The Japanese mindset - part 3

Because your current frame, or group, in society is the most defining aspect of your persona, competition, which exists in japan as much as in any other country, is not as such between colleagues but more between company A and company B. Rating tends to be the prize outcome of competition. One very prominent example of this is the strong competition that exists between Tokyo and Kyoto universities – Tokyo wins so it ranks higher than Kyoto to everyone. So much so that some companies will only higher graduates from Tokyo university than any other university.
Because this headstrong competition exists, there is often a waste of energy – if one farmer says that cabbages are good the others will follow suit to try and outcompete the other at cabbages. They don’t give any consideration to diversification, in so far that this also happens at book publishers and newspaper companies – the latter group comprises 3 different companies that all do the same morning and evening editions with almost exactly the same layout and content.
This competition not only exists in the top levels, but also within the secondary levels there is competition to be the top of the secondary level.

The final chapter in the book talks about the position the individual takes in this vertical hierarchy. As mentioned before, one is characterised by what frame he is currently in, determined by previous achievements rather than birth or other background. When such an individual enters a group, due to the hierarchical order, he enters at the bottom. If offered a better salary at a different company, the individual may turn the offer down as the increase in salary is accompanied by a potential significant loss in social ranking (both in the position within the hierarchy as well as acceptance). This is partly why, in the past more than the present, Japanese have been very reluctant to take overseas positions – once back in Japan it is hard, sometimes impossible, to immerse fully into a company’s social grouping.

This social grouping exists already from a rather early stage in life – even at university, graduates from the University of Tokyo belong to a sort of social clique. The awareness of this clique mentality is felt more by those outside it than those immersed in it. Just as your chances of employment for good companies are improved by the graduating from the University of Tokyo, your chances of getting into the university are improved by going to a high-ranking high school. Therefore the pressure on students to do well is felt by Japanese at a young age – probably around the time of high school entrance exams. This is all important as the company you enter working for tends to be the one you stay at forever.
As international business relations are becoming increasingly important in Japan, it’s interesting to note that employees who studied abroad before entering the company and have done it for personal gain rather than purely work, fare worse as most companies still prefer to send their own, already established employees, abroad to pick up these qualifications.
This is very indicative of the current Japan – it claims to be modernised, but only so in the political and social sense of the word; the traditional structure remains but utilises modern aspects and therefore masks itself.

The most comfortable career for Japanese is that where they are incorporated in a stable hierarchical system, rise to the top and then retire. The career of a professional is far less stable and much more emphasis is on merit. You are still recognized belonging to a company, and therefore if this company is not of high ranking, neither are you. This means that there are very few free-lancers in Japan. You work for one newspaper, and you do not submit to a competing company’s newspaper.
As in Japan the men spend their entire lives dedicating themselves to their work, their social contacts rarely extend beyond these limits. This is partly because the work that you do is not as strictly divided as in the west, but also because for you to be stable at work everything else must be stable in your life too. It is a little bit like a village. The people that know most about you tend to be your colleagues. However, this information is not shared as freely as it would be with western relationships. Inter-personal relationships in japan are very complicated, and take a lot of constant effort to get right. Therefore the only time many Japanese feel they can relax is going to bars after work (done mostly with colleagues). They feel this is one of the few places they can really relax, not just because of alcohol but also the atmosphere. They come here and drink and talk and are accepted, not having to abide by any strict rules. As the alcohol frees the lips and inhibitions, many personal things are often revealed, but most people understand the need for these bars, nothing said in the bars is referred to ever again. The essence of these meetings is not so much in the conversation as is the emotional exchange.
Because of this – the revolving of a Japanese man’s life around work and his colleagues – wives are often shut out of these social activities and her attention is focused on the children. As they often live far away from family and school friends, their ability to extend social activities is more limited than the husband’s. But as a man climbs the social ladder at work, his attention at home decreases, and often the Japanese wife is a mother both to her kids as to her husband – the core of the Japanese family is parent-child, not husband-wife, a principal not changed after the war.

