A World — and Japan — Swayed by America

 President Donald Trump has arrived in Japan for the fourth time in six years. His visit comes amid shifting global tensions and renewed debate over protectionism and alliances.

President Donald Trump has arrived in Japan.

It is his fourth visit in six years — surprisingly frequent for an American president.

His previous visit took place during the administration of former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe. This time, Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, who has openly pledged to continue Abe’s political legacy, welcomes him. That may partly explain the timing of this visit.

Today, Trump is scheduled to visit the Yokosuka Naval Base. I was a bit concerned about traffic restrictions in KAMAKURA, but it seems he will be traveling by air, so there will likely be no major disruptions as there were during Barack Obama’s visit years ago.

It has already been ten months since Trump returned to the presidency. He has been quick to announce a series of new policies, among which the “high tariffs” have stirred much controversy. Yet, there have been no reports of large-scale protests or riots in the United States, suggesting that things are relatively stable for now. It is said that these tariffs have already been incorporated into the fiscal structure, making them difficult to roll back.

The ones suffering most from these policies are countries other than the United States — Japan included — as we face the reality of rising prices. Everything seems to cost more, or the quantity and quality have been reduced. Everyday pleasures are quietly disappearing. Most non-U.S. nations are probably in the same predicament.

If the United States continues to pursue even stronger protectionist policies, other countries will inevitably find themselves in an increasingly difficult position.

This, of course, reflects how deeply dependent the world has become on the United States. At the same time, it also shows how effectively America has drawn global wealth to itself. If other nations could truly unite, perhaps a counterbalance could emerge — but given how much of the world’s wealth is already concentrated in U.S. hands, that seems unlikely.

In the end, it appears that American dominance will continue for some time. That said, the United States doesn’t appear to be acting entirely unreasonably. For Japan, the only realistic path may be to continue living as a close ally — even if that sometimes means a kind of “tribute diplomacy.”

And before we complain about America, perhaps we should first correct what needs fixing within our own country.

Attending a Conference Is a Cheap Investment When You See It as a Place to Learn

 Another weekend lost to academic meetings. Yet, I keep telling myself — if I think of these conferences as an opportunity to learn, the cost is actually quite small.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　SEE of CLOUDS 

I attended another conference yesterday, which meant I had no real weekend to rest.
When I can’t relax on Saturday and Sunday, my mind stays wound up, and I sleep poorly. Then Monday comes, and I go straight into work, still tired.
The dry air from the conference hall’s air conditioning has also left my throat sore.

It was the domestic counterpart of the international conference held the day before, in the same venue and almost at the same hours.
Since it was a Japanese meeting, the presentations and discussions were, of course, in Japanese.
Slides and posters may be in English, but without Japanese discussion, it’s hard to grasp the finer points.

Conferences are, in many ways, troublesome things.
You pay the registration fee, spend hours preparing your presentation, and sometimes even find yourself organizing the meeting itself.
The money only goes out — in that sense, it’s a pure loss.
Of course, we do collect participation fees, but financially it barely breaks even, and the time we spend on it is unpaid.

Even so, if you think of a conference as a place to study, it becomes one of the cheapest investments you can make.
When I recall how much we used to spend on our children’s cram schools, the conference fee seems like nothing.

You listen to lectures and presentations prepared, at least to some degree, by competent people.
You exchange ideas and discussions.
Not everyone gets a chance to ask questions, but the opportunity is open to all.

And if you’re the one presenting, you study even more in preparation.
In that sense, a conference is undoubtedly a “participatory classroom.”
The cost of participation is a small price to pay.

Of course, not every presentation is excellent.
So I choose carefully, and if a session turns out dull, I quietly close my eyes for a moment — to rest, and to prepare for the next one.

 

There Should Be No Difference Between Humans and Animals

Reports of bear attacks keep appearing in the news.
It feels as if we humans have forgotten that we, too, are animals — only a little more clever, and perhaps too clever for our own good.

Bear attacks continue to occur across the country.
The alarming term “emergency hunting” has become common, as bears wandering into villages are being shot one after another.

