Figuring out your purpose in life is so hard. Even after working in the same field for decades, I still can’t answer the question of what I want to be when I grow up. I expect things were easier thousands of years ago, when subsistence living and going to war with neighboring tribes were the only viable options. These days, it is easy to feel purposeless, especially when the next TikTok video is just a swipe away.
Such feelings aren’t limited to humans. Nations also struggle to find their raison d’être. Even when they have an inkling, they struggle to communicate this vision to their citizens or the world at large. And as the proverb goes, “Without a vision, the people perish.”
America is Blunt
I didn’t notice this so much growing up in the United States. If anything, America has too many core beliefs, and it’s not afraid to shout them from the rooftops. Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness! Land of Opportunity! In God We Trust! Capitalism and Democracy! Freedom! The proclamations even show up in entertainment: Truth, Justice, and the American Way!
Since moving to Japan, I have listened in vain for similar messages. Japan has core principles, of course. Any nation with this amount of cultural richness and worldwide impact built up over millennia must have a stable foundation. But compared to raucous crowds shouting, “USA! USA!” the Japanese version comes across as almost a whisper, transmitted softly through that air we are supposed to be able to read.
Japan is Vague
That near-silence is driven by aimai (曖昧), a “vagueness” that both helps define the culture and is the means of transmitting it. In a community that values subtlety, just because something is important doesn’t mean you have to blurt it out all the time. This communication style shows up all throughout society, even in things normally defined as patriotic. America’s national anthem describes a battle complete with “bombs bursting in air.” In the Japanese counterpart, the text imagines small pebbles slowly building up into boulders over thousands of years, no explosions necessary.
This indirectness means that sometimes you must figure things out on your own, since nobody is going to tell you directly. Shippai kara manabu (失敗から学ぶ, “learning from failure”) is a societal expectation, and a common way that on-the-job training is done here. Transmitting skills and values by osmosis may take years or decades, but the results are obvious when you consider the attention to detail that defines Japan.
Foreigners who move here later in life miss out on all that natural cultural absorption. It’s no wonder that so many immigrants struggle with everyday actions, things that citizens take for granted. All countries have specialized practices and jargon that new residents must pick up. But Japan’s sink-or-swim instruction style can make the acquisition of these duties difficult.
The Impact of Ambiguity
Japan’s vagueness also impacts its place on the world stage. When it was pumping out new transistor radios and fuel-efficient cars before everyone else, it didn’t have to say anything; the results spoke for themselves. Now that such technologies have become commodities, Japan’s restrained voice is causing it to be overlooked in the realm of world affairs.
Japan can still push its agenda thanks to its size, its technologies, and its reputation. But as the nation shrinks numerically and as the world becomes comfortable with cheap knock offs from anywhere else, the value of Japan’s reputation, while laudable, might not be sufficient to carry the society or its people. At times like this, communicating the nation’s vision and core beliefs more directly can increase stability and harmony among all its residents.
Image Credits: Justin Schlesinger/Pexels
