Following the Liberal Democratic Party’s electoral landslide last month, the government has once again affirmed a familiar contradiction: Japan will expand its reliance on foreign labor while insisting it has no “immigration policy.”

This long-standing sleight of hand was crystallized during the creation of the ikusei shūrō training and employment system. In parliamentary deliberations before its passage in June 2024, the government stated plainly: “The introduction of this system is not intended to be an ‘immigration policy.’”

This logic has remained remarkably consistent across successive administrations. By relying on a 2018 definition by the Cabinet that equates “immigration policy” only with the permanent, large-scale settlement of families, the government maintains a persistent tatemae, or pretense: it can expand residency paths like the Specified Skilled Worker visa — which functions as a de facto immigration route — while flatly denying that any “immigration policy” exists. Semantics like this allow the state to procure labor while preserving the political myth of a homogenous nation, effectively inviting workers but ignoring the human beings.

This position was reaffirmed by Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi in her inaugural policy speech on Feb. 20. While the prime minister presented a vision of "orderly coexistence with foreigners" and pledged to enhance Japanese language education for them, she deliberately remained silent on the legal status of immigrants.

This refusal to utter the word “immigrant” is tatemae in its purest form — a public facade maintained to preserve social harmony by denying the existence of the very people the state is attempting to integrate.

The contradiction deepened in 2024 when the government introduced the Registered Japanese Language Teacher certification, the first national license for Japanese-language instructors. By doing so, Japan is now professionalizing the mechanisms of integration, even as it pretends there is no one to integrate under its insistence that there is no immigration policy. What remains conspicuously absent is a guiding principle for how people — regardless of origin — should coexist with dignity.

The new certification system marks a turning point. Until now, the quality and training of Japanese-language teachers were largely left to the private sector, including academia. By nationalizing the qualification, the education ministry aims to guarantee standards and elevate the profession. Certified institutions must now employ licensed teachers who have passed a state exam and completed practical training.

The government presents this as a path to career stability. Yet it also places new financial and administrative burdens on teachers in order to obtain certification. More importantly, it raises a deeper question: Is the state empowering teachers as mediators of social inclusion or standardizing them as producers of language skills tailored to labor-market needs?

Without a clear philosophy of coexistence, professionalization risks becoming another tool of bureaucratic efficiency rather than a foundation for genuine integration.

At the center of these reforms lies the 2021 Reference Framework for Japanese Language Education, modeled explicitly on the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages. The CEFR was conceived not merely as a pedagogical tool but as a means to promote democratic citizenship.

Japan’s framework adopts three progressive pillars:

Learners as “social agents”: Language learners are not passive recipients of knowledge but active participants in society, using language to pursue fuller, better lives.

Emphasis on “What one can do”: The focus shifts from abstract linguistic knowledge to real-world communicative ability — how learners use Japanese to navigate daily life.

Respect for diversity in Japanese language: The framework acknowledges that “native speaker Japanese” is not the only legitimate form. Learners’ goals and needs take precedence, opening space for linguistic diversity.

On paper, this is a humane and forward-looking vision. But its promise hinges on whether the state recognizes learners as full members of society — or merely as labor.

The term “social agent” carries philosophical weight. In Hegel’s social thought, individuals become fully human through mutual recognition — through being acknowledged as subjects within the ethical fabric of family, civil society and the state.

By adopting this language, the Japanese government implicitly promises that through the Japanese language, learners will be recognized as full participants in society.

But here the contradiction deepens. Without an immigration policy that guarantees social and political rights, the “social agent” concept remains a fiction. The rhetoric of recognition becomes another layer of pretext. When “can-do” descriptors are used primarily to manage labor, the social agent collapses into a cog for labor.

This contradiction exposes a deeper irony. The Education Ministry has long championed ikiru chikara (zest for living) as a core educational ideal. Yet in practice, the state’s language policies risk undermining that very principle.

The Reference Framework promises learners a “better life.” But for many foreign residents, life in Japan is increasingly defined by administrative control, not empowerment. When human existence is reduced to labor utility, ikiru chikara is drained of its dignity.

We are elevating the status of teachers while muting the voices of the students they serve.

If Japan’s language reforms are to be more than instruments of labor management, they must be grounded in a genuine commitment to the people who call this country home. Language should not be a gatekeeping device; it should be a bridge to shared citizenship.

Japan must move beyond the pretext of management and embrace reality — the lived reality — of a society that is already multicultural. The state does not need more efficiently trained human resources. It needs a framework that recognizes the dignity and agency of every individual living within its borders.

The era in which social harmony could be maintained through polite denial is drawing to a close. If Japan continues to treat language as a tool for labor extraction while ignoring the human beings behind it, the very ikiru chikara that sustains the nation will erode from within.

A society that refuses to recognize its residents cannot expect to be recognized by them in return.

© The Japan Times