This essay examines Umeda’s immense potential as Japan’s prime land while condemning wasteful stadium plans, political incompetence, and media-driven decline that undermine Japan’s middle-class society.

The author argues that Umeda, a prime location in Osaka, is a “diamond” that should be developed to its full potential, on par with Tokyo’s Ginza. However, the author criticizes the soccer association for its stadium development plan in the area, a project that is supported by the mayor of Osaka, as an example of a self-serving initiative that disregards the people’s best interests. This article argues that this misguided plan, along with the commercialism of the media and the incompetence of politicians, has squandered tax revenue and contributed to the decay of the Japanese economy. The author warns that Japan’s “one hundred million middle-class society,” once supported by lifetime employment, is being destroyed and replaced by a class society, and that the public should be more vigilant in their democratic responsibilities.

July 19, 2010
There are only two “super-prime” areas in Japan: Ginza and Umeda.
When the entire nation was at rock bottom, the JNR Settlement Corporation sold the first parcel of land in the North Yard district, and Yodobashi Camera Umeda purchased it.
That store has since achieved the highest sales among all its branches.
From the moment it opened, Nipponbashi—once a rival to Akihabara as one of Japan’s largest electronics districts—fell into decline.
Such is the power of Umeda.

Umeda Station on the subway ranks among the largest in Japan by daily passengers.
Hankyu Umeda Station is one of the busiest private railway terminals, Hankyu and Hanshin department stores stand above, and JR Osaka Station itself functions as a massive terminal with Daimaru on top.
To the south and north, new towers are rising, housing Isetan-Mitsukoshi and Itochu’s Osaka headquarters.
As a commercial terminal, Umeda surpasses even Ginza in drawing power.

In such a location, how could the Japan Football Association suddenly appear and act with such arrogance, proposing a stadium plan amid the turmoil caused by Orix, a high-interest lender?
Nearly twenty years after the J-League’s founding, Japan’s GDP has not grown, and over ten million young people still lack steady jobs, earning less than two million yen annually.
The public should recognize the absurdity.

When I ran a real estate company with thirty employees, I told them: “In this fortress of gold, even with ordinary ability, if you work harder than others, your income can surpass that of elites promised one million yen a year.”
Our employees’ salaries exceeded those of major trading company staff.

Soccer itself reflects class society.
In Europe, it has been the outlet of the working class, with few paths to transcend one’s birth except football or forming a world-famous rock band.
In South America, it was the only escape from the slums.
It is a sport where cunning, tricks, and theatrics are praised.

When the “turntable of civilization” shifted to Japan twenty-five years ago, NHK aired an insider’s remark: “A country where workers toil even during lunch will inevitably surpass one that rests for three hours.”
Japan’s strength, unmatched even by Europe as a whole, arose from lifetime employment and a middle-class society secured by stability.

The Football Association, however, has contributed to dismantling this, pushing Japan toward a society resembling Europe’s hopeless working classes or South America’s slums.
They epitomize the adage: one man’s success is built on countless others’ ruin.
The mass media, particularly television, glorified this, with shallow commentators and showmen chanting “Thank you for the inspiration,” further infantilizing the people while reaping million-yen salaries.
Meanwhile, the so-called supporters struggle with meager incomes.

As for politics, it is deplorable that a former TV announcer like Kunio Hiramatsu could become mayor of Osaka, Japan’s second city, and waste the North Yard on such folly.
Instead, he should have made it a special economic zone to lure back major corporations.
To call blocking off Umeda with a stadium a “great chance for Osaka to be reborn” is absurd.

If we do not reform the electoral process—requiring candidates to submit written policy analyses judged by the region’s finest minds—then incompetents will continue to be elected, dragging the nation into decline.
For years I have warned: “Your vote may ruin the nation.”
Democracy requires constant vigilance and continuous proposals, not a sense of duty discharged with a single ballot.

If the mass media dares to call itself democracy’s representative, then I want no part of it.
Next time I will show clearly why Japan’s media has failed.
In its deeper structure, nothing has changed in sixty years—a chilling realization.