Health post: Tying the threads together

In Japan, any time you walk into or even near the door of a shop, you’re guaranteed to hear “Irasshaimase!” It essentially means “welcome to the store and come on in.” I’ve heard it in so many iterations by now: the full, exuberant call to any visitors; the periodic, slightly robotic “irasshaimase” called out by shop workers to no one in particular; and the occasional, tired, not-quite-there “…shaimase.” Sometimes, the call of “Irasshaimase!” is so happy and charming that you can’t help but smile in return. Other times, I walk past a store and ignore the dully repetitive “irasshaimase” calls along with other Japanese passers-by.

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This is Hakone Jinja. Over the weekend, I went to the nearby town of Hakone with my host family.

For the most part, this welcome call is polite and lovely, and I see it as indicative of many trends I’ve noticed here: the feeling of a common collective, a strong work culture, perfectionism, and a charming consideration of the feelings of others. The way that every single shop and restaurant worker says it – whether they sound happy about it or not – means that every shopping experience starts with a welcome, and I feel like that fits in well with the strong collective culture I’ve felt here. Generally, once you figure out how these interactions go in Japan, they will always go the same way.

There’s also a surprising amount of talking that, in the shop example, might start with “irasshaimase” and continue at the register with far more Japanese than you’d expect when buying a pack of gum, as the shop employee hurries through a certain set of phrases (I wish I knew what they all meant). There’s an idea that someone is much more likely to carry out a task correctly – that is, perfectly – if they verbally reinforce each required action. This recent article perfectly describes this phenomenon as it applies to Japanese train workers, who call out what they’re doing even when no one is listening as a way to reinforce the performance of the required task. Of course, this is an example of the perfectionism and work culture.

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While in Hakone, my host family and I went to this great open-air museum. This photo of my host mom and me was taken by the dad of the family!

I’m soon leaving Japan, and I’ve had many meetings here for which I haven’t written individual posts. I wanted to share some highlights from those meetings and focus more on the themes I’ve noticed from them, such as the perfectionism and work culture as I’ve already mentioned. Based on what I’ve seen, and of course in terms of health and medical technology, I think the most significant cultural trends are respect of hierarchy, conformity, and risk avoidance.

Hierarchy

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Jizo statues, little protectors at many temples.

From what I’ve gathered, hierarchy is quite important in Japan, and hierarchy often correlates with age. I met with a Tokyo-based company called Allm (for “All Medical”) that offers a platform of multiple smartphone apps to increase efficiency in healthcare. Their main product, an app called Join, serves as a secure messaging service between doctors. Through Join, doctors in different areas can share ideas and expertise – for example, a doctor might send an X-ray through the private app to a more senior remote doctor, who can then give immediate feedback and advice about what to do next with the patient. The woman I was interviewing at Allm, Ms. Kudo, told me about the difficulties they’ve encountered when encouraging doctors to use the app.

When I asked her what specifically impacts the usage of the Allm app, she said “In Japan, we really care about hierarchy.” The younger doctors always follow the elder doctors, she explained. If the more senior doctors say no to something – such as the usage of a new app – “that’s it,” she said. Allm company members often travel to expos to promote the app, and if older doctors say it’s too difficult, they have a very hard time selling it. Adoption and acceptance of new medical devices can hinge on an influential decision maker – I’ve learned that medical technology companies often try to find these “ambassadors,” perhaps an influential doctor who is excited about the new technology and can convince their hospital to purchase it. Ms. Kudo told me that, for Allm in Japan, those ambassadors always have to be the most senior doctors (the highest in the hierarchy, who also often happen to be the oldest as well).

This respect for the hierarchy also complicates the group-chat aspect of the app, where doctors can discuss cases and share knowledge and advice. Ms. Kudo told me that the younger doctors become shy in the group, not wanting to ask questions, because they don’t want to seem foolish or ignorant in the presence of more senior doctors – their bosses – who are also on the chat. They’re very worried about screwing up, said Ms. Kudo, even if the senior doctors would have the answers they seek. I was sad to hear this since, of course, I would much rather have a younger doctor ask a somewhat silly question than never learn a crucial tactic; I feel like asking questions is seen as a necessary part of the education process in the US.

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A band of robots at the Toyota Museum in Nagoya.

