In an age where division, mistrust, and fear dominate global headlines, there remains a quiet yet powerful lesson from the heart of Japan.
This article explores how a culture rooted in trust, shared values, and spiritual unity—anchored by the presence of the TENNO—shaped a society where harmony was not imposed, but lived.
Through the eyes of foreign observers and the wisdom of the past, we rediscover a path that may still hold hope for the future of humanity.
1. Introduction – Rediscovering the Heart of Japan
Today, the world is more interconnected than ever. Diverse cultures and values circulate freely across borders, and the exchange of information and technology has become part of everyday life.
Yet, at the same time, we face growing challenges—cultural misunderstandings, divisions between peoples, and a deepening erosion of trust.
Precisely because we live in such times, perhaps we should pause for a moment and revisit the image of Japan that once inspired both admiration and wonder in the eyes of the world.
In the mid-16th century, during the turbulent Warring States period of Japan, the Jesuit missionary Francis Xavier visited the country.
Despite the chaos of the era, he described the Japanese as “the finest people I have ever encountered.”
Later, in the 19th century, the American zoologist Edward Sylvester Morse, who came to Japan during the early Meiji period, called it “a paradise for children,” expressing heartfelt admiration for the people and their culture.
What they saw in Japan was not a nation seeking to conquer the world with force, nor one flaunting its wealth or power.
Rather, it was a society in which people lived in mutual trust and harmony, supporting and respecting one another as a natural way of life.
This article begins with the voices of these foreign observers and seeks to explore the deeper layers of the Japanese spirit—its cultural foundations, the quiet systems of trust that sustained everyday life, and the way they gave rise to a society rooted in resonance and shared humanity.
2. Body 1 – What Foreign Eyes Saw in Japan
In the mid-16th century, Francis Xavier, a Jesuit missionary who visited Japan during its war-torn Warring States period, wrote:
“The people of this country are the best that have yet been discovered.
I have not found among the heathens people better than the Japanese.
They are friendly, generally good, and free from malice.
They are remarkably honorable, valuing honor above all else.
Though most are poor, even the samurai do not consider poverty a disgrace.”
What makes this statement remarkable is its historical context. Xavier encountered Japan not during an age of peace, but amid one of its most chaotic and violent periods.
Yet despite the surrounding disorder, he praised the Japanese for their warmth, decency, and pride—qualities he found striking in such circumstances.
Three centuries later, in the 19th century, American zoologist Edward Sylvester Morse came to Japan and documented his experiences in the book Japan Day by Day.
He observed the lives of ordinary people and was particularly moved by how children were treated in Japanese society:
“There is no country in the world where children are treated more kindly,
or where more care is taken for them.”
“Foreign authors unanimously agree that Japan is a paradise for children.”
“Japanese children are granted more freedom than those in any other country,
and they seldom abuse it.”
“No other people respect and cherish their parents and elders as deeply as Japanese children do.”
“The Japanese are remarkably clean;
even the poorest children do not play directly on the dirt but sit on mats laid out by adults.”
Morse also addressed criticisms from some Western writers who claimed that Japanese homes lacked privacy.
In response, he noted that while such privacy might be necessary in societies where trust is lacking, it is not needed in cultures built upon mutual respect and social harmony—values he believed were deeply rooted in Japan.
What impressed these foreign visitors was not technological advancement or material wealth, but rather the subtle dignity, trust, and cultural depth they found in everyday life.
They witnessed a society where people lived in quiet harmony, shaped by compassion and human connection.
3. Body 2 – The Roots of Social Harmony: The Role of TENNO
The social harmony observed by visitors like Xavier and Morse was not enforced by strict authority, but arose naturally from a culture of mutual trust.
But what made such trust possible?
A Shinto priest I deeply respect once told me:
“Japan has always been a community united under the TENNO.”
The TENNO, often mistranslated as “Emperor” or “King,” is neither a political ruler nor a sovereign in the Western sense.
In Japan, the TENNO holds the highest moral and cultural authority but does not possess political power.
