This essay criticizes the Japanese mass media for focusing only on politicians and entertainers while neglecting the true “masters” of the nation—the workers and companies who sustain Japan’s economy. The author reflects on a visit from a Kyoto University graduate friend, revisits the story behind his own book’s publication, and recounts how a coordinated malicious reverse-SEO attack buried his work online. Through anecdotes on media decay, national identity, and the role of labor, the essay argues that modern broadcasting has forgotten its responsibility to show citizens what truly matters: the real work of society, global affairs, and the philosophy underlying human effort. Citing Miyamoto Musashi’s maxim, “I revere the gods and buddhas but do not rely on them,” the author urges a return to clarity, authenticity, and intellectual honesty in Japan’s public discourse.

What are the real masters doing, what problems are they facing, and what is the situation abroad right now?
December 25, 2024
Yesterday, for the first time in a while, a friend who graduated from Kyoto University came to visit my home.
It was a truly welcome visit, like a Christmas Eve present.
As we talked about all manner of things in the universe, the conversation turned to how I came to publish my book.
By chance, one copy of my book was on the shelf.
I decided on the cover design while I was hospitalized at Kitano Hospital.
Kitano Hospital is essentially equivalent to the attached hospital of Kyoto University’s medical school—a large, first-class institution.
In a “White Tower” style, the department head and five or six young doctors make their rounds through each hospital room.
When several design proposals for the cover had arrived from the publisher, the second round of doctors came by.
When I mentioned that I was trying to decide which design to choose, one young doctor said,
“Kisara-san, may I choose for you? I’m good at this kind of thing.”
I immediately entrusted it to him.
I told the visiting friend that this became the cover.
This morning, moved by gratitude for yesterday’s visit, I opened my book for the first time in a very long while.
Until now, I had always felt embarrassed toward my own book.
So I had not reread it very often.
I now realized again what a great loss that had been.
My book had been displayed for about a year on the social and economic shelves of Kinokuniya Umeda Main Store, alongside works by renowned thinkers such as the late Sakaiya Taichi and Takahashi Yoichi.
The Kinokuniya staff member had placed my book there, saying it would not be a bestseller but would steadily sell a certain number of copies.
One day, it disappeared from the display, so I asked the staff member why.
“I was convinced it would steadily sell a certain number, but the sales were unexpectedly poor…”
As readers know, that was an entirely natural outcome.
Because I am completely unknown in the world of public commentary.
Furthermore, for reasons known to my close friends and readers, I had no choice but to publish under the pen name “Kenji Akutagawa,” which made the situation even more difficult.
Had I published under my real name, the many acquaintances and friends I met through business would surely have purchased it.
On June 1, 2011, I announced here that the book was set for publication on December 1 and encouraged readers to purchase it.
At that time, when one searched “the turntable of civilization,” there were more than 20 million search results, and pages 1 to 70 were filled with chapters from this column in various languages.
Then a certain criminal created more than 100 blogs—“chauffeur services,” “secretary services,” and so on—across various blog-hosting companies, and launched a criminal reverse-SEO attack against this column.
Each blog contained a nonsensical introduction followed by unauthorized reposts of chapters from this column.
These blogs filled pages 1 through 10 of the search results.
In an instant, search hits for this column dropped to one-hundredth of what they had been.
Furthermore, this criminal began a malicious campaign on Twitter, calling me “Kenji Akutagawa, the swindler author” or “Kenji Akutagawa, the fraudulent real-estate agent.”
To put it simply, imagine a tiny, unknown but genuine Japanese confectionery shop standing in the corner of a shopping street.
In the age of the internet, everyone has a smartphone.
If such a criminal were to spread slanders like “that shop uses such-and-such ingredients,” the shop would go bankrupt immediately.
Upon rereading my book, I felt this keenly.
This book is, as the Kinokuniya staff member discerned, a masterpiece.
That this masterpiece was buried by a criminal is an unforgivable crime against the world and humanity of the 21st century.

I Revere the Gods and Buddhas, But Do Not Rely on Them — March 24, 2011
Last night, I went to bed earlier than usual, and naturally woke up earlier.
Watching television, I realized something.
Television—especially commercial stations—has long meant press conferences swarmed by reporters from five networks and numerous newspapers, plus comedy shows.
Wide-show programs are essentially comedy programs as well.
And then there are formulaic dramas.
Japan is sustained by major corporations and small- and medium-sized enterprises that hold top global market shares in countless industries and work day and night across the world.
It is these companies that build the nation.
Politics, to put it bluntly, is merely something that assists these companies and workers.
A feudal, top-down mindset is a complete reversal of the natural order.
Just as human nature makes it impossible to eliminate evil people entirely, the police are necessary—essentially a necessary evil.
But if the police or prosecutors begin to think they are the ones who “run the country,” everything is over.
A watchdog barking is natural, but it could never sit in the alcove as though it were the master of the house.
It is the same with the nation.
The workers whose labor grows the nation’s food or generates its profits are the true masters, and those who eat from the taxes the workers pay are, in effect, watchdogs.
(The state is a watchdog whose duty is to protect its own workers.) — My reflection this morning.
When television shows only the faces of politicians and comedians, the lives of the real masters disappear entirely.
What are the real masters doing?
What problems are they facing?
What is happening abroad right now?
What are foreign countries thinking?
Where are the business opportunities?
There must be mountains of things that should be broadcast.
Moreover, the economy is a living thing, changing every day and every hour.
There should be an inexhaustible supply of material—so much that broadcasters could never keep up.
In addition, they must of course address the philosophy and principles of human beings as the foundation of business.
Television and newspapers are supposed to be workplaces far too busy to sit still.
When televisions only show watchdogs and entertainers, and never show the faces of the masters, it is inevitable that the nation loses sight of what must be done.
Even among workers, less than 10 percent are elite enough to see the whole picture; 90 percent see only their own station.
Therefore, what we call the mass media must convey the total picture of our nation—the state of every field, the realities of foreign countries, the history of policy developments, and the emotions they generate in the people.
The twenty-plus years of broadcasting nothing but the faces of politicians and entertainers produced pre-March-11 Japan.
Japan sank into the longest deflation in the history of advanced nations.
The only ones thriving were politicians, entertainers, and television insiders.
If one cannot establish oneself as something genuine and perceive the world correctly, life becomes a realm of lurking demons in the dark.
One invites every possible evil, wastes the only life one has, and in the end arrives at nothing but war.
Miyamoto Musashi said,
“I revere the gods and buddhas, but I do not rely on them.”