Someone in Sweden once told me that, with technology being so pervasive, even grandparents were considered uncool or out of the loop if they didn’t have cellphones or use computers. In fact, the word they used was “hermit.” I expected the same in Japan – if Japan is known for being a technologically innovative country, with so much exciting technology everywhere (such as the robots in stores), why doesn’t that extend to, or influence, the older generations? (I asked Ms. Kudo this question, and she was decidedly stumped).

Now, I think it is because of this respect of hierarchies and the elderly in Japan – the younger people would not ask the elderly to keep up with all the new technology, as they are expected to in Sweden. There very well might be Japanese nurses and doctors that are eager and excited to use an app in their work, but if their older and higher-up bosses disagree, their voices might go unheard because the respect of the hierarchy is so strong. In Sweden, however, I noticed that there was little respect for hierarchy and more of an effort to treat everyone as a peer. One Swedish doctor who had been practicing for decades told me that, when a patient mentions something they read on the internet about their condition, he’s not going to tell them they’re wrong – he’ll sit down with them and have a conversation about it, and maybe learn something new himself. I don’t think that would happen here.

A subtler issue here is that, if you’re trying to sell medical technology to someone who has been doing their job well for the past 40 or 50 years, they might have a harder time seeing the use of an additional tool (or worse, be insulted by the implicit suggestion that a medical device would improve their work).

Since younger generations are typically more interested in using new technology than older generations, having the senior people be the decision makers with regard to medical technology probably means that adoption will be slower here than it could be. I thought the mere ubiquity of technology in Japan would lead to high acceptance of medical technology, but I was wrong. There might be cute robots in stores (which are very technologically advanced), but that doesn’t mean that all the less-advanced tech (like smartphone health apps) will be as popular. Using a cute robot at a store is a very different interaction from using a smartphone app every day, and maybe the culture here is more excited about the former rather than the latter. I was expecting some “trickle-down technology acceptance” – that because of the appreciation of robots here, people would want all areas of life to be technology enhanced. But that’s not how it works. Technology is not everywhere here, and there’s still a lot of value placed in tradition and ancient culture (for example, I see many young people visiting and praying at the many shrines and temples Japan).

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Taking the escalator up to the huge Hie Shrine in the middle of high-rise Tokyo.

Conformity and Work Culture

The collective sensibility is something I’ve noticed in many aspects of Japan, even walking the streets of Tokyo. For example, street fashion in New York City is all about standing out – doing something completely unique and bold and different. In Tokyo, I’ll see friends meet up with each other, and they’ll all be wearing iterations of the same outfit (really, it’s crazy how often I see this). Japan is not a particularly diverse place, and I get the sense here that fitting in – conforming to certain looks and roles – is highly valued.

It’s hard to know exactly how the sensibilities of a corporate culture and common collective impact reactions to medical devices; perhaps it’s simply that there are fewer individualist and innovative start-ups here adding many devices to the market. With a strong corporate culture, doing one’s job well in the same company for many years is rewarded. In the US, however, we reward individual success and the ability to quickly commercialize a new innovation.

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Dr. Mukai of Meijo University and his ROBEAR, a healthcare patient-lifting robot that is used purely for research and will most likely never work in a hospital.

In one meeting, I spoke with an American named Marty who has a start-up here in Tokyo called enTouch KK. He talked about how there might be fantastic research happening at universities, but that the results are not commercialized. The job of the professor is not to commercialize research ideas and move into business, but rather to write as many papers as possible and start working on the next research project. Marty said that since the professors are proud in what they do, they don’t feel the need (or want) to commercialize it. Their success is already measured by the research itself, and with that aspect of professorial work perfected, there’s no need to bring ideas beyond the university. (This is not to say that there aren’t professors trying to commercialize ideas and collaborate with businesses; I met a few professors in Osaka who are trying to do just that. They did, however, discuss the difficulty of being surrounded by professors who have no interest in business).

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This is Professor Nakane of Osaka University, who is trying to commercialize his idea of applying the mathematic theory of homology to the medical problem of tumor detection.

