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Number 1 Shimbun

NUMBER 1 SHIMBUN 2019

NUMBER 1 SHIMBUN 2019 (87)

Children categories

New in the library

11-1

Japanese Women in Science and Engineering: History and Policy Change
Naonori Kodate and Kashiko Kodate
Routledge
Gift from Naonori Kodate


The Ghost of Namamugi: Charles Lenox Richardson and the Anglo-Satsuma War
Robert S.G. Fletcher
Renaissance Books
Gift from Publisher


A Discipline on Foot: Inventing Japanese Native Ethnography, 1910-1945
Alan Christy
Rowman & Littlefield

 

11-2
Tenno: Japans Kejserdømme i Nutiden
Asger Røjle Christensen
Turbine
Gift from Asger Røjle Christensen


The spirit of huci: four seasons of an Ainu woman
Keira Tomoko
Yay Yukar no Mori


Performing the Great Peace: Political Space and Open Secrets in Tokugawa Japan
Luke S. Roberts
University of Hawaii Press

New Members

 

ASSOCIATE MEMBERS

Shigeru Matsudo, Sun Alba
Hideo Tomita, Refinitiv Japan K.K.
Natsuko Toda, Freelance
Tomoo Tajima, Tokai University Tokyo Hospital
Shinichi Yasuda, Tama University

 

REINSTATEMENT (ASSOCIATE)

Yoshiyuki Maeda

 

Oyako (Parents and Children) A Group Photography Exhibition

10-1


by Bruce Osborn

Oyako Day is held on the 4th Sunday of July, in celebration of the special bond between parents and children. This month’s exhibition is a group show featuring photographs of families from all over the world. China, Myanmar, Bangladesh, Vietnam, Mongolia, Syria, Ethiopia, Uruguay, the United States—even below the surface of the ocean—are among the locations included in this show. The photographs were taken by such renowned cameramen as Kazuyoshi Nomachi, Eiichiro Sakata, Shisei Kuwabara, Natsuki Yasuda, Ikuo Nakamura, Taishi Hirokawa and Herbie Yamaguchi.

Domestic violence between parents and children is a major topic in the news recently, highlighting the problems of communicating and understanding that are becoming more prevalent in society. For newborn babies, parents are the first people they bond with, forming the base for all future relations. Building stronger foundations with our children and the family is the first step to increasing respect, as well as to deepen the understanding between people from different backgrounds and cultures.

The Exhibition Committee would like to express our gratitude to all the photographers participating in this exhibition, and our appreciation to The Photographic Society of Japan for introducing photographers from other countries.


– Bruce Osborn, FCCJ Exhibition-Committee Chair

Lens craft

09-1

The art of love making 
Japan’s rubber goods-maker Okamoto annouces a ukiyo-e-themed “Design Condom” in Tokyo, June 3.
by Yoshikazu Tsuno

 

09-2

Taking a fall 
An indoor-skydiving training session in FlyStation’s vertical wind tunnel, Koshigaya, June 13.
by Tomohiro Ohsumi

 

09-3

Hi, flyer
A stage performer on her break waves at a passenger jet just before it lands at Haneda Airport.
by Albert Siegel

Eric Talmadge remembered

08

On the scene
A May 2010 photo of Eric Talmadge in Bangkok, Thailand,
during clashes between anti-government protesters and Thai soldiers.


– Kazuo Abiko

 

THE FCCJ MEMORIAL GATHERING for Eric Talmadge, AP’s North Korea bureau chief, was held on Tuesday, May 21. Eric, who died unexpectedly in Yokohama in the previous week, was a member of the Club for 18 years until 2016 and made a strong contribution, especially to the Club’s professional activities. He was 57.

The memorial event was attended by about 40 people, including his colleagues and former colleagues at AP, people working for other news organizations, and his friends at FCCJ and the Yokohama Country & Athletic Club, where he enjoyed sports activities, particularly bowling.

Since FCCJ President Peter Langan was unable to attend the event due to conflicting schedules, I was asked to moderate the event. As a former colleague of Eric’s at AP and a former FCCJ president, I felt obliged and honored to do so.

In front of the FCCJ banner, three framed photos of Eric were set on the table along with bouquets of white flowers, including ones sent by Kyodo News President Toru Mizutani and YC&AC President Sadao Hosogai. On both sides of the table, about a dozen photos of Eric were displayed on large clear panels. A slide show played on a large screen during the event.

Copies of the February 1995 issue of Number 1 Shimbun were also placed on the table for attendants to read and take home. The issue featured Eric’s first-person report of the Kobe earthquake which killed about 6,400 people the previous month. Its headline, by then editor Pat Killen, read “Quake: Eric’s Walk to Hell.”

