In the past, sokaiya have punished companies who refuse to pay up by a variety of means.In 1982, a Sony shareholders’ meeting was prolonged for thirteen hours by filibusters; three years ago the president of Fuji Film had bottles thrown at him by a spurned sokaiya. But these cases are extreme, as the case of Ajinomoto demonstrates. Typically, the shareholders’ meeting lasted just half an hour. In 1995, apparently because of a failure to pay off sokaiya, it went on for over an hour. However uncomfortable, those extra forty minutes saved the company 100 million yen (pounds 520,000).The sokaiya are a uniquely Japanese institution, a product both of history and of the almost medieval importance of form in even the most modern companies. Incidents which would be routine at European or American shareholders’ meetings – stroppy shareholders, aggressive heckling – are such anathema to the public image of corporations that they are prepared to buy peace and quiet.”Japanese companies attach a great deal of importance to maintaining the dignity of their senior management,” says Raisuke Miyawaki, a retired senior policeman, who now advises companies on how to deal with gangsters.

“Actually, the bosses are a bit timid: if they are seen to make a mistake during the meeting, it’s very shaming to them, so they want it to be as short as possible so that no one has a chance to ask questions.”In an attempt to frustrate the racketeers, companies have taken to holding their shareholders’ meetings at the same time. These tactics have apparently worked: according to the police, there are about 1000 sokaiya, compared to nearly 7,000 before the change in the law. But since the passing of the anti-racketeering laws their methods have become both more ingenious and more brutal.Three years ago, a Fuji Film executive responsible for the annual general meeting, ran into trouble with a group of sokaiya. Soon after, he was found dead, stabbed to death with a samurai dagger.Nomura chief goes, page 22.

China’s normally compliant parliament yesterday barked back, emboldened by widespread public dissatisfaction with crime and corruption. Delegates to the National People’s Congress (NPC) registered their biggest ever protest vote when 40 per cent did not support the annual report of China’s top prosecutor, Zhang Siqing, who just days earlier had promised “to get to the bottom” of cases involving any corrupt officials. When the result was displayed on the electronic screen in the Great Hall of the People a wave of murmuring swept through the 2,720 delegates as they read the voting figures.
The unprecedented show of displeasure at the government’s inability to tackle rising crime and corruption was also evident in the vote on the annual work report from the president of the Supreme People’s Court, Ren Jianxin, with one-third of delegates withholding their support. As China embarks on the post-Deng Xiaoping era, crime and corruption often top surveys of public complaints.The NPC delegates vote by pressing buttons which give them a choice of voting for, against or abstaining; a number prefer to show their reluctance by not pressing any button at all.