Japonitude: Constant Characteristics of an Absolute Island

Whenever a European thinks of the East, the first nation that usually comes to mind is China. Since my junior high school days, I’ve been deeply fascinated by Chinese civilization, especially with Chinese characters. My family has roots in Poland, Russia, and France, and we spoke a variety of languages at home. I studied German and English at school and was terribly interested in languages. And when it came to being taught about non-European culture and civilization, this predominantly meant China.

After graduating high school, I enrolled at the National School of Living Oriental Languages in Paris (École nationale des langues orientales vivantes, the forerunner of the current Institut national des langues et civilisations orientales, or INALCO) in 1968. It was around the time of the student revolution in Paris^※1, and I came across pamphlets supporting China, in which I glimpsed a portrait of Mao Zedong. It was then that I realized that the China I had in mind was pre-1949, and China of the present was a communist country. My Eastern Polish father had fled to France during the Bolshevik invasion of Eastern Poland^※2, leaving me with an ingrained antipathy toward communism.

So, I thought, “If I can’t study China, then which culture or country is closest to it?” Well, my options were Korea, Vietnam, and Japan. Neither Vietnam nor Korea used Chinese characters any longer, leaving Japan as the only nation that does. That’s what steered me towards studying the Japanese language. So, it was all quite serendipitous.

※1 The Paris student revolution of 1968, often referred to as May 68 (Mai 68 in French), erupted when Parisian university students staged riots protesting the government’s educational policies. This eventually escalated into a large-scale civic movement opposing the then-government of President Charles de Gaulle. Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-tung (popularly known as “The Little Red Book”) was widely accepted among leftist intellectuals in France at the time, making Mao Zedong an emblematic figure in the student movement of the day.

※2 The Bolshevik invasion of Poland, which took place between 1919–1921, is commonly known as the Polish-Soviet War or Polish–Bolshevik War.
https://www.gov.pl/web/nippon/–2

Precisely. The National School of Living Oriental Languages changed its name to INALCO（the National Institute of Oriental Languages and Civilizations）in 1971. It was around that time that I had the good fortune to encounter a remarkable teacher, Professor Arimasa Mori^※3. I eagerly attended his lectures on “Japanese Thought.” I soon became friends with Mori-sensei, and we would have meals together outside of class. He was the one who taught me about Japanese culture and inspired my resolution to study in Japan.

Thanks to a letter of recommendation from Professor Mori, I passed the examination for Japanese government-sponsored foreign students. I started by honing my Japanese at what was then Waseda University’s Institute for Language Teaching. Although I was proficient in reading Japanese and Kanbun (classical Chinese texts), speaking and listening were still a challenge. A rigorous year of dedicated study addressed that.

Concurrently, I took the entrance examination to be able to attend a Japanese national university. Seeking advice from Professor Mori, he suggested that I would benefit from studying under a certain professor at Hitotsubashi University’s Faculty of Law. Professor Chihiro Hosoya was a top authority on Japan’s diplomatic history^※4. He took excellent care of his students and led an intimate seminar group that demanded hard work and dedication. You really had to know your stuff (chuckles).

※3 Arimasa Mori (1911–1976), grandson of the politician Arinori Mori, was a graduate of Tokyo Imperial University’s Faculty of Letters. A student of French thought, philosophy, and literature, he became an assistant professor of the University of Tokyo after teaching at First Higher School (forerunner of the University of Tokyo) and went to study in France in 1950. He later resigned his post at the University of Tokyo and eventually settled in Paris, where he taught Japanese language, culture, and thought at the Institut national des langues et civilisations orientales (INALCO).

※4 Chihiro Hosoya (1920–2011), a graduate of Tokyo Imperial University’s Faculty of Law, was an international political scientist specializing in diplomatic history. He taught international relations and Japanese diplomatic history at Hitotsubashi University. He received the Medal with Purple Ribbon in 1985.

