This is a continuation of the previous chapter.
This chapter continues Masayuki Takayama’s account of how Fukasawa Ushio protested his Shūkan Shinchō column, leading to Shinchōsha’s hasty apology and eventual termination of his long-running series Henken Jizai.
Takayama links this to broader pressure from literary and media circles, and exposes Asahi Shimbun’s distorted narratives on sōshi-kaimei and so-called “colonial rule” in Korea.
By contrasting with genuine colonial examples in Vietnam and the Philippines, he demonstrates that Asahi’s claims are historically false. The essay highlights the dangerous influence of biased journalism and the silencing of dissenting voices in contemporary Japan.

Why Did They Apologize So Quickly?

Fukasawa lodged a protest against the contents of my column.
At the end of the column, I had written, “If you dislike Japan and hate the Japanese, that is your freedom, but at least do not use a Japanese name.”
She responded by claiming that I was “spouting outrageous arguments and inciting discriminatory feelings in society.”
On August 1, Fukasawa’s lawyer, Katsuhiko Tsukuda, informed Shinchōsha that a press conference would be held on August 4 at the House of Representatives’ Second Members’ Office Building to protest the column.
Indeed, on the 4th, the conference took place.
Fukasawa declared: “My heart has been crushed. A column based on factual errors that incites discrimination grounded in racism has been published by the very publishing house that I trusted as my debut platform. This is not a matter I can simply endure alone.”
She demanded that Shinchōsha issue a written apology and provide space in its magazine to publish her criticism and rebuttal.
That same day, Shinchōsha posted an apology on its official website titled “Apology and Future Steps Concerning the Shūkan Shinchō Column.”
It was eerily reminiscent of the 2018 scandal surrounding Shinchō 45.
Back then, then-Diet member Mio Sugita had said that same-sex couples “lack productivity.”
Outrage erupted from some quarters, and the magazine was ultimately forced to cease publication.
Shinchōsha should have clarified Sugita’s true intent in print, but it failed to do so.
The reason Shinchōsha apologized so quickly this time was as follows.
As noted earlier, Fukasawa had won the R-18 Literary Prize for Women by Women, hosted by Shinchōsha, for her story “Aunt Kanae,” about a Zainichi woman.
According to another source, the publishing department wanted to avoid a clash with her.
In addition, I heard that among today’s literary circles—especially within the PEN Club—there is a trend among Japanese, Chinese, and Korean writers to adopt the common theme “Japan was in the wrong.”
It is entirely plausible that such forces exerted pressure on Shinchōsha’s contributors to intimidate the publisher.

Asahi’s Distorted Historical Narrative

What compounded the situation was that on August 5, the day after the press conference, the major dailies—including Asahi, Mainichi, Tokyo Shimbun, and Sankei—all covered the uproar.
As I have long written, “The Asahi, Mainichi, and Tokyo papers do not conduct proper reporting and do not deserve to call themselves newspapers.”
True to form, they did not contact me or attempt any inquiry whatsoever.
Their coverage amounted to nothing more than wire copy.
What caught my attention, however, was Asahi’s article.
After reporting that Fukasawa had lodged a protest with Shinchōsha, the article continued: “In 1940, Japan forced Koreans to adopt Japanese-style surnames and given names, a policy known as sōshi-kaimei. The column titled ‘Sōshi-Kaimei 2.0’…”
And then it added, “Now Japan dares to talk about Japanese names again.”
As if to press the attack, Asahi’s August 11 editorial and Mainichi’s August 14 editorial revisited the issue.
The focus of their attack again became “sōshi-kaimei.”
Asahi ran the headline “Is Japan About to Rob Them of Their ‘Names’ Again?” and wrote: “Discrimination over names is deep-rooted. Once, Japan, in its colonial rule, forced the people under its control to adopt Japanese-style names, attempting to dominate even their inner hearts.”
What is malicious about Asahi is that in such imperious expressions, it tries to smuggle in demonstrably false history.
For example, the history of sōshi-kaimei is older.
From as early as 1910, the year of annexation, Japanese-style aliases became fashionable.
Japan had created family registries on the peninsula, and so, far from encouraging arbitrary name changes, it required citizens to properly report them to the police.
Even afterward, many wanted Japanese names.
Large numbers of impoverished Koreans left their homeland for Manchuria and China, and they took on Japanese names in new lands to gain greater freedom.
This was because while the Chinese held respect for Japan, they looked down on Koreans.
This reality is little known in Japan, but it can be understood by reading A Seven-Year-Old Prisoner by Tosiaki Hikari.
The author was an orphan picked up by a Japanese military unit in North China, who then marched with them through central and southern China, French Indochina, and even Bangkok until the war’s end, later adopted by a Japanese army doctor and brought to Japan.
Out of obligation to China, he tacks on a passage about the “brutal Japanese Army” at the end, but otherwise he writes honestly.
During battles, he was entrusted to places of refuge found by the Japanese Army.
One such refuge was a Korean who had adopted a Japanese name.
There is a scene where a seven-year-old Chinese child openly mocks him, and the Korean who had undergone sōshi-kaimei retorts with abuse.
Such realities are ignored, and instead Asahi’s editorialists freely write falsehoods such as “sōshi-kaimei was forced” or “it was an attempt to control even inner hearts.”
This proves they never heed my long-standing demand that they actually do some reporting.
The editorial distorts another historical fact: Korea’s so-called “colonial rule.”
Asahi has repeated this narrative since the postwar years.
But colonial rule is exemplified by places like French Indochina or American-ruled Philippines.
In Vietnam, villagers were forbidden to leave their villages.
If they did, they were taxed.
If they fled, they were guillotined.
During the Russo-Japanese War, 200 young Vietnamese secretly stowed away to Japan to study, but the colonial government of French Indochina put them all on wanted lists, and capture meant execution.
Ho Chi Minh became a sailor to get to France and sat for the civil-service exam to become a colonial official.
That was almost an exception.
By contrast, Fukasawa Ushio herself wrote that her grandfather came alone to Japan for work and later summoned her grandmother.
The freedom to travel back and forth between a supposed “mother country” and colony was inconceivable under real colonial rule.
Yet Asahi shamelessly continues to describe Korea as being under “colonial rule.”
When Asahi writes, Shinchōsha trembles, and Koreans are emboldened.
As a result, Shinchōsha informed me, in response to this affair, that my column Henken Jizai, which had run for 1,145 installments, must at minimum be suspended.
I told them there was no need to worry about the complaints of a newspaper that still has not taken responsibility for the lies about “comfort women.”
But it was useless.
They decided not to suspend but to terminate the column.
The Shinchō editors looked delighted.
(To be continued.)