Chapter 584: Radical Conservatives

February 4, 1992, 10:15 AM.

Nagatacho, Tokyo.

Parliament House, House of Representatives Main Chamber.

The chamber was packed to capacity.

Across the semicircular rows of seats, lawmakers from various political parties spoke in hushed tones. Some leafed through thick stacks of bill materials, while others jotted notes in the margins of their documents with pens.

At the government front bench, Masajuro Shiokawa, Chairman of the National Public Safety Commission and Minister of Home Affairs, had already taken his seat.

Several documents lay before him, flanked by other attending cabinet members.

As the Speaker called the session to order, the murmuring across the chamber gradually subsided.

“Next on the agenda is the final deliberation and vote on the ‘Bill on Special Guard Services for Important Civilian Facilities.'”

The Speaker glanced down at the agenda in his hand.

“This bill has completed its review by the relevant committee. First, I invite the committee rapporteur to deliver their report.”

A Liberal Democratic Party lawmaker rose from his seat.

Walking down the aisle toward the rostrum, he bowed slightly to the Speaker before picking up his prepared documents.

“Regarding the background behind this bill, I believe everyone here is already well aware.”

“On June 27 of last year, an extremely grave armed attack took place in Tokyo.”

“The assailants were not only armed with assault rifles, but also employed explosives, with multiple professionally trained foreign operatives taking part.”

“The incident ultimately resulted in numerous casualties and laid bare the vulnerabilities in our nation’s security protections for critical civilian personnel and key infrastructure.”

In the chamber, several lawmakers looked down and flipped through their materials.

Among the explanatory documents distributed alongside the bill were several photographs taken at the scene.

The television camera panned across one of them.

In the photo, several sedans stood stranded in the middle of a severely damaged road, riddled with bullet holes, surrounded by shattered glass and scorch marks left behind by explosions.

At the sight of this photo, Shuichi’s hand holding his teacup paused slightly.

Satsuki looked over as well.

It was a scene all too familiar to her.

Yet looking at it now, the initial sense of tension was gone.

The lawmaker on television continued:

“Prior to this, our nation has allowed certain private enterprises that serve vital economic functions to participate in crisis management, security training, and relevant safety cooperation through administrative guidance and special cooperative arrangements.”

“However, the legal foundation for these arrangements remains limited.”

“In particular, numerous ambiguities persist regarding security personnel equipment, firearm regulation, authority during major incidents, and coordination procedures with police authorities.”

“The purpose of this bill is to establish a formal special security system for private enterprises that meet stringent criteria.”

He paused briefly and turned to the next page.

“Designated enterprises will be permitted to establish specialized security departments under the supervision of the Public Safety Commission, and qualified security personnel will be authorized to carry and use licensed firearms during designated missions.”

“These authorizations primarily apply to securing vital facilities, protecting designated individuals, and carrying out other formally recognized high-risk assignments.”

“At the same time, the bill explicitly stipulates that private security personnel shall not thereby acquire the search, investigation, or general law enforcement powers of police agencies.”

The explanation lasted about ten minutes.

Once the sponsor returned to his seat, the Speaker opened the floor for representative questioning.

The first to step up to the rostrum was a Socialist Party lawmaker.

“I would like to question the government.”

He picked up the text of the bill in his hands.

“Under this bill, so long as a private enterprise obtains special designation status and passes licensing reviews for its personnel and firearms, it may equip its security guards with handguns.”

“Is my understanding correct?”

He paused briefly, but without waiting for an answer, pressed on:

“We certainly understand that the attack in June of last year exposed shortcomings in our existing security framework.”

“Yet what we are discussing today is, after all, the question of legally permitting private corporations to maintain armed security forces.”

“Thus, I want to know: how does the government intend to ensure that these weapons will not be used in the corporation’s own disputes of interest?”

“Such as labor disputes.”

“Or commercial conflicts between corporate executives?”

At this point, his tone grew noticeably heavier.

“If a strike breaks out at a factory, and the guards tasked with securing it happen to be armed with handguns, how can the government guarantee these weapons will not become instruments to suppress workers?”

A low murmur rippled through the chamber.

“I know the government will surely emphasize that the bill imposes strict limitations on firearm use.”

