When studying Chinese and Japanese gardens, one statement left a deep impression on me: “Chinese gardens are miniaturized landscapes, while Japanese gardens are magnified bonsai.” Japan as a country is much like a Japanese garden. As a derivative civilization, Japan did not grow organically but rather selected the most beautiful and brilliant elements from the primary civilizations—like picking the most exquisite flowers and trees from a forest—and embedded these advanced, refined parts into a small world called Japan. Then, through social norms, it meticulously pruned and shaped this world into a delicate, artificial microcosm. Precisely because Japan is unnatural, the Japanese people live with unease. Thus, we see them constrained and strained, possessing minor courtesies but lacking grand principles. They know rules but lack morality. This is a common trait of derivative civilizations: they can grasp the superficial aspects of primary civilizations but fail to understand their essence, knowing the “how” but not the “why.”
The Japanese as “Bonsai”
If Japan is a meticulously crafted Japanese garden, then the Japanese people are the individual “bonsai” within it. Whether voluntarily or under societal pressure, each Japanese person is pruned into the shape required by their group, becoming a part of the collective, making the entire garden appear refined and beautiful. However, these “bonsai” are not naturally grown but are instead the result of each Japanese person suppressing themselves to conform to societal expectations.
The Japanese national character indeed resembles “bonsai.” On the surface, they appear civilized and polite, but this demeanor is not naturally formed. Instead, it is shaped and constrained by social norms. The Japanese do not exist as individuals but as parts of a collective, each playing a role dictated by the group.
Why Does This National Character Exist?
Japan is a densely populated island nation with no escape routes, geographically divided into numerous isolated villages. This environment forces each Japanese person to be part of a collective, suppressing their individuality and living cautiously. In such crowded conditions, standing out or being unconventional can harm others, leading to exclusion or even “murahachibu” (village ostracism).
“Murahachibu” (村八分) was a form of communal punishment in ancient Japanese villages, used against those who violated village rules or collective interests. It involved complete social isolation, where the punished individual received no help or support from the community. Unlike China, where vast land allowed people to move elsewhere if unwelcome, Japan’s limited space forced individuals to remain in their groups, adhering to norms to avoid ostracism.
In this group-centric environment, every industry developed its own rules, which generally protected individual interests (e.g., seniority-based promotion). Thus, everyone follows these rules, molding themselves into the required shape. As a result, the Japanese feel shame rather than guilt, as responsibility is diffused across the group. Each person’s accountability is minimized, and actions are justified by collective norms.
The Japanese constantly “read the air” (空気を読む), observing their position within the group and acting accordingly. They strive to integrate, becoming part of the collective unconscious. This makes them appear disciplined and orderly in peaceful times. However, when the rules turn barbaric, the Japanese can also exhibit collective savagery. For example, indiscriminate school bullying in Japan often stems from rigid group rules, where non-conformity is punished, and the collective nature of bullying absolves individuals of responsibility.
Japanese Aesthetics
As mentioned earlier, the Japanese do not live as individuals but as parts of a collective, becoming “bonsai” shaped by group norms. This self-objectification is reflected in Japanese aesthetics, such as the three traditional aesthetic concepts: mono no aware (物哀), yūgen (幽玄), and wabi-sabi (侘寂).
In Chinese aesthetics, the focus is on people—for example, the appreciation of plum blossoms, orchids, bamboo, and chrysanthemums symbolizes noble character. In contrast, Japanese aesthetics center on understanding objects. Practices like flower arrangement (kadō) and tea ceremony (sadō) focus on the object itself. However, objects that can be understood by humans are inevitably transient—like cherry blossoms or fireworks—leading to the concept of mono no aware (the pathos of things).
Mono no aware (物哀), proposed by Edo-period scholar Motoori Norinaga, is “knowing the heart of things”—a deep emotional resonance with the essence of fleeting beauty. Cherry blossoms, fireworks, and cicada shells symbolize this, as does the Japanese fascination with ruins and old objects (e.g., “ruin photography”).
Since objects perish, appreciating them requires embracing their imperfection and transience, giving rise to wabi-sabi (侘寂). Wabi originally meant simplicity, embodying rustic beauty in quiet simplicity. Sabi referred to the patina of time, celebrating the beauty of aging and imperfection.
Immersion in objects leads to a desire to retreat from the world into shadowy, undisturbed spaces—this is yūgen (幽玄), a pursuit of profound, mysterious beauty. For example, the silhouette of distant mountains under moonlight or twilight hues embodies yūgen. As Tanizaki Jun’ichirō wrote in In Praise of Shadows, “Beauty lies not in objects but in the interplay of shadows between them.”
In this state, one can calmly perceive the passage of time in objects, as seen in Matsuo Bashō’s famous haiku: “Silence— / the cicadas’ cry / penetrates the rocks.” This reflects wabi-sabi aesthetics, another facet of the same Japanese aesthetic sensibility.
