When Inspiration Becomes a Commodity: The Deep-Rooted Problem with Japan's 24-Hour Television Telethon

Once again, the season of 24-Hour Television has arrived in Japan.

And every year, the same debate begins.

“It is hypocritical.”

“Who cares if it is hypocritical, as long as it raises money?”

By now, not only the program itself but also the argument surrounding it has become an annual summer tradition.

I have no intention of denying that the program raises money or that the money is used for social welfare. Nor do I want to ridicule those who donate out of genuine goodwill.

Still, something about the program has always struck me as deeply questionable.

Whenever a disabled person appears, their story somehow always has to be “inspiring.”

Why Must Disabled People Always Overcome Something?

There is a name for this discomfort: inspiration porn.

The term describes the way disabled people are treated as objects for non-disabled people to admire, draw courage from, or feel inspired by. The comparison to pornography comes from this act of consumption.

Once you think about it, the pattern is strange.

A disabled person eating an ordinary meal, playing video games, complaining about work, or sleeping until noon would not make much of a television segment.

Instead, they must take on a challenge, endure punishing practice, and receive encouragement from everyone around them. Emotional music begins to play, and the whole thing becomes a story about “overcoming disability.”

But disabled people must have days when they do not feel like trying hard, just like anyone else.

Some would surely rather say, “Install a ramp in the first place,” than train themselves to get over a step without assistance.

Should that not be what social welfare is really about?

Turning It into a Story of Personal Effort Makes Life Easier for Society

The convenient thing about an inspirational story is that it can turn a social problem into a matter of individual effort.

If you cannot climb the stairs, work hard until you can. If participating in society is difficult, summon the courage to try.

But there are other questions we should be asking:

Why is there no elevator here?
Why does this system make it so difficult for disabled people to work?
Why are there not enough personal assistance services?

Pursue those questions, and the discussion leads to laws, budgets, public administration, and social security. Eventually, it runs into politics.

By contrast, “After receiving support from all their friends, this disabled person has finally reached the finish line!” provides a neat and tidy ending.

The celebrities cry. The audience cries. The sponsors have nothing to worry about.

Turning a social problem into a story of individual effort makes it extremely easy to handle on television.

If a program spends 24 hours discussing social welfare, disability, poverty, and disaster relief, avoiding politics should be more difficult than addressing it.

Disability services depend on budgets. Long-term care depends on public systems. Poverty is tied to employment policy and social security. Disaster recovery depends on government.

Yet I can hardly remember 24-Hour Television ever confronting politics directly.

On one occasion, a celebrity appearing on the program made a political comment on air. I was watching the broadcast at the time, and what stayed with me was how completely everyone around them ignored it and allowed the conversation to move on.

It is also widely understood that Nihon Television, the network behind the program, leans toward Japan’s ruling parties.

Once a year, that network airs a massive charity telethon calling on viewers to help vulnerable people. Yet it does not examine in any depth the systems and policies surrounding those people—in other words, the responsibility of politics.

Instead, the message becomes, “Let us help them through everyone’s goodwill.”

That is the part I cannot help finding dubious.

Rather than discussing how to change the structure of society, the program asks viewers’ goodwill to fill the gaps.

And for Some Reason, a Celebrity Runs a Marathon

This is supposed to be a charity program, yet its celebrity participants are paid appearance fees.

Some reportedly decline payment, but the program’s reluctance to be transparent about the matter is another reason so many people feel uneasy about it.

Then there is the even greater mystery of the marathon.

I still do not understand why holding a charity event requires a celebrity to run a very long distance.

There is no direct connection between disability services and a marathon.

But running for hours is painful. Pain creates drama. An injured leg gives the audience something to worry about. Friends cheering from the sidelines turn it into a story of solidarity, and reaching the finish line gives everyone a reason to cry.

In short, it is an extremely effective machine for manufacturing emotion.

For years, the marathon has even attracted allegations that the runners do not actually cover the entire route themselves—the so-called “teleportation” rumors.

I am not claiming that those allegations are true. What is interesting is that they gave rise to an online culture in which people physically follow the runner throughout the event.

Internet users chase a charity-show runner to verify that they are actually running.

The program manufactures emotion, while online observers investigate what happens behind the scenes and post their findings on X.

That, too, has become part of 24-Hour Television.

“It Raises Money, So Who Cares If It Is Hypocritical?” Is Not a Trump Card

Whenever someone criticizes 24-Hour Television, the same response inevitably appears:

“Who cares if it is hypocritical, as long as it raises money?”

If the program raises money and that money supports social welfare, then it has value. But that does not automatically justify every editorial choice the program makes.

When disabled people are forced into the narrow roles of “someone to pity,” “someone overcoming hardship,” or “someone who gives non-disabled people courage,” those portrayals shape how society sees disability.

Disabled people do not exist to inspire the rest of us.

They should be allowed not to try hard. They should be allowed to have unpleasant personalities. They should be allowed to drink and talk nonsense.

That is what it means to be an ordinary human being.

But ordinary does not work when inspiration is the product.

The person must be pitiable, struggle bravely, and eventually accomplish something.

That makes for better television.

Even the Criticism Has Become an End-of-Summer Tradition

24-Hour Television has aired since 1978.

It continues despite criticism that it is inspiration porn. The marathon continues too. Every year, people online say, “Here we go again,” and someone replies that even hypocritical action is better than doing nothing.

Some people even go out to track the marathon runner.

At this point, it feels as though Nihon Television is not the only one producing 24-Hour Television.

There are people who watch and cry, people who donate, people who denounce it as inspiration porn, people who follow the runner, and people who make jokes about it on social media.

Together, they form one enormous annual ritual.

The cicadas sing. Japan’s national high school baseball tournament ends. 24-Hour Television begins. Then the criticism starts online.

Even criticizing the program has become a familiar sign that summer is coming to an end.