Yes, just like everyone else. I advanced from the master’s program to the doctoral program. My research topic revolved around Franco-Japanese diplomatic history, and I wrote my doctoral dissertation using resources from the foreign ministries of both countries. Immersed with the Japanese community at Hitotsubashi University, I perceived stark differences between the Japanese and the French that I felt compelled to document.

At the time, there was compulsory military service in France, but I was able to fulfill my obligations by working for a year and a half in the public relations and cultural sections of the French Embassy in Japan. That was where I met Thierry de Beaucé^※5, then the cultural attaché.

※5 Thierry de Beaucé (1943–2022) was a French diplomat and writer. A graduate of the French National School of Administration (École nationale d’administration, ENA), he served as secretary in the cabinet of Jacques Chaban-Delmas and later as the cultural attaché at the French Embassy in Japan from 1976 to 1978. In 1977, he published The European Malaise (Simul Press, translated by Hiromi Hagino) under the pseudonym of Twickenham, which culminated in his 1979 book, co-written with Mr. Polak, L’Île absolue: Essai sur le Japon (“An Absolute Island: An Essay on Japan,” published in Japanese as Japonitude).

Yes. I really wanted to write about Japan. However, my area of expertise was specific to Japan, and I wasn’t very familiar with France. So, Thierry covered the perspectives of France and Europe while I took on the Japanese viewpoints. We authored the book together.

The term “Japonitude” was coined by Thierry. He was a highly renowned diplomat and had already authored various books, including The European Malaise. He even met the African philosopher Léopold Senghor ^※6, one of the original proponents of the concept of Négritude^※7. In the French vernacular of the day, the word “nègre” meant “Black person,” and Négritude essentially referred to Blackness—the state or essence of being Black. Senghor felt that the colonization and subsequent destruction of African civilization and culture was insupportable. It was his philosophy that international exchange, rather than wars, would secure Africa’s place in the world. This was the thinking behind Négritude, and Thierry was well acquainted with this concept.

※6 Léopold Sédar Senghor（1906–2001）was a Senegalese politician, philosopher, and poet who served as the first President of Senegal. During his studies in Paris in 1934, he co-published the magazine L’Étudiant noir [The Black Student] with colleagues including Aimé Césaire.

※7 Négritude refers to a literary and cultural movement started in the 1930s by Black intellectuals like Senghor and Césaire who had come to Paris from the French colonies.

What Thierry explained to me was Japan’s identity as an “island civilization.” It’s very much an “absolute island” that has fostered a unique culture, social structure, and way of thinking. Naturally, there has always been a significant influence from China, but Japan has managed to comprehend and adapt these influences into something distinctly Japanese. On top of that, there’s Shinto—a religion not found in other countries. Whether it’s precisely a religion or not is another debate, but for our purpose here, let’s refer to it as one. Thierry proposed that Japan possesses a special civilization, one that might be epitomized by the term “Japonitude.” I agreed wholeheartedly.

※8 In the mid-19th century, with the end of Japan’s isolationist policy and the showcase of Japanese arts and crafts at the World Expositions in Paris and London, Japanese art and design saw a surge in popularity in the West. It’s believed that the term “Japonisme” was first used in a series of articles penned by Philippe Burty in 1872.

Exactly. Japan has long maintained a stance of limited interaction, and that’s something that hasn’t changed. By “interaction,” I mean sending and receiving various cultural “waves.” But Japan hardly ever sends out waves to foreign countries. Since the Heian period, the era of the Buddhist monk Kukai, Japan has weathered countless waves from the West—the waves of Chinese civilization, Korean civilization, and even from India and the South Pacific. From Europe, too. Waves of people, as well. There was also the Ainu civilization from the North. Yet, until the nineteenth century, Japan hardly ever made waves in return.

Yes. On such an “absolute island,” civilization remains static and cannot evolve. However, in the latter half of the nineteenth century, Japan unknowingly began making waves on its own. This wasn’t intentional. I’m talking about the first wave of Japonisme^※8. Ukiyo-e and other arts that weren’t particularly valued by the Japanese found appreciation in France. Only later did this foreign appreciation lead the Japanese to see and value their artistry in a new light.