Transition: The Mechanized Existence of the Japanese
Japanese aesthetics stem from self-objectification. The Japanese live mechanically and deliberately, a state rooted in their derivative civilization. Unlike primary civilizations, where systems grow organically, Japan borrowed its early systems from China and later from the West. With a complete blueprint, Japan’s task was to shape people into the required pieces to assemble the design. The Japanese learned how the machinery of state operates but not why, making them rigid and confined by rules, unable to deviate.
Why are other derivative civilizations not as strained as Japan? Because Japan, isolated and secure, could deliberately design its systems. Unlike continental derivative civilizations, which were either conquered or reshaped by external forces before learning from advanced cultures, Japan remained untouched, allowing it to meticulously follow its borrowed blueprint.
Japan’s “All-Under-Heaven” Mentality
As a derivative civilization, Japan is unique. It is an island nation, close enough to the mainland to receive cultural influence but distant enough to avoid military threats (unlike Britain). This secure, isolated environment allowed Japan to develop independently while absorbing advanced elements from Eastern and Western primary civilizations.
Moreover, Japan’s fertile volcanic soil and monsoon climate supported agriculture, enabling a population of 12 million by the 16th century (equivalent to China’s Three Kingdoms period) and over 30 million by the 19th century (similar to China’s Qin dynasty). With such numbers, Japan could develop the complex superstructures of civilization.
By the Warring States period, Japan was already a civilizational entity. Its large, isolated population allowed it to assimilate foreign technologies and cultures, forging a unique civilization. This fostered a “great power mentality” among the Japanese.
Of the world’s 197 countries, national mentalities can be divided into two types: those that see themselves as part of the world and must engage with it, and those that view their nation as the entire world—an “all-under-heaven” mentality. Only six countries exhibit this latter mindset, with Japan ranking second, behind only China.
Countries with an “all-under-heaven” mentality believe their nation is complete and self-sufficient. They engage with the outside world only if they choose to, otherwise preferring isolation. Japan’s historical isolation and self-sufficiency make its “all-under-heaven” mentality particularly strong. Unlike India (a history of invasions), the U.S. (too young and immigrant-based), Iran (repeatedly conquered), or Russia (expansionist and conflict-prone), Japan’s isolation was self-imposed. Even during the Tang dynasty, Japan actively sent envoys to China to absorb culture, rather than being passively influenced.
This mentality is evident in Japanese media. In anime, films, and literature, Japan is often the center of the world, where everyone speaks Japanese, and Japanese characters save the world (e.g., Ultraman, Evangelion, Digimon). Even when stories are set globally (e.g., Dragon Ball, Saint Seiya, Lupin III), the world feels Japanized. This reflects the subconscious Japanese belief that Japan is the world.
Local folklore and shrines further reinforce this mentality, embedding the idea that Japan has its own unique myths and cultural heritage, often featured in supernatural media. This was prominent in 20th-century Japanese media but has waned since the 21st century as Japan’s economic stagnation eroded confidence. Modern works like Demon Slayer, Makoto Shinkai’s films, and Detective Conan movies focus more on Japan’s cultural uniqueness than global salvation.
Self-Sufficient Geopolitics
Japan’s isolated geography fostered its “great power mentality.” Unlike South Korea, which sees itself as part of the global supply chain, Japan strives for self-sufficiency, maintaining even obsolete industries like floppy disks, fax machines, and vinyl records.
As a trading nation, Japan’s exports accounted for only 21.8% of GDP in 2023, far lower than South Korea’s 44%. Despite having twice South Korea’s population, Japan’s outbound tourism is less than a quarter of South Korea’s, reflecting its reluctance to engage externally. If not for reliance on oil and food imports, Japan might prefer isolation.
This mentality drives Japan’s pursuit of hydrogen energy—a self-sufficient alternative to fossil fuels, unlike electric vehicles, which rely on lithium and other imports. However, Japan’s aging population and shrinking workforce hinder its ability to sustain new industries, leading to failures in aerospace and missed opportunities in the internet and mobile revolutions.
Japan’s inefficient, low-productivity industries have dragged down per capita GDP, causing it to lag behind the Asian Tigers. By 2023, exports rose to 21.8% of GDP, a record high, signaling the collapse of its self-sufficiency model.
Japanese media no longer boasts the 20th-century ambition to save the world or explore space, instead focusing inward. Japan is in a slow transition from an “older generation that still sees itself as a great power” to a “younger generation that accepts its small-nation status.” But this shift is sluggish, as the older generation sets the rules, and the youth, even if aware of problems, must comply. In this atmosphere where no one is at fault and no one takes responsibility, Japan drifts into yet another “lost decade.”