Japan Is Teaching Me About Social Trust—But Is It Worth the Cost?

Trust, Shame, and the Price of Social Harmony

Japan is teaching me what true social trust looks like—and making me wonder if it’s worth the cost. By “social trust,” I mean the belief that people are generally honest, reliable, and considerate of one another. Growing up in the U.S.—especially in recent years—my faith in that idea has often been shaken. Yet here I am in a Japanese hostel, looking at a self-serve beer fridge labeled with a simple request: “Please leave your payment on the side.” No cameras, no staff hovering—just trust.

At first glance, it feels like stepping into a dream or utopia. Trains run precisely on time. People are so meticulous about cleanliness that public trash cans are practically unnecessary; they simply carry their trash home. The streets are spotless, and the trains are so quiet they feel like moving libraries. Crime is incredibly low. I’d heard stories of Japanese fans cleaning up stadiums after World Cup matches, but after just a week here, it’s no stretch to believe them.

As a tourist, it’s incredible. After experiencing the energetic chaos of India and even getting yelled at by Buddhist monks in Sri Lanka, Japan’s calm feels surreal. No one raises their voice, and nobody hassles us to buy anything. Even the smallest details delight me—like spotless restrooms and those famous high-tech toilets that practically welcome you with open arms.

Yet the longer I stay, the more I notice the price of this harmony. Nobody bothers you, but nobody really talks to you, either. It’s rare for someone to meet your gaze or smile in passing. I once waved to a little girl in a window, and she immediately looked away, almost startled. Restaurants often have more solo diners than groups, and laughter or casual chatter on the street is a rarity.

For someone like me—who loves to nod and smile at strangers—it’s unsettling. Curious to know if it was just in my head, I started asking around. Friends, locals, and even ChatGPT pointed me to cultural realities that aren’t immediately obvious. Yes, Japan enjoys high social trust, but it’s also shaped by a strong undercurrent of social shame. People are so wary of breaking unspoken rules or facing rejection that many hold back from genuine connections.

In Japan, social rules aren’t just guidelines—they’re near-sacred expectations. From an early age, people learn that their actions reflect on their family, school, or workplace, creating intense pressure to follow the script perfectly. Even minor missteps—like being a few minutes late or showing too much emotion—can invite disapproval. Over time, these rules stop feeling optional and start to feel like a crushing obligation to maintain harmony at all costs.

Shame plays a massive role in keeping everyone in line. Standing out or burdening others is frowned upon, so many suffer in silence rather than ask for help or admit they’re struggling. Some can’t bear these high standards and opt out altogether—becoming “hikikomori,” shutting themselves away in their homes, where every misstep won’t invite public judgment. It’s a paradoxical blend of a culture that’s remarkably safe and orderly, yet emotionally demanding enough to push people to retreat from it entirely.

I saw this firsthand at a meetup with a 19-year-old Japanese boy. My casual question—“Do you have a girlfriend?”—revealed a deeper reality: he had no female friends, none of his friends did either, and he was so scared of rejection that he wouldn’t even know where to start. This phenomenon isn’t unique to him. There’s a term for young men who avoid dating: “Herbivore Men.” They focus on hobbies, gaming, anime, and male friendships instead, because dating requires confidence, effort, and money—and many feel it’s just not worth it.

If it were only among young people, we might blame the internet. But it spans every generation. “Kodokushi,” or lonely death, is heartbreakingly common among the elderly, who sometimes die alone and remain undiscovered for days or weeks. Tens of thousands of such cases are reported each year.

This also explains some of the more unusual aspects of Japanese culture. With so few intimate connections and limited opportunities for genuine social expression, many find a release online or in media. A Japanese man showing strong emotion is practically a social death sentence—but in anime, the characters never stop emoting. Some men, too afraid of real rejection, develop romantic feelings for animated characters, or “waifus.” That devotion is so intense it even birthed the phrase, “You mess with the waifu, you get the knifu.” It’s just one example of how people seek outlets for needs they can’t fulfill through everyday relationships.

All of this drives home a question I’ve been asking myself for years. I’ve always been the one to “beat to my own drummer,” as my mom puts it—questioning rules and deciding for myself whether they make sense. That’s shaped much of my experience on this planet, choosing to examine everything before I follow along.

But as I’ve traveled, I’ve also seen the limits of ignoring shared principles. Last month, after enduring the unpredictability of India—where the question often isn’t when the taxi is coming but if it will—I found myself longing for the general orderliness of Thailand. I’ve witnessed the difference between an ecovillage with a cohesive purpose, like Findhorn, versus one where everyone does their own thing, like Auroville. One is a sense of community and purpose - albeit with all the work it takes to keep that together, the other a haphazard collection of different projects that don’t feel connected. I’ve come to see how much effort and dedication by a core group keeps the magic of Burning Man alive. In each case, shared values and standards of behavior help make life in community possible.

Yet Japan reveals what happens when those standards go too far. You get a society that looks flawless on the surface but can be so restrictive that many decide it’s not worth fully participating in. You might have peace, but you don’t really have life. This is evident in the country’s declining population and birth rate; young people increasingly prefer what’s on their screen to what’s in front of them.

Ultimately, as with most things in life, the truth likely lies in the middle. Societies need agreed-upon rules to function, but when those rules suppress freedom of expression, we sacrifice part of our humanity. In India, it felt like “herding cats” has nothing on “travelling in India,” but in Japan, the pendulum swings so far the other way that it can feel lifeless.

It’s a sobering reminder that while social trust fosters safety and harmony, it matters how it’s achieved. Watching the Balkanization of American life from abroad—where no one seems to agree on values or goals— is rough. But seeing Japan gave me a new perspective on complaints about “political correctness” and “cancel culture.” I understood a little better the people from my home town who felt good to finally have someone who “spoke plainly”. When obedience is enforced through shame and repression - with rules of behavior and speech rather than true inclusion and dialogue, it tends to backfire in unhealthy ways.

As an American saddened by how our national discourse has become a bad reality show—each half tearing the other apart—this question is at the forefront of my mind: How do we build social trust that includes everyone who’s been excluded, based on values we can truly share? At this moment it feels impossible watching one side tearing down everything the other holds dear. But I’ve seen what happens when a group completely loses cohesion and connection with itself. So it seems time for us to start asking how to bridge those divides and the right way to do so. If you’re too lax with rules, I’ve seen how badly that can go. If you’re too rigid, well, Japan shows the consequences of that, too.

What do you think? Share your thoughts in the comments below—I’d love to hear where you stand on this delicate balance between harmony and freedom.

P.S. Japan is still wonderful and I’m enjoying it significantly more than I would have ever expected. The Shinto culture and reverence for nature combined with the advanced technology and Kawaii culture (cute) can make it incredibly diverse. It’s much more than I imagined. I’m only representing one major dynamic of it’s culture for the point of thought, not dismissing it as a whole.

Photo by Syuhei Inoue on Unsplash

Hi! I’m David Longhini. I retired from my Salesforce Agency a year ago. I have taken a year off and shown that I should be able to live within my invested means for the rest of my life. But I’ve started to feel the urgings to do something again in the world with good people. I’m not sure what that is yet, so simply creating in my spare time and exploring. If you have something interesting to discuss, please reach out.