It was reported that the stomachs of the culled bears were completely empty.
They had come down from the mountains in search of food, where the acorns had failed.
As the weather turns colder, we might wish they would hibernate soon, but that seems unlikely.
A hungry bear can hardly sleep peacefully.

If we could imagine how a bear feels, perhaps we could find ways to avoid frightening one another.
Yet the mind of a wild animal is far harder to understand than that of a pet dog.

Humans like to think we can understand animals’ feelings.
But this awareness is, in truth, quite recent.

According to Descartes’ theory of “animal machines,” animals possess no mind or spirit,
and thus cannot feel pain, emotions, or any form of mental suffering.
But of course, that cannot be true.

When I return home, my dog Ann wags her tail furiously in delight.
If that isn’t joy, what else could it be?　 

We speak of animal welfare as if it were universal,
yet in reality it applies only to a few favored species.
Animals raised for food are mostly left out of that circle.
Eels, for instance, are on the brink of extinction, and still we continue to catch them.
By the time species like otters or crested ibises disappeared, it was already too late —
and still, humanity does not turn back.
Perhaps we justify it by saying we cannot let those who make their living from eels go hungry.

After all, humans are animals too.
Where, then, is the real difference between us and the others?
There is none.
And yet, we fear what we do not understand.

Fragile and vulnerable, humans have long used “intelligence” to survive and to dominate other species.
But now, that very intelligence may have begun to run out of control.

Perhaps the bears are only reminding us of that.

 

My Academic Session or the World Series: Which Comes First?

A chilly, rainy day in Tokyo. While the World Series kicked off across the Pacific, I had my own kind of championship to attend—a small but meaningful international conference where I served as session chair.

It was a cold day, with a steady drizzle that made it easy to catch a cold if I wasn’t careful.
Even though it’s late October, I thought wearing a trench coat might be too much. Fortunately, my wife insisted, and she was right.

Autumn seems shorter these days. Japan feels less like a country of “four seasons” and more like just two—summer and winter.

 

I headed into Tokyo early in the morning for an international academic meeting.
“International” in name, but in reality it was a modest conference among Japan, China, and Korea—around seventy or eighty people gathered in the hall.
With online participants included, the total number was probably much higher.

I was assigned to chair one of the sessions, so I reviewed the program carefully on the train.
Still, switching suddenly into English is always challenging. Understanding alone took all my focus.

Out of curiosity, I had tried brushing up on a few phrases in Chinese and Korean using a language app, but “ni hao” and “annyeong hashimnikka” never came up.
Luckily, the discussion went lively enough that I didn’t need to speak much. Everything went smoothly in the end.

I even attempted a small academic joke—but it fell flat.
My pronunciation was probably to blame.

Meanwhile, today marked the opening game of the World Series.
It started at 9:00 a.m. Japan time—exactly when our conference began.
And when things were heating up around 10:30, I was right in the middle of my session, completely absorbed.

Funny how priorities sort themselves out in our minds without any conscious effort.

After my session ended, I finally checked my phone.
The Toronto Blue Jays had crushed the Los Angeles Dodgers, 11–4.
Snell was shelled early, and even Shohei Ohtani’s first World Series home run couldn’t save the day.

What Is Humanity Trading Away in the Name of “Progress”?

A quiet reflection on how technology shapes — and sometimes erodes — our sense of connection.

On my way to work the other morning, I boarded the hospital bus last.
A little boy, maybe around the age of entering elementary school, was sitting with a tablet in his hands, completely absorbed in a game.

The bus was somewhat crowded; a few elderly and disabled passengers were standing.
Of course, I didn’t expect the boy to give up his seat — after all, he was also on his way to the hospital.
Children should sit when riding buses or trains, for safety’s sake.

Still, I couldn’t help but notice how oblivious he seemed to the people around him.

In shopping malls, too, I often see toddlers in strollers staring at tablets handed to them by their parents.
And I wonder — what kind of adults will such children grow up to be?

 There was a time when these things — these gadgets — did not exist.

When I was in elementary and junior high school, I could sense everything happening around me.

Even while reading a book or a newspaper, I could feel who was standing, who was sitting, and who might need a seat.
If an elderly or disabled person was standing while I sat, I felt ashamed.

