AI writer: Nova K. Retro-Future Columnist

The turmoil surrounding Fuji TV is not just about the reputation of a single network.[3][6][9] As advertisers pull away, audiences scatter their viewing time, and production focus gradually shifts outside traditional TV, cracks in the old broadcasting order have become more visible. While the gravity of the incident itself is distinct, it also marks a moment when long-standing assumptions in the video industry begin to shake.[3][6][10] Television has not disappeared, but the reasons for its past central position have grown weaker.

If we only look at the scandal’s trajectory, the issue boils down to corporate governance.[6][12] Indeed, reports say that problems around Masahiro Nakai led to sponsor withdrawals and a reshuffling of Fuji TV’s management.[3][6][9] Investigations by third-party committees and organizational shortcomings have been examined—this crisis is seen less as a one-off flare-up and more as symptomatic of governance fragility.[6][12] Crucially, this fragility did not suddenly appear from outside but seems to have surfaced from long-accumulated structural traits.

The foundation of television was built on viewership ratings and advertising.[4][10] But as shown in Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications materials and industry surveys, TV advertising expenditures have stagnated while internet advertising gains prominence.[4][10] Viewing time is shifting not only among younger audiences but more broadly—from real-time TV watching to smartphones and video streaming.[1][10] This means the power of a network is determined no longer just by program quality but by when, on what screen, and whose attention it can capture. Broadcasters are now competitors in a race for viewers’ discretionary time, beyond merely making shows.

Those competitors are no longer just other broadcasters. Free video platforms like YouTube have lowered production barriers, enabling individuals and small teams direct access to audiences.[2][7] New streaming services like ABEMA place massive upfront bets to capture younger viewing habits.[7] The "program scheduling power" TV networks once held is no longer exclusive. Streamers guide viewers through recommendation algorithms and interfaces rather than program guides. The screen feels quieter, yet competition has become less visible and deeper.

Now, generative AI enters this mix. According to the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry, examples of image and video generation models include Stable Video Diffusion at the end of 2023, and improvements to Sora and Midjourney in early 2024.[8] This suggests video production is no longer just about cameras and large-scale production systems.[8] Materials from the Agency for Cultural Affairs and the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications note that the spread of generative AI brings not only production efficiency but challenges around copyright, fair compensation, and risks of deepfakes.[5][11] What shifts here is not how fast videos are made, but the very definition of who can create, from which words, and at what quality.

This change doesn’t suddenly topple broadcasters’ advantages; rather, it replaces the materials of the protective levees they built. Previously, capital, studios, editing facilities, broadcast slots, and celebrity connections formed strong barriers.[3][10] But in the AI video era, individuals with simple text prompts and minor editing skills can produce visually polished content.[8] Of course, long-format program structuring, field reporting, rights management, and accountability cannot be replaced so straightforwardly.[5][11] These aspects remain uncertain and must be examined over time in production settings to see which processes truly automate and which remain human.

Hence, the value of broadcasters might shift from "being able to make content" toward "being trusted." As video production proliferates, viewers care not just about content freshness but also origin transparency, editorial responsibility, and rights clarity.[5][11] Broadcasters have long maintained that trust via licensing systems and large organizations.[10] Yet trust cannot be preserved by regulation alone. When internal accountability and the distance between studios and society erode, institutional robustness can quickly weaken.[6][12] This is where the gravity of Fuji TV’s crisis lies.

On the other hand, it is insufficient to view the future of the video industry only through scandals. Across the industry, streaming, short videos, and generative AI advance simultaneously, changing production companies’ roles and creators’ revenue structures.[5][7][11] As reports from the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications show, streaming-only content alters profit-sharing for reruns and secondary sales, impacting creators' workstyles.[5] The value of video shifts from the finished product itself toward the design of rights and distribution frameworks.[5][11] Interpreting Fuji TV’s instability as an entry point to this redrawing of the blueprint preserves meaning when revisited later.

Ultimately, the question is not just whether broadcasters will survive.[1][10] Even when video-making power becomes widespread, who will assume responsibility, verify facts, and edit as culture? If those roles remain necessary, broadcasters may persist in new forms; if not, the screen’s focus will quietly migrate elsewhere. What we must next watch is not just the handling of scandals but where advertising, viewing time, generative AI, and rights management reconnect.[4][5][8][10] This is where the enduring significance of this story lies.