“And that if unlawful acts occur, the Public Safety Commission has the power to revoke qualifications.”

“However, can these provisions truly eliminate the risks?”

The lawmaker looked up toward the government benches.

“If an enterprise possesses hundreds of billions or even trillions of yen in assets, holding immense sway over regional economies and employment, will the government truly be able to revoke its status without hesitation?”

“Moreover, revocation is, after all, an ex post facto remedy.”

“If weapons have already been used to intimidate or even harm workers, how much damage can after-the-fact punishment undo?”

He surveyed the chamber.

“What we are debating today is a system that could alter the very relationship between the state and private capital.”

“Ordinary citizens cannot possess handguns at will, yet corporations with vast wealth can establish armed protection systems for their executives and key assets.”

“Will such a system not widen societal inequality even further?”

When his remarks concluded, applause broke out from the opposition benches.

The lawmaker bowed to the Speaker and returned to his seat.

Masajuro Shiokawa then rose on behalf of the government to deliver a response.

“First, I wish to emphasize that the government has no intention of altering our nation’s fundamental principle of strict firearm regulation.”

“The special security qualification established by this bill does not mean that an enterprise, upon receiving designation, can freely acquire and use firearms.”

“Corporate eligibility, individual credentials of security personnel, and permits for specific firearms will all undergo separate screenings.”

Shiokawa looked down at the document in his hands.

“Furthermore, the bill strictly defines the purpose and scope of weapon usage.”

“Licensed firearms may only be deployed for designated security tasks, and shall never be used in connection with general operational disputes, labor conflicts, or commercial rivalries.”

“Nor may enterprises arbitrarily expand the operational scope of security personnel based purely on their own judgment.”

“In the event of violations of permit conditions, the Public Safety Commission has the authority to suspend operations or revoke credentials. Where criminal offenses are involved, legal accountability will be pursued without exception.”

He paused slightly.

“As for the question raised earlier regarding whether the government might relax oversight due to an enterprise’s economic standing…”

“I maintain that the enforcement of law must not depend on the scale of an enterprise’s assets or its social influence.”

“Whether the applicant is a major corporation or a specialized security firm, all must abide by the same statutory provisions.”

“The government will not grant special powers outside the law to any enterprise simply because it possesses vast assets.”

His response was exceedingly cautious.

It both acknowledged the necessity of establishing a special security system and repeatedly reaffirmed the government’s ultimate regulatory authority over firearms and security operations.

Yet whether these assurances were sufficient to prevent the abuse of private armed forces remained an open question for the opposition.

Just then, the next remark from the television made Satsuki’s hand freeze around her teacup.

“…In my view, the current bill’s permitted scope for armed security remains far too conservative.”

Hmm?

Far too conservative?

Satsuki looked up in surprise.

On the television screen, a Liberal Democratic Party lawmaker in his fifties stood before the rostrum.

His political faction had long maintained close ties with Japan’s traditional financial and business establishment.

Over the past few years, he had consistently represented a typical conservative stance on economic policy and certain industrial reforms.

Yet the viewpoint he put forward next was anything but conservative.

“The attack that occurred last June has proven a grim reality.”

“Even an enterprise possessing the most sophisticated private security system in Japan may not be able to withstand a genuinely organized armed assault.”

“You should all recall the news reports at the time.”

“The Saionji Group had professional security personnel, its own intelligence network, and even medical rescue units capable of arriving rapidly on the scene.”

“Yet even under such protective conditions, Miss Saionji Satsuki was nearly killed.”

He surveyed the chamber.

“Then I ask everyone present to seriously consider this question:”

“What if the target attacked on June 27 of last year had not been Miss Saionji, but the head of some other major enterprise?”

“Would they possess security capabilities on par with Saionji?”

“Would they possess an equally professional intelligence apparatus?”

“If a group of assailants armed with assault rifles suddenly ambushed their motorcade, what could their unarmed guards possibly do?”

Silence gradually fell over the chamber.

The lawmaker raised his voice.

“I submit that today we cannot stop at merely discussing whether security personnel should carry handguns.”

“Since the purpose of this legislation is to counter major armed assaults, we must ensure that qualified, professional security organizations are equipped appropriately for their missions!”

