Between Garlic Shrimp and the Digital Void
Last week, for reasons better left to the dictates of necessity, I found myself in Madrid. It was my first foray beyond Japan’s borders in six long years—a lifetime in the post-pandemic era. There was a time, back in my corporate days, when boarding an international flight felt as routine as hopping on a local bus. Today, that world feels like a distant, fading memory.
Navigating the current geopolitical map makes air travel a puzzle. With Russian airspace effectively shuttered, direct flights to Europe now stretch into grueling 14-to-16-hour marathons. My stamina for such endurance tests has evaporated, so I opted for a strategic layover in Dubai via Emirates—breaking the journey into two manageable ten-hour sprints.
Boarding the Airbus A380, the "gentle giant" of the skies, offered a momentary thrill. The tail fin of this behemoth stands eight stories high, equipped with a camera that broadcasts the view from the summit of the aircraft directly to your seat. It is, for lack of a better word, exhilarating. While the Premium Economy cabin to Dubai was a ghostly affair with only five passengers, the leg to Madrid was a packed house, teeming with families. I couldn't help but wonder what stories were pulling them toward the Iberian Peninsula.
In Madrid, I surrendered my itinerary to the curated instincts of Takefumi Hamada, a world-renowned foodie. His recommendations were impeccable. I spent my days "tapas-hopping"—drifting from one bar to the next, sampling each establishment’s singular masterpiece. It is a uniquely Spanish alchemy: a small plate, a cold drink, and the art of the wander.
Yet, being away from Japan brought a jarring revelation: the digital cord had been cut. NHK’s news services—specifically the internet-based "NHK ONE"—were entirely inaccessible in Europe. No video, no headlines, not even a sumo score to confirm the world was still spinning.
Europe’s digital landscape is guarded by the formidable GDPR (General Data Protection Regulation). Because many Japanese sites, including Yahoo! Japan News, find the cost of compliance and the risk of astronomical fines too steep, they simply pull the plug on European users. It’s easier to go dark than to be diligent.
This led me to reflect on the curious state of our "public" broadcaster. There is a persistent myth that foreigners watch NHK for free while we foot the bill. In reality, NHK World-JAPAN is a free English propaganda tool—every nation has one—while the Japanese-language "Premium" service is a paid subscription via local cable.
But the real issue is the philosophy of the institution. NHK seems to view the "NHK ONE" era as a success simply because there were no "broadcast accidents"—a technical term meaning the signal didn't die. To them, if the scheduled data flows, the mission is accomplished. That the user experience is abysmal is, in their eyes, irrelevant.
Take the recent Winter Olympics coverage. NHK utilized its sub-channels—a technical trick that splits one HD signal into several lower-quality SD ones. During a Sunday night classical music program on E-Tele, the quality was so atrocious it felt like an insult. One can only assume the bureaucrats decided that classical music lovers don't care about fidelity, or that they should simply buy a 4K TV if they find the "standard" broadcast offensive. It is the arrogance of the provider, cloaked in the banner of "Public Service."
We pay our receiving fees not out of legal obligation, but because we expect the service to be useful. When an institution loses its "flag"—its sense of purpose—it becomes a hollow shell.
The journey home was another 20-hour odyssey through Dubai. Despite the regional tensions involving Iran, Israel, and the U.S., the airport felt remarkably lax. The anxiety of a war zone usually reveals itself at the security checkpoints, but here, the atmosphere was nonchalant.
The highlight of my trip, however, was a modest seafood haunt in Madrid recommended by Mr. Hamada for having the "world’s best shrimp al ajillo." It was a place for locals, open only for lunch, with a crusty proprietor and a high barrier to entry. I booked a table, tasted the shrimp, and was transported to a state of pure bliss. Through a translation app, I told the chef as much.
Later, I saw a one-star review for the restaurant on Google Maps. "Worst experience. Beer is cheaper at the airport," the critic complained. The chef’s public response? "I’ll take you to the airport myself if you’d like."
I felt a surge of respect for that man. He had kyouji—a fierce, dignified pride in his craft. Pride is not the same as the "self-indulgent ego" currently on display at the top of NHK.
Recently, NHK’s new chairman, Mr. Inoue, suggested that reruns are the path forward, hoping to create content where people feel "grateful" for a second viewing. It felt tone-deaf. Public broadcasting doesn't exist because it follows the law; it exists because it reflects the needs and the image of the public it serves. Without a "user-first" perspective, our public square may soon find itself permanently "offline."
Author's note: The photo is not of the ajillo I ate.
