On February 11, Japan marked its annual National Foundation Day. This anniversary provided an opportunity, a few days ago, for me to write again after an involuntary break imposed by daily preoccupation with local, regional, and international political developments at a pivotal moment for our region and the world as a whole. Current shifts are laying the foundations for a new global and regional order that will shape the next few decades. This state of affairs obliges us, as Iraqis, to prepare for what lies ahead.
The Spanish poet and philosopher George Santayana once said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” The lessons we learn from our lived experiences are, in this sense, inseparable from examinations of major turning points in human history, which shape strategy and build the foundations of sound and prudent decisions.
Japan’s experience merits careful reflection. Although Japan lies at the far eastern edge of the world, it offers a model worthy of emulation. My view of Japan is not abstract but rooted in observation, direct engagement, and deep familiarity. I have visited Japan several times since 2023 for scientific and cultural engagements, allowing me to gain firsthand insights into the strengths of the distinct Japanese experience.
One gets an immediate sense that these islands make up an ancient empire whose history extends back over two thousand years. In Japan, it became clear to me that grand narratives of national revival do not begin with an abundance of wealth nor rosy political rhetoric spreading across the public sphere as leaders make easy promises and raise moving slogans. More often, they begin with accepting painful truths- a moment in which society (elites, institutions, and individuals) decides to rise up and to build a real state instead of dividing scraps and seeking spoils. Such a moment cannot be imposed from without nor imported ready-made. It must be forged from within, when a nation collectively comes to realize that continuing to run around the same circles only postpones collapse.
Beyond superficial admiration, the essence of transformation becomes clear when it is examined. It was neither a divine miracle, nor a stroke of historical luck, nor merely a fleeting moment. It was a conscious political and social choice to confront the vested interests that had long hindered society, foremost among them feudal and clan structures that had turned the state into an arena of conflict and competing loyalties. At a decisive juncture in their history, the Japanese understood that the state cannot be built on shaky ground and rival affiliations, nor governed with a mentality of domination or privilege.
The Meiji Charter marked the first major turning point on the path toward the modern Japanese state. It amounted to a clear declaration of the birth of a new conception of the state, enabling Japan to dismantle narrow loyalties that had viewed the state either as an adversary or booty to be seized rather than a framework for unity.
At that time, the state took the courageous step of ending hereditary privileges and channeling loyalty away from clan and tribe toward the central state. This shift represented a conscious break with the logic of a “fragmented state” that blurs responsibilities. The Japanese came to understand “states within the state” are antithetical to statehood itself and that a genuine project of renewal must begin by decisively settling the question of political and legal authority.
Building strong central institutions was not an end in itself, but a means for consolidating the principle that the law is the final arbiter. It also affirmed that sub-identities, regardless of their historical or social depth, must ultimately be assimilated into a broader national identity. This lesson extends beyond the Japanese context, to states and societies where sub-identities continue to undermine the common good.
The state, in its broad sense, cannot be built by law alone, nor can it be built by institutions alone. It must be built on a population that believes in it. For this reason, Japan made education the strongest pillar of its national renewal project. Education was transformed, and schools were no longer merely institutions for transmitting knowledge. They became a social ladder to employment in a growing state apparatus and a social laboratory for reshaping the people.
Compulsory education was imposed on everyone. This was a strategic decision that goes beyond physical infrastructure and had implications for the people’s character and mind. Most importantly, curricula were not designed to merely fill minds with information. They were designed to instill an integrated system of values: discipline, respect for time, teamwork, and recourse to the law as the final reference.
In Japanese schools, the aim was not only to cultivate skilled individuals or remarkable skills. The aim was to form citizens. They learn that the interest of the group comes before individual whims. They learn that freedom is inseparable from responsibility. In this way, a generation emerges. It sees order as a value and commitment as a virtue.
Societies often err when they assume that change begins with politics and ends with culture. The Japanese experience overturned this assumption. Culture was the primary engine of durable political transformation. Collective values were reinforced under an unspoken slogan: the “we” comes before “I.” Individual success has no meaning unless it benefits society as a whole.
The concept of “honor” was redefined. It became linked to work and mastery. It was no longer tied to lineage, violence, or hollow titles. In one of the deepest symbolic shifts, the spirit of the samurai was reshaped. It moved from a culture of combat and duels to a culture of work and efficiency. Discipline, loyalty, and sacrifice are deeply rooted in the Japanese consciousness. They were not abolished. They were redirected toward building factories, developing technology, and serving the common good.
At the heart of the Japanese experience lies the relationship between the citizen and the state. The state was not built against society, nor was it imposed by force. It was presented as a model to be followed, allowing Japan to protect itself against decline. Public money was sacred, and public property came to be seen as an extension of collective ownership.
At the end of the Second World War, Japan faced one of the harshest moments in its history. The shock of its crushing military defeat and destruction did not lead to chaos nor a desire for revenge. Instead, it triggered a bold and comprehensive reassessment, and Japan chose to redefine the meaning of power.
Power was decoupled from arms. It moved toward the economy, science, and innovation. Investment was made in human capital, in education and technology. The state was rebuilt on new foundations, and within a few decades, Japan became a global economic powerhouse. This experience should push us to look in the mirror and link identity with ethics, without retreating into narrow affiliations.
Today, we need our own “Meiji moment;” we need to redefine our relationship with the state. We must move from a mentality of spoils to one of institutions. We must move beyond narrow sub-identities and embrace the homeland. The state is not built by slogans but on mutual trust. It cannot be protected by force without justice. The Japanese experience shows that renewal takes time. It is a process of cultural, educational, and legal reform. It is a shift from appropriation to responsibility, from seeing the state as prey to seeing it as a comprehensive contract.
That all leaves us with a decisive moral and national question. Do we have the courage to take this path? Or will we remain captive to the pursuit of spoils? The region around us is undergoing major shifts; will we fail to grasp that our homeland deserves sacrifice? It has a proud history, and it deserves a bright future.
