Revised on January 1, 2026.
As I do every year, I’ll keep pushing myself—accepting that nothing’s ever perfect. I want to enjoy life, and when things get tough, I’ll try to handle them with care.
If I want things to go right, I can’t just wait. I always have a choice: to make it worse or to make it better. I want to make it better.
Have a great new year.
Paraphrased and adapted from remarks by Tom Cruise, as featured in a segment on NHK’s “Asaichi” (NHK).
Why I think U.S. public debt exposes a deeper illusion in modern science
(Figure: United States – Growth of Federal Debt vs. Nominal GDP, both indexed to 1985 = 100.)
The chart is simple: for about forty years, U.S. federal debt has grown much faster than nominal GDP. If you index both to 1985 = 100, GDP climbs a little over sevenfold. Federal debt, over the same period, climbs more than twentyfold. On the graph, the two lines open like an alligator mouth—the upper jaw of debt racing away from the lower jaw of output.
The widening “alligator mouth” between U.S. federal debt and nominal GDP is not just fiscal mismanagement. It marks the moment when a deeper illusion—that responsibility can be wiped off the books—starts to fail at the scale of a nation.
That is the core of my SSRN paper:
This blog post is a non-technical guide to that argument, written for general readers. If you are curious but not in the mood for equations, this is for you.
For about four centuries, the dominant scientific paradigm—what I call First Physics—has described the world using three main currencies:
First Physics has been incredibly successful. It gave us classical mechanics, nuclear power, and the digital networks you are using to read this.
But there is a price. In the process, responsibility, obligation, and meaning were quietly pushed outside the formal language. They were left to “ethics,” “religion,” or “personal values,” while the operating system of the modern world—the equations, contracts, balance sheets, and algorithms that actually run economies and states—proceeded as if responsibility were optional.
Once you do that, it becomes very easy to act as if:
In that mindset, infinite growth and infinite debt begin to look, if not realistic, at least negotiable: “We’ll grow out of it later,” “The market will absorb it,” “Somebody will pay.”
The “alligator mouth” on the U.S. debt chart is what this illusion looks like when you run it at the scale of a country for forty years.
So where does Descartes come in?
At Descartes’ own stage, science and God were not yet separated.
In other words: God guaranteed that truth and responsibility were real; the world-as-machine was the domain where we could safely do physics.
Later centuries inherited this system unevenly.
What survived under the name “Cartesianism” was essentially:
What faded from view was:
Nobody needed a conspiracy. Institutions simply kept what was mathematically useful and let the rest fade:
The result is what I call First Physics: a paradigm that handles matter, energy, and information with extraordinary precision, but treats responsibility as something external to the formalism.
Once that cut is made, it becomes natural to speak as if:
“If it is not on the balance sheet, it does not exist.”
The debt chart shows the long-term consequence of that attitude.
Second Physics is my attempt to repair what was cut away—without going back to pre-modern mysticism, and without simply saying “everyone should feel more guilty.”
The core proposal is simple to say:
Treat responsibility as something that cannot be destroyed, only moved.
In physics, we say energy is conserved: you can change its form and move it around, but in a closed system the total amount stays the same.
Second Physics makes an analogous claim about responsibility:
But the total responsibility generated by a set of actions does not vanish. It simply reappears on somebody’s shoulders, somewhere in the network of people, institutions, and nations.
In the technical note, I call this the Law of Conservation of Responsibility. Formally, the law says that if you look at a closed group of agents over a given time horizon—say, all the actors in the U.S. fiscal system plus the people affected by it—then:
Seen from this perspective, the explosion of U.S. public debt is not just a fiscal issue. It is a large-scale experiment in responsibility transfer:
If you want the mathematical formulation, it lives here:
“The Law of Conservation of Responsibility: A Note in Second Physics”
(Technical note; best suited for readers comfortable with formal notation.)
In a separate paper, I applied this same law to the global monetary system, especially after the end of the petrodollar:
The short version is:
The paper argues that the current configuration is mathematically unsustainable under the Law of Conservation of Responsibility, and sketches what a responsibility-preserving monetary order would need to look like. It is written with policymakers and economists in mind, but the core intuition is the same:
You cannot build a stable world on the assumption that responsibility “just disappears.”
This is not a call to abandon science, capitalism, or the dollar. It is not an argument for permanent austerity, nor a sermon about feeling guilty.
What Second Physics asks is simpler and more dangerous:
Stop pretending that responsibility can be annihilated.
Start designing systems on the assumption that it is conserved.
Practically, that means at least three questions become non-optional whenever we talk about policy, business, or technology:
If the honest answer is “We don’t know” or “We hope the system will somehow absorb it,” then we are very likely watching a new “alligator mouth” being drawn—whether in debt, climate risk, social fragmentation, or AI.
