(Interview and text by Shinko Enjo, Photographed by Keiji Okubo)

Exploring the Japanese mind through unique methods

In cultural psychology, Japanese society is often described as stable and having “low mobility”, but during my own childhood I experienced several relocations. I was born in Hyōgo Prefecture, which belongs to the Kansai region. During elementary school, I transferred for the first time, to another school (also within Hyōgo). And at the end of my second year in junior high school at a girls’ school, my father’s job moved us to Hiroshima Prefecture. Fortunately, I was able to take a transfer examination for another girls’ high school in Hiroshima and ended up enrolling there.

For a 14-year-old girl, living in a place so different from Kansai felt like a cross-cultural experience. As is often the case in teenagers, at first it wasn’t easy to enter a social circle that had already formed, but I joined the volleyball club and continued until my final year, and was able to enjoy myself there. For university, I wanted to return to Kansai, and I was fortunate to be admitted to my first choice, Kyoto University. After completing graduate school, I also spent two years studying in the United States. Counting both my student days and my years as a faculty member, I have lived in Kyoto longer than anywhere else in my life.

At Kyoto University, I was moving across several disciplines and faculties. I initially entered the Faculty of Letters intending to specialize in classical literature, which I was good at. But I realized soon that I was not suited for scholarly research in that field: I enjoyed classical works as a reader, and what fascinated me was the movements of characters’ minds and emotions, but this also meant that I couldn’t bring myself to engage in classes that involved deciphering ancient texts with specialized techniques. In hindsight, I feel that I experienced a kind of setback at that time.

Still, I held on to the desire to pursue something deeply. Taking advantage of being in Kyoto, I frequently visited museums and libraries. It was during this time that I encountered Deep River by Shūsaku Endō, a novel that left a profound impact on me. The novel sparked my interest in universal questions such as “What does it mean to live?” or “What is religious consciousness?” and led me to discover Jungian psychology as introduced by Prof. Hayao Kawai. When I read Prof. Kawai’s Folktales and the Japanese Mind, which analyzed classical stories through a psychological lens, I was so moved that my body trembled — I thought, “This might be exactly what I’ve wanted to do.” I began to wonder if I could somehow combine classical literature with psychology.

I decided to change my major to psychology. Although the Faculty of Letters had a psychology sections, its research at the time was primarily focused on animal experiments. I was advised to move to the Faculty of Education, where Prof. Hayao Kawai had once taught (he had already retired by then). After passing the highly competitive transfer examination, I was able to join the Faculty of Education in my third year . The experience of taking the transfer exam became a valuable opportunity to study psychology in a broad and comprehensive way. By chance, my interviewer for the transfer exam was Prof. Toshio Kawai, eldest son of Prof. Hayao Kawai, who would later become my colleague at the Kokoro Research Center.

Jungian psychology introduced in Japan Prof. Hayao Kawai relied on clinical and counseling methods, but I was not well-suited to clinical practice. My strengths lay instead in empirical, data-driven approaches. This once again left me wondering what to do next, given the effort I had made to change faculties. I decided to take psychology courses across various departments to broaden my perspective. It was during this time that I met Prof. Shinobu Kitayama of the Faculty of Integrated Human Studies, who would become my lifelong mentor. His lectures explored the relationship between mind and culture through statistical cross-cultural comparisons, using experiments and surveys. I had always had a vague but persistent desire to understand both the similarities and differences between the minds of people depicted in thousand-year-old Japanese literature and those of people today, and his lectures left me thinking that maybe I can fulfill this desire by engaging in cross-cultural comparisons between Japan and the United States. It was as if a path suddenly opened before me. I asked to study under Prof. Kitayama and began visiting his lab in the second semester of my third year. He became the de facto supervisor for my undergraduate thesis, and I went on to enter his graduate program in the Graduate School of Human and Environmental Studies. In the end, I had the rare experience of moving through three different faculties within Kyoto University.

Studying differences in happiness by comparing Japan and the United States

In graduate school, under the guidance of Prof. Kitayama, I studied interpersonal relationships such as “sympathy”, as well as the self and emotions. One day, a statement in an American textbook caught my attention: “Self-esteem is extremely important for happiness.” However, in Japan, where humility is valued, self-esteem can sometimes be seen as boastfulness. I began to think that in this respect, there might be a fundamental difference in the very foundation of happiness between the two countries. While the pursuit of happiness is universal, its “composition” can often differ. I began researching this topic in the second year of my master’s program. At that time, cross- cultural studies on “well-being” or “happiness” were not yet common. Even so, I felt that showing the differences in how happiness is experienced in Japan and the U.S. would be meaningful, and as my research progressed, those differences gradually became clearer.