Eric joined AP in Tokyo in 1988 after working for the Mainichi Daily News. Having studied at Sophia University, he was fluent in Japanese—with no accent. Since then, he covered a wide range of stories and events, including natural disasters in Japan and Indonesia, war in Afghanistan and five Olympics. After serving as news editor at the Tokyo bureau, he was named AP’s bureau chief in North Korea in 2013.

John Daniszewski was vice president for international news when AP established the first Western news and photo bureau in North Korea in 2012. In comments published in an online newsletter mainly for AP retirees, he recalled that while sketching out the parameter for operating, it was still a gamble whether the bureau would endure in the face of the country’s deep suspicions and hostility toward the West. He wrote:


“Eric was a pioneer. It was Eric who eventually fulfilled AP’s vision of a normally functioning news bureau in Pyongyang. [He] helped open the doors for greater access for other news organizations in North Korea, and even perhaps prepared the ground for the political and diplomatic openings that have followed. His characteristics included tact, patience, courtesy, deep intellect, and an attitude of respectful curiosity and empathy for others that served him well in his profession. 

As a result of these, he slowly broke down the considerable walls that exist for outsiders there. He won trust among his hosts even as he pressed them for information. Eric widened access, was awarded rare interviews and managed to travel outside the capital to give AP’s audience a clearer view of lesser cities and the countryside.”


Even after retiring from AP, I closely followed his reporting from North Korea and even used some of his news reports as good examples in journalism classes I taught at universities. He kindly came to one of my classes at the Tokyo University of Foreign Studies as a guest speaker and talked about international reporting.

Denis Gray, former Bangkok bureau chief for 30 years and a legendary AP foreign correspondent who also served as president of the Foreign Correspondents’ Club of Thailand on three occasions, sent a note for the memorial occasion.


“Much has rightly been written about Eric’s pioneering achievement on the North Korean story. But this should not be overshadowed by his ability to wonderfully execute an extremely wide range of assignments—from armed conflict to natural disasters to sports.

ET, as he was often called, graphically chronicled the aftermath of the great Asian tsunami as we flew out each day from a US aircraft carrier to the utterly devastated coast of Indonesia’s Aceh province. He was always an enthusiastic and tireless member of the AP teams that covered regional sports events across Asia. In those days, following the Spielberg movie, he was invariably greeted each morning with, ‘ET, have you called home yet?’”

Eric Talmadge was a no-nonsense man with a dry sense of humor, which I liked very much. Eric Prideaux, a former AP newsman who joined the international news agency after working for the Japan Times, shared the following episode some time ago while I was with AP:


Prideaux lived in the Zushi area on Miura Peninsula, southwest of Tokyo. A nearby convenience store was robbed, and the suspect armed with a knife was at large in the neighborhood. He was supposed to leave home for work, but he did not want to leave his wife and their small baby alone at home until the suspect was caught by police. So Prideaux called Talmadge in the AP office, explained the situation and said he would be late.

Talmadge’s response was: “That’s the best excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Joe Coleman, former AP bureau chief in Tokyo who now is a journalism professor at Indiana University, also sent a touching personal note for the memorial event.


“I worked closely with Eric for more than 10 years. He always had my back. Eric helped me get to Tokyo in the first place, and he supported me throughout my time in Japan. Together, we covered earthquakes and elections, financial crises and even an oil spill, and we cheered each other on to some of our best work. For this I am forever grateful.

But Eric was more than a work-mate. We shared meals and holidays in each other’s home; our kids played together; our spouses are friends. We climbed Mount Fuji. We even shared the ultimate ET experience: bowling. He won.

What I remember now is his generosity and decency and a remarkable sensitivity—concealed by what appeared to be a tough exterior—that enabled him to earn people’s trust and tell their stories with great insight.”

Members of Eric’s family were to attend the event, but unfortunately his widow, Hisako, did not feel well so that they decided to stay home—quite understandable under such circumstances. We conveyed our messages and sent photos of the event to her later.

We will miss him.


– Kazuo Abiko

The Olympiad that never was

07-1

Let the games begin . . .
. . . or not. Above, a modernist Olympic tower planned for Komazawa Park that didn’t get built.
(A tower did get built in the park for the 1964 Games.)

 


Two years before the 1940 Games were scheduled to be held in Tokyo, criticism of Japan’s war in China led to a boycott movement


By Mark Schreiber

It was 2 p.m. on Saturday, Sept. 21, 1940, under sunny skies. The temperature was a balmy 23.2 degrees, with a brisk breeze. A multitude of 120,000 excited spectators who filled the just-completed Komazawa Stadium to capacity turned their heads upwards to watch a formation of five newly built Imperial Japanese Navy Zero fighter planes soaring overhead, as they inscribed the five Olympic rings in blue, orange, black, green and red smoke on the sky.
As a military band struck up “Kimigayo,” the crowd rose as one to its feet, and 39-year-old Emperor Hirohito, clad in full military regalia and flanked by his color guard, entered the track atop his white steed, Shirayuki.
Ascending to the rostrum, his majesty, in a reedy voice never before heard by his subjects, proclaimed to the 7,000 athletes and officials assembled from 58 nations—six more than the 1936 event in Berlin—“I hereby declare the opening of the 12th Olympiad!” The stadium reverberated with a chorus of “Banzai!” cheers.

 

THE ABOVE SCENARIO OBVIOUSLY never happened. It presupposes that prior to mid-1938, Japan’s military had substantially, if not completely, withdrawn from China. And, of course, that Germany had not invaded Poland in September 1939. 

As it turned out, the Japanese government decided against hosting the games on July 14, 1938, and the 12th Olympiad of 1940 became what is now commonly referred to as Maboroshi no Orinpikku—the Olympics that never were. 

Tentative moves toward the selection of Tokyo as host began as early as 1929, when Swedish industrialist Sigfrid Edström, an organizer of the 1912 Olympics in Stockholm, visited Japan and discussed Tokyo’s prospects with Tadaoki Yamamoto, chairman of the Inter-University Athletic Union of Japan. A year later Yamamoto, who traveled to Germany as head of Japan’s contingent to the International Student Games, was urged by Tokyo’s mayor-to-be Hidejiro Nagata to begin promotion efforts. 

Nagata sought to host the games as a way of celebrating Tokyo’s recovery from the earthquake and fire that devastated the city in September 1923. In his view, the Olympics also would add window dressing to plans afoot the same year to commemorate the 2,600th anniversary of the ascension of Jimmu, the legendary first emperor of the Yamato Dynasty, an event that clearly had more enthusiastic support from the militarists in the government. 

Japan’s representatives to the International Olympic Committee (IOC), Seiichi Kishi and Judo founder Jigoro Kano, were respected individuals passionately involved in amateur sports who worked tirelessly to promote Tokyo to their foreign counterparts. Another influential figure, Count Michimasa Soejima represented Japan at the general meeting of the IOC in May 1934, where he proposed Tokyo’s hosting of the event. The following year, Soejima, accompanied by diplomat Yotaro Sugimura, personally met with Italian prime minister Benito Mussolini to persuade Il Duce to withdraw Rome as a candidate city. 

Although Japan’s incursion into Manchuria from 1931 had come under increasingly heavy international criticism, the IOC’s president, Belgian count Henri de Baillet-Latour, was predisposed to treat politics and sports as separate issues, and in July 1936, with Germany’s backing, Tokyo got the nod to host the games, with 36 votes to 27 for Helsinki.

 

THE ANNOUNCEMENT WAS MADE at the closing ceremonies of the 11th Olympiad in Berlin—memorialized in Leni Riefenstahl’s film, Olympia—when IOC President Latour addressed the crowd: “It has been decided that the next Olympics, in 1940, will be held in Tokyo.” After a brief hesitation for the news to sink in, the members of the Japanese contingent began shouting “Banzai!” with both arms raised. Athletes from other countries who were expecting to compete in Japan besieged Japanese team members, asking for home addresses so they could look them up four years later. 

The news was quickly dispatched to Japan and by late the same evening, people carrying paper lanterns marched in celebration to the Nijubashi bridge outside the palace and to the Meiji Shrine. Long-distance runner Kohei Murakoso, who had finished 4th in both the 5,000 and 10,000 meter events in Berlin, told the NHK audience by telephone hookup that he “would begin training for the Olympics to be held in his fatherland from tomorrow.”

On their voyage home, however, Japan’s athletes were served a rude reminder of the precarious political situation in Asia. When her ship visited Shanghai, swimmer Hideko Maehata recalled being told by the crew that conditions were in the city were “extremely dangerous” and their ship would weigh anchor away from the docks for security. The Japanese athletes were accompanied by an armed military escort while touring the city, and Maehata recalled thinking to herself, “Under these circumstances, an Olympics in Tokyo might not be feasible.” 

Such concerns aside, planners moved forward with a schedule of events. The opening ceremony would be held at 3:00 p.m. on Saturday, Sept. 21, and the closing ceremony at 2:00 p.m. on Sunday, Oct. 6. A total of 20 events were planned: track and field, shooting, swimming, field hockey, water polo, fencing, gymnastics, soccer, weightlifting, basketball, wrestling, cycling, boxing, modern pentathlon, equestrian, art competitions, boating, martial arts, yachting and baseball. Soccer, rugby, tennis, polo, water polo, field hockey, handball, basketball and Basque-style pelota (a relative of jai-alai) were to be introduced on a trial basis.

 

07-2

A woman presents the Games’ logo made from pearls.

 

THE MARATHON, SCHEDULED FOR Sept. 29—the final day of the track and field events—would probably have followed a 42.195km route from the north exit of Komazawa stadium to what is now Kan-nana Dori at Daitabashi and making the mid-point turn around in the vicinity of Inokashira park. 

Three existing facilities still in use date back to the planning stages of the 1940 Olympics: Meiji Jingu stadium in Shibuya Ward, Baji Koen (Equestrian Park) in Setagaya Ward, and the Boating Course on the north bank of the Arakawa River in Toda City, Saitama. The Equestrian Park, a part of the Yoga district of Tamagawa Village, was actually established to celebrate the birth of the new crown prince on Dec. 23, 1933. Prior to then, no civilian equestrian facility existed in Japan. 

The site of a golf course at Komazawa in Setagaya Ward was meant to be converted into an Olympic venue and to celebrate Jimmu’s ascension, but never got past the blueprint stage. (It was eventually developed for use by the 1964 games, and some of the facilities, now part of Komazawa Park, are still used for various sporting events.)

Meanwhile, unfortunately, the international situation was going from bad to worse. The sequence of events that led to the end of the 1940 games began on July 7, 1937, when Japanese and Chinese troops clashed at the Marco Polo Bridge southwest of Beijing. Three months later the Japanese government established the “National Spiritual Mobilization Movement” as a part of controls on civilian organizations, including organized sports. As the flames of war rose and spread in China, the US and other countries began threatening a boycott. 

Faced with a possible forfeiture, Japan backed out. A day after the July 14 announcement to the media, a vice minister of health and welfare curtly notified Tokyo Mayor Ichita Kobashi in writing that that “While it had been desirable for the 12th Olympiad to be held . . . current circumstances require full physical and mental effort be devoted to achieving objectives . . . and thus the games are to be halted.” The IOC’s first reaction was to transfer the games to Helsinki; but with the outbreak of war in Europe in September 1939, the 1940 Olympics were cancelled for good.

 

SO, INSTEAD OF THE glitter of the Olympics, Japanese sports fans were treated instead to the “Far Eastern Championship Games,” which commenced in Tokyo on June 3, 1940 as a rather pathetic replacement. About 700 athletes represented the seven participants: Japan, the Philippines, China, Manchukuo, Mongolia, Thailand and Hawaii. (The Hawaiian contingent was made up of ethnic Japanese). The 17 events were spread between June 6-9 in Tokyo and June 13-16 in Nara and Hyogo prefectures. 

Aside from the loss of face, the drain on the Tokyo and national finances was considerable. An article titled “How much was wasted by cancellation of the Olympics?” that appeared in the Sept. 1, 1938 issue of Hanashi magazine, produced a rough calculation. These included the sending of delegations to Los Angeles and Berlin, ¥1.5 million; promotional outlays by Tokyo City, ¥3.5 million (Helsinki actually outspent Tokyo in a losing cause, paying the equivalent of between ¥4 to ¥5 million.) Setting up of the preliminary office in on the 4th floor of the newly constructed South Manchurian Railway Building in Toranomon, budgeted at over ¥3 million in 1937 and ¥4.5 million in 1938, of which only four months were utilized, so perhaps ¥130,000. Another ¥1 million was said to have gone into advertising and public relations activities. All together, the total outlay must have reached a staggering amount. 

Another casualty was TV broadcasting: Japan had hopes to follow up on Berlin, where experimental TV broadcasting had been introduced, to harness its own technology for coverage of the games. 

Private businesses also suffered financially. Tokyo in 1938 had only 1,955 hotel and ryokan rooms deemed suitable for foreign visitors. Tokyo’s Imperial Hotel had issued additional shares of stock to fund a new 8-story wing, to be erected adjacent to its 280-room Frank Lloyd Wright edifice that opened in 1923—and the new wing would have boosted its total rooms to 500. The project was terminated. Designers were already concerned that with steel and concrete being diverted to the war effort, its construction would have been next to impossible. 

More tragic than financial losses of course was the sacrifice of human lives, as many of Japan’s most acclaimed Olympians did not survive the war. 1936 pole vaulting bronze medalist Sueo Oe died during the invasion of the Philippines, and swimming medalist Shigeo Arai died in combat in Burma. Other casualties included swimmers Kiichi Yoshi, a pilot who was shot down, Yasuhiko Kojima, who perished in a banzai charge in Okinawa and Tomikatsu Amano, who went missing in action. The most famous of all, perhaps, was equestrian Baron Takeichi Nishi. An army colonel, he is believed to have committed suicide on Iwo Jima on March 22, 1945.

If you feel like mingling with the ghosts of disappointed Olympic fans from eight decades ago, you might want to stroll along a lonely section of Kaigan Dori in Minato Ward, where, sandwiched between the Haneda Monorail on the west and the Rainbow Bridge on the east stands Goshikihashi—the “five-color bridge”—named for the 1940 Olympics that never was. ❶

 

Mark Schreiber currently writes the “Big in Japan” and “Bilingual” columns for the Japan Times.

