle disagreements regarding appointments which last more than 10-days. Any person appointed as Prime Minister must also be a civilian serving as an elected member of either house. Cabinet members are nominated by the Prime Minister, and must also be civilians.

Traditionally, the president of the majority party serves as the Prime Minister. The current Prime Minister of Japan is Shinzō Abe, a member of the political party known as the Jiyū-Minshutō, often shortened to “Jimintō ,” or “LDP,” the “Liberal Democratic Party.” Despite its name, the LDP is the most significant conservative party within Japan’s political system. Except for an 11-month period in 1993/4, and 3-years from 2009 to 2012, the LDP has held power either directly or through a coalition of parties continuously since 1955. The LDP’s stated goals are to increase exports, to privatize many state-owned institutions, to implement tax reforms, and to increase defense cooperation with the United States. More recently, it has proposed revising Japan’s pacifist Constitution to allow its defense forces to work in joint military operations with other nations.

While some scholars declare that Japan is politically a Constitutional Monarchy, the Emperor’s position is primarily symbolic.  His only significant power within government is the authority to dissolve the Shūgiin, or lower house, requiring an election within 40-days. Japan also has an independent judiciary, with high court members appointed by the Emperor in consensus with the Prime Minister. As in the United States, Japan’s Supreme Court is its final judicial authority regarding Constitutional issues of law.

To at least some extent, the complex way in which Japan’s 1947 Constitution distributed representation has encouraged the perpetuation of its current conservative-leaning political landscape. Japan’s brief move toward a more liberal government in 2009 saw the centrist Minshutō, or “DPJ,” the “Democratic Party of Japan” sweep into power only after the exposure of corrupt government contract awards during a time of ballooning national debt and severe economic slowdown. However, without enough seats in the House of Councilors to appoint a Prime Minister, it was forced to form a coalition government with the socialist Shakai Minshu-tō, or “Social Democratic Party,” and the conservative-offshoot Kokumin Shintō, or “People’s New Party.” The result was three Prime Ministers over three years due to a constant reshuffling before the LDP would regain power in 2012.

The LDP’s 2012 appointment as Prime Minister was Shinzō Abe, who had ironically resigned from that same position in 2007 after receiving low approval ratings. This time, however, world events had greatly changed the political landscape. Chinese territorial disputes, saber-rattling, and domestic Chinese anti-Japanese nationalist political rhetoric opened the door for the LDP’s return to power. Since then, the LDP has not only managed to control enough seats in both houses to appoint a Prime Minister, but it has also formed an enormously powerful coalition. By joining ranks with the Kōmeitō, a moderate-right party supported by the Buddhist, Sōka Gakkai religious movement, it heads a coalition that controls a super-majority in both houses. The result has been to turn Japan’s government into a powerful mechanism for change — although not everyone has been happy about the direction.

Regardless, this April’s elections for the country’s 480 lower house members held few surprises with regard to the LDP. Losing 5 of its 295 seats, it still retains an authoritative majority. And when combined with the Kōmeitō, which which gained 4 seats to end up with 35, their coalition also narrowly maintains its super-majority ability to rubber-stamp lawmaking through both houses. Tempered only by the Kōmeitō’s officially anti-nuclear and anti-war platform, political messages such as that sent by Shinzō Abe’s recent visit with the President of the United States are credible signals regarding Japan’s future.

Among opposition parties, however, a political rebound has pushed frustrated and disenfranchised voters in various directions. The DPJ, which took power in 2009, went from 62 to 79 seats, mostly through a consolidation of seats that had belonged to smaller, regional parties. The far-right, Japanese-nationalist, Ishin no Tō, or “JIP,” the “Japan Innovation Party,” lost a seat to end up with 41, along with 9 more in the upper house. However, the biggest surprise was from the Nihon Kyōsan-tō, or “JCP,” the “Japanese Communist Party.” Yes, Japan has a communist party, and it went from holding 8 seats in the lower house to 21, along with its 11 seats in the House of Councilors.

This is a politically interesting time in Japan in the sense that changes with regard to its international relations are occurring rapidly — too rapidly for some. Japan is almost certainly poised to move into a closer defense relationship with the United States, compelling some rather contentious revisions to Constitutional restraints on its large and well-equipped Self Defense Force. This might be seen as a counter to a rising Chinese power; however, today’s world is fundamentally driven by economic concerns. Even those same Chinese territorial claims that have so riled its neighbors are motivated by a desire for access to sources of energy with which to fuel its own rapidly growing economic machinery.

China, however, may also have unwittingly opened the door to a Japanese military-industrial market by eliciting a demand from its neighbors. And considering the LDP’s stated goal to improve Japan’s economy by increasing exports, last year’s move by Shinzo Abe to end Japan’s weapons export ban might be seen as little more than seizing on an opportunity.  After all, it’s a model that has worked well for Japan’s proposed new defense partner. And if the Kōmeitō object to involving themselves in something which might be perceived as antithetical to the Buddhist principle of “Right Livelihood,” then there are always those 42 seats held by the nationalist JIP.

