2 weeks Ago
When Tsuneo Watanabe died in December 2024 at the age of 98 , it wasn’t just the passing of a powerful media executive — it marked the end of Japan’s old print media empire. In the 1990s, Watanabe, who ran the Yomiuri Shimbun like a political kingmaker, once bragged: “You can't change the world if you don't have power. Fortunately or unfortunately, I have the 10 million circulation [of the daily].
I can move the prime minister with that. Political parties are in my hands and reductions in income and corporate taxes were carried out as the Yomiuri reported. Nothing is more delightful than that.
” The quote reads like something out of “Citizen Kane,” but it was real — and relatively recent. At its peak, Yomiuri Shimbun’s dominance was so vast that it earned a place in the Guinness World Records. In 2010, it was officially recognized as the world’s highest-circulating newspaper, with a morning edition surpassing 10 million copies.
The combined circulation of its morning and evening editions reached more than 13.5 million copies, making it the only newspaper to achieve such a figure. “You can't change the world if you don't have power.
" —Tsuneo Watanabe Today, that kind of media dominance is gone. And so, it seems, is the urgency to adapt to the changing media landscape. Japan’s print media may still command prestige from old-school daily commuters and morning breakfast readers, but it’s rapidly losing relevance.
As digital platforms rise and younger minds turn away from newspapers altogether, print behemoths like Yomiuri Shimbun, Asahi Shimbun and Mainichi Shimbun are falling behind — just like Japan’s major broadcasters in the digital age . So what’s stopping them from evolving? The circulation numbers remain massive by global standards. The Yomiuri Shimbun remains the highest-circulation newspaper in the world.
The Asahi and Mainichi dailies are as influential as ever, especially among political and academic circles. But a closer look at the readership reveals a sobering trend: the average reader is getting older, and younger generations simply aren’t replacing them. This mirrors Japan’s broader demographic reality.
As the country grapples with a falling birthrate and an aging population, its institutions — including the press — are increasingly skewed toward older generations. The shrinking number of young people isn’t just a societal issue; it’s a media one, too. We covered this generational shift in a recent Japan Today Spotlight video: “ Japan’s birth rate crisis: Why ‘have more babies’ won’t work! ” Nonetheless, print holds a certain status in Japan.
Commuters with neatly folded papers on packed trains are still a morning fixture. Newspaper delivery — typically by scooter and placed directly into mailboxes (as opposed to the Western delivery style that lands neatly on doorsteps before sunrise) — remains common in most neighborhoods. That ritual is quickly losing relevance in a world of smartphone alerts, algorithm-driven feeds and streaming video.
For years, Japan’s major newspapers treated the internet as a sideshow. Digital editions came late. Multimedia efforts remain minimal.
Many papers have paywalls, but they often function more like digital barriers than invitations to engage — layered onto sites that haven’t fully embraced a digital-first mindset. For years, Japan’s major newspapers treated the internet as a sideshow. Unlike The New York Times or The Guardian, Japan’s big papers haven’t built out strong digital ecosystems.
News apps are clunky. Interactive storytelling is rare. And despite having highly literate audiences, social engagement and mobile-native content remain limited.
For instance, according to the Reuters Institute Digital News Report 2023 , despite its vast print circulation, Yomiuri Shimbun continues to limit digital access to print subscribers only, without offering a standalone digital subscription. Part of this is cultural. There’s long been a fear in Japanese media that making content available for free online would cannibalize the paid subscriber base — a base that is loyal, aging and resistant to change.
Clinging to that model has also made it harder to attract new readers, especially those who have never paid for a newspaper — and probably never will. The reasons behind this inertia sound familiar. Again, as with Japan’s broadcasters, the leadership structures inside these newsrooms remain rigid, top-down and male-dominated.
Editors are often promoted through seniority, not digital fluency. Risk is absolutely avoided. Toeing the company — and indeed, party — line is done without question.
Experimentation is rare. Many reporters trained in the analog age now find themselves working in digital environments for which they were never prepared. Some efforts at change have emerged — mobile editions, newsletters, and content deals with platforms like Line, Yahoo! Japan and SmartNews.
There have also been tie-ups with broader news aggregator services and syndication partnerships, though few of these feel transformative. Other attempts include experiments with YouTube, podcasts and social media publishing tools. However, these remain piecemeal and often disconnected from core editorial operations.
As ever, Japan’s newspapers help shape the country’s political imagination. They offer reporting, editorial perspective and investigative work that, when done well, hold significant weight. When these institutions fail to modernize, however, they risk losing the authority they once commanded.
There’s also a generational danger. If young people grow up without ever reading Asahi or Mainichi , who inherits the values and critical habits that print journalism has traditionally fostered? And if newspapers disengage from younger readers, who is left to question those in power? The ink still dries, the papers still land — but fewer people notice, and even fewer care. The next generation appears to consume headlines from TikTok or Instagram Stories.
Without depth, context or tools to research on their own — how do they learn to separate news from noise? There are glimmers of possibility. Nikkei, with its acquisition of the Financial Times, has begun to think more globally. Some papers have started investing in podcasts, newsletters and video series.
A handful of younger journalists are building meaningful followings on social media, carving out digital spaces where legacy outlets have failed to lead. For all the talk of modernization, real transformation has been halting at best: scattered, shallow and lacking the urgency the moment demands. Watanabe believed newspapers could bend politics.
Today, they struggle to bend their own workflows. The ink still dries, the papers still land — but fewer people notice, and even fewer care. The generation that built Japan’s newspapers still run them.
The generation that needs them barely reads them. That disconnect isn’t just a challenge — it’s a deadline..
