Through Kadota Ryusho’s book review, this essay defines the essence of journalistic integrity by tracing a lineage of reporters who refused to bow to power, from China to South Korea, and clarifies what it means to be a “samurai” in public discourse.

February 15, 2016

The following is from yesterday’s Sankei Shimbun book review section.

The Finest and Most Exhilarating “Textbook” Review — Kadota Ryusho

Kadota Ryusho, the reviewer, is one of the writers whom I have recognized since August two years ago as a samurai of the intellectual world.

All emphasis within the text, except for the headline, is mine.

Why I Was Able to Prevail Against South Korea

By Tatsuya Kato
(Sankei Shimbun Publishing, 1,400 yen plus tax)

While reading this book, one newspaper reporter came vividly to mind.

He was Minoru Shibata, former Beijing bureau chief of the Sankei Shimbun and a senior predecessor of the author, reporter Tatsuya Kato.
Shibata exposed the reality of China’s Cultural Revolution ahead of the rest of the world and was expelled from China as a result.
He passed away in 1992 at the age of 61.

When I was just starting out, I had the opportunity to attend a lecture by Mr. Shibata.
I clearly remember him speaking about the importance of continuing to write only the truth, no matter how powerful the adversary or how difficult the reporting might be.

Listening to him, the phrase “the soul of a reporter” came to mind.
More than thirty years later, that phrase resurfaced.

Former Sankei Shimbun Seoul bureau chief Tatsuya Kato—who never yielded even when charged with defamation against President Park Geun-hye—overlapped in my mind with Mr. Shibata.

On the day of the Sewol ferry disaster, President Park’s whereabouts were unknown for seven hours.
At that time, the Chosun Ilbo wrote—using even suggestive male–female insinuations—about whom she might have been meeting.

Based on the “fact” that a major newspaper close to the Park administration had written such an article, Kato described the situation in a column, clearly stating that the rumors were “unverified,” while illustrating how cornered the president had become.

Yet, instead of prosecuting the Chosun Ilbo, Korean prosecutors indicted Kato for defamation.

This book vividly depicts the unbelievable reality of South Korea as an “emotion-driven state,” where everything is governed not by law, but by sentiment.

It also describes in concrete detail the pre-modern and almost comical state of Korean society, including “politics of deference,” in which officials merely seek to anticipate the wishes of those in power.

Particularly striking is the fact that the Korean side repeatedly proposed an “expression of regret” or a “settlement” to Kato and the Sankei Shimbun.

This amounted to a message saying, “If you show even a little willingness to compromise, we will forgive you.”

However, that tactic—long used to manipulate the Japanese government in issues such as the comfort women problem—was rejected by Kato, who refused to compromise.
The trial ended in defeat for the prosecution.

An unwavering stance shattered South Korea’s “common sense.”

Woven together by an unyielding “reporter’s soul” that never bows to pressure, this book is the finest and most exhilarating “textbook” showing how Japan should deal with its neighboring countries.