Attracting attention, and new members

06-1

Committee, members
Kaori Furuta, David Satterwhite, Willem Kortekaas (co-chair) and Keiko Packard meet.

 

The Membership Marketing Committee is tasked with raising the profile of the Club and attracting new members, Regular and Associate alike


By Julian Ryall

Over the course of an hour-long conversation, Willem Kortekaas does not come across as a man prone to hyperbole. So when he says the Club needs to attract new members in order to generate the revenue that we need to survive and thrive, then the rest of us would be wise to heed that suggestion.

FCCJ President Peter Langan approached Abby Leonard and Kortekaas earlier this year to resurrect the Membership Marketing Committee (after a considerable amount of time effectively in hibernation) and lift member numbers to levels that would enable the Club to cover the higher rent and costs associated with the new premises. Equally, the task was to attract new members to raise the Club’s profile and ensure that it remains the place “where news is made.”

Kortekaas, an Associate Member since 1983 and president of Euroact KK, serves as co-chair with freelance journalist Leonard, with Keiko Packard and David Satterwhite rounding out the four-strong committee and Kaori Furuta seconded from the Club.

There are around 1,600 associate members of the Club at present, and around 275 regular members. Ideally, Kortekaas said, the FCCJ would have a total membership of around 2,200 and a waiting list.

“There was always an assumption in the past that we would have a gradual increase in members, but that is not happening,” said Kortekaas. “We are getting some new members in both the journalists and associates categories, but they are only replacing the numbers that are dropping out, meaning that the total remains at about the same level.”

 

06-3

Co-chair Abby Leonard (above) also spearheaded the committee’s Journalism Learning Labs
(such as Temple University Law School’s Tina Saunders presenting “Journalism and Justice: Legal Reporting in Japan”, below).

06-2
 

ATTRITION CAN BE ATTRIBUTED to the Club’s “old hands” retiring or leaving Japan, while technology means that many journalists no longer need a bricks-and-mortar office to be able to do their job. And without a steady flow of significant press-related events, the Club begins to lose its appeal to some of the associates.

“The money that the Club needs is in the associate membership and we have to make ourselves attractive to that group of people,” said Kortekaas. “We need to be delivering well-organized and high-quality activities and programs that distinguish the FCCJ from all the other institutions around Tokyo.”

Equally, the Club is important to Japan’s media landscape for a number of reasons, he added. “The Club champions freedom of the press. This is the only organization here that still provides a place for people with opinions that deviate from the ‘official viewpoint’ to deliver their message,” he said, pointing to press conferences with the Dalai Lama and representatives of the Uighur community in exile.

The Club has also shown that it can play an important role when major news events happen in Japan and the eyes of the world are on this country, such as the Great East Japan Earthquake of March 2011. Looking into the immediate future, the world’s press is going to be seeking a home-away-from-home when the Rugby World Cup kicks off this autumn and when the Tokyo Olympic Games and the Paralympics are staged next year. The committee is presently discussing a temporary membership system for journalists here to cover these global sporting events that goes beyond the present guest membership category.

“To some extent, journalists are less reliant on a physical Club,” admits Leonard. “Audio, video and still photos can be transmitted quickly over the Internet, there are a million ways to make free international calls; equipment is getting smaller and cheaper—but there are still services and technologies the Club can provide that would be too expensive for freelancers to afford on their own.”

 

SHE COUNTS THEM ON her fingers: broadcast-quality audio booths, a photography studio and—of course—“access to our incredible research librarians. The Club also offers camaraderie that technology can’t replace.”

The only way to bring in new members, Leonard and Kortekaas agree, is to be very proactive in reaching out to everyone who might be interested. The committee is in the process of contacting ambassadors in Tokyo to remind them that they qualify for honorary membership, an offer that a number have taken up, while a similar arrangement exists for the heads of foreign chambers of commerce in Japan. Again, memories are being jogged.

The committee plans to next contact the heads of prefectural offices in Tokyo to offer them honorary membership and to suggest that they might want to use the Club to promote their regions. Similarly, plans are in motion to invite the managing directors of regional newspapers across the country to become associate members, with the Marunouchi district’s extensive business community also seen as a potential pool of new members. The priority, however, has to be strengthening the attractiveness of the Club to regular and associate members, he emphasizes. 

The committee also has high hopes for the Journalism Learning Labs, which were an initiative spearheaded by Leonard and have already attracted a firm following. “The program is designed to provide FCCJ members with professional development opportunities and also bring in other—often younger—journalists who are not yet members,” she said. “Several of the seminars have focused on technical skills, others have offered career guidance and all of them were good networking opportunities. We want to give people a reason to come to the Club—and then hit them with the membership applications.”

There have been four lab events to date, including AP Bureau Chief Ken Moritsugu explaining his own career and offering advice to up-and-coming journalists, an exploration of the media industry in the digital age and an examination of legal reporting in Japan.

