It was indeed fortunate for our slow friend the tortoise that the hare relaxed his mind and took a nap. If he hadn't, there would have been no contest. The present "examination hell" that holds all young people in Japan in its thrall is another example of this disregard for differences in ability. Everyone is urged to climb up the hierarchical ladder—regardless of his native abilities, or conspicuous lack of them— and is egged on with the familiar Japanese admonition, "Ganbatte!" ("Try hard!") Though there are often calls for reform, as long as the Japanese are mesmerized by the fable of the tortoise and the hare, any effort at reform is doomed to fail.
As previously noted, Japanese society judges a person's worth by his title, in rather simple-minded fashion. It gives highest value to those toward the top of the social pyramid. There is only one value system, and it is monolithic. Therefore, it is essential to have some sort of certification of quality at an early point in the hierarchical climb. This first (and very often last) testament of ability is the academic record, which is the credential every student needs to join the industrial force. It is the student's first important title to show to society. In order to gain this title, young people must desperately pour their energies into study for the university entrance examination. They have very little chance to reflect on their innate abilities, very little time to consider other directions.
Since the Japanese are a homogeneous people, perhaps there is little reason to expect great differences in ability among them. But even though they may be physically similar, each has a different nature and different abilities. A hare is bound to win a land race, but it would be another story in the water. In the same way, depending on how the world turns and the task we put ourselves to, our abilities will produce very different results. Many people in Japan do secretly seem to believe they might have done better if they had focused their energies in another direction. But with the monolithic value system, everyone throws himself into the fray for vertical promotion with little heed to his innate abilities. If the Japanese were more self-minded on the upward social climb and found more time to reflect properly on their talents and aptitudes, they might pursue goals more in consonance with their true abilities and values. When and if this happens, Japan will make further progress.
Horizontal Terror
Not everyone can rise to the top. When you build a castle wall, you need little stones as well as big rocks. Every society has a need for plodders as well as geniuses, for those with no more than an elementary school education as well as for university graduates. Nevertheless, in Japan vertical promotion is so highly valued, and the competition for it so fierce, that no one is content staying where he is. Those who remain at the lower levels of the hierarchy are known as "the goods at the bottom of the pile."
Since everyone theoretically has an equal opportunity for advancement, those who fail to reach the upper levels are regarded as the losers or the defeated in life and bear a heavy psychological burden. In a country with distinct class divisions, people seem to be satisfied within the confines of their own class—a bus driver is content among bus drivers, an engineer among engineers. Not so in Japan. Everyone can and does jump into the climb.
Therefore, in a vertical society, every co-worker is a rival. All those related to you horizontally—that is, all your peers—are a threat. The expression "to have your legs pulled out from under you" suggests that the pulling comes from below, but in most cases it's a shove from the side—by a colleague or a co-worker at approximately the same level who has the same aspirations that you do. The Japanese expression yokoyari (an interruption; literally, "side spearing") describes the nature of the threat posed by colleagues. The Japanese practice of circulating a buck slip (ringisho) as a way of preparing the groundwork for a consensus shows just how important it is to prevent yokoyari, or sidetracking of your effort to make a decision and build a consensus. Competition between groups follows the same pattern. The most dangerous enemy is the company that produces the same product. Publishing houses are in fierce competition with other publishers, newspapers with newspapers, universities with universities, town with town, and, unfortunately, government ministry with government ministry.
This rivalry stirs up a spirit of enthusiasm that encourages development and increases production. Thus, as long as it is not excessive, it is a healthy phenomenon. But excessive rivalry causes friction, and friction can have exactly the opposite results. The Japanese are perhaps the coldest people in the world to those they consider outsiders—people who are not part of their group. Everyone in Japan has seen or experienced the following scene: A tired-looking commuter relinquishes his seat to someone on the train. Listening to their conversation, one invariably discovers that they are friends or members of the same group. In most cases, a lower-ranking employee offers his seat to a higher-ranking employee. But the same person who so readily and cheerfully gave up his seat to an "insider" would push aside an "outsider" in a mad dash for that seat. There are bus drivers and railway employees who cannot reply to commuters in a civil manner. They are so cold and just plain rude that commuters would be better off trying to talk to a vending machine. Owing to the nature of the vertical society, the Japanese do not feel the need to show any feeling or regard for "outsiders." They still live inside their fief.
The problem becomes even more severe when the Japanese are abroad. The coldness, the actual belligerence, that two unknown samurai direct to each other in their stony glances when they meet is startling. Yet it is a behavior that they can't seem to escape. Can we explain this coldness simply as lack of sociability? Chie Nakane, in Human Relations in a Vertical Society (written in Japanese), offers this interpretation: "The uncertainty of someone unaccustomed to dealing with equals becomes mixed up with the surprise of suddenly meeting someone in an alien environment. The belligerent behavior is produced to cover up that weakness." The most important phrase in Dr. Nakane's interpretation is "someone unaccustomed to dealing with equals," or, more precisely, with equals outside one's group.
Feelings or obligations are hardly recognized beyond the perimeter of the group. It is not just the bus drivers and station employees who feel no obligation to be civil to those outside their circle. The passengers feel no need to be especially polite and sociable either. This rather dry relationship is the norm among people who are unrelated by group membership. It is undoubtedly a carryover from the Tokugawa period, when people were, not used to dealing with "equals" from a different fief.
Giri and Ninjo
In contrast to the above, the Japanese show the utmost devotion to those inside their group. Every member of a group is bound by ties of giri (interrelated social duty) and ninjo (human feeling). Giri is the creation of kinship-like ties between people; it is a relationship of interdependence brought about by on (a favor, or debt of gratitude as a result of receiving a favor). It is, according to the dictionary, also the proper moral duty of all Japanese.