The sakoku period and the current state of English learning in Japan

ABSTRACT

The so-called sakoku period in Japan spans the mid-seventeenth to the mid-nineteenth centuries and has acquired a legendary status, even among people who might otherwise be unfamiliar with Japanese history. The word sakoku is often translated as national isolation, and this period was traditionally seen as a time when Japan was totally cut off from the outside world, aside from a solitary trading post in Nagasaki. Some scholars have argued that a form of isolationism, stemming from a distrust of foreign influences, has persisted in Japan ever since, as evidenced by the extremely strict border controls enforced during the Covid pandemic, and which can also help to explain Japan’s relatively poor performance in terms of English proficiency. However, there is compelling evidence that the sakoku phenomenon has been exaggerated historically, particularly in the West, and that such arguments can therefore be ascribed to a form of Eurocentrism.

KEYWORDS:

• sakoku
• English language teaching
• Eurocentrism
• Japan
• history

Introduction

The period of Japanese history often referred to as sakoku – or national isolation – dates back to either 1639, when the Portuguese were expelled, or 1641, when the Dutch trading post in Hirado was moved to the island of Dejima, in Nagasaki Harbour. It ended, rather abruptly, when Commodore Matthew Perry’s Black Ships arrived from America in 1853, forcing the country to open its doors and begin trading with foreign powers. Shocked by this encounter, the shogunate became desperate to avoid the colonisation that befell many other countries during this era. The result was the deliberate and rapid spread of Western ideas – especially in science, technology, and medicine – as Japan modernised itself at an unprecedented rate. This program of modernisation was, therefore, primarily a defensive policy, aimed at maintaining the country’s independence in the face of hostile outsiders.

Although this period of Japan’s history ended well over 150 years ago, it has been argued that suspicion of foreign influences has endured ever since, with Seargeant (2009) referring both to a ‘Dejima mentality’ and ‘the widely held theory that a sakoku mentality still influences the way Japan relates to the world’ (69). Parallels have also been drawn between the sakoku period and the extremely strict border controls – largely supported by the public – that were enforced during the Covid pandemic (Vogt and Qin 2022). Moreover, it has been claimed that an enduring sakoku mentality also explains Japan’s relative under performance in terms of English learning (Childs 2000). This argument maintains that the spread of English is perceived as a threat to the Japanese language and culture, so the way it is taught in Japanese schools prevents it from being used as a tool of communication with non-Japanese, thus keeping foreign influences at arm’s length. The result is that English learning is deliberately stymied to suit a nationalist agenda, and that contact with the international community is ‘ideologically regulated [and] deeply rooted within this history of self-isolation’ (Seargeant 2009, 70).

However, there are several problems with such interpretations, not least the fact that for several decades historians have disputed the extent to which Japan really was ‘closed’ during this period (e.g. Toby 1977; Arano 2013). Nevertheless, the notion retains a prominent place in Western public perception, even among people who might otherwise be unfamiliar with Japanese history, and remains one of the country’s defining historical characteristics (Totman 2007). For example, the Canadian-born writer and novelist Michael Hoffman (2023) has described sakoku as a ‘prison’, and wrote that ‘Japan removed itself from the world, persisting in rigid isolation for over 200 years’ (para. 3). If these popular beliefs are misconceived, it is important to consider why they endure and what the consequences of such beliefs are.

This paper argues that such claims can be ascribed to a form of Eurocentrism, in which the histories and cultures of non-Western societies are viewed primarily from a Western perspective (Pokhrel 2011). Originally coined by the Egyptian-French economist Samir Amin (2010), the term is rooted in the dominance of Western culture and civilisation since the development of capitalism during the Renaissance. Europe – and subsequently the United States – went on to establish unequal power relations with the rest of the world, with notions of Western cultural superiority having flourished particularly from the nineteenth century onward. Amin's (2010) critique of Eurocentrism concerns the propensity, due to this power imbalance, to identify Europe as the driving force of global history. However, viewing other cultures through a Western lens can, whether intentionally or not, lead to false representations of local cultures and societies.

Using Eurocentrism as a conceptual framework, this study investigates the historical reality of sakoku and whether it is indeed related to the current state of English learning in Japan. It also examines the history of English learning in Japan, both in terms of public attitudes and educational policy. First, traditional and revisionist views of the sakoku period are outlined, followed by an account of Japan’s extraordinarily rapid modernisation in the late nineteenth century. This historical narrative is intertwined with the history of English education in Japan and the debates that have taken place around the relationship between government policy and national identity. Finally, cultural and philosophical issues are addressed, including the compatibility of communicative language teaching with the Confucianism-influenced cultures of Japan and East Asia.