And there has already been some success, said Leonard, with a number of people who attended the seminars applying for membership. “I think they come to the Club and see the new facility and hear about the other events we hold and services we provide, and decide they’d like to be part of it,” she said.

There is also a degree of cross-over with the Club’s Scholarship Committee, of which Leonard is also a member, and she is hopeful that some students will become regular members after they graduate.

And she remains confident that the membership committee’s work will pay off over the long-run. “Of course we would have liked to see many more members joining - especially with the new facility—but we are building slowly and steadily,” she said. ❶


Julian Ryall is Japan correspondent for the Daily Telegraph.

Richard Atrero de Guzman - Visual journalist

05


By Kathryn Wortley

After four years of building his portfolio on his website, Richard Atrero de Guzman got his first video commission in Japan in 2013. It was to cover the International Olympic Committee’s announcement of the city chosen to host the 2020 Games: a great win for the then-38-year-old Filipino who says he arrived in Tokyo with “no language skills, no contacts and no idea how to break into journalism.” 

As his style was mastered from years spent as a video documentarian who expressed life through his lens, however, the piece didn’t suit Ruptly, the Berlin-based international news agency that had commissioned him. Undeterred, he asked the editor for another chance and, after some research, produced a piece that secured him regular work.

The experience instilled in him humility, determination and a love of learning that he applies in his photo and video journalism to this day. No project is impossible, no skill cannot be mastered, and no topic is off limits. 

Ten years ago he was only shooting photo and video, and he “didn’t know how to use a computer.” Now, with YouTube as his teacher, he is editing, producing, directing, flying drones, operating live and even making 360° video. “I’m not scared of doing anything. There is no reason to be stupid right now because the internet is there,” he says. 

The variety of his beat, from local and international news to culture and travel, has made him a generalist rather than a specialist, but he is happy to cover topics unfamiliar to him. “I’m very honest with my editors. If I don’t know something, I just ask. They know I’m not a lawyer or an engineer,” he says, reflecting on his coverage of Carlos Ghosn’s case and the Tokyo Motor Show.

 

WITH THIS APPROACH, HE has picked up freelance assignments with media around the world. In 2014, he became a stringer for Ruptly, producing video mostly on “politics and light news.” This was followed by photo commissions from the New York Times, Time and Great Big Story.

In 2016, he began uploading his photos to Japanese photo agency Alfo and Italian photo agency NurPhoto, from where his photos were shared with sister agencies AFP and Getty. De Guzman attributes this exposure to gaining greater recognition globally and more requests for jobs. In the past two years he has added TV Tokyo, Berlin-based media outlet redfish, global news network RT (formerly Russia Today), AFP, Sipa Press and Al Jazeera to his client list. 

Though most outlets require both photo and video journalism, de Guzman says he “loves” doing photos despite it being “really challenging.” A scholarship from World Press Photo in 2007, followed by a masterclass in photojournalism at Workshop-Asia deepened his appreciation for and understanding of capturing news in a photo. “I can’t explain the happiness I feel when I see my photo in print,” he says, adding that it is extra special when it is doing its job effectively. 

His other passion is documentaries, nurtured during his BA in Fine Arts and Visual Communication from the University of the Philippines and years spent in Tokyo “shooting everything on the streets.” He has recorded everything from protests to festivals but admits that although “it’s fun for me to shoot everything I like, it doesn’t pay.”

 

NOW, HE SAYS, HE uses his experience to ensure that he can be paid for what he shoots. Where a few years ago he would jump on a flight to immediately cover events after they happened—such as when he traveled to Kumamoto immediately after the earthquakes in 2016—he now assesses the best time to go and whether the story warrants a trip. The internet, he says, has helped make that process easier, thanks to the wealth of news to follow and connectivity with fellow journalists and editors. News of the Sri Lanka bombings broke just as he was tying up a shoot in Bangkok, so he posted on his Facebook status that he was going to cover it. By the time his plane landed in Colombo, his inbox was full of requests for footage. 

Still, de Guzman retains a desire to tell people’s stories whether or not he gets paid. Of particular interest is the indigenous people of the Philippines, which is the reason for his nickname Bahagski, bahag meaning “loin cloth” in Tagalog and ski being the affectionate slang used after a person’s name. Sitting in the bar of the FCCJ, which he joined in 2014, he points out a traditional tattoo on his forearm, inked by the last remaining artist in a Filipino tribe following filming for a documentary. Receiving the tattoo would not have been possible without first building a rapport, something he says is vital because he is asking people to let him into their personal lives. As always, his recipe for success is study—in this case, of people and their culture to know “how they might open up and trust you.” 

