Snitches

Monday, Jul. 22, 2002 By HIROKO TASHIRO/TOKYO
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Thanks to the Enron and WorldCom corporate accounting scandals, whistleblowing is enjoying a renaissance in the U.S. Both Cynthia Cooper, the internal auditor who sounded the alarm over WorldCom's $3.8 billion in bookkeeping shenanigans, and Sherron Watkins, who first voiced concerns about Enron's accounting tricks, have won acclaim as right-thinking individuals struggling against morally bankrupt business cultures.

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If you live in Japan, however, snitching on the boss is not viewed as favorably by a society that traditionally values harmony over individual acts of conscience. Case in point: Tamaki Mitsui, a 58-year-old former prosecutor in the Osaka High Public Prosecutor's Office. Last April, Mitsui planned to appear on television to expose what he claimed was the systematic embezzlement of public funds by some of his colleagues. Before he could blow the whistle, members of Mitsui's own department arrested him. Mitsui's family and other supporters say the charges against him—tax evasion and collusion with a mobster—were trumped up to keep him from going public. Indeed, Mitsui can't talk to anyone but his lawyer while he languishes behind bars. (Justice Ministry officials deny there was embezzlement in the prosecutor's office. They also deny Mitsui was arrested to prevent him from airing his allegations.)

But his arrest may lend ammunition to Japanese who want to make the nation's politicians and companies more accountable. Some argue that Mitsui's plight is a powerful example of why the country needs a "whistle-blowers law," a legal shield to protect insiders who disclose damning information about their employers. "There are so many scandals concerning bureaucrats that have come to light in the past several years," says Mitsuru Sakurai, a member of the Diet, Japan's legislature. "I reckon 90% were exposed by people within the ministries. We have to encourage more people to follow their lead."

Snitching has long been considered an act of betrayal in Japan. The country has no cultural icons like David Ellsberg or Deep Throat, no cinematic glorifications of corporate warriors breaking ranks such as The Insider or Erin Brockovich. Those who do speak out for the greater public good can expect to be fired as well as ostracized for not being team players. But attitudes are changing as public distrust of politicians and corporations grows. "The lifetime employment system is crumbling amid a wave of restructuring," explains Kazue Akita, a Tokyo lawyer who is backing a whistle-blowers law. "Japanese workers are becoming less loyal to their companies."

And they are increasingly committing what is known in Japan as naibu kokuhatsu (exposure from within). This year, an employee of Snow Brand Foods alerted authorities to the company's deliberate mislabeling of foreign beef as a domestic product, a scandal that put the corporation out of business. Last month, an anonymous letter, apparently from an insider at Tokyo Women's Medical College to the parents of a 12-year-old girl who died during heart surgery, alleged that fatal errors were made during the operation. Two doctors were subsequently arrested for trying to cover up their mistakes by altering medical records.

Politicians like Sakurai and Etsuko Kawada, a nonpartisan Diet member whose hemophiliac son contracted HIV from a tainted blood transfusion, are trying to encourage whistle-blowing as a line of defense against corporate and bureaucratic malfeasance. Sakurai's Democratic Party and four other opposition parties are drafting legislation they plan to introduce at a special Diet session scheduled for October. Their Public Interest Disclosure Law calls for the creation of a special body run by a five-member citizens' committee, which would have the power to investigate cases where government employees have been harassed or fired for stepping forward—and to get them their jobs back.

Even if the bill is eventually passed, it won't help Mitsui, whose 30-year career as a public prosecutor ended with his arrest. He is now awaiting trial. "Somebody has to put a knife into the organization in order to restore the system," Mitsui said in a magazine interview given before he went to jail. For now, he'll have to console himself with the knowledge that, while his co-workers may hate him, others are willing to help him sharpen the knife.