（恨む文化と学ぶ文化──歴史の前に立つとき）
History offers us two divergent paths after tragedy: one rooted in resentment, the other in learning. Resentment chains us to cycles of hostility, while learning transforms pain into wisdom and renewal. Drawing on Japan’s long experience of disaster and recovery, this essay explores how choosing learning over resentment can shape a more resilient, compassionate, and peaceful future for humanity.
Workers in helmets and safety vests clear rubble with heavy machinery after an earthquake, symbolizing Japan’s culture of resilience, cooperation, and recovery.
Introduction – Two Paths After Tragedy
When human beings face great tragedies—whether natural disasters, wars, or acts of violence—they stand at a crossroads. One path is to carry resentment, holding on to anger and grievance, often allowing the past to justify new cycles of hostility. The other path is to transform pain into learning, using suffering as a lesson to prevent future repetition and to build resilience.
History across the world shows both tendencies. Some societies nurture a culture of resentment, where old wounds remain open and every new generation is taught to inherit the anger of the past. Others, however, seek to cultivate a culture of learning, where past hardships are not forgotten but are consciously reframed as guides for better living.
Japan, with its long history of disasters and wars, offers a striking example of the latter. Time and again, the Japanese people have endured immense suffering—earthquakes, fires, bombardments, and defeat—yet the dominant response has been not revenge, but rebuilding, reflection, and renewal.
This essay explores the contrast between resentment and learning as two fundamental ways of facing history, and considers why the choice between them matters more than ever in our global age.
The Logic of Resentment
Resentment is more than just an emotion; it can become a cultural logic. In societies where resentment dominates, past grievances are not allowed to heal. Instead, they are preserved, retold, and sometimes even celebrated as part of collective identity. Each new generation is asked to inherit the anger of their ancestors, to feel the pain of wounds they never personally experienced.
This logic of resentment provides a kind of energy. It can unify a community in the short term, giving people a shared cause or a common enemy. Yet it also binds the community to a cycle of hostility. Old conflicts are revived, and new conflicts are justified. Resentment insists that the past is never truly past—it demands repayment, vengeance, or retribution.
History shows that, in many cases, the very acts of violence or oppression used to justify resentment were first inflicted within the group itself—on one’s own people, or by one’s own leaders. The grievance projected outward often reflects wounds created inward. The same is true on a personal level: harsh criticism of others often reveals more about the critic than about the target.
When resentment becomes institutionalized, memory itself is turned into a weapon. Peace remains fragile, and the future is chained to the bitterness of the past.
The Logic of Learning
If resentment binds people to the past, learning sets them free. A culture of learning does not deny pain or erase tragedy. Instead, it asks: What can we take from this experience to live better tomorrow? The focus is not on retribution but on responsibility, not on revenge but on renewal.
In Japan, this spirit has been cultivated over centuries. Repeated natural disasters—earthquakes, tsunamis, and fires—forced communities to rebuild again and again. Each calamity became a lesson in resilience: homes were redesigned, evacuation drills were practiced, and cooperation was valued as essential for survival. Even the devastation of war was framed not as a call for vengeance but as a reminder of the human cost of conflict, and a reason to pursue peace.
This learning-oriented mindset springs not only from institutions but from everyday life. When people strive to live with honesty and integrity in ordinary times, they naturally seek constructive responses in extraordinary times. Sacrifice for the sake of others, mutual aid in hardship, and the determination to rebuild—these are not abstract ideals but lived patterns of behavior.
The logic of learning, then, transforms suffering into wisdom. It ensures that tragedies are not repeated in vain but become stepping stones toward a more humane future.
Why This Difference Matters Today
In our global age, cultures, nations, and individuals are more connected than ever before. Yet this closeness also magnifies friction. How we choose to face the past—through resentment or through learning—shapes whether that friction becomes destructive conflict or constructive cooperation.
A resentment-oriented culture keeps wounds open. It encourages people to define themselves through victimhood, to see others as perpetual adversaries, and to pass on anger as an inheritance. In an interconnected world, such a stance easily spreads division across borders and generations.
By contrast, a learning-oriented culture creates the conditions for trust. When past suffering is reframed as shared wisdom, it invites empathy rather than hostility. It teaches communities that resilience, responsibility, and renewal are stronger foundations than blame.
The difference becomes especially clear in times of crisis. Natural disasters, pandemics, and wars test not only our infrastructure but also our moral fabric. Societies that cling to resentment often fracture under the pressure, while those that practice learning can emerge stronger, using hardship as a catalyst for deeper solidarity.
In a century already marked by global shocks, from financial crises to climate change, this choice is not abstract. It is urgent. Whether we lean toward resentment or toward learning may determine not only our future together but the very survival of our shared humanity.
Conclusion – Choosing the Path of Learning
History never disappears. It lives in memory, in stories, and in the choices we make about how to carry it forward. We cannot undo past tragedies, but we can decide whether to chain ourselves to them through resentment or to elevate them into lessons through learning.
Japan’s experience across centuries offers a reminder: even amidst devastation, people can choose renewal over revenge, resilience over bitterness. This choice does not erase pain, but it transforms pain into wisdom. It honors the dead by protecting the living.
In a world where crises are inevitable—earthquakes, pandemics, wars, and climate shocks—we too must decide which path to follow. The path of resentment promises only cycles of hostility. The path of learning opens the possibility of solidarity, trust, and peace.
To choose learning over resentment is not simply a cultural preference; it is a moral responsibility. And in our global age, it may be the key to ensuring that humanity not only survives, but flourishes.
[Author’s Note]
Japan has always been a land of earthquakes, typhoons, tsunamis, and volcanic eruptions. In such a place, resentment toward disaster was never a viable option. Blaming nature—or each other—could not rebuild a home or feed a community. Instead, people had no choice but to unite, to rebuild together, and to redesign their towns to withstand the next calamity. Over time, this necessity cultivated a culture of learning rather than resentment.
By contrast, in regions blessed with stability and fewer natural disasters, people often turned their energy toward human rivalries. Resentment, fear, and even violence became tools of control. Ironically, those most sheltered by fortune sometimes grew most attached to cycles of grievance.
Seen in this light, Japan’s history of suffering is also a history of resilience. The constant demand to face disaster and start again helped nurture a culture that seeks renewal over revenge, solidarity over bitterness. Perhaps this is not merely historical accident, but a kind of destiny—a gift hidden within hardship.