Traditional view of sakoku

The traditional view of the so-called sakoku period held that Japan was totally cut off from the outside world, aside from the aforementioned solitary trading post in Nagasaki. The word sakoku is often translated as national isolation or national seclusion, although the kanji characters (鎖国) literally mean chained country. However, the word did not exist at all until 1801 and is actually of Western origin, as it was coined by Shizuki Tadao while translating The History of Japan, which had been written by the German physician Engelbert Kaempfer more than a century earlier (Kazui 1982). Kaempfer claimed that after the expulsion of the Portuguese in 1639, ‘the Japanese Empire [was] shut up … and [did] not … suffer its inhabitants to have any commerce with foreign nations, either at home or abroad’ (quoted in Toby 1977, 323). Therefore, the term sakoku was not originally based on a Japanese concept but rather on how European powers perceived Japanese foreign policy. In other words, it was initially a Western construct and, as such, it represents an early and explicit instance of Eurocentrism. Nowadays, many Japanese historians prefer the term kaikin (海禁), meaning ‘maritime restrictions’, as a more accurate reflection of foreign relations in early modern Japan (Arano 2013).

Domestic agenda and the four portals

Conventional history in the West has maintained that a policy of sakoku was enforced in response to the attempts of Spain and Portugal to spread Christianity, which was perceived as a critical threat to the authority of the shogunate. This account offers only a partial explanation, however, and ignores the importance of the situation closer to home. Any moves to restrict the movement of goods and people must be viewed within the context of the shogunate’s domestic agenda, as well as Japan’s relations with its Asian neighbours (Toby 1977).

Having come to power in 1603, after a long period of localised war and instability known as the sengoku (warring states) period, the main priority of the Tokugawa shogunate was to establish its legitimacy and authority. The control of foreign trade, therefore, was seen as one way of limiting the power of rival daimyo (feudal lords). In addition, the regime was determined not to accept a position of inferiority in its relations with other countries, with Japan having previously been subordinate to the dominant regional power of China (Kazui 1982). This policy precluded direct relations between Japan and China, although, as with the Dutch, private trade was maintained via the port of Nagasaki – often referred to as Japan’s ‘window on the world’ during the Edo period. However, Nagasaki was only one of four domestic portals through which Japan conducted trade with Korea, the Ryukyu Kingdom (in present-day Okinawa) and the Ainu (in present-day Hokkaido), in addition to the private commerce with China and the Netherlands (Arano 2013).

To sum up, the reality of the sakoku period was more nuanced and complex than has often been assumed. Preventing the spread of Catholicism was only one factor, while countries or territories not seen as threatening to Japan’s interests or sovereignty were allowed to maintain trading relations in one form or another. It was certainly not the aim of Tokugawa foreign policy to completely isolate the country; in fact, the total volume of overseas trade actually increased during the so-called sakoku period (Toby 1977). Focusing on the religious dimension of Japan’s foreign policy implies that Europeans were the most important aspect of Japan’s external world at this time – a Eurocentric conceit that has survived in some Western textbooks (Totman 2007). In reality, however, relations with neighbouring Korea and China – and related economic issues – were of far more concern to the Tokugawa shogunate.

Foreign adventurers and rangaku

Trade notwithstanding, it cannot be denied that Japan was hostile to foreigners and foreign ideas at times during this period. For example, there are reports of Japanese interpreters of English and Russian being forbidden from becoming literate in those languages for fear that they might be influenced by Western thought and religion, which could then be transmitted to others (Katsumata 1938, cited in Ike 1995). Nevertheless, some Western knowledge did permeate Japan’s borders, especially after the restrictions on foreign literature were eased in 1720. An influx of Dutch literature followed, precipitating the so-called rangaku (literally: ‘Dutch learning’) movement, as Western scholarship became synonymous with the Netherlands during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.

One Westerner who managed to bypass the restrictions on entry to Japan was Ranald MacDonald – a half-Scottish, half-native-American adventurer – who deliberately shipwrecked himself off the coast of Hokkaido in 1848 with the intention of entering the country (Schodt 2003). Despite an official policy of imprisonment, or even death, for any unauthorised foreigner setting foot on Japanese soil, he avoided such punishment and was instead sent to Nagasaki to teach English to interpreters of Dutch. One of his students there was Moriyama Einosuke, who was to become a chief player in the negotiations with Commodore Perry. MacDonald also had some success learning Japanese, despite the fact that it was officially illegal for foreigners to do so at that time (Schodt 2003). Irrespective of such daring individuals, contact with foreign nationals was extremely limited and the concept of English language teaching barely existed in Japan up until this point. Nevertheless, dramatic change was on the horizon.