The Meiji Restoration wasn’t driven by the wishes of the general populace but was rather an outcome of internal conflict among the upper echelons of society. The fundamental structure remained intact. This very structure has persisted, from that era right up to the current government. That’s what we were referring to by an “absolute island”–—the core has been set, and only the exterior undergoes minor changes. Such is Japan.

Nothing has changed at all. Especially with the COVID-19 pandemic, Japan has become even more insular. For about two and a half years, Japan imposed tight restrictions on foreigners. Japanese could leave and return, but foreign residents in Japan were barred from re-entry. As a result, I was stuck in Japan for two and a half years. It felt like I was being held captive. Even though I’ve spent my life living in Japan and devotedly working for its benefit, it was deeply saddening.

But coming back to Japonitude, you could say it has become an even more profound version of itself (laughs). There’s no doubt it’s a magnificent culture. However, there’s no real place for foreigners anymore. They are now mainly used as laborers. They work on a five-year contract, then they’re told to leave^※9.

※9 According to Japanese law（the Immigration Control and Refugee Recognition Act）, the length of stay varies depending on the activity. Excluding special cases like “Diplomat,” “Type 2 Highly-Skilled Professional,” and “Permanent Resident,” many have an upper limit of 5 years.
https://www.moj.go.jp/isa/applications/guide/qaq5.html

The 1970s and 80s felt like a time when Japanese society became more open. Japanese could travel almost anywhere without exit visas, and foreigners could freely visit Japan. It felt like the nation had slightly relaxed its closed-off stance. But as the 1990s set in and the bubble economy collapsed, Japan became less assertive on the global stage, often acquiescing to foreign demands. Perhaps that, too, can be seen as a relaxing of its isolationist stance.

Yet, with the isolation brought on by COVID-19, it feels as though we’ve regressed to a mindset reminiscent of the pre-war era. Not physically, but there’s been a significant psychological shift. Take the attitude toward foreigners, for instance. Given that the virus originated abroad, there was a push to exclude foreigners. This extended even to those who had made Japan their home.

But this is the essence of Japonitude. On the one hand, it represents a splendid culture. On the other, it tends to exclude outsiders.

They are one and the same. I’ve called Japan home for 52 years—more than twice as long as anywhere else, considering I only lived in France for 20 years. You could say I’ve truly adopted a Japanese way of life. But no matter how integrated I feel, I remain a foreigner by appearance. Even as a naturalized citizen, I would always be seen as an outsider. That’s why, from an outsider’s view, there are both incredibly positive and negative perceptions of Japan. I really hope you can grasp this complex perspective.

Most Japanese genuinely believe that “our country and culture can never truly be understood by foreigners.” Because of this belief, there’s a prevailing sentiment that “interacting meaningfully might be futile” and “it’s okay just to make use of foreigners.”

This is a structural issue with humanity, rooted in what’s known as the “structure of dependency^※10.” It begins with the relationship with one’s mother and then progresses to relationships in society and the workplace. In the education system, there’s an emphasis on being a part of the group. It molds individuals in such a way that they can’t express themselves independently, and it doesn’t nurture personal growth. As a result, many Japanese lose touch with their own individuality.

※10 A theory about the Japanese psyche proposed by Japanese psychiatrist Takeo Doi (1920–2009) in his 1971 work The Anatomy of Dependence. When he studied in the US in 1950, he was struck by the cultural realization that the term amaeru (to depend and presume upon another’s benevolence) was unique to the Japanese language. From this, he believed that the concept of amae was not only key to understanding the Japanese mentality but also its societal structure.

Exactly. People live within the group and exist within that group. They don’t really exist outside of it. It’s that kind of structure. We can call it collectivism. It transitions from the “structure of dependency” to collectivism. The advantage here is that within the group, they are very powerful. However, on their own, they can be quite vulnerable. I want to stress that this isn’t inherently bad, but rather a distinctive feature.

