pertwk Chapter 348 Kansai's Public Opinion Offensive
Chapter 348 Kansai's Public Opinion Offensive
(Thanks to the amazing verification from "Mr. xx Polar Bear"! Two chapters today~)
Saturday, November 10, 1990.
Osaka.
The Kansai Finance and Economics Newspaper is a local economic newspaper published on the tenth of each ten-day period. Its circulation is small, usually just over 40,000 copies. Subscribers are mostly concentrated in wholesalers in the Senba area, mid-level bank managers in Nakanoshima, and back-office staff of securities firms in Kitahama.
This magazine would not appear on convenience store shelves in Tokyo, and it never had a national impact.
But it has one unique feature that no other publication can replace—it's read by people in the Kansai financial world.
The third edition, signed "Local Business Observer".
The title was printed in a small font, in the kind of thin Mingchao typeface commonly used in magazines.
The Hunt of Tokyo Capital: New Changes in the Credit System of Kansai Manufacturing
The article is short, just over three thousand words including footnotes. The writing style is restrained, making extensive use of passive voice and hypothetical sentences—"it is said," "maybe," "not excluded"—typical of Kansai financial commentary. The shipyard businessman's views always seem vague, restrained and leaving room for interpretation.
The opening paragraph uses a full four hundred words to acknowledge the problem.
"Over the past three years, the risks accumulated in the Kansai financial system in the real estate financing sector are undeniable. There are indeed aspects of credit management by some banks that warrant reflection. The Kansai financial community does not shy away from this point."
If this passage is placed in the first paragraph, everyone who reads it will find it fair.
Is there a problem with the bank? Yes, there is.
To admit, to admit openly.
But the tone shifts in the second paragraph.
"However, it is noteworthy that as the Kansai credit system is shaken by the storm, emerging capital from Tokyo is intervening in the core trade chain of Kansai manufacturing in another way—through foreign bank channels, dollar letters of credit, and independent settlement systems."
"The manner and speed of this intervention have exceeded the scope of normal commercial assistance."
Starting from the third paragraph, the article repeatedly uses the words "foreign," "Tokyo," and "Marunouchi."
"The bank may have made mistakes, but the industry should not be taken over by foreign capital because of that."
"The accounts of shipyard merchants should not be turned by Marunouchi's hands."
"The credit built up by the Kansai manufacturing industry over hundreds of years should not be forced to change hands in a financial crisis."
These three sentences appear in the fourth paragraph, the seventh paragraph, and the end, respectively. Although they are spaced far apart, these three sentences are what remain in my mind after reading the entire text.
The phrase "forced to change surname" is particularly striking.
The article makes no mention of the name "Saionji," nor of "Sumitomo Bank," "Ito Man," or any other specific company name. It also makes no defense of either side.
It just keeps asking one question:
Who should be in charge of matters in the Kansai region?
The last paragraph of the article uses a metaphor.
"When a typhoon passes, the roof will be ripped off. But the people who repair the roof are the ones who live in the house. Borrowing a ladder may be convenient, but the owner of the ladder will eventually take it back—and then, only a bigger hole will be left in the roof."
At 8:35 a.m. on November 10th.
By the time the print edition of the Kansai Finance and Economics News arrived at the front desk of the major wholesalers' association in the shipyard, the fax machine had already been there two hours earlier.
The first person to receive the full text of the article was the secretary-general of the Kobe Chamber of Commerce and Industry.
At 6:40, his private fax machine spit out five pages, with a number printed on the sender's end in Osaka Kitashinchi, but the source was untraceable—the fax had been forwarded at least twice.
After reading it at the breakfast table, the director sighed and tucked the fax paper into the day's work materials.
At 8:00 AM, the Kyoto Prefectural Chamber of Commerce and Industry's weekend briefing was distributed internally.
At the bottom of the second page of this issue, the article title and the first of the three sentences are quoted in a font half a size smaller than the main text.
"The bank may have made mistakes, but the industry should not be taken over by foreign capital because of that."
The quote was followed by an editor's note: "See the Kansai Finance and Economics News, November 10th, page 3."
This line of small print gets read much more often than the main text of the briefing.
9:15.
The editorial department of the Kobe Shimbun's afternoon edition, the local newspaper "Kobe Shimbun Economic Edition," received a phone call. The caller was one of their longtime contributors, a retired former Vice Minister of Economic Affairs.
He only said one sentence:
Did you guys read that "Local Business Observer" report that came out on the 10th? It's worth following.
The editor-in-chief of the afternoon edition hung up the phone and asked his assistant to buy a copy of the Kansai Financial News. Forty minutes later, as he underlined the words "forced to change his surname" in red pen, he had already begun drafting his article in his mind.
By noon, at least three tables in the Osaka Chamber of Commerce and Industry's members' cafeteria were discussing this article.
No one mentioned who the author was. The byline was simply five characters: "Local Financial Observer."
But everyone instinctively knows that this is not an article a journalist could write.
Its tone was too steady.
It was a voice so steady it seemed to grow from the very bones of this land.
……
Sumitomo Metal Industries, Ltd.
Osaka Headquarters.
President's Office.
Koichi Uchida saw the article around 10 a.m.
The person who delivered it was the head of the secretarial department. He kept it in a separate transparent folder on the left side of his desk—the place Uchida would look at first every day.
It took Uchida about eight minutes to finish reading it. He went back and reread the passage twice, specifically the seventh paragraph, which contained the sentence "the shipyard merchant's ledger."
He closed the folder and looked out the window.
The president's office at the Osaka headquarters is on the ninth floor, with windows facing east. The weather is nice today, and you can see the ridgeline of Mount Ikoma in the distance.
"Has anyone called from the Chamber of Commerce?" he asked.
The head secretary stood at the door, his posture upright.
"There have been two calls this morning, both were greetings."
Uchida nodded.
"Who are they?"
"The first call is from Mr. Aoki from Kitahama, and the second call is from Mr. Matsubara from Sakaisuji."
Two names, two directions.
Kitahama is Osaka's stock market district, while Sakaisuji is the main thoroughfare leading to Senba. One represents the financial sector, and the other represents the manufacturing sector.
The secretary did not relay the content of the "greeting" because it was not necessary.
The cedar in Kitahama probably meant "You've had a tough time lately," and the pine tree in Sakaisuji probably meant the same thing.
But the word "hard work" already reveals its implied meaning.
Uchida understands.
This is a reminder to him: someone is watching.
He attended the private dinner in Tokyo on the 26th of last month. He drank the wine that Shuichi poured for him. He also listened to the conversation about US dollar letters of credit.
Nobody in Osaka knows about those things.
But Kansai is a very small network. People move around, and information flows.
Even if no one knows the specifics of the private party, the mere fact that "Uchida went to Tokyo" is enough to pique the interest of some people.
He picked up the phone on the table, then put it down again.
This afternoon, he had planned to have the secretarial department call Saionji Trading's Osaka office to confirm the details of the letter of credit transfer process.
We're not playing anymore.
It wasn't that he changed his mind because of this hint, but the timing of "today" was too conspicuous.
The article had just been published in the morning, and he called in the afternoon—even if it was just a transactional confirmation, it would be interpreted as a response by Urakami.
Wait a while, wait a few more days.
He pushed the folder to the right side of the desktop, under a stack of monthly reports.
……
Sumitomo Electric Co., Ltd.
Kawaguchi Heiji's reaction was much more direct than Uchida's.
He finished reading the article during a break from his inspection of the workshop—his secretary handed it to him at the door of the break room, and he read it standing up, which took him only four minutes.
"The banks have burned through all the money, yet they expect us cable manufacturers to stick to our principles."
He said this to the production section chief. His voice wasn't loud, but the mockery in his tone was obvious.
But the first thing he did after returning to his office was to open a drawer, take out a folder he had prepared three days earlier—containing settlement details of Sumitomo Electric Industries' Southeast Asian business, which he had originally planned to send to Saionji Shoji's Osaka office this week for their assistance in verification—looked at it, and then put it back.
The drawer stopped halfway through.
He thought about it and decided not to lock it.
They didn't take it out either.
It was just left there, half-open and half-closed.
……
Sumitomo Light Metal Industries, Ltd.
Tatsuya Hashimoto received the call at home.
He didn't go to the office on Saturday. A little after ten in the morning, the phone rang. The caller ID showed Amagasaki—his father-in-law's area code.
It was my mother-in-law who answered.
But it was my father-in-law who spoke.
"Hashimoto-kun, lately everyone's been saying that Sumitomo's people are too hasty."
Just this one sentence.
Then my mother-in-law took the phone again, chatted for a bit about the weather and the children, and then hung up.
Hashimoto sat in the living room, holding the now-silent receiver.
The heating is on, my daughter's little schoolbag is on the shoe cabinet in the entryway, and her clothes are hanging to dry on the balcony.
Everyone outside is saying—
Who is speaking? Where are they speaking? What are they saying?
Among the four Sumitomo representatives who came to Tokyo for the banquet, Hashimoto was the least senior and held the lowest title—he was merely a managing director.
Light metals has always held a marginal position within the group, and its presence has always relied on the protection of the White Water Society.
If he were labeled as having "sold off Kansai Credit," he wouldn't be able to hold his head up high, let alone at the Hakusui Association or even at the Chamber of Commerce's annual meeting.
He put the receiver back on the landline.
Then I sat there for a long time.
He recalled a sentence that Shuichi had said to him when he poured him a drink at the private banquet in Tokyo that day:
"Mr. Hashimoto, please don't force yourself. I'm just here for a drink."
His tone was very gentle, as if he were telling the truth.
But it was precisely because that sentence was so gentle that Hashimoto felt afraid.
Because Shuichi's meaning is very clear—you can still back out now, but you're already sitting at this table.
He stood up, flipped through the newspaper on the living room table to the business section, and searched for a long time but couldn't find any relevant articles.
He does not subscribe to the Kansai Finance and Economics News.
But my father-in-law obviously saw it.