As he began his career in Japan by shooting the unveiling of Tokyo as 2020 host, de Guzman is excited to cover the Olympics, despite being unfamiliar with sport. But learning adds more strings to your bow as a journalist, he says, and he promises not to hesitate to ask questions. ❶

 

Kathryn Wortley is a freelance journalist for online and print media in the UK and Asia-Pacific.

Sydney shock to press freedom

04

Broadcast news: above, “. . . it’s off into the night for the six AFP officers . . .
I think there’s a big question for the Australian public: is this what a free press looks like?”
Executive Editor of ABC News, John Lyons live-tweeted the raid.

 

The Australian Federal Police conducted two high-profile raids on journalists who exposed government secrets


By Rebecca Ananian-Welsh

On June 4, seven officers spent several hours searching News Corp journalist Annika Smethurst’s Canberra home, her mobile phone and computer. The police linked the raid to “the alleged publishing of information classified as an official secret.” This stemmed from Smethurst’s 2018 article that contained images of a “top secret” memo and reported that senior government officials were considering moves to empower the Australian Signals Directorate to covertly monitor Australian citizens for the first time. 

Soon after, 2GB Radio presenter Ben Fordham revealed he had been notified by the Department of Home Affairs that he was the subject of a similar investigation, aimed at identifying the source of classified information he had reported regarding intercepted boat arrivals.

On June 5, the federal police raided the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s Sydney headquarters, a dramatic development that was connected to a 2017 “Afghan files” report based on “hundreds of pages of secret defense force documents leaked to the ABC.” These documents revealed disturbing allegations of misconduct by Australian special forces.

The reaction to the raids was immediate and widespread. The New York Times quoted News Corp’s description of the Smethurst raid as “a dangerous act of intimidation towards those committed to telling uncomfortable truths.” Prime Minister Scott Morrison was quick to distance his government from the federal police’s actions, while opposition leader Anthony Albanese condemned the raids.

To those familiar with the ever-expanding field of Australian national security law, these developments were unlikely to surprise. In particular, enhanced data surveillance powers and a new suite of secrecy offenses introduced in late 2018 have sparked widespread concern over the future of public interest journalism in Australia.

But the crackdown of the past few days reveals that at least two of the core fears expressed by lawyers and the media industry were well-founded: first, the demise of source confidentiality, and second, a chilling effect on public interest journalism.

 

Source confidentiality

Upon finding out he was the subject of an investigation aimed at uncovering his sources of government information, Fordham declared, “The chance of me revealing my sources is zero. Not today, not tomorrow, next week or next month. There is not a hope in hell of that happening.” Source confidentiality is one of journalism’s central ethical principles. It is recognized by the UN and is vital to a functioning democracy and free, independent, robust, and effective media.

One of the greatest threats to source confidentiality is Australia’s uniquely broad data surveillance framework. The 2015 metadata retention scheme requires that all metadata—that is, data about a device or communication but not the communication itself—be retained for two years, and it may be covertly accessed by a wide array of government agencies without a warrant. Some reports suggest that by late 2018, some 350,000 requests for access to metadata were being received by telecommunications service providers each year.

The government was not blind to the potential impact of this scheme on source confidentiality. For example, obtaining metadata relating to a journalist’s mobile phone could reveal where they go and who they contact, easily pointing to their sources. This led to the introduction of the “Journalist Information Warrant,” or JIW. This warrant is required if an agency wishes to access retained metadata for the direct purpose of identifying a professional journalist’s source.

So access to a professional journalist’s metadata in order to identify a confidential source is permitted, provided the access has a particular criminal investigation or enforcement purpose and the agency can show it is in the public interest and therefore obtain a JIW.

The June raids suggest several possibilities: that either JIWs could not be obtained in relation to Smethurst, Fordham, or the ABC journalists; the journalists’ metadata did not reveal their sources; or federal police did not attempt to access their metadata. If metadata had identified the journalists’ sources, it is unclear why this week’s dramatic developments took place.

After 2015, journalists were advised to avoid using their mobile devices in source communications. They were also encouraged, wherever possible, to encrypt communications. But in 2018, the government went some way to closing down this option when it introduced the complex and highly controversial Telecommunications and Other Legislation Amendment Act 2018.

As well as expanding computer access and network access warrants, the Act provided a means for government agencies to co-opt those in the telecommunications industry to assist agencies with their investigations. This could include covertly installing weaknesses and vulnerabilities in specific devices, circumventing passwords, or allowing encrypted communications to be decrypted. A warrant would then be required to access the device and communication data.

It is impossible to know whether Australian journalists have been targeted under the Act or have had weaknesses or spyware installed on their personal devices. The recent raids suggest the Australian Federal Police are prepared to target journalists under this framework in order to identify journalists’ confidential sources. However, this could only be done for certain purposes, including in the investigation of a secrecy offense.