So, as long as this system doesn’t change, Japanese society won’t either. And the concept of an “absolute island” and “Japonitude” will persist indefinitely.

In my view, the reason many don’t recognize this on a personal level is the almost complete absence of the individual. That’s why people operate within groups. Outside of their company, they have their families, which again is another group. Public servants, for instance, work diligently within their group, doing everything for the organization they serve.

They are fundamentally different. Currently, in France, we’re experiencing what might be called a “second wave” of Japonisme, primarily in reference to the manga boom. Japanese publishers used to believe that foreigners wouldn’t read Japanese manga. However, in the end, the French came to Japan and started translating manga themselves. Like the first wave of Japonisme, this wasn’t intentional. It’s not Japonitude. This is more about foreigners developing an interest in Japan, not something the Japanese actively promoted.

An instance of the Japanese introducing their own culture would be the “Japonismes 2018” event sponsored by the Japanese government in France in 2018^※11. Nearly 300 events were held all over France, attracting a significant French audience. Even so, I don’t consider it a complete success. The essence, the “face” of the Japanese people, was missing. I’m deeply grateful for what was showcased in France. However, the real spirit of Japan was absent. The aspects of Japanese culture they presented were already known to many. People wanted to see the soul, the face of the Japanese.

※11 “Japonismes 2018: les âmes en résonnance”（Souls in Resonance）was held from July 2018 to February 2019, attracting an audience of approximately 3.53 million. At the Japan-France summit held in May 2016, both countries agreed to commemorate the 160th anniversary of their diplomatic relations by hosting the event in Paris in 2018. The event showcased a range of Japanese culture and arts, including exhibitions and stage performances, across more than 100 venues.

The issue is that many in Japan feel they don’t have a strong individual identity to show. Those who feel they do often end up leaving the country. Regrettably, many of Japan’s elites who wish to express their own ideas or pursue their research tend to go abroad. Take, for example, the recent Japanese Nobel laureates,who are actually based in the US^※13. Once they’ve been abroad and have developed their sense of self, they often find it challenging to return to Japan.

On the positive side, within Japanese society, as long as you don’t criticize the rules, you’re free to do just about anything.

I do believe so. Based on my own experience, I came here as an international student with just two bags. Fast forward 50 years, and I now have my own company in a building in Tokyo’s Nihombashi district. I’m here today because Japanese society supported me every step of the way.

※12 From Japonitude, page 79: “To avoid entanglements, Japan values pretense, creating a society of masks. [Roland] Barthes saw it as the ‘Empire of Signs.’ I perceive it more as the ‘Empire of Masks.’” This is a reference to French philosopher Roland Barthes (1915–1980) and his 1970 work on Japan, L’empire des signes (Empire of Signs).

※13 As of 2021, Japanese Nobel laureates based in America include Syukuro Manabe (Physics, 2021), Shuji Nakamura (Physics, 2014), and Yoichiro Nambu (Physics, 2008), all of whom were American citizens; Ei-ichi Negishi (Chemistry, 2010) and Osamu Shimomura (Chemistry, 2008) were affiliated with American universities when they received the prize.

Japan’s food self-sufficiency rate is in the 30% range and continues to decline^※14. This means it can’t sustain itself as an “absolute island.” Balancing isolation while engaging with the global community is a significant dilemma. Japan can’t survive without international involvement. But when it comes to foreign relations, the primary concern is often about conflicting interests, which is true for other countries as well. I personally dislike the term “national interest,” but it’s not exclusive to Japan; France uses it too. However, as we move further into an era where international cooperation is increasingly vital, fixating on national interests tends to be counterproductive. That’s one downside of “Japonitude.”

Foreign relations are between states, but fundamentally, they’re human relationships. Education is crucial here. Sadly, interest in foreign countries seems to be waning in Japan, and the reluctance of young people to study abroad is a major issue. When I ask my university students about their aspirations in my classes, they often respond, “I don’t have any hopes for Japan.” Think about that. This mindset needs to change. Young people need our wholehearted support.

