At a small demonstration outside the offices of the local distributor of Oscar-winning documentary The Cove, I got involved in a very minor confrontation with nationalist protesters that gave me a lot of food for thought about what I do, and how I do it.

The controversial anti-dolphin-hunting film continues to throw a spotlight on a range of issues that should concern journalists, including freedom of expression, foreign media coverage of Japan and the country’s reaction to it, as well as impartiality and how to deal with becoming part of the story.

On the morning of April 9, I got a heads-up that a right-wing group was planning to protest outside the distributor’s offices. The e-mail – sent out to a number of journalists – also contained information that the company, Unplugged, was worried enough to have contacted the director and international distributor to say it might not now be able to show the film in Japan because of the opposition. I headed down there with thoughts of doing a quick piece for The Hollywood Reporter, for which I had been covering the story of the film in Japan.

On arrival I placed myself outside Unplugged’s offices on the opposite side of the road to the protesters and began taking notes of some of their slogans, to add a little color to my story. I counted fewer than 20 demonstrators, carrying the usual spattering of Rising Sun flags amongst the Hinomarus with slogans written on them. They appeared to be one of the neo-uyoku groups, consisting of a motley bunch of older suits, a couple of younger people and a lot of fairly ordinary-looking characters.

As I frantically scribbled notes I found myself smiling at the increasingly extreme, blatantly racist and illogical rants. It was fairly standard extremist fare, though this time directed at a film and its distributors. It ranged from "the distributors are helping bash Japan," to "white Americans don’t think we’re humans like them…" through to "this is a terrorist movie," and the argument that people in Japan don’t have the right to choose to see or not see the film, and make up their own minds about it.

I have to confess that after a few minutes of this I was openly sniggering as I wrote, which, perhaps unsurprisingly, incensed some of the protesters. One of them, after throwing a few racial insults in my direction, decided he would come across the road at me. The police got in between us – something that I can’t help feel notched up my remonstrating friend’s bravery levels – and then tried to move me away from the protesters.

I attempted a little protesting of my own, querying why I had to move when I was not the one behaving aggressively. I was told it was dangerous, I was also making trouble, and if things got violent, I would be arrested. I was eventually escorted 10 meters or so down the road and had my ID checked.

Ten minutes later and the leader, along with a couple of his group, came down to where I was standing and began screaming at me demanding to know where I was from and why I was laughing at him. With the police once again lined up between us, I replied that I was laughing because he was saying foolish things, which, again unsurprisingly, angered him more. He even managed to get his hand between the police and grab hold of my jacket.

With many of the surrounding reporters and film crews now focused on the scuffle, the police decided it was time I moved even further away. My suggestions to the police that the protesters should be moved back to their original positions fell on deaf ears and I was then pushed – this time more forcefully – backward. In the end, I was escorted around 100 meters away to where I could barely hear or see what was going on. Unable to do much more, I left, trailed by a police officer who made sure I was really heading for the station.

While I have no doubt the priority of the police was to prevent any escalation into violence, it was also clear that the right to protest in a threatening manner was given a higher priority than the right to report on it. Over the next few days the right-wingers posted their video on YouTube, and I found I had at least got a few seconds of fame on a CNN video. The YouTube comments mostly consisted of the usual abuse, much of it racist, someone also calling me a "white racist," and the inevitable death threat. Having posted my article and the YouTube videos on Facebook, I was at least able to get some more positive feedback, and plenty of jokes, from friends worldwide.

Recounting my little adventure a few days later on the phone to my father, I was a touch taken aback at his lack of empathy with my travails. He told me he wasn’t surprised that the protesters had got angry with me if I’d laughed at them. This got me thinking about whether I had acted appropriately in laughing, and also whether it was possible to maintain any semblance of impartiality reporting a story such as this, or any other for that matter.

Does everybody deserve to be treated as if their views are worthy of serious consideration, even hate-mongers whose behavior would test criminal laws on inciting racial hatred in many countries?

As Japan’s laws stand, people have the right to freely espouse inflammatory racist views. I’m less sure that journalists have a duty to give them a fair hearing, whether or not we are allowed to report on them freely. ❶