 

Secrecy offenses

In June 2018, the government introduced a suite of new espionage, foreign interference and secrecy offenses. This included an offense of current or former Australian officers communicating information obtained by virtue of their position likely to cause harm to the nation’s interests. This offense is punishable by imprisonment for seven years. If the information is security classified or the person held a security classification, then they may have committed an “aggravated offense” and be subject to ten years’ imprisonment.

The raids also reveal just how common it is for public interest journalism to rely on secret material and government sources. But the journalists themselves may also be facing criminal prosecution. The 2018 changes include a “general secrecy offense,” whereby it is an offense (punishable by imprisonment for five years) to communicate classified information obtained from an Australian public servant. Fordham’s radio broadcast about intercepted boat arrivals was, for example, a clear communication of classified information.

Again, journalists are offered some protection. If prosecuted, a journalist can seek to rely on the “journalism defense” by proving that they dealt with the information as a journalist and that they reasonably believed the communication to be in the public interest. The meaning of “public interest” in this context is unclear and untested, but it would take into account the public interest in national security and government integrity secrecy concerns as well as openness and accountability.

 

Protecting media freedom

Australia has more national security laws than any other nation. It is also the only liberal democracy lacking a Charter of Human Rights or other foundational document that would protect media freedom through, for example, rights to free speech and privacy.
In this context, journalists are in a precarious position—particularly journalists engaged in public interest journalism. Their work is vital to government accountability and a vibrant democracy, but it has a tense relationship with how Australia’s government conceives of national interests.

National security laws have severely undercut source confidentiality by increasing and easing data surveillance. They have also criminalized a wide array of conduct related to the handling of sensitive government information, both by government officers and the general public. And these laws are just a few parts of a much larger national security framework that includes control orders, preventative detention orders, ASIO (Australian Security Intelligence Organization) questioning and detention warrants, secret evidence, and offenses of espionage, foreign interference, advocating or supporting terrorism, and more.

JIWs and the inclusion of a journalism defense to the secrecy offense recognize the importance of a free press. However, each of these protections relies on a public interest test. When government claims of national security and the integrity of classifications are weighed into this balance, it is difficult to see how other interests might provide an effective counterbalance.

One of the most disturbing outcomes is not the potential prosecutions or even the raids themselves, but the chilling of public interest journalism. Sources are less likely to come forward if they face risk to themselves and a high likelihood of identification by government agencies. And journalists are less likely to run stories if they know the risks posed to their sources and perhaps even to themselves.

Against this background, the calls for a Media Freedom Act by groups such as the Alliance for Journalists’ Freedom have gained significant traction. It may take this kind of bold statement to cut across the complexities of individual laws and both recognize and protect the basic freedom of the press and the future of public interest journalism in Australia. ❶

 

Rebecca Ananian-Welsh is a senior lecturer at the TC Beirne School of Law at the University of Queensland. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.

The journalist hostage

03


by Charles Pomeroy

On Christmas Eve of 1991, Andy Adams (Sumo World), Don Kirk (USA Today), and Club President David Powers (BBC), raise their champagne glasses to Terry Anderson, the Chief Middle East correspondent for the Associated Press (AP) who had just been released after almost seven years in captivity as a hostage. The former active FCCJ member, serving both as 2nd and 1st Vice-President, was taken hostage by Muslim extremists in Lebanon on March 16, 1985. He would return to the Club in July of 1992 to recount his experience to our members.

Born in Ohio in 1947, Terry Anderson, who served as a US Marine Corps combat journalist, including two tours in Vietnam, graduated from Iowa State University in 1974 with degrees in journalism and political science prior to joining the AP. His career in that organization took him to various countries, including Japan and Korea. He was an enthusiastic participant in Club affairs. Nine references in the Index of the Club’s history book provide glimpses of his activities, including his harrowing coverage of Korea’s Kwangju rebellion. He became the AP’s Chief Middle East correspondent in 1983. He also became the longest held of almost a dozen Americans hostages seized by Hezbollah extremists in Lebanon at the time. When asked in an interview after his release how he had survived, he replied, “You just do what you have to do. You wake up every day and summon up energy from somewhere, and you get through the day, day after day after day.”

Post-release, Terry has led a busy life, writing a memoir of his hostage experience (Den of Lions), participating in talk shows, and teaching journalism at well-known universities. A lawsuit resulting in a multimillion-dollar settlement from frozen assets of the Iranian government, which had supported Hezbollah, also launched him into philanthropic activities. These included co-founding a non-profit organization to provide education for children in Vietnam as well as creating a foundation in the name of a fellow hostage of the Hezbollah. His one stab at politics, in which he ran as a Democrat in a Republican stronghold, ended in defeat in 2004.

Terry Anderson is now retired in Florida, where he leads a quiet life in the town of Unionville in Orange County.


– Charles Pomeroy
editor of Foreign Correspondents in Japan,
a history of the Club that is available at the front desk

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