
“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.”
– John Donne
What defines who you truly are?
Is it individuality, or the countless relationships, expectations, and interactions that weave through your life?
When we look eastward, particularly toward Japanese philosophy, we find a perspective notably different from the West’s cherished ideals of the autonomous self.
And when modern capitalism’s relentless individualism collides with this philosophy, the consequences are both fascinating and troubling.

East and West: A Tale of Two Selves
In Western traditions, the self is often framed as a solitary journey—a pursuit of authenticity and self-discovery.
Philosophers like Descartes, with his famous “Cogito, ergo sum” (I think, therefore I am), emphasized self-awareness as the foundation of being.
Your “true self,” according to this view, exists within you, waiting to be uncovered, untangled, and realized.
Japanese philosophy, on the other hand, suggests a radically different narrative.
From Zen Buddhism’s teachings to Confucianism’s ethics, the self is not an isolated entity but a web of relationships.
Your existence is defined by others—your family, your community, even the stranger you greet with a bow.
Watsuji Tetsurō, a 20th-century Japanese thinker, coined the term aidagara to describe this in-between space where selfhood and others intertwine.
Here, losing a significant relationship isn’t just painful; it fractures your sense of self.
Let’s summarize the differences:
Western Philosophy | Japanese Philosophy |
---|---|
Self is independent and autonomous. | Self is relational and interconnected. |
Focuses on individuality and authenticity. | Emphasizes harmony and social roles. |
Internal identity is primary. | External relationships define identity. |

Capitalism’s Collision with the Relational Self
Capitalism thrives on the idea of individuality—success is yours to achieve, failures are yours to bear.
It markets independence as freedom and self-interest as rationality.
But what happens when this mindset meets a society where identity is communal and relational?
Japan offers a compelling case study. As capitalism seeped into its cultural fabric during the Meiji Restoration and beyond, Japanese society faced a dilemma.
The relational self, which once thrived in community rituals and shared duties, began to clash with the demands of a hyper-competitive, profit-driven world.
The results are bittersweet. On one hand, Japan is a capitalist powerhouse, known for innovation and efficiency. On the other hand, this success has bred phenomena like hikikomori (social withdrawal) and smile mask syndrome (forced emotional labor).
The former, a reaction to societal pressures, sees individuals isolate themselves completely, cutting ties with the very relationships that once defined them.
The latter reflects a growing disconnect between the “outer self” presented to meet societal expectations and the “inner self” struggling for authenticity.
These issues aren’t just sociological—they’re deeply philosophical.
Capitalism encourages individuals to see themselves as isolated agents of productivity, yet Japanese tradition insists that our essence is inseparable from others.
The tension between these two forces leaves many unsure of who they are supposed to be.

Cultural Echoes: Films, Songs, and Stories
We see this struggle reflected in Japanese art.
The film Lost in Translation explores isolation within a highly interconnected society. Bob and Charlotte, the main characters, bond over their shared sense of disconnection in a bustling Tokyo.
Their relationship becomes their refuge, illustrating how relationality can temporarily anchor a drifting self.
In music, Hikaru Utada’s song First Love captures a similar sentiment.
With lyrics like “You are always gonna be my love,” the song conveys how deeply relationships imprint on our identity, even after they end.
These cultural works underscore that relationality is not just a philosophical abstraction but a lived reality for many in Japan.
A Lesson for Us All
Whether you live in Japan or not, the balance between self and others is universal. Have you ever felt torn between your own desires and the expectations of those around you? Have you ever acted one way in public, only to feel like a stranger to yourself in private?
These tensions show that the question of selfhood—relational or individual—isn’t just Japanese. It’s human.
And here’s where I get personal.
A few years ago, I took on a job that I thought would align perfectly with my skills and ambitions. But I quickly realized that the workplace culture revolved around relentless competition and self-promotion.
It was suffocating, and I began to question my worth. Why wasn’t I thriving when others were? Why did I feel so disconnected?
The turning point came during a casual conversation with a colleague who noticed my struggle. Their support reminded me of the connections that truly mattered—family, friends, and even fleeting moments of kindness.
I learned that my sense of self wasn’t something I could “find” by shutting others out or trying to excel in isolation.
It was something I could only build through meaningful relationships.
That realization brought me peace and, ironically, improved my performance at work.
Closing Words
As we navigate a world increasingly shaped by individualism and economic pressures, we should take a lesson from Japanese philosophy.
What if your “true self” isn’t something you must defend against the world but something you discover within the world, through your ties to others.
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