Lessons in Leadership from Japan #5
A Place and People that changed how I view leadership
Photo credit Tiennguyen on Pexels
Let me take you back around 20 years ago when I stepped off the plane and onto the Narita tarmac, each year around mid-august. Before I even looked around, my body knew. Summer in Japan. That feeling. 蒸し暑い. Mushi atsui.
That thick, humid air with its particular smell, making my skin instantly moist.
Later, arriving home, came another unmistakable sound. The deafening chorus of semi, in the trees nearby.
My memories of end-of-summer in Japan
Walking through the streets with a parasol. The sound of water trickling through gardens and temple courtyards. Escaping into the shade of a forest where the air somehow felt ten degrees cooler. Stopping for a mountain of melting kakigōri on an impossibly hot afternoon. Summer festivals, fireworks, and people strolling through the streets in colorful yukata.
This year, with the heat waves hitting many countries, summer was something to survive. We complained about the heat, hid indoors with the air-conditioning (if we’re lucky – not me in Paris), and count the days until September.
If this sounded unusual in most European country this year, very hot weather has been a usual feature in Tokyo.
Like everything else in Japan, summer comes with official announcement. As summer days grow hotter and hotter year after year (and as it will be more and more frequent in the future due to climate change) a new “official” word has been introduced this year for such a weather : kokushobi (酷暑日) – see article about it (1).
With the official summer announcement comes the official rules: Cool Biz (2). Coolbiz marks the official season of summer attire at the office – drop the jacket and necktie, and wear short-sleeves shirts. Initially the japanese government introduced CoolBiz as a campaign to save energy. It was linked to raising the temperature of the air-conditioning in offices – even shutting it off during lunch breaks.
When I was living in Japan, every year, as summer approached, I found myself asking the truly important question: “When does Cool Biz start this year?” You don’t want to make the “gaffe” to drop the jacket and wear short sleeves one day early!
Where else in the world does an entire country’s office workers wait for official permission to remove a tie?
Fitting-in or standing out ?
As a French person, I used to think that what I wear reflect who I am. A kind of personal statement. It reflected my individuality, something unique about me. Also at work, where I tends to choose a “business chic” style.
In Japan you wear what you are expected to, given your social status and group belonging. (See my article about this (3)) Wearing the proper / required attire is a sign that you know your role, you are careful that people recognize you as competent and fitting in.
At my office in Tokyo, dressed as me, with my clearly French “business chic” Hermes touch, I stood out. That was OK because I was and looked like a foreigner. My Japanese friends often complimented me about my “one piece” (dress). They saw a bold statement in wearing it (I didn’t).
In the Tokyo offices, for decades, the business suit functioned as a social fabric. It promoted harmony by erasing visible differences. It signaled seriousness. It made everyone’s role immediately legible.
The dark suit, white shirt, tie, uniform-like appearance—all of it communicated :
- I belong.
- I take my role seriously.
- I am part of the group, almost interchangeable with everyone else.
Things have changed, evolved a bit towards less rigidity, but still, in the Japanese workplaces, what you wear serves a social function. It creates a visible sense of shared identity and reduce the distinctions between individuals. The saying goes “the nail that sticks out get the hammer”. You don’t want to be that nail. So, you adjust your clothing as well as your manners and behaviors.
Shorts or pants ?
Which brings us to this year, with the Cool Biz new controversy created by the Tokyo government suggesting that men should wear shorts to work… Not the typical image of the Japanese “salaryman” ! (4) and (5).
Another interesting story about japanese work clothes is the “kutsu” movement in 2019, as a kind of translation of the “Me Too” movement worldwide.
The movement was called #KuToo, a play on words combining the Japanese word for shoes (kutsu, 靴) and the Japanese pronunciation of “pain” (kutsū, 苦痛), while also echoing #MeToo (6)
What is fascinating is that in many Western countries, the debate around workplace attire has largely disappeared.
In Japan, however, the issue became national news because many companies still expected women to wear high heels as part of what was considered appropriate professional appearance. The debate was not about shoes, but about the difference of expectations in what men or women should look like.
The debate was never really about shoes, it was about a much deeper question: Who gets to define what professionalism looks like?
And that brings me back to my observations about suits, ties, and Cool Biz. If clothing is merely personal expression, changing it is easy. If clothing is part of the social fabric of professionalism, changing it becomes a cultural negotiation.
What I find particularly interesting is that both #CoolBiz and #KuToo are, in a sense, asking the same question: Can we update the visible symbols of professionalism without losing professionalism itself?
#CoolBiz challenges the tie. #KuToo challenged the heel.
Clothing can almost magically create professionalism because what you wear helps reinforce a shared understanding of what it meant to be professional.
And that is part of the leadership lesson behind it.
What leadership should look like ?
Looking back, I realize this isn’t really an article about ties. It is about something leaders often underestimate. We spend a lot of time thinking about what we say. How we communicate. How we influence. But long before we chose our words and open our mouths, people have already started forming an opinion about you and your leadership.
Leadership, like identity, starts before you speak.
What you wear. How you present yourself. Whether you blend in or stand out. Whether you signal authority, approachability, creativity or reliability. These choices aren’t neutral. They shape how others read you.
In France, we dress to stand out. In the USA we often hear dress for success. In Japan, it’s dress for fitting-in. The goal isn’t to stand out. The goal is to reassure everyone that you belong and are a loyal team player.
Every culture has its own visual language of leadership. Japan made me realise how powerful that language can be.
After all, a tie is just a piece of fabric. Or it’s just about shoes with heels. Or a Hermes scarf stylishly tied around your neck.
Until an entire society decides it means something more.
- https://www.reddit.com/r/LearnJapanese/comments/1v4j150/its_so_hot_that_japan_needs_a_new_word_for_it/
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cool_Biz_campaign
- https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/cloak-does-make-monk-benedicte-franchot-696rc
- https://www.business-standard.com/world-news/cool-biz-men-in-shorts-are-shaking-up-japan-s-buttoned-down-offices-126071900787_1.html
- https://www.instagram.com/reels/Da2OwPpTRAZ/
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/KuToo_movement
I write about Japan, but these stories are really about perspective. After fifteen years living there, I realised that the country’s greatest gift wasn’t teaching me how people in Japan live, work and lead—it was revealing the assumptions I carried with me. Through these journeys, I hope to invite readers to become travelers too: a little more curious, a little less certain, and a little more open to the many ways of the world.
After all, the most meaningful journeys don’t just change what we see. They change us and how we see.
Bénédicte / The Great Floating Tribe
