Martin Jacques - When China Rules the World

After periods of intense Westernization, the relationship between Japanese and Western elements in the country has been the subject of intense reflection and debate. Japan’s post-1868 history, indeed, has seen alternating phases of Westernization and Japanization. The first twenty years after the Meiji Restoration saw a furious process of Westernization on many fronts, but by 1900 this had given way to a period of introspection and an attempt to specify the nature of the Japanese essence. In this debate three characteristics were used to define Japaneseness: the emperor system, the samurai spirit, and the idea of a family society (with the emperor as father). After the defeat in the Second World War and the American occupation, there was again a frantic period of economic catch-up and Westernization followed, in the 1970s and early 1980s, by a further phase of seeking to define the nature of the Japanese realm, [150] [150] Yoshino, Cultural Nationalism in Contemporary Japan , p. 2; Wilkinson, Japan versus the West , pp. 44-5. though the conception of ‘Japaneseness’ deployed at this juncture was distinctively different from that of the early 1900s. The nihonjinron (meaning ‘discussions on the nature of the Japanese’) in the 1970s focused on Japan as a homogeneous and group-orientated society, and the Japanese as a non-verbal, non-logical people. [151] [151] Yoshino, Cultural Nationalism in Contemporary Japan , pp. 12–20; interviews with Kosaku Yoshino, Tokyo, June 1999 and June 2005. Not surprisingly, given the context of the times, these latter characteristics were essentially designed to define Japaneseness in contradistinction to the American influence that had loomed so large in Japanese life during the post-war decades.

In reality, of course, the nature of Japaneseness cannot be expressed in such reductionist terms. The nihonjinron were politically inspired cultural responses to Western influence. They tell us much about the Japanese psyche, about the desire to be different and distinct, but they only partially reveal what is continuingly and persistently different about Japan. In The Chrysanthemum and the Sword , Ruth Benedict argues:

In studies of Western nations one who is untrained in studies of comparative cultures overlooks whole areas of behaviour. He takes so much for granted that he does not explore the range of trivial habits in daily living and all those accepted verdicts on homely matters, which, thrown large on the national screen, have more to do with that nation’s future than treaties signed by diplomats. [152] [152] Benedict, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword , p. 10.

The distinctiveness of Japan — as with other countries, indeed — lies precisely in the stuff of the everyday and the easily overlooked, from the nature of relationships to the values that inform people’s behaviour.

Japanese relationships operate according to a strict hierarchy based on class, gender and age. Each relationship is finely graded accordingly, depending on the degree of previous contact and familiarity. The importance of hierarchy is initially learnt in the family, with the father cast as the undisputed head of the household and each member of the family occupying a preordained position. The family is regarded as a microcosm of society, with the firm, like the nation, conceived in its image. The gradations of relationships are reflected in the use of language, with different words for ‘you’, for example, depending on the status of the other person. The language is also gendered, with men and women required to use different words and modes of address. Japanese is a ‘respect language’ and its nuances are accompanied by a system of bowing, the degree of bow depending on the status of the other person. [153] [153] Ibid., pp. 47-8, 55. Firms often advise their employees on the required extent of the bow based on the importance of the other person. [154] [154] Van Wolferen, The Enigma of Japanese Power , p. 160.

Japanese conventions require not only a respect for hierarchy but also an onerous and complex system of obligations. There are two kinds of obligation, or on : the gimu , which is limitless and lifelong, and which one owes to one’s parents, for example; and the giri , which is finite. These obligations lie at the heart of Japanese society: virtuousness is defined in terms of meeting one’s obligations rather than money, which has become the typical measure of virtue in Western society. [155] [155] Benedict, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword , pp. 98-9. If one fails to meet one’s giri , one feels a sense of shame. Broadly speaking, cultures can be divided into those that are based on guilt, like the Christian-derived West, and those that are based on shame. The sense of guilt in the former stems from the idea of original sin and the belief that left to their own devices — and inevitable base instincts — people are inherently sinful. Shame, on the other hand, is the product of monitoring one’s actions by viewing one’s self from the standpoint of others. Japanese society is rooted in shame: it is how one is regarded by others, rather than one’s own individual conscience, which is critical. A sense of guilt can be salved by an act of apology; shame, in contrast, is not nearly as easily assuaged. The consequence is very different patterns of behaviour. While in the West, for example, suicide is frowned upon as a selfish act, in Japan it is seen as the ultimate way of settling one’s giri and, therefore, as a noble act. As a result, it is far more common: [156] [156] Deepak Lal, Unintended Consequences (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1998), pp. 12–13, 91-3, 148; Benedict, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword , pp. 103, 113-15, 122, 166, 171, 222-4. 35.6 male suicides per 100,000 population in Japan in contrast to 17.9 for the US, 10.8 for the UK and 19.7 for Germany. [157] [157] Suicide Rates (World Health Organization, 2007). The rates for women are 12.8 for Japan, 4.2 for the US, 3.3 for the UK and 6.6 for Germany.

The latticework of personal relationships, based on hierarchy and obligations, informs the way all Japanese institutions work, from the extended family and the firm to school and government. Take the firm: the relationship between the large corporations and the small- and medium-sized companies that depend upon them is of a distinctly hierarchical character. Lifetime employment, which still predominates in the large corporations, embodies a conception of obligation on the part of both the company and the employee that is quite different from the narrowly contractual — and often short term — nature of employment in the Anglo-American tradition. The firm is seen as akin to a family, with the company having multifarious obligations to the employee while the employee — mainly male (women still play a relatively peripheral role in the labour force compared with the West) — in return is expected to give most of his life, in terms of both career and the hours of the day, to the company. The seniority system, widely practised in Japanese companies, where one steadily climbs the company ladder as one gets older and enjoys a rising income and growing authority, rather than being dispensed with in the manner of the Western firm, reflects the age-hierarchy of Japanese society. [158] [158] Morishima, Why Has Japan ‘Succeeded’ , pp. 86, 107-17; van Wolferen, The Enigma of Japanese Power , Chapter 6.

There are many other ways in which the distinctively Japanese culture of relationships shapes the attitude towards and conduct of institutions. The Japanese, for example, are profoundly averse to the use of the law, primarily because of a desire to avoid the kind of confrontation that characterizes the process of litigation. As a consequence, Japan does not have enough lawyers to support even a fraction of the litigation that takes place in Europe, let alone the United States. Virtually all cases of civil conflict are settled by conciliation, either out of court or before any legal judgment is made. [159] [159] Lucian W. Pye, Asian Power and Politics: The Cultural Dimension of Authority (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1985), p. 179; van Wolferen, The Enigma of Japanese Power , pp. 213, 221.