Then came the Walkman, closing off our ears.
And later, smartphones arrived and took away our eyes.

If one grows up immersed in a tablet from birth, will one ever truly feel the world around them?

Of course, I too, as an adult, often find myself trapped by these same gadgets, blind to the world beyond the screen.

When I think about it, I can’t help but wonder —
is this what we’ve traded for “progress”?

Politics Exists Because of Democracy

The freedom to disagree is what keeps democracy alive. 

 

This morning’s Asahi Shimbun editorials caught my eye.
One was titled “Japan’s First Female Prime Minister — The Ceiling Is Broken, but…”
The other, “Reducing the Number of Lawmakers — Concerns About Cutting Off Public Will.”

Both touched on key issues that led to the rise of Prime Minister Takaichi, which means my focus yesterday was not entirely misplaced.
In particular, the discussion about the Japan Innovation Party’s proposal to cut the number of Diet members helped me better understand what one of my long-time blogger friends had pointed out.
It finally made sense.

Everything has two sides.
Not in a negative sense, but simply because every matter is a coin with two faces.
A policy that seems good from one perspective may look disastrous from another.
When some parties go so far as to denounce this new administration as “the worst in history,” one can only imagine how divided the world of politics truly is.

Given that, politicians are remarkable people.
If a few critical comments on my blog already make me flustered, I cannot imagine enduring their world.

People say politics is all about results.
But a “result” is merely a landscape seen from someone’s vantage point — no one truly knows whether it is good or bad, or whether it reflects the will of the people as a whole.
Every policy follows its own path, spawning other consequences along the way.
And the final outcome often differs from what was originally intended.

Since I praised Prime Minister Takaichi for her clarity of stance, I too must be clear about mine — otherwise it would be cowardly.
So I will leave yesterday’s post as it is, and simply observe what follows.

Japanese democracy is, at its core, built on equality.
One person, one vote.
A blessed system in which each individual’s unique thoughts are connected to a single ballot.

The very fact that I can write openly about politics here is itself a gift of democracy.
I am deeply grateful for that — and determined to help preserve it.

Japan’s First Female Prime Minister: A Leader with Clear Convictions

 As Japan welcomes its first female prime minister in constitutional history, the nation seems to stand at a quiet turning point. Clarity of belief and authenticity in leadership—qualities long blurred in Japanese politics—may finally be returning to center stage.

I have a real headache today.
My blood pressure was high as well.

Whether it’s because the temperature suddenly dropped by nearly ten degrees in just a few days, or because of the low-pressure system bringing this rain, I can’t be sure. In any case, my body hasn’t yet adjusted to the cold. Unless I take care of my health, I’ll end up feeling unwell all season.

The first chicken hotpot of this season

Yesterday, Sanae Takaichi became Japan’s new prime minister.
Some say her political views are controversial, but compared with previous leaders who often lacked clear convictions, her stance is refreshingly straightforward. In parliamentary debates, we can now expect discussions rooted in principle rather than mere ambiguity—something that should make politics easier for the public to follow.

Above all, the fact that she is a woman matters greatly.
For younger generations of women, her rise to the highest office may spark the hope that they, too, can do it someday. What’s impressive is that she doesn’t try to act like a man—she remains herself, natural and composed.

It’s disappointing that only two women were appointed as cabinet ministers; six or so would have been ideal. But I suppose there are still many “reasons” behind such decisions. I can only hope those invisible barriers will soon disappear.

It is also notable that she does not come from a political dynasty.
That alone brings a sense of freshness. If her appointment helps people feel that politics is not a closed world, it will already have great significance.

If the Japan Innovation Party succeeds in reducing the number of parliamentary seats and advancing the “secondary capital” concept to strengthen Osaka, it could mark a genuine turning point for the country. Fewer seats would raise the value of each lawmaker, and a stronger Osaka could revitalize Japan as a whole. I support both ideas.

At this critical juncture for Japan’s future, the emergence of a leader who clearly shows her colors is a welcome change. I only hope that, unlike former Prime Minister Ishiba, she will not be crushed by the realities of politics, and that public trust in government can begin—however slightly—to be restored.