“For special security units that pass higher tiers of vetting, consideration should be given to allowing long guns during designated operations.”

“And for VIP escort details involving extreme hazards, it is essential that we examine a more stringent licensing framework for automatic weapons!”

As these words landed, a noticeable stir erupted throughout the chamber.

“Automatic weapons?”

“Isn’t that a bit too…”

Several opposition lawmakers immediately began conferring in hushed tones.

Even some lawmakers from the Saionji faction could not help but glance at the speaker, wondering if this too was arranged by the Eldest Miss.

Meanwhile, in front of the television.

Satsuki blinked.

“…Huh?”

She wondered if her ears were playing tricks on her.

Automatic weapons?

In Japan?

And proposed openly in the Japanese Parliament, no less?

Whose lieutenant was this guy? Even wilder than she was?

Putting down her teacup, she turned her gaze back to the screen.

The lawmaker was clearly not finished yet.

“The government cannot acknowledge the necessity of arming private security on one hand, while leaving these personnel at a distinct disadvantage against actual armed attacks on the other.”

“If we deem a mission critical enough to warrant special security, we must seriously consider what equipment is necessary for these personnel to actually carry out their duties.”

“Otherwise, where is the practical significance of this law?”

Hearing this, Satsuki finally could not hold it in anymore.

“Pfft…”

Lowering her head, her shoulders trembled with suppressed laughter.

Shuichi had been reading his documents, but hearing the noise, he looked up in puzzlement.

“Satsuki?”

“No, it’s nothing…”

Satsuki waved her hand with a smile and straightened up.

“Father, do you remember what I said back in June of last year when we were discussing the special security system?”

“Last June?”

Shuichi pondered for a moment.

“You said we should first establish the qualification system for special security, and steer clear of licensing automatic weapons for the time being.”

“Exactly.”

Satsuki set her teacup aside and watched the television with keen interest.

She had genuinely thought she was pushing the envelope as far as possible by leveraging the June 27 Incident to advance the private security framework.

Given Japanese society’s strict aversion to firearms, she had deliberately excluded automatic weapons—the most contentious issue—from the initial phase.

Who could have known…

Someone was even more impatient than she was.

And judging by the man’s political background, this was clearly no spontaneous whim.

“Back then, I thought my ideas were radical enough. If I had proposed allowing private enterprises to possess automatic weapons right out of the gate, the entire National Police Agency probably would have had a heart attack.”

She gestured toward the lawmaker on screen.

“And yet here we are—someone actually thinks my proposal is too conservative.”

Hearing her words, Shuichi looked back at the screen.

The lawmaker was still insisting that special security personnel must possess equipment capable of countering serious armed assaults.

“I really didn’t expect that…”

Having listened, Shuichi also found the situation rather bizarre.

“These people usually hate changing existing rules more than anyone. Yet now, they’re complaining that you—someone known for pushing reforms—haven’t taken big enough strides.”

Still, having spent years in the House of Peers, he was no stranger to the peculiarities of the political world.

“In truth, they might not genuinely want to push through such a drastic change.”

He mused after a moment.

“Perhaps they just want to use this opportunity to squeeze out a few more benefits for the corporations backing them.”

“Precisely.”

Satsuki’s smile faded.

Picking up her teacup, she sat up a little straighter.

“Father, why do you think these people are conservatives?”

“Why?”

“Because they are the primary beneficiaries of the established order.”

Satsuki raised a finger.

“In today’s Japan, banks, corporations, politicians, and regional interest groups have long formed a stable ecosystem among themselves.”

“Perched at the very top, naturally they don’t want anyone changing the rules willy-nilly.”

“However…”

She pointed toward the television.

“That depends entirely on which rules are being changed.”

Shuichi looked at her thoughtfully.

Satsuki continued:

“Before last June, those corporate executives were probably quite confident in their own safety.”

“Living in mansions, riding in luxury limousines, surrounded by bodyguards when going out.”

“If a little trouble arose, a quick phone call to their acquaintances in the Metropolitan Police Department would settle it.”

“In their minds, that was more than secure enough.”

She paused.

“Until someone nearly killed me.”