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Jim
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THE NEW AMERICAN MILITARISM:
How Americans Are Seduced by War
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PARADE Magazine
Articles
What We Can Learn From Japanese
Prisons
January 15, 1984
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FUCHU PRISON, near Tokyo is home to 2500 of Japan's
most hardened criminals. Ed Arnett is an alumnus who thinks of Fuchu
daily. The dank, unheated buildings, the harshness of the guards' reports
to their superiors, the high stone walls--these are as
near to him as the scars on his legs, from the frostbite he picked up in
his Fuchu cell.
"I didn't know I could still cry until I went to prison in
Japan," says Arnett, convicted in 1979 for possession of two kilograms of
marijuana. "I wouldn't put that experience on anybody."
Arrested on Okinawa, Arnett was kept in pretrial
confinement for a month. He endured days of intense interrogation without
an attorney and signed a confession--written in Japanese-that he could not
read. He met his lawyer for the first time at his trial. The trial took 30
minutes. He was not allowed a jury.
At Fuchu, Arnett lived in a 9-by-5-foot cell furnished
with a hard, narrow bed, a sink that also was his desk and a toilet that
he could flush only when permitted by the guards. His mail was censored,
and he was not allowed writing materials. The books he read were the few
approved by his guards. Gifts from home were kept from him until his
release. Despite his diabetes, Arnett's diet was dominated by seaweed,
fish and rice. He lost 55 pounds in 18 months. Fourteen of those months
were spent in solitary, in a room where a camera recorded his every move.
His scalp was shaved every two weeks. He was forbidden to look out the
window or to communicate with other inmates. He worked eight hours a day,
even in solitary, making paper bags in his cell. He could not touch his
bunk during the day, but when the lights went out at night, if he was not
lying down, he was punished. On his release, due to improper treatment of
his diabetes, an doctor called him "a walking dead man."
Arnett's experiences were not unusual for Japanese prison
inmates, about 100 of whom at any time are Americans serving sentences for
crimes ranging from minor drug offenses to murder. But, surprisingly,
Arnett, home in Omaha, Neb., says he prefers Japan's legal system to ours.
Why? "Because it's fair," he says. "The never tried to trick me, even in
interrogation. They were always trustworthy. 1 could have got five years
and they gave me two. The Americans who were helping them wanted me to get
20. The guards at Fuchu were hard, but they never messed with you unless
there was a reason. You didn't have to worry about the other prisoners
coming after you, either. And the laws of Japan are for everybody. That's
the main thing. The laws in this country depend on how much you can pay.
I'd rather live under a hard system that's fair."

In 1981, Japan, with about half our population, had only
922 homicides; we had 1832 in New York City alone. An American is 12 times
more likely to be murdered than a Japanese, 14 times more likely to be
raped and 20 times more likely to be the victim of a property crime.
Although recidivism rates are similar-50 percent in Japan, 64 percent
here-our problem with criminal repeaters is actually nine times greater
than Japan's because our crime rate is so much higher.
A defendant's lack of counsel during interrogation and the
absence of a jury trial, a U.S. Constitutional right, raises no hackles.
"There are scholars who criticize this, but they have no social or
political support," notes Kotaro Ohno of Japan's Ministry of Justice, who
studied law at Harvard. "A Japanese believes the judge is more
knowledgeable about his situation than a collection of citizens." Ohno
defends Japan's very narrow use of the exclusionary rule and says the U.S.
"goes too far" in excluding illegally obtained evidence.
Japan' has a low crime rate without either a police state
or excessive litigation. Only 50,000 prisoners, including pretrial
detention inmates, are presently con- fined in Japan, and fewer than 4
percent of the prisoners are sentenced for longer than three years. In
the U.S., there are 580,000 adult inmates, and 80 percent of those in
state institutions have been sentenced for longer than five years.
Observes Yoshio Suzuki, until recently director general
of the Correction Bureau in Japan's Ministry of Justice: "The law in Japan
is severe in the attitude toward offenders as a whole. This allows it to
be lenient in the punishment of an individual. We involve the victim in
the criminal process. If the accused has shown proper penance to the
victim through repayment or an expression of grief, and the victim tells
this to the court, it will go much easier on the accused."
Japan brings 70 percent of its crimes to conviction. The
U.S. brings only 19.8 percent of its crimes to arrest. But the
contrast in prisons themselves is most startling. Americans familiar with
the horrors of Attica and New Mexico and the routine tales of brutality
and homosexual rape would find the orderly corridors of a Japanese prison
mind-boggling.
"They don't coddle them, but they don't abuse them,
either," says U.S. Navy Capt. Everette Stumbaugh, a lawyer for the
commander of U.S. forces in Japan. "Japan plays it aboveboard all the
way."
There never has been a hostage crisis in a Japanese
prison. There has been only one "prison disturbance" -30 years ago. There
never has been a reported case of homosexual rape, or of prisoner gang
wars. No guard ever has been killed by inmates; there has been only one
inmate death in the last 10 years at the hands of another. There have been
only 35 escapes from Japanese prisons in the last seven years (the U.S.
average is more than 8000 escapes a year). Almost 94 percent of Japan's
prisoners perform labor that is geared to their aptitude and
rehabilitative potential, rather than based on the crime committed. Guards
typically are unarmed. There are 58 major prisons in Japan. In addition ~o
Fuchu, I toured prisons in Yokosuka and Okinawa. Only Fuchu had armed
guards. There, fewer than 10 percent carry weapons-police sticks.
"What about the guard in the tower?" I asked Kaoru Kayaba,
Yokosuka's warden, as I stared at the juncture of two walls on the far
side of a large athletic field. "Doesn't he carry a rifle?"
Kayaba smiled. "We don't keep a guard in the tower. Except
when the prisoners play softball."
"In case a prisoner vaults the wall?"
"In case a ball goes over the wall."
Much of the success of Japan's prisons is due to a
certificates in trades such as plastering and auto repair. The "B"s-many
of whom are members of the Yakuza, Japan's Mafia-might do such
mundane tasks as maintenance work or making toys.
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