The national paradox: Why Japan isn’t silent (and Curry vs. Ramen)

In Japan, it is commonly said that the secret to smooth communication is to observe the ratio of “70% Listening, 30% Talking.” However, if everyone actually adhered to this rule, the entire nation would surely be plunged into silence—yet that is far from the case. This paradox clearly proves that, fundamentally, humans are animals who love to talk and hate to listen.

Furthermore, even the content of this endless talking often seems utterly meaningless. Take one of the most absurd questions every Japanese person, including myself, has posed to another: “If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, would you choose curry or ramen?” Truly, silence is golden.

This brings me back to a less stupid question: If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, what would you choose? For me, the answer is easy: Stand by Me.

But this article isn’t about the movie itself; it’s about a phrase in the original novella, The Body, by Stephen King. The exact wording escapes me now, but the essence—which has since served as a compass in my life—is this: Good stories disappear due to a lack of good listeners, not a lack of good storytellers.

The horror of the unheard story: My biggest fear

Have you ever been blindsided in a conversation, discovering a profound, moving side of a friend you thought you knew intimately? Every time I experience such a moment, I feel a profound unease and self-reproach, wondering how many good stories I’ve already missed and wasted.

I’ve realized that every person carries great, unheard stories—and it is solely the listener’s responsibility to draw them out. The true horror of this concept is that we can never truly recognize our mistake. If there are no good listeners, people simply hold their tongue, and those untold, profound stories are carried together with them to their graves.

I recently spent an entire evening talking at a friend about a new venture. When I finally paused for breath, he calmly revealed he’d been planning a life change far more dramatic than my business idea. That moment of immediate, intense shame reminded me that I am fundamentally a bad listener, just like most people.

Listening to the wood: The craftsperson’s responsibility

While it might sound cheesy, our craftspeople often say they have to “listen to the voice of the wood,” especially when aligning pieces for joining.

Consider the production of a solid wood tabletop. These tops consist of multiple individual wood pieces. Our craftspeople don’t align them arbitrarily. At first, I thought the arrangement was purely for aesthetic design—to find the most beautiful combination of grain patterns.

I was wrong.

Our craftspeople closely observe the wood pieces—earnest, active listeners of the material—and finely adjust the alignment so that the resulting tabletop is not only beautiful but, crucially, stable and sturdy. The grain patterns are not just observed; they are matched so that the tensions within the wood neutralize each other.

To reinterpret Stephen King’s profound phrase: Good furniture appears due to good listeners (good communication with the material). The durability and beauty of our tables are proof that our craftspeople hear the voices others simply ignore.

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