Unintentional Poetry

A close friend recently described my Japanese writing as being “like poetry.” That might be true. Nevertheless, there isn’t much chance of my head swelling from a compliment. The remark was a typically Japanese way of letting me know that I should be very careful if I don’t want to reveal that I’m rather less than literate.

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Having been raised in a household with one native, and one extremely fluent speaker of Japanese, as well as an older sister who chose to master the language, I really don’t have an excuse for my lack of expertise in its written form. To that, I can only appeal to a youthful identity crisis as one with little interest in something that wasn’t of much use within the social environment of a rebellious, “American” teenager. Maturity would eventually prevail. But it’s been many years of struggle to render the two-thousand kanji necessary as a minimum for “literacy” to the status of consistent usability.

Modern Japanese is written in a mix of character types. It utilizes a combination of both phonetic characters (hiragana and katakana), and logographic characters (kanji) borrowed from Chinese. Probably starting in the 400’s AD, spoken Japanese began to be recorded through the phonetic pronunciations of various Chinese characters. At first, the symbols were used merely to represent the names of families. But by the 8th century, Japan’s oldest known written documents show close to 1000 Chinese characters being used to represent about 90 sounds of the Japanese language.

Today, the two overlapping sets of 192 simplified and standardized phonetic forms known collectively as “kana” are used to represent the approximately 110 basic Japanese phonetic moras, diacritics, diagraphs, and combinations thereof, as well as the consonant pauses and stretched vowels found in the spoken language. However, their use is mostly limited to grammatical markers and for representing loan-words and names from other languages. A parallel evolution of Chinese logographic characters, or kanji, provides modern written Japanese with a means to represent most nouns, verbs, and concepts.

Written Japanese recognizes thousands of these kanji, though often with variations from their Chinese counterparts in both written form and exact meaning. Not including those used solely within names, a knowledge of approximately 2,000 individual characters known as “Jōyō Kanji” are officially recognized as a minimum for “literacy.”  A knowledge of about 1,000 will cover 90% of most ordinary reading material. However, tens-of-thousands more exists, and may be found in both older texts as well as in more challenging readings. And just as with spoken vocabulary, they can be utilized in combinations to represent a wide range of both complex and subtle concepts, sometimes idiomatically.  Combined with kana, written Japanese is thus provided with enough grammatical and contextual information to create a complex, but comprehensive and  understandable form.

The use of Chinese characters in Japanese writing also feeds back into the spoken language. One of the inherent difficulties of Japanese is that it is not a single, spoken language. Rather, there are generally several different ways to say essentially the same thing. In some cases, this is a reflection of Japan’s historically feudal social order, where the use of more rarefied forms of the language marked both the speech of certain social castes and their recognition as such among the population. Today, this is most commonly heard in formal and “honorific” forms of the language. However, many native Chinese sounds for kanji have also found their way into the spoken language.

Nearly all kanji have at least two spoken readings for the same meaning, a native Japanese form (kunyomi), and a form that emerges from its Chinese pronunciation (onyomi ). For instance, the kanji for “water” has a kunyomi reading of “mizu,” and an onyomi reading of “sui”.  It may even be pronounced “mi” when used within a name. And while there are some general rules for when to use each reading, exceptions are frequent.

This multiplicity of sounds to verbally represent kanji isn’t usually a problem while reading to one’s self. However, it can lead to some confusion, if not embarrassment, when reading aloud. And misreading one for another can entirely alter a meaning, as when combining the kanji for water and the kanji for the character of a thing. This can be read either in the onyomi “suisei”, meaning watery, or the kunyomi “mizushō”, referring to a promiscuous woman. Hence emerges the unintentional nature of much written Japanese “poetry” by those less skilled writers of the language, such as myself.

Notwithstanding such mistakes however, this is also a beauty of Japanese, that one spoken or written form may have many meanings. If I am less than inspired by the meanings of the kanji in my New Year “omikuji,” or temple fortune, I may tie it upon a tree (traditionally, a pine tree or “matsu”) at the temple for the purpose of leaving it to wait (also “matsu”). Even a thousand years ago, the original forms of today’s phonetic kana were ordered by their places within a poem known as the “iroha” by its first three sounds:

いろはにほへと
Iro ha nihoheto
ちりぬるを
Chirinuru o
わかよたれそ
Wa ka yo tare so
つねならむ
Tsune naramu
うゐのおくやま
Uwi no okuyama
けふこえて
Kefu koete
あさきゆめみし
Asaki yume mishi
ゑひもせす
Wehi mo sesu

Although its scent still lingers on
   the form of a flower has scattered away
For whom will the glory
   of this world remain unchanged?
Arriving today at the distant side
   of the deep mountains of glittering existence
We shall never allow ourselves to drift away
   intoxicated, in a world of shallow dreams.