Modernisation and nationalist backlash

The Meiji Restoration of 1868, precipitated by the appearance of Perry’s Black Ships, ushered in an unprecedented program of modernisation that was remarkably successful in turning Japan into one of the world’s leading industrial nations in a few short decades. Self-preservation was undoubtedly the driving force behind this policy, particularly the desire to avoid colonisation by Western powers that were otherwise rampant throughout the globe. The importation of Western science and technology was key to this plan, as evidenced by the emperor’s impassioned call for knowledge to be sought throughout the world (Keene 2002). This modernisation plan had a huge impact throughout Asia and was so successful that it inspired similar attempts in Siam (now Thailand) in the late nineteenth century as well as in China at the turn of the twentieth century. It is also credited with influencing political reforms in Taiwan and South Korea, as well as economic reforms in Vietnam, later in the twentieth century (Hirayama 2019).

English was viewed as the chief medium of technical knowledge during this program of modernisation due to the ascendancy of the British Empire and, more latterly, the industrial power of the United States. In fact, the perceived utility of English – virtually non-existent in Japan only a short time before – grew to such an extent that in 1872 Mori Arinori, who later became the country’s first Minister of Education, called for English to replace Japanese completely. Mori believed that the Japanese language, with its unwieldy writing system and a large number of homonyms, was unsuitable for the transmission of modern ideas and suggested that a simplified form of English be used, initially as the medium of education, and then more generally by the entire population (Heinrich 2012). Inconceivable as it might seem today, this radical proposal attracted much attention at the time, although it was ultimately rejected as unworkable.

Faced with an apparent existential threat, a deliberate and concerted attempt was made to absorb modern technology from overseas. However, it would be mistakenly Eurocentric to conclude that the policy’s success rested purely on the sudden influx of Western knowledge. In fact, far from being ‘backward’ or ‘uncivilised’, as some commentators assume (Totman 2007, 36), Japan was well placed to modernise even before Perry’s arrival, thanks to the nationwide prevalence of terakoya (temple schools). Although reliable figures are hard to come by, it is estimated that up to 70% of men were literate at the beginning of the nineteenth century, with female literacy only slightly lower – rates that are comparable with even the most developed Western nations at the time (Tsujimoto 2000). This widespread literacy facilitated the rapid adoption of foreign languages and scholarship, which would not have been possible otherwise. According to Passin (1965), commerce, industry, bureaucracy, and new ideas were already developing in nineteenth-century Japan and Perry’s arrival merely ‘raised the already simmering cauldron to boiling point’ (50). Furthermore, education continued to spread so rapidly that by 1909 Japan had overtaken its European and North American counterparts, with elementary school attendance reaching as much as 98% (Tsujimoto 2000).

In any case, Japan’s reliance on foreign specialists was only intended to be temporary and, perhaps inevitably, a backlash was to follow. National pride was reasserted in the early 1880s, symbolised in educational terms by the Ministry of Education switching the medium of instruction at Tokyo University from English to Japanese. Furthermore, whereas a large majority of teaching positions in the university had been held by foreign academics in the 1870s, that situation had been reversed by 1890 (Marshall 1992). This development coincided with a rapid expansion in both the number of academic texts translated into Japanese and original texts written by Japanese scholars, many of whom had returned from overseas postings. As a result, English was no longer seen as essential for the mediation of Western knowledge (Imura 2003). Tragically, and somewhat symbolically, Mori Arinori – the great promoter of Western ideas and the English language – was assassinated by an ultranationalist in 1889, as Japan descended into militarism and ultimately the catastrophe of war in the Pacific.

Akogare and cultural identity

Positive attitudes towards English re-emerged during the post-war occupation of Japan, with the USA viewed as a symbol of freedom and democracy, and English representing ‘akogare (desire) for America’ (Yoshida 2018, 192). The immediate post-war period was one of intense economic hardship, in which millions longed for the kind of material wealth visibly enjoyed by the occupiers. This desire was symbolised by the remarkable success of a short English conversation book that had sold 3.5 million copies by the end of 1945 and remained the country’s all-time best-selling publication until as late as 1981 (Dower 1999). It has also been argued that defeat and occupation fostered an inferiority complex towards the West – especially America – reflected in the ubiquitous use of Westerners to advertise products and services, even those aimed solely at Japanese consumers (Yano 2011).