This makes the role of the TENNO unique in the world, and in this article, I choose to write it as “THE TENNO” to reflect that distinct position.
The TENNO is believed to be a direct descendant of Amaterasu-Omikami, the Sun Goddess and highest deity in Japanese mythology.
Most native Japanese people, in fact, are considered to be distant relatives of this lineage.
To understand this, consider the math:
Every person has two parents, four grandparents, and so on.
If we go back 27 generations, that requires over 130 million ancestors—the approximate population of Japan today.
Just 27 generations ago—about 700 years in the past.
And the first TENNO, Emperor Jimmu, is said to have lived about 2,600 years ago.
In this sense, all Japanese people are interconnected through a vast web of familial bonds, with the TENNO as the symbolic “head family” of the nation.
Just as an elderly patriarch prays for the well-being of his children and grandchildren—no matter how far apart they may live—the TENNO prays for the peace and happiness of the people.
This sense of being connected through prayer, trust, and shared identity is what sustained the spirit of Japan as a harmonious community.
4. Body 3 – Trust, Not Control: A Culture Beyond Fear
The long-standing peace and harmony in Japanese society were not achieved through force or surveillance, but through something far more powerful: trust.
Rather than a culture of control, Japan cultivated a culture where people naturally upheld order by honoring shared values from within.
One symbolic example is the Shōsōin (Shosoin), a treasure house built in 756 during the Nara period.
Despite storing national treasures of immense value, the building has no lock.
Its entrance is sealed only with a paper charm. And yet, it remains untouched by theft.
Why? Because the moral principle of “not stealing” lived not in external enforcement, but in people’s inner conscience.
This culture of inner morality continued well into modern times.
Even just a few decades ago, many homes in Japan had no locks.
Front doors were left open, and no one worried about being robbed.
Such a way of life was made possible not through laws, but through an unspoken ethical awareness—a shared sense of “I must not do what would bring shame, even if no one is watching.”
At the heart of this shared conscience was the spiritual presence of the TENNO, and the sense of being part of a nation united in prayer.
People were not simply individuals bound by rules—they were part of a greater moral community.
Samurai, too, existed not to rule, but to protect this community.
Bushidō was not about wielding power, but about dedicating one’s life to safeguarding the people, considered “the great treasure” (ohomitakara) of the nation.
The honor of the samurai lay in service, not domination.
In politics and business, we often see the opposite: people try to succeed by attacking others.
But tearing down another company does not make your own stronger.
In fact, workplaces filled with criticism and blame tend to break down from within, eroding trust even among colleagues.
The same applies to nations.
Attacking evil does not automatically create good.
And ultimately, it is not up to humans to define absolute good or evil—that belongs to the realm of the divine.
This is why we must shift from control to resonance.
Rather than trying to win arguments with logic, what truly matters is the ability to empathize, resonate, and tremble together with another’s sorrow.
In that shared trembling, there is a power that transcends words and reason.
And it is that very resonance that holds the key to building a new future.
I truly believe so.
5. Conclusion – Resonance as the Path Forward
Francis Xavier and Edward Morse visited Japan centuries apart, yet both were deeply moved by the spirit of the Japanese people.
What impressed them was not material wealth or military power, but a way of life rooted in trust, empathy, and human connection.
The spiritual community centered around the TENNO was not one of command or control, but of mutual care and prayer.
That’s why a national treasure house like the Shosoin could go centuries without a lock, and why people once lived in homes without even needing to close their front doors.
And this way of life is not something of the past.
Even now, we carry its spirit within us.
In today’s world—marked by division, conflict, mistrust, and exclusion—we are faced with a choice.
Do we continue down the path of confrontation?
Or do we remember that resonance transcends reason?
To sit quietly beside someone in their sorrow.
To feel what cannot be put into words.
To tremble together in shared humanity.
These moments hold a deeper power than logic or force can ever achieve.
Toward a future where we resonate together—
We may have already taken the first step.
