On the way home from Kyoto after a visit under clear skies, the author read an essay by Shintaro Ishihara in Sankei Shimbun and, for the first time, came to understand the man as a politician who cherished his honor.
In contrast, the following day’s Asahi Shimbun offered a triple feature of articles filled with falsehoods and distortions.
With its array of articles defending Korea, disparaging Japan, and distorting history, it had become a showcase of commentary that had lost all sense of sanity.
Never had the reason why a close friend called it “a triple feature of madness” been so clearly demonstrated.

May 19, 2016
It was a perfectly clear Monday when I set out for Kyoto.
On the train home, I read an essay by Shintaro Ishihara on the front page of Sankei Shimbun.
When Ishihara was an active politician, I subscribed to Asahi Shimbun, so I saw him only as a man of parole—that is, of the spoken word.
I did not see him as a man of écriture—that is, someone who expresses and communicates through writing.
Thus, it would be fair to say that I knew virtually nothing about him.
One might say that all I remembered was his manner of speaking, which seemed irritated, impatient, and emotional.
Now that he has retired from politics, my feelings toward him are entirely different.
That day’s essay, in particular, moved me deeply: I realized that here was a man who cherished his honor, who had actually striven to help Japan grow and become stronger.
By contrast, the following day’s Asahi Shimbun carried a parade of truly appalling articles.
A close friend who had canceled his subscription in August of the year before last and switched to Sankei went so far as to say, the moment he saw those articles, “They’re mad.”
Seeing the names of the reporters who had written them, however, I could hardly be surprised.
The person who used an article spanning all columns to assert that the claims of Korean prostitutes were correct was Tetsuya Hakoda, whom I introduced previously.
This outrageous man had quite brazenly written articles placing none other than South Korean President Park Geun-hye above Prime Minister Abe in terms of personal character.
Another was an article of unsurpassable evil: despite appearing in Asahi Shimbun, which had so extensively damaged the honor and credibility of Japan and its people, it proposed making Japan’s merits better known.
The person who wrote it was Kagatani.
Because the Umeda North Yard project stood in the way of Asahi’s super-high-rise twin-tower project in Nakanoshima, on which the company had staked its future, he had continued writing articles in accordance with the wishes of senior management, who sought to throw the North Yard project into confusion and diminish its popularity.
And in yet another article, none other than Carol Gluck appeared.
A triple feature of evil.
My close friend, however, said, “Surely it’s a triple feature of madness.”
To be continued.