Now let's talk about perhaps the most difficult issue of all.
There are some arguments that say:
"Oh, we would like to buy manga too, but we simply don't have the money."
Does it sound like I'm poking a hornet's nest?
Does this sound interesting?
It may sound provocative, but this is not a hornet's nest.
This is a story about compassion.
What should we say when someone tells us:
"We want to support comics and manga creators too.
But unlike people in Japan, we, readers, don't have money.
How can we possibly spend money on manga?"
The truth is that Steve and I heard this argument many times in South Korea nearly thirty years ago.
And we spent a great deal of time thinking about it.
In this particular field, Steve and I are probably old dinosaurs.
Back then, the people who argued that "free access is a right because we're poor" were often much more aggressive than they are today.
Their attitude was often something like:
"Anyone who tells us we should pay for comics deserves to be attacked forever."
And to be honest, many of them acted exactly that way.
Still, when someone says:
"Some readers say that they would like to support manga, but feel they cannot afford it because their primary responsibility is to provide for their families."
There is a sad misunderstanding hidden beneath those words.
A story of people who do not fully understand each other's circumstances.
Let's begin with something that may sound painful to Japanese readers.
Most Japanese readers do not have much money either.
Most Japanese mangaka do not have much money.
Most aspiring manga artists do not have much money.
On the side that creates manga, and on the side that buys and enjoys manga, there are countless people surviving on instant cup-ramen noodles, cheap gyudon, and determination.
Many readers carefully save a small allowance to buy a single tankōbon volume.
They do it because they want to support creators.
They do it because they want manga to continue existing.
They do it because if nobody pays, manga cannot continue to be made.
The same is true in South Korea.
I hope people can understand that.
When someone says:
"Well, people in Japan and South Korea can pay because they're rich,"
it can be painful to hear.
But perhaps those of us in Japan and South Korea should also consider something.
For some people in the world, a life sustained by instant noodles is already a dream of prosperity.
For some people, simply having clean drinking water come from a faucet is a sign of wealth.
For many people around the world, a monthly take-home income of ¥160,000(USD 1,000) would be life-changing.
For others, earning the equivalent of ¥1,000(USD 6.25) per hour would be enough to support an entire family.
Japan is a wealthy country.
South Korea is a wealthy country.
So are countries such as the United States, France, and Luxembourg.
In some countries, even having clean drinking water from a tap can be considered a luxury.
Well... even some relatively wealthy countries do not provide drinkable tap water.
Water comes out of the faucet—but you cannot safely drink it.
And there are still many people in the world who do not even have a faucet.
When I was a child, eating instant ramen noodles at home was not an everyday meal.
It was an occasional luxury.
But it is still too early to conclude: "Oh, I’m sorry."
Please allow me to continue the story a little further.
When I was young, there were times when even cup ramen noodles felt like a luxury.
And yet, I still bought manga.
In fact, many Japanese readers did the same.
Manga did not become successful because Japan was rich.
Manga grew during the 1950s, when Japan was still a very poor country.
It grew because people chose to buy manga.
Because they valued it.
Because they believed it was worth supporting.
And this is the point I want to make.
If you live in a country where clean water comes from a faucet, then in many cases, you can afford to buy manga.
You can support your family and still occasionally purchase a volume of a series you love.
And we should think carefully about what it means to read manga through piracy and to have unlimited access to comics for free.
It usually means the following:
You have a smartphone, a computer or a laptop.
You are connected to the global internet.
You, or someone else, can afford the cost of that connection.
You have enough access to consume an unlimited amount of manga.
And when someone posts on social media saying,
"Unlike Japanese people, we're poor,"
that also means they have the time, opportunity, and technology needed to make that post.
In many cases, it may suggest that the issue is not absolute poverty.
Of course, there are exceptions.
There are always exceptions.
Some people genuinely face circumstances far more difficult than most of us can imagine.
I do not want to dismiss those realities.
But I believe that, for many readers, the issue is often more complicated than simply having no money at all.
I began my career as a poor mangaka in a country that was still poor.
I care deeply about people who struggle financially.
I am on their side.
In fact, comics and manga themselves have always been on the side of ordinary people.
What I am talking about is your potential.
I believe you are capable of buying manga that you love.
And I believe it is important to understand the enormous value that comes from supporting creators directly.
When I lived in a Korea where tap water was available but not something we wasted freely, and where cup noodles were an occasional luxury, Korea's GDP per capita was between $2,000 and $5,000.
Today, countries such as Brazil, Vietnam, and Bolivia have levels of income that are comparable to—or in some cases higher than—South Korea's during the period when its modern comics industry was rapidly growing.
A great many people in these countries can afford to buy manga.
And if they do, they can begin building great comics industries of their own.
The potential is enormous.
We should not compare ourselves to today's Japan or South Korea.
We should compare ourselves to Japan and South Korea when they were still developing countries.
When manga was being born.
When those countries were still relatively poor.
When Dragon Ball was selling tens of millions of copies, South Korea's GDP per capita was only around $5,000.
People were not wealthy.
But they still bought manga.
A favorite manga volume was often considered more valuable than fashionable shoes or many other small luxuries.
It was worth sacrificing a few comforts to own.
I suspect many Japanese readers in the 1950s felt the same way.
That is what buying manga means.
If you love manga, a collected manga volume is not something you buy after every other desire has been satisfied.
It is something you choose to buy instead of something else.
Because the people creating manga often live the same way.
Many creators sacrificed comforts in order to draw manga.
When I was a first-year university student, my lunch was often nothing more than inexpensive instant noodles.
Not cup ramen noodles—those were expensive.
I spent nearly all of my money on manga, drawing reference books, and screentones.
During that year, I produced nearly 200 pages of personal work and five one-shot stories prepared for submission.
And I eventually made my professional debut with a manga I drew during my first winter break.
Some of the screentones used in that work had been given to me as a birthday present.
If you have a smartphone and an internet connection that allow you to read unlimited manga online, then you can probably afford to buy a manga volume once in a while and keep it on your shelf.
And that small act can become part of the foundation upon which a national comics industry is built.
Because creating opportunities is often the best solution.
But in truth, the real problem is not whether people have money to buy manga.
The real problem is that many people have no practical way to buy it.
And officially licensed foreign editions are often far too expensive for readers around the world.
I believe that is a genuine problem.
And so, the story about money continues.
To be continued...