The last interesting point that the author makes is that tangibility is very important to social relationships. Many Japanese don’t want to work abroad not only for their status at the work place, but also their friends. Often, in Japan, they are not so good with the concept of keeping in contact through letters and phonecalls and e-mails. It is more the concept of: out of sight out of mind. Once someone comes back after say a year, the relationship between old friends is very weak, and things they used to talk about on a daily basis are no more, to such an extent that they almost find it difficult to be friends again.

That’s where I leave off.
I hope you have found it as interesting as I. If anyone wishes to read it it’s called “Japanese society, a practical guide to understanding the Japanese mindset and culture” by Chie Nakane.

The Japanese mindset - part 2

As I said in my last post, about the Japanese system very much working on a vertical level (from old to young, or mostly time working somewhere which is usually along the general guidelines of old to young), and from this next bit you can conclude that his usually seems to be very similar to feudal relationships, and therefore no matter how modern they may seem on the outside, they are still very traditional on the inside. This is very deceptive to most people!!

To take this vertical relationship even further, in most companies and organizations there is a ^ shape with the boss (a) communicating with subordinate 1 (b) or subordinate 2 (c) but b and c never really communicate with each other, like a bottomless triangle.
This means that there can only ever be 1 leader – there is no such thing as parallels or joint leaders. At this point the book goes into detail about oyabun and kobun.

Most Japanese have many sempai – the name for older people they respect and look up to. But out of these someone will usually become an oyabun – someone who guides the younger person though their life and will make difficult decisions for them. If the oyabun doesn’t agree the kobun (younger counterpart) will not do it either. Not everyone is an oyabun, and it doesn’t mean too much if you don’t have one, but very few have don’t have an oyabun (but there is only ever 1 oyabun, never more). Being such a lone wolf (called ippikikan) is very difficult in Japanese society.

So back to the image of the triangle without a base. The supreme importance of the leader in this figure is to prevent it from breaking. This triangular shape without a base is very prone to instability and subsequent fission. Once the leader goes away (leaves, or passes away) Each leg, i.e. b and c, usually breaks away and takes their kobun with them – b or c, based on seniority in terms of years working for the company will take the lead and one will leave.
Another reason fission could occur is because a part is displeased. In Japan, a man gets on top by seniority, and unless you are on top, it is very rare to get public appraisal – to get on top you either wait your turn or you leave. No individual popularity from outside the company (e.g. for being really good at something, popularity from another school or company etc) should exceed that of your senior or boss.

Enlargement of a company will lead to vertical attachments – keeping the same structural characteristics as before. The bigger the company, the more the effectiveness is decreased as the on at the top of the baseless triangle will have more subordinates to work with – for b to get to c, it must go through a first, so with more legs this becomes very hectic. The book claims that this system still survives as the inefficiency is compensated by the efficiency of sending news from top to bottom, but as far as my experience goes, it still remains extremely inefficient by comparison!
Almost there.
The locus is the group instead of personal merit – and oyabun often try to bring kobun along with their success. The protection the kobun give the oyabun is repaid by dependence of oyabun on kobun, affection and loyalty – sometimes called ‘paternalism’ – so the relationship between these people has a greatly enlarged emotional element. A good chief is indicated by his perceptiveness and permission to his kobun. It is also said that it’s better if the man on top is not brilliant because if he were, he wouldn’t be so dependent on his subordinates for help and information thereby losing part of their essential function.

This means there is no clear cut in the divisions of labour – the entire group is amalgamated into a single functional body.
One of the most popular Japanese lovestory is one called: The Forty-Seven Ronin. Oishi Kuranosuke was the leader, and as he was very paternalistic, he had utmost devotion from his 46 followers, so much that they left their families on a course that would end in a suicidal deed, in order that they might assist Oishi’s revenge on his own master.
Men so involved as this have little room left for a wife/sweetheart – if he were to be so involved in a man-to-man relationship there would seem no necessity for a love affair with a woman. His emotions would be completely expended in his devotion to his master – this was most likely the real nature of samurai mentality and is sometimes still true of the modern Japanese man.

Sorry for the long entry but I felt it would be best to explain this all in one!
Hope you find it interesting.
I’ve also attached a photo of a work done by one of my kids at school, I think it’s hilarious English: