Government and Proof of Existence
— The Recorded Life and the Unrecorded Life

Birth certificates, civil registries, death certificates—government officially certifies human "existence."
Yet what is recorded is "when born and when died," not "how one lived."

Key Takeaway: Administrative records are crucial infrastructure for proof of existence, but they only record "when born, when died." Preserving "how one lived" requires supplementary means.

*This essay is an academic analysis and does not advocate for any specific political or religious position.

1. Official Certification of Existence — The Power and Limits of Public Records

Our "existence" is officially certified by government. A birth certificate records that we "came into this world," and a death certificate confirms that we "left it." The life in between is fragmentarily documented through civil registries, residence records, and various official filings.

These administrative records possess remarkable longevity. Japan's family registry (koseki) system began in 1872 and has over 150 years of history. Going further back, household registers from the Nara period (702 CE), preserved in the Shosoin Repository, are administrative records that have survived for 1,300 years.

"Administrative records can outlast religions and corporations. The vessel of the nation-state is often longer-lived than any other institution."

However, what is inscribed in these long-lived records is extremely limited information. Name, date of birth, address, marriage, death—a life is reduced to a collection of "attributes" and "events." To government administration, an individual is a "subject of management," and their inner life and story fall outside the scope of recording.

2. Humans as Data — The Nature of Administrative Records

In Seeing Like a State (1998), sociologist James C. Scott analyzed the history of standardization and simplification that modern states have undertaken to make society "legible." Fixing surnames, systematizing addresses, surveying land—these are all attempts to transform complex society into forms that administration can grasp.

In this process, human beings are converted into "data points."

This is necessary for administrative function. To operate society, complex reality must be compressed into manageable forms. The problem is that these compressed records come to function as "proof of existence."

Administrative records are tools for social operation, not designed to prove human existence. Yet in practice, official records hold the most authority as "evidence that you existed." Here lies a fundamental disconnect.

3. The Unregistered and Stateless — People Who "Don't Exist"

The paradox of administrative records functioning as proof of existence becomes clear through the existence of those who have no records.

In Japan, there are an estimated 10,000 or more "unregistered persons"—people not recorded in the family registry. Fleeing domestic violence, births before divorce finalization, delayed registration—various reasons leave people unrecorded. They are "administratively non-existent," and thus excluded from basic social functions: opening bank accounts, obtaining insurance, formal employment.

Looking globally, UNHCR estimates approximately 12 million stateless persons worldwide. They are not recognized as "citizens" by any nation-state and are left without legal protection.

"Citizenship is the right to have rights."

— Hannah Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism (1951)

As Arendt pointed out, without state recognition, human beings cannot be acknowledged as subjects of rights. This is also a question of "existence"—without administrative records, it becomes difficult to "exist" within society.

The Ambivalence of Administrative Records

Here lies the ambivalence of administrative records. On one hand, they form the foundation for protecting people and guaranteeing rights. On the other, they marginalize those excluded from records as "non-existent."

Administrative records do not "prove existence"—they "certify existence." This distinction is critical. Certification is an exercise of power, and uncertified existence is rendered invisible.

4. The Longevity of Administrative Archives — Records Spanning 1,000 Years

Despite these critical aspects, administrative records have a notable characteristic: their remarkable longevity.

Household registers from Japan's Nara period, medieval European parish records, China's imperial examination records—administrative (and quasi-administrative) records have been preserved for hundreds to over a thousand years. This continuity matches or exceeds that of religious organizations.

Why are administrative records preserved so long? Because for government, records are the foundation of "legitimacy of power." Who owns land, who must pay taxes, who is a citizen—these records become the basis for governance.

Administrative records are long-lived because they are designed "for governance," not "for humans." Paradoxically, this "absence of humans" in the design philosophy enables long-term preservation of records.

5. The Recorded Life and the Unrecorded Life

What is inscribed in administrative records is the "skeleton" of a life. Born, married, had children, died—these "events" are recorded. But the daily activities in between, the joys and sorrows, the loves and struggles, go unrecorded.

What Government Records What Government Doesn't Record
Date of birth and death How one lived
Name and address What kind of person they were
Marriage and divorce The story of love
Occupation and income Feelings about work
Criminal record Efforts at rehabilitation

When people 1,000 years from now look at our era's administrative records, what will they understand? "Born in 2024, died in 2094"—that is a fact, but it says nothing about the 70 years of life in between.

When historians study people of the past, administrative records are valuable resources. But they also acutely feel their limitations. What registers and tax records reveal is "who was there," not "what kind of person they were."

6. The Advance of Digital Government — Efficiency and the Loss of Depth

Digitization is changing the nature of administrative records. National ID systems, e-government, online applications—administrative procedures are becoming more efficient, and records are being centrally managed as electronic data.

While this change brings convenience, it also works to further strip away the "depth" of records.

Efficiency is necessary. But we must also consider what is lost in the process. If administrative records were already "thin," digitization makes them even "thinner."

7. Complementing Administrative Records — The Position of Toki Storage

From the above analysis, the characteristics of administrative records become clear:

Toki Storage is positioned as something that "complements" these administrative records.

If administrative records document the "skeleton," Toki Storage records the "flesh" and "soul." Not just date of birth, but what thoughts one lived with, what one valued, what one wanted to leave behind. The parts that government does not record—cannot record—individuals record and preserve themselves.

Administrative records are "certification of existence," while Toki Storage is "expression of existence." The former is performed by the state, the latter by the individual. They are not in opposition but complement each other in proving human existence at different dimensions.

Possibilities for Government and Toki Storage Collaboration

Expanding the perspective further, government itself could adopt Toki Storage-like approaches.

This is not "government vs. individual." By combining government's longevity with the richness of individual stories, a more complete "record of existence" becomes possible.

Conclusion — Two Records, One Existence

Our existence can be recorded in two dimensions.

One is recording by government. This certifies "when born and when died" with state authority. These records are likely to endure, but contain only the skeleton of a life.

The other is records we leave ourselves. This expresses "how we lived" in our own words. It gives flesh and blood to the "skeleton" of administrative records.

In 1,000 years, administrative records may still exist. "Born 2024, died 2094"—whether anyone can convey that behind that one line lay 70 years of life depends on what we choose to leave behind ourselves.

"Government records that I existed. But only I can record what kind of existence I was."

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