In the US, however, we’re trained to take any idea farther and think: how can I commercialize this? How can I monetize it? Marty taught me an old saying from Japan: “The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.” I was so stunned, I started laughing at how absurdly dramatic the saying is. It describes an attitude that I see as a stereotype about Japan that may have been true a few decades ago, so I was surprised to hear that sentiment echoed in Tokyo in 2017. Marty did not mean that it applies to all scenarios, of course, and he did say that it was an old saying – but it’s still a sad one.

I had heard about Japan’s corporate culture before I arrived, and I had this 1970s scene in my mind of men all wearing the same black suits, walking through Tokyo with the same black briefcases. It’s not quite that intense, but the idea of the “salaryman” persists well into 2017. If not directly related to medical technology, I do think the corporate culture has an impact on health – a few people have told me that if there is anything unhealthy about Japan, it’s the work culture, the long hours and commitment to doing your job perfectly (as opposed to trying to stand out and jump up the ranks). At the very least, I do think it’s connected to the lack of more health start-ups.

Risk Avoidance

The small number of medical start-ups here is also due to a fear of risk. The very first person I met in Japan, a doctor, told me that the most important cultural aspect of Japan with regards to medicine is that people are risk-averse. This manifests both in people, who take extra care to be safe in their everyday lives, and in companies, who seem hesitant to build invasive technologies (as most medical devices are).

The day to day risk aversion is evident in the stereotypes of Japan such as the wearing of face masks (which people do, but not everyone). People also avoid direct sunlight, and everywhere I’ve been has felt extremely safe. I honestly think that part of why people live so long here is because they avoid risky or dangerous activities, staying safe throughout their lives. (There are unhealthy habits as well, though, such as the prevalence of cigarette smoking; and yet Japan is not ranked as a country with high lung cancer rates, whereas the US is: source).

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At one of Hakone’s most sulphuric destinations, workers give you little cloths at the station: “To prevent accidents occurring due to volcanic gases, please be sure to cover your mouth and nose with the wet cloth.”

I interviewed someone at a big Japanese medical technology company that produces non-invasive equipment for hospitals and patients living at home – nothing invasive or implantable. He said that those types of devices are seen as too risky and that, for example, no Japanese company makes pacemakers – medical companies here want to avoid any potential of failure. Everyone he knows in Japan who uses a pacemaker, he said, has one from Medtronic (from Ireland) or some other globally recognized brand.

Professor Yoshizawa, of the bioethics department at Osaka University, told me the same thing – that while there are many robots in Japan, most of them are for communication and business because companies are reluctant to put a robot in a healthcare space where the risk and consequences of failure are much higher. He said that most medical devices in Japan (especially those that are implanted or provide treatment) are generally imported from the EU and US, while Japanese companies make non-invasive monitoring systems for diagnoses and check-ups because they’re safer. Professor Yoshizawa said that if one Japanese-made device causes any harm, the company will be attacked by the government, media, and general public and their whole image destroyed, so there’s no room for error – better to just avoid the risk altogether, and therefore Japanese medical companies focus on prevention and fitness. (Personally I find this a bit frustrating, because being at the forefront of medical technology does involve some trial-and-error. But it makes sense that a stereotypically perfectionist culture would want to avoid such errors – and perhaps this idea of only using extremely well-tested invasive technologies from abroad does make people healthier).

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Iridescent glass “leaves” at the Hakone Venetian Glass museum.

Risk avoidance also leads to fewer start-ups, which are inherently risky endeavors. Marty, of enTouch KK, said that start-ups are just beginning to become more popular in Japan (of course, they have been very important in the US for many years now). Investors in Japan are “very, very cautious,” he said. As opposed to the US, the idea of start-ups and angel investment is not normalized in Japan – though it’s starting to be – and there are not as many start-up success stories to inspire young entrepreneurs or give confidence to potential investors. Marty said that Japan’s most recent corporate success story was Sony (founded in the 1940s). Many of the small, innovative medical devices I’ve seen this year have come from smaller companies and local start-ups, so maybe in a few years, when start-ups are more common in Japan, there will be more medical devices in development – but for all that to be true, there would have to be more comfort with risk-taking.

Well, that’s that. It’s been fascinating seeing the interplay of these attitudes, and Japanese culture in general, and how some of it affects the way people approach medical devices.

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The Zōjō-ji temple near Tokyo Tower.
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