In 2000 I had the opportunity to study under Prof. Hazel Markus, a leading scholar in cultural psychology at Stanford University. There, I joined a project comparing Japanese and American media coverage of the ongoing Sydney Olympics. This was before the era of AI and digital tools, so the work of transcribing and analyzing the enormous amount of recorded broadcasts was extremely demanding. Yet, the more I replayed and listened to athletes’ interviews, more new ideas came to my mind, making it an incredibly valuable experience. The words of gold medalists expressed the peak of happiness, but there were huge differences how they were portrayed in the two countries. American athletes and media emphasized narratives of becoming a hero through individual talent, effort, and rivalry. In contrast, Japanese coverage highlighted themes of overcoming weakness, injury, or setbacks, with strong expressions of gratitude, such as “Thanks to everyone’s efforts, I was able to become a gold medalist.”  While the moments of happiness were similar, the personal narratives leading up to them differed greatly. This experience deepened my interest in the connection between culture and mind, particularly in the study of well-being and happiness.

Understanding the meaning of happiness through fieldwork and data

After earning my Ph.D. at Kyoto University in 2023, I moved to the United States to continue my postdoctoral research at the University of Michigan and Stanford University. Upon returning to Japan, I first taught at a private university, before transferring back to Kyoto University in 2008 when the Kokoro Research Center (the predecessor of today’s Institute for the Future of Human Society) was established. The research center aimed to go beyond the university walls and advance collaborative research with diverse researchers to achieve a holistic understanding of the human mind. My first project there was a study on agricultural extension officers (nōgyō fukyū shidōin; local government or prefectural staff who provide technical guidance and support to farmers in Japan). I became interested in the challenge of how to visualize their largely invisible activities, which connect farmers with one another in agricultural regions.

Japanese culture is often considered to have roots in “farming culture”, but I wanted to test whether this was truly the case and thought that this research may provide a hint. I visited farmlands throughout the country, interviewed farmers and conducted large-scale surveys. Through this research, I demonstrated the importance of human connections in agriculture, particularly how crucial it is to build trust within local communities. I also revealed that trust is not confined internally: Agricultural extension officers often served as effective mediators in sustaining such trust.

Following the publication of these results, I was invited to extend this research to fisheries, leading to joint projects with fisheries extension officers (suisan fukyū shidōin). This extension allowed me to expand my work towards comparative research between agriculture and fisheries, and through a combination of meticulous field interviews and statistical data the differences between the two sectors became clear.

In agriculture, cooperative activities such as irrigation management and water distribution across neighboring farmlands are essential, as are communal events like festivals and local gatherings, which build trust and collaboration. Remarkably, even non-farmer residents actively participate in agricultural events, reflecting a community-wide commitment to protecting farmland. Our data confirmed that “ reciprocal cooperation” is often fostered through these shared practices. In contrast, fishing, which takes place on the open sea, tests individual skill and requires strong self-confidence. Differences between highly skilled and less skilled fishermen are clearly visible, creating a culture that respects exceptional talent. The contrast between rural farming communities, which aim for relatively flat interpersonal relationships, and fishing villages is highly intriguing. I was able to publish these comparative studies in high-impact international journals.

Gradually, I also became interested in Japanese corporate culture and started to do research on companies, as I believe that employee well-being and happiness are strongly related to cultural and environmental factors. I am still actively pursuing this research to this day.

Looking back, I realize that my research has always motivated by the question: What does it mean to have a good life in Japan?  My various experiences of moving during childhood might have allowed me to observe the social and cultural features of different communities from an outside perspective, nurturing this interest in the unique psychology of Japanese people. Today, my main focus is on understanding how we can build more tolerant and open communities and create society that emphasizes and promotes well-being.

Japanese society has historically applied farming-style to its interdependent cultural context, and this has formed its foundation for better or worse. While it can function effectively, it also creates certain aspects of complexity or “hassle”. At the Institute for the Future of Humanity and Society, I aim to highlight the strengths of Japan’s community-oriented culture to the world while minimizing these aspects. As part of this effort, I have proposed the concept of Interdependent Happiness, which is distinct from the more widely shared idea of happiness based on self-esteem. Interdependent Happiness reflects Japanese values such as “ordinary happiness” or “living peacefully and securely.”  The concept has gained widespread attention in international academic journals, with many inquiries from Europe, the U.S., and Asia asking whether Japan’s notion of calm, modest happiness should be reconsidered for modern, contemporary societies. I interpret this as an indication that countries around the world are recognizing the limits of happiness models overly focused on competition and individual gain.

Also, Japan’s Fourth Basic Plan for the Promotion of Education even incorporated the phrase “enhancing well-being rooted in Japanese society”, and both research and practice around well-being in educational settings on this topic have begun to take place. I aspire to propose, both in Japan and internationally, the concept of gentle happiness nurtured within communities and the social systems that support it, based on scientifically grounded data.

In Japan, a society often described as stable and low in social mobility, cultivating reliable networks and modest happiness is extremely important. At the same time, this can also generate a sense of caution towards new ideas and people. Social mobility in Japan is likely to increase as societal conditions change. I believe that it is essential to balance the happiness derived from established communities with the innovation that arises when diverse individuals interact and learn from one another; and that this balance will be a key challenge for Japan in the future – for individuals, communities, corporations, and the nation as a whole.