（差別から響き合いへ──多様性の歴史から学ぶ日本の教訓）
Discrimination is often seen as a problem to be solved by laws and institutions. Yet both in Japan and the United States, attempts at institutional solutions have too often turned sensitive issues into insensitive businesses. What if the deeper problem is not “distinction” itself, but contempt—and what if the answer lies not in more systems, but in cultural ethics of respect, harmony, and resonance?
A protester passionately shouting through a megaphone, demanding justice as others hold protest signs behind her.
Discrimination or Contempt? Rethinking “Sabetsu” in Japan and Beyond
When people speak of “discrimination,” the English word usually covers two very different realities: one is the act of making distinctions, such as between roles, responsibilities, or qualifications; the other is the act of looking down on others, treating them with contempt, or denying them dignity.
In Japanese, however, both are pronounced sabetsu. Yet there is a crucial difference. The first meaning—distinction—is inevitable in any society. A company must distinguish between a manager and a staff member; a nation must distinguish between citizens and non-citizens. Such distinctions are not inherently unjust. But the second meaning—contempt, or what we might call sabetsu as sabetsu—is the act of demeaning others, refusing to recognize their human worth.
The problem is that in modern debates, these two meanings are often confused. In English, the lack of linguistic distinction fuels endless disputes. In Japan, the identical pronunciation hides the moral difference between “discrimination” and “contempt.” And in both countries, this confusion has turned what should be a sensitive issue into an insensitive business, easily exploited for political and financial gain.
This essay will explore how Japan’s postwar experience with minority issues and America’s struggles with racial discrimination reveal the same structural distortion—and why a cultural perspective rooted in wa (harmony) and shirasu governance may offer a way forward.
Problem in Japan: When “Sabetsu” Became a Business
In postwar Japan, the issues of sabetsu became highly politicized. Two of the most prominent examples are the status of zainichi Koreans (Korean residents in Japan, many of whom remained after Japan’s defeat in 1945) and the buraku issue (discrimination related to outcaste communities).
In both cases, the original problem was not simply “distinction.” It was the reality of contempt—people being looked down upon, excluded from jobs, or treated as inherently inferior. This sabetsu as contempt was a moral failure, and it demanded a cultural and ethical response.
Yet the response chosen by the government and activist groups was largely institutional and financial. Special subsidies, legal privileges, and entire bureaucratic structures were built, ostensibly to eliminate discrimination. But in practice, these measures created new hierarchies and new opportunities for exploitation.
Those who positioned themselves as “victims” could secure funding, influence, or immunity from criticism. The result was a paradox: to claim discrimination became profitable. A problem of human dignity was transformed into a political economy.
This is what I mean when I say that a sensitive issue was turned into an insensitive business. Instead of cultivating mutual respect, Japan built systems that incentivized grievance and division. And once such structures take root, they are very difficult to dismantle—because too many interests are invested in keeping the problem alive. In Japan, this phenomenon is often referred to as a “victim business” (higaisha bijinesu), where the identity of being a victim itself becomes a source of profit.
Parallel in the United States: From Civil Rights to a New Hierarchy
America’s history of racial discrimination is long and painful. Segregation laws, “Jim Crow” practices, and open violence against Black communities persisted well into the mid-20th century. By the 1960s, the civil rights movement succeeded in outlawing many of these injustices, and by the 1970s, legal discrimination was formally dismantled.
But then came affirmative action—programs designed to give preferential treatment in education and employment to historically disadvantaged groups, especially African Americans. The intention was understandable: to correct centuries of exclusion. Yet in practice, affirmative action created a new dilemma.
When college admissions or job promotions were decided not by individual merit but by racial quotas, many people felt that justice had simply been replaced by another form of injustice. What was meant to repair discrimination began to resemble reverse discrimination.
More troubling, this system also incentivized grievance. Just as in Japan, where victimhood could become a business, in the United States the status of being “disadvantaged” often became a political and economic resource. To claim discrimination could open doors to funding, legal advantage, or moral authority.
Thus, a sensitive issue—the deep wound of racism—was once again turned into an insensitive business. Instead of healing the divide, policies sometimes deepened mistrust between communities. And as with Japan, once such structures became institutionalized, they proved very difficult to undo.
Thoughts and Interpretation: Beyond Systems, Toward Resonance
Looking at both Japan and the United States, we see the same paradox: attempts to solve discrimination through systems and institutions often end up creating new distortions. In Japan, subsidies and bureaucratic programs turned sabetsu into a “victim business.” In the United States, affirmative action transformed the wound of racism into a field of reverse discrimination and grievance politics.
In both cases, the moral problem of contempt (sabetsu as sabetsu) was never truly addressed. Instead, the focus shifted to material benefits, political leverage, and institutional control. The result: a sensitive issue became an insensitive business, and the original injustice remained unresolved.
What is missing is not another law, nor another subsidy. What is missing is a cultural ethic—a shared understanding that distinctions are natural, but contempt is intolerable.
Here Japan’s traditions may offer something of value to the world. The spirit of wa (harmony) does not deny differences in role or responsibility, but it rejects the act of looking down on others. The principle of shirasu governance—where leaders “let the people live” rather than “rule over them”—assumes diversity while insisting on dignity.
In other words, the real solution lies not in external systems, but in the inner cultivation of respect and resonance. A society that chooses to resonate across differences will not eliminate distinctions, but it will transform them from sources of conflict into sources of cooperation.
Japan’s Long Experience and a Future of Resonance
Japan, located at the eastern edge of the Eurasian continent, has never been isolated from the rest of the world. For over two millennia, people from many lands have come to these islands, leaving traces in language, culture, and even appearance. In this sense, Japan shares something with the United States: both are nations shaped by migration.
Even today, the diversity of Japanese faces tells the story. Some look almost European, others appear distinctly African, yet both may trace their family lines back hundreds of years as unmistakably Japanese. This is not an accident but the fruit of long historical blending. The Shinsen Shōjiroku—a genealogical record compiled in the early ninth century—explicitly states that two-thirds of the aristocratic clans in the Kinai region were of immigrant origin. In other words, Japan has more than a thousand years of proven experience in integrating newcomers into its society.
This history shows that immigration need not destroy harmony. What matters is whether newcomers and hosts alike can participate in a cultural ethic that values dignity over contempt, cooperation over grievance.
The real lesson, then, is not only for Japan but for the world: institutions alone cannot solve the problem of discrimination. What is needed is a deeper ethic—what Japan has long called wa (harmony) and the principle of shirasu governance. These traditions do not erase differences, but they prevent difference from turning into contempt.
As our global society becomes ever more diverse, the challenge is clear: will we turn sensitive issues into insensitive businesses, or will we choose to resonate across differences?
Japan’s history suggests that resonance is not a dream. It is a path already walked, a living possibility for the future.
【Author’s Note】
When I write about discrimination, I do not mean to deny the pain of those who suffered from contempt. That pain is real, and it must not be forgotten. But what I want to stress is this: if we rely only on systems and laws, we risk turning that pain into a commodity, a business.
True resolution does not come from external enforcement. It comes from within—from a willingness to resonate with one another, across differences, without contempt.
As a Japanese who has inherited a long history of diversity, I believe this is the path Japan can share with the world: not “ruling over,” but shirasu—letting each life shine, together, in harmony.