These days Western popular culture is clearly embedded in Japanese society, as a walk down any high street in the country will attest. Such societal influences are reflected linguistically in the huge number of English loan words – as many as 3,000 by some estimates – that have found their way into the Japanese language (Daulton 2008). Moreover, the abundance of eikawa (English conversation) schools – a multi-billion-yen industry – suggests there is a widespread desire to speak English and that communication skills are highly prized. Furthermore, international posture; that is, a tendency to relate oneself to global concerns and the international community, has been identified as a source of motivation for English learning among Japanese high school students (Yashima 2009). English also has positive connotations in the economic sphere, as fluency in the language signifies privilege and enhances job prospects in a globalised marketplace (Margolis 2020).

Internationalism and feelings of akogare towards the West appear to be more prevalent among females, with young women, especially, the most enthusiastic consumers of English (Piller, Takahashi and Watanabe 2010). A variety of reasons for this trend have been identified, including a desire to break free from traditional gender roles and limited employment opportunities in Japanese society (Kelsky 2001), as well as a romanticised portrayal of Western popular culture in the media (Takahashi 2013). However, such feelings are often based on an idealised version of a generic, progressive West, while overlooking complex issues of race, class, gender and sexuality (Kelsky 2001). Interestingly, these findings suggest a bidirectional flow of Eurocentric attitudes, with the superiority of Western traits and values uncritically assumed even among sections of Japanese society.

Nevertheless Japan, like all countries, faces a conflict between protecting its own cultural identity and remaining open to others. This contradiction is reflected in the public discourse around globalisation, with economic opportunities presented alongside presumed threats to the country’s unity, values, and security (Yamagami and Tollefson 2011). For centuries, a broader priority of successive Japanese governments, arguably going back to the banning of Christianity by Toyotomi Hideyoshi in 1587, has been the preservation of Japanese culture and language (Childs 2001). In this century, too, cultural nationalists have warned of dire consequences for Japanese identity if English were to be afforded official status by the government (McVeigh 2004). Sceptics also link English to the debate around immigration, which they perceive as a threat to national culture and security. However, although the government has previously been reluctant to increase immigration, this situation is beginning to change given its potential to defuse the ticking time bomb that is Japan’s aging population. Moreover, surveys show that public opinion broadly supports accepting more foreign workers, with 59% – the same percentage as in the USA – also agreeing that immigrants make the country stronger (Reidy 2023).

English educational policy

In terms of educational policy, the degree to which English learning should be prioritised in schools, and whether it inhibits the learning of the Japanese language and culture, has been hotly debated for decades (e.g. Mizumura 2015). Nevertheless, numerous attempts have been made to improve English education, with thousands of English-speaking teaching assistants (ALTs) posted throughout the country, and it is now over twenty years since the Ministry of Education drew up plans to cultivate ‘Japanese with English abilities’ (MEXT 2003). To this end, English as a medium of instruction (EMI) has been vigorously promoted by the government based on the rationale that, as the lingua franca of science, technology and business, a practical knowledge of English is essential for participation in the global economy. Following similar initiatives in China and South Korea, the Japanese government established its Global 30 and Top Global University projects (in 2009 and 2014 respectively) to encourage internationalisation. As part of this drive, subsidies are provided for universities that succeed in increasing the number of EMI courses, as well as overseas students and faculty members (MEXT 2014). As a result, universities frequently use EMI as a marketing tool to attract students – both domestic and overseas – while emphasising the ‘globalisation as opportunity’ narrative (Yamagami and Tollefson 2011).

In contrast, attempts to promote communicative English prior to university have often been stymied by the heavily form-focused way it is taught in formal educational settings, in preparation for the all-important university entrance exams (Nishino and Watanabe 2008). This situation has persisted despite MEXT's (2009) call for high school English classes ‘in principle’ to be conducted in the target language. To address this discrepancy, in 2017 the government announced plans to incorporate a speaking element into university entrance exams, thus promoting positive washback at the high school level. However, these plans have since been delayed – perhaps indefinitely – due to the practical difficulties of implementing such a policy nationwide (Aspinall 2022).

Ironically, early attempts at learning English were in stark contrast to the current situation. Around the time of the Meiji Restoration, acquiring practical English skills was viewed as an essential part of the effort to gather knowledge and technical expertise from around the globe, with approximately a third of Tokyo University’s budget expended on the salaries of Western lecturers (Imura 2003). However, the ensuing nationalist fightback saw the status of English downgraded not only in Tokyo University but across the country as a whole. In 1907, the Ministry of Education recommended limiting English study among trainee teachers to the more academically gifted, due to what it claimed was its inherently difficult nature. Far from being a practical subject, English increasingly came to be seen as a means of measuring academic performance, with students filtered accordingly (Erikawa 2006). Thus, the modern Japanese complex regarding English took root, as students no longer spoke English in class but instead made great efforts to study translation for entrance examinations. Consequently, the yakudoku (grammar translation) method established its grip on the Japanese education system.

