This system, which is not uncommon in Europe and America, contributes to a profitable business operation as denned by the difference between output and the cost of producing that output. But in Japan, there is greater emphasis on cost reduction and mutual dependence. The parent firm issues work orders to its child firm simply to get something done at lower cost; in turn, the child firm secures subcontracting work on a regular basis to get the job done. The survival of both parent and child are interlocked. In this system the cost of production decreases as the work flows downward, but the quality of products decreases as well. At the bottom of the pyramid it is extremely hard to expect production in quality as well as quantity. As a result, it is important for a parent company to install a safety valve for checking errors or substandard products. The safety valve could be materials supply, production know-how, or technical guidance on the job. The parent company willingly teaches its child firm the techniques needed to improve its limited capabilities. In addition, the higher-level subcontractors try to motivate people at the lower levels, particularly the top management of the lower subcontractors. At the higher levels success depends more than anything on the motivation of human minds, whereas at the lower levels timely cash payments are usually the best psychological incentive.
This hierarchical production system has given Japan a great competitive edge in coping with fluctuations in the economy and overcoming price wars. The large firms at the top usually get the lion's share of the profits, while the producers at the bottom receive a smaller share and are apt to go bankrupt in times of recession. But the parent company usually indicates its long-range production plan to the subcontractors and in recession caters to any crisis they may face. This is giri (socially interrelated duty). Thus the whole system of "feudalistic capitalism" is run by a large family-like group that makes the most of human labor.
In this chapter, I have stated briefly the historical and cultural distinctions of Japanese society. The following two chapters explore the characteristics of the people and the domestic institutions constituting that society.
2. THE "SELF" OF THE JAPANESE
Japan has a fairly long north-south geographical extension, and is favored by four distinct seasons. It is natural that the people, after thousands of years as a homogeneous group blessed with the turn of the seasons, should develop a distinctive esthetic sense and a culture of sensitive emotions.
For the Japanese, the world was limited to their own islands. As a monolingual, racially homogeneous people, they cultivated their own social ideals of mutual duty and human feeling. The Japanese have traditionally depended upon each other a great deal. A reluctance to clearly assert oneself or to reject others arose naturally from the desire to maintain the cohesiveness of the isolated island society. An uneasiness when separated from the group also developed from this social ideal. The Japanese endeavored by mutual support to provide for what was lacking. In this system of mutual dependence, logic is reduced to a secondary principle, and efficiency often has to be sacrificed to the cause of agreement.
The Japanese have created a nonlogical social environment. "Nonlogical" is entirely different from "illogical." Nonlogical refers to a social approach based on the reality of human relationships rather than on abstract principles of human behavior.
Parliamentary democracy, jet airplanes, bullet trains, sky-high buildings, overseas tours—the Japanese today have all these sophisticated and efficient things, all the trappings of modern civilization. But this should not lead us to conclude that the Japanese people are completely modernized. The "self" of the Japanese is still tied to and nourished by the cultural traditions of the past. The jet airplanes, bullet trains, and sky-high buildings are only the physical additives of modern civilization; no chemical change seems to have taken place in the people themselves.
To understand the basic nature of the people, we should look more closely at the unique feature of the "self" that sustains Japanese society and see how it acts and reacts in response to the conditions of modern life. In Japanese society people must always select a persona appropriate to their role and perform in that persona on the social stage. They must hide beneath that mask. But a mask it remains. It is manipulated by the wearer, and the society functions as the aggregate of the masks. Let us see how a Japanese places himself into the mold or role prescribed by society.
Presentation of the Self
There are a great many ways of indicating the first-person singular ("I") in Japanese—from watakushi and watashi on to atai, ore, boku, washi, temae, sessha, soregashi, and including local variants such as oidon and pronounciation variants such as wacchi. The list seems to be endless. In English there is only "I," in French, "je," and in German, "Ich," in their various grammatical forms. Even the related languages of Chinese and Korean do not have as many expressions for the first-person singular. As far as I know, there is only one in Chinese and three in Korean. Compared with other countries, then, Japan has rich and varied modes for expressing the self.
This indicates the fine "distinctions of sentiment" that are often made in Japanese society, where the self takes on different forms by adapting to its environment. In other words, the word for the self is chosen with regard to a person's social role. When a samurai calls himself sessha (meaning "this clumsy one in humble modesty"), it is entirely appropriate; but if a merchant were to refer to himself by the same designation, it would seem extremely odd. Women do not refer to themselves as ore (an extremely masculine, relatively rough term for "I"), and children do not call themselves washi (a term used by old men). Again, these distinctions of sentiment are related to social position. A Japanese chooses the word for the self that best expresses his social status, preserves his place in society, and follows the hierarchical order of the social system.
The preservation of this delicate cultural expression is the manner in which the Japanese assign value to the self. Today the flood of modern civilization is bringing the doctrine of efficiency into Japan with great force. But even if the people's love of convenience leads them to devote their lives to the new ideal of efficiency, these intangible qualities of Japanese life are not likely to diminish.
Hanko Instead of Signature
It is said that the custom of using thumbprints to identify people derived from the blood compacts made by samurai warriors. The thumbprint further developed into the hanko (a stamp engraved with the Chinese characters for a person's name), which is used everywhere in Japan today. Even though Japan has entered the company of the advanced industrialized nations, there is no sign that the signature is taking the place of the hanko. A wave of internationalization has flooded into the lives of the Japanese people, but the custom of using the hanko shows no sign of diminishing. The stamp is placed on every important document in daily life, as the representation of the self.
The Japanese people are fond of symbols. The nation as a whole has the Emperor as its symbol, every company has its logo, and each family has a family crest that has been handed down from generation to generation. The symbol of the individual is the hanko. But in most cases, only the family name is engraved on the hanko. In other words, even though it represents the individual, it depicts him as a member of the family group. In addition, the family name on the hanko is always enclosed in a border, just as the self is enclosed within the social unit. In both these respects—the eternal relationship with the family and the enclosure of the individual within the family group—the hanko symbolizes the self of the Japanese.