Japanese society faces many challenges in its own right, but these can be overcome if our youth have courage and hope. Back in 1987, during Prime Minister Noboru Takeshita’s administration, I introduced the French measures against declining birthrates at a government study session on the topic. The main idea was that children are not assets of the family but rather national treasures. So, in France, from birth until one becomes a working adult, the state provides comprehensive support.

※14 According to the Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries, Japan’s food self-sufficiency rate for the fiscal year 2021 is 63% based on production value. However, when calculated based on calorie intake, it is 38%.

Yes, both Honda-san and Ibuka-san came to prominence after the war. The two of them frequently clashed with the Japanese administration. This was because they both had strong individual personalities. They were driven by personal ambitions, filled with courage and hope, and were determined to turn their dreams into reality. They had courage, hope, and purpose. I wish the young generation in Japan would possess the same courage, hope, and purpose. Even if they fail, I would hope they persevere. Eventually, what seems like failure will turn into success. Honda-san and Ibuka-san were testament to that.

It still amazes me that I, a mere foreign student, was so blessed as to cross paths with such incredible individuals. The reason I was able to connect with them is that they were Japanese individuals with a strong sense of self. They knew how to talk to people. Age and nationality were irrelevant. They had an infectious energy that made you want to embark on something new together. I traveled the world with both of them. It was so enjoyable, exhilarating. In the end, the Japanese people I’ve been fortunate to associate with throughout my life are those who have a strong sense of individuality. They stand firm in their beliefs, leading to stimulating discussions. Many of my students now embody these qualities.

In my seminars, I often ask students, “You’re job hunting, but do you have a clear purpose in mind?” Students tend to respond with, “It’s challenging in Japanese society,” but I always emphasize that “If you have a purpose and if you have courage and hope, then go for it.” Five of my students have gone on to establish startups that have grown even bigger than my own company（laughs）. Japanese youth are truly incredible. But the proper education is essential. It can be demanding and time-consuming, but the results are astounding. We must wholeheartedly support the young generation. I continue to keep in touch and meet with them regularly.

※15 Soichiro Honda（1906–1991）founded Honda Technical Research Institute （later Honda Motor Co., Ltd.）in Hamamatsu, Shizuoka in 1946. He served as its president until 1973.

※16 Along with Mr. Akio Morita, Masaru Ibuka（1908–1997）founded Tokyo Tsushin Kogyo（later known as Sony）in Nihombashi, Tokyo in 1946. Ibuka served as its president from 1950 to 1971. Honda and Ibuka had a profound personal and professional relationship. After Honda’s death in 1991, Ibuka penned a book titled Waga tomo Soichiro Honda [My Friend, Soichiro Honda]（Goma Shobo）.

Simply put, think of it as going on an exchange program in high school. Imagine a municipal high school in France swapping places with one in Japan for a year. Before coming to Japan, I went on an exchange to Germany during junior high school. It was a transformative experience.

This is immensely important. As far as I know, there aren’t currently any school-wide exchange programs in Japanese high schools^※17, but such initiatives are thriving between France and Germany. In the case of Japan, exchange programs with countries like South Korea or China could be beneficial, but really, any country would do. Exchange programs are essential for Japanese society as they cultivate an international mindset. That’s because when these students go abroad, they’ll be tasked with explaining Japan. So, before they go, they need to study Japan in-depth. It makes them recognize what it means to be Japanese. They’ll understand their identity as an individual Japanese, not just a part of a group. This self-awareness is fundamental, and that, in essence, is education.

※17 Japan’s Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology has been offering the Tobitate! （Leap for Tomorrow）Study Abroad Initiative for high school students since 2013. According to Yoshikazu Ueoku, President of the Japan Association of Overseas Studies, “It’s possible to acknowledge credits earned at overseas high schools up to a limit of 36 credits for a year. However, the decision to recognize them or not is currently left up to individual school principals.”