Confucian heritage and the English complex

Underpinning educational methodology, it has been argued that a fundamental dichotomy exists between Western traditions of humanism and self-expression on the one hand, and Japanese Neo-Confucian principles on the other (Sabatini, Matsumura and Tamura 1997). According to this view, the latter tradition – with its emphasis on hierarchical relationships, academic mastery, and education as an inherently moral pursuit – presents a formidable obstacle to the widespread adoption of communicative methods of language teaching, despite government calls to incorporate more interactive learning in the national curriculum (MEXT 2018). This thesis has been extended to other countries – such as China and Korea – which share a Confucian heritage, and in which maintaining harmony and practising restraint in public are said to be valued above individual self-expression (Turner 2011). This view has been critiqued, however, on the basis that it offers a reductive view of Confucianism, while stereotyping East Asian students as unwilling to express opinions and unable to think critically (O'Dwyer 2017). In other words, it serves as another example of Eurocentrism as cultural values are presented as a barrier to language learning among societies that lack a historical tradition of humanism or personal autonomy.

In this case, a middle perspective is warranted. Japanese learners clearly are more prone than their Western counterparts to maintain periods of silence during pedagogic exchanges, with cultural factors at least partly responsible. For example, Nakane (2007) found that politeness strategies and embarrassment about making mistakes caused Japanese students to remain silent during university seminars, in contrast to their Australian peers. Furthermore, according to Aspinall (2022), in junior high school English lessons, Japanese students are encouraged to remain silent until they have formulated the ‘correct’ answer, rather than attempting to express themselves using their available resources. This mastery principle also contributes to the so-called ‘native speaker syndrome’ – the widely held view in Japan that only native-speaker English is authentic – which inhibits learners from using English to communicate upon realising that they are unable to meet such unrealistic standards (Yano 2011).

Nevertheless, it is possible to reconcile such cultural conventions with communicative language teaching by using what Han (2022) has referred to as ‘context-sensitive pedagogies’ (1). For example, students who are reluctant to speak up in front of the whole class are often willing to do so in small group situations. Moreover, the emphasis on cooperation in traditionally collectivist societies, such as those in East Asia, can be utilised productively with learners encouraged to help each other achieve the aims of a pair– or group-based task (Han 2022). Therefore, instead of dichotomising cultures with regard to language learning, adopting a flexible approach to pedagogy can bring positive results, even within a communicative framework.

Conclusion

Attitudes towards English have waxed and waned over the past 150 years in Japan – as reflected in public policy – with English representing both the threats and benefits of globalisation at various times in the country’s history (Fujimoto-Adamson 2006). Yet despite Japan’s current ‘national obsession with English proficiency’ (Margolis 2020, para. 21), the country’s international proficiency ranking has continued to fall (EF English Proficiency Index 2023). A combination of factors is responsible for this situation, including complex issues of culture and national identity, as well as the perception of English as being inherently difficult, and a lack of opportunities for English use outside the classroom (Yano 2011). In addition, the university entrance exam system exerts a profound influence on the way English is taught in schools, promoting a focus on linguistic form rather than practical applications.

However, it is erroneous to ascribe the current situation to a lingering sakoku mentality, especially when that phenomenon has been exaggerated historically and continues to be misunderstood by many in the West. It should also be emphasised that the concept itself is of Western, not Japanese, origin. Furthermore, although contact with the outside world was restricted prior to the Meiji Restoration, this policy was by no means unique to Japan – China and Korea adopted similar polices at times during the same period (Kazui 1982). In fact, all pre-industrial societies had limited contact with outsiders, not least because of the lack of transportation and communication technology (Totman 2007). Even today, restricted trade or diplomacy with other countries remains a common feature of the international landscape. Japan, for its part, has reopened its borders since the Covid pandemic and clearly wants to be part of the international community, as illustrated by the initial joy that greeted the awarding of the 2020 Olympics, and underscored politically by Prime Minister Kishida’s recent speech – delivered in English – to the US Congress.

The argument that a form of historical isolationism persists in the Japanese psyche is not only flawed but dangerous, as it perpetuates stereotypes and provides a false lens through which to interpret contemporary realities, including such diverse issues as English learning and the response to the Covid pandemic. It also perpetuates Eurocentric narratives that foreground Western perspectives – both historical and philosophical – regarding non-Western societies. As Willis (2007) has written, ‘Dejima is, in many ways, where the Othering of Japan begins’ (240).

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Correction Statement

This article has been corrected with minor changes. These changes do not impact the academic content of the article.