The extreme form of this technique was the noteworthy haragei (literally, "art of belly"), meaning "communication by intuitiveness." In this ingenious method of communication, a person just smiled at others and flattered them with his inexpressible charm, all the while hemming and hawing and never committing himself to a clear statement of his ambition or plan. Haragei—letting the partner probe, or intuitively uncovering his real intention—was certainly a highly advanced form of communication for this feudalistic, rank-conscious society.
A few years after the Tokugawa Bakufu collapsed, the Meiji government legally wiped out the strong class distinctions. This sharp break with the feudal hierarchical system was an amazing achievement for the Meiji administration. Eventually the samurai category was dropped entirely. Today, some families may occasionally make reference to their distinguished roots but not so much as the supposed descendants of The Mayflower or the nobilities in England do. Young Japanese are apparently not as interested as young Englishmen in such matters as the blood in their veins.
However, the culture rooted during the Tokugawa period still pervades Japanese society, giving it its nature and character. The rank-consciousness of the society has also made the language elusive. The Japanese language rarely conveys its meaning with clarity, or rather, the Japanese rarely state their meaning clearly. They are always halting or hesitating. Blunt statements very often invite hostility or rejection. People are expected to state the minimum amount in a reserved manner, as if they were afraid to commit themselves one way or the other. In Japanese the verb is placed at the end of the sentence, with the affirmative or negative particle coming at the end of the verb. Thus a speaker can easily break off halfway through a sentence without commit ting himself. The Japanese people are traditionally reluctant to give a clear yes or no answer, especially when they have to make a decision with little time to think. When forced to make a statement in such absolute terms, many a Japanese will naturally hedge.
Foreigners are often annoyed by this cultural trait, but some of them subsequently come to admire it. They realize that it contains a practical human wisdom, an application of the wise old proverb "Look before you leap." The Japanese don't avoid yes and no in ordinary conversation as a matter of principle. They just try to anticipate the result before saying yes or no. Since human relationships are a key factor in this emotional society, the Japanese prefer not to influence others' feelings one way or the other by saying yes as a sign of like or no with a nuance of dislike. Their cultural tradition binds them to withhold free expression of their likes and dislikes. This tradition also affects the relationship between husband and wife, as we will see in Chapter 3.
Today in Japan class distinctions, both formal and informal, are extremely weak. The Japanese have created a very egalitarian society, enjoying the fruits of economic development.
In fact, Japan's unique brand of group-centeredness and group affiliation works against any class feeling. Japanese society is divided into numerous groups, each composed of many status layers. That is, the typical Japanese group is made up, not of people of the same status and function, but of people of different functions and status. This is what Chie Nakane means by a "vertical society" in her book Japanese Society. In contrast, American society has a more horizontal structure, with groups made up primarily of peers. In Japan, intergroup associations are weak and hierarchical relationships within each group are al ways vertical. Naturally, the Japanese don't identify themselves in class terms, and when asked to do so, about 90 percent opt for the middle class; this has been disclosed by frequent questionnaire surveys. Formal class distinctions have all but disappeared in Japan.
Nevertheless, Tokugawa-style rank-consciousness, though it may have relaxed a little, remains, and the skill of adjusting the "self" is still crucial for human relations in Japanese society today. It is enlightening to talk with an owner of any little restaurant frequented by business executives. His remarks will always be the same: "When members of Company X show up for a drink, I can tell without fail who is the most important, who's next, who comes after that, and on down the line." First of all, he can tell from their manner of speech. Even if there is only one year's difference in length of service between two employees, the elder will address the younger by kun, and the younger will address the elder by san (suffixes to their names). This is the skill of adjusting the "self" in response to a partner.
The Japanese company has a pyramidal structure, with people finked in vertical relationships. No matter what special skills or abilities a person has, he will not be regarded as important by society at large unless he has a title, especially the title of cho (chief). As a result, everyone aims for administrative work, where such titles are available in abundance.
The single Chinese character cho on one's meishi (calling card) or desk nameplate is the most important sign of status and a source of endless personal gratification for the Japanese employee. It is the reward for years and years of work under tension and stress. It is also the necessary requirement for the self-esteem of the Japanese organization man. The main significance of the exchange of meishi among Japanese is that it makes clear a man's rank in his organization and group affiliation— Managing Director of A Bank, Director of B Bureau, Professor of Economics at C University, and so forth. As an indication of status in the larger society, the title kacho (section chief) or bucho (department head) is much more effective than the name of one's profession, such as editor or engineer. Almost all bank salesmen and stockbrokers have the title "deputy chief" or "kacho's representative" on their calling cards. This is a social necessity for dealing with prospective customers and gaining their confidence.
Thus a person's title in Japan not only describes the work he does but places him in a larger social ranking that extends beyond the boundaries of his company. Many a Japanese has witnessed a complete change in attitude and manner of address after a client or associate has glanced at the calling card just passed to him. The Japanese still retain the Tokugawa-style rank-consciousness, puffing themselves up if they have a higher social position and humbling themselves if they have a lower position than their associates.
Further, a man's title also defines his wife's role in life and her social position. In the company apartment houses, for example, the rankings of husbands determine the attitudes, manners, social habits, and language of the wives. Particularly overseas, the titles of husbands seem to have extraordinary importance for Japanese wives. When a woman arrives in the country where her husband is stationed, the first thing she will probably do is visit a neighboring Japanese woman to inquire about schools for the children and places to shop for food. In return, the first thing she is usually asked is not, for example, the ages of her children, but her husband's job status—his place of employment and his position there. A Japanese woman living abroad is always identified and addressed not by her own name, but by her husband's company's name and job title—for instance, "Oku-san (wife) of X-san at the Japan Bank," or "Oku-san of the Branch Head." Women with higher-ranking husbands become friends, and those with lower-ranking husbands form their own group. Even at parties, the seating is arranged in accordance with the husbands' social rank. The order in which the wives speak, the amount of their contribution to the conversation, and their manner of speaking parallel their husbands' ranks and titles. Thus in Japanese society a woman gains recognition, self-esteem, and security only by virtue of the title her husband holds. The higher the status of the title, the greater the recognition and security accorded. Those who reach a suitably high status are always addressed in polite speech, but they are not required to reply in kind. This is the rank-conscious society.