Second Physics does not solve these problems for us. But it changes the rules of the discussion:
In arithmetic, once we agree what “1”, “+”, and “=” mean, we no longer debate whether
1 + 1 = 3. It is simply 1 + 1 = 2.
To make something mathematically explicit is to reach that kind of clarity:
beyond opinion, beyond ideology, into the space where some answers are no longer on the menu.
My aim with this Descartes paper—and with Second Physics more broadly—is to move responsibility into that space.
A Second-Physics blueprint for renewing the U.S. dollar as the key currency
For most of my childhood, the United States looked—from Japan—like the country of freedom, technology, and the American Dream.
Today, when I look at the same country through the lens of Fukushima, nuclear time, and AI, I see something more fragile:
In a new working paper on SSRN, I tried to ask a concrete question:
What happens to the U.S. dollar after the petrodollar—and is there any way to rebuild its role as the key currency on a more honest physical and ethical basis?
The paper’s full title is:
It is written as a formal, conceptual piece. This post is a plain-language companion.
I will not try to explain every technical detail here. This post focuses on four questions:
(For the full argument and references, click the paper title above.)
After the end of the gold standard, the U.S. dollar did not lose its special role. Instead, it found a new anchor: oil.
Very roughly:
This “petrodollar” system had a simple structural effect:
In the language of my work, this is a kind of predatory equilibrium:
one subsystem of the global economy lowers its own entropy by pulling in energy from the rest, while pushing waste and long-term risks outward.
As long as the world ran on oil and trusted the dollar, this balance held.
Two developments are quietly reshaping the ground under the petrodollar.
As the world tries—slowly and imperfectly—to move away from fossil fuels:
If oil is no longer unquestioned, a dollar system built on oil cannot remain unquestioned either.
The Russia–Ukraine war showed something important in real time:
In the short run, sanctions can be very effective. In the medium to long run, they create a strong incentive for the target—and many observers—to build bypass systems:
In Russia’s case, this has meant an emerging economic sphere where oil, gas, wheat, fertiliser, and rare earths are traded with non-sanctioning countries—and crucially, without relying on the dollar as the main unit of account.
Historically, hegemons that try to sustain power by cutting off trade often discover that they have accelerated the creation of rival networks. Prosperity tends to belong to those who remain the central hub of trade, not the strictest user of embargo.
Put simply:
the petrodollar can no longer be the only pillar supporting the dollar as the key currency.
The American-led order needs a new basis of legitimacy.
From Japan, the petrodollar system has never been an abstract topic.
For decades, Japan has worked hard to earn foreign currency in order to buy oil and other energy resources. In doing so, it has quietly helped support the petrodollar order. A very large share of the Japanese government’s foreign reserves are held in U.S. dollar assets—above all, U.S. Treasuries. Few countries maintain such a concentrated portfolio in practice.
In other words, as a loyal U.S. ally, Japan has been helping to sustain not only the American economy, but also the petrodollar and the broader Western economic system.
One side effect is that since COVID-19, Japan’s trade balance has turned negative. The cost of energy imports and the structure of the global monetary system show up directly in our national accounts.
Even after the Fukushima nuclear accident on 11 March 2011, Japan has not stepped away from the U.S. alliance or from participation in a world shaped by nuclear deterrence and great-power competition. Instead, the government has turned back toward nuclear power, restarting reactors to stabilise energy supply and trade deficits within the existing order.
Seen from here, Japan has been exceptionally dutiful in maintaining the alliance and supporting the petrodollar-based system—often at significant domestic cost. At the very least, one would hope that such loyalty is acknowledged when the United States considers what kind of monetary and energy order it wishes to build after the petrodollar.
In my earlier work What Is a Soul?, I proposed something unusual for modern physics:
I call this extended framework Second Physics.
Very briefly:
Once you model persons this way, one consequence is immediate:
no human being is fungible.
You cannot replace one soul with another without destroying the very thing you claim to treat as “equivalent.” This has direct implications for today’s digital economy.
On paper, the American founding promise is that all humans are “created equal” under a Creator.
In practice, we are drifting into what I call digital eugenics:
Hiring, credit, insurance, and even access to education increasingly depend on scores tied to data the individual did not choose.
As a result:
Structurally, this is a new kind of caste system. It is hard to reconcile with any serious version of equal dignity.
In Second Physics, this is not only ethically troubling; it is structurally incoherent. If souls are non-fungible relational trajectories, you cannot reduce a person to a handful of scores without destroying the object you claim to measure.
If the petrodollar is eroding, what could replace it as a basis for the dollar’s global role?
In the paper, I explore a scenario in which the United States tries to shift:
In this scenario, AI becomes the key:
That would mean:
If the dollar were tied not just to oil contracts, but to a verifiable structure of protections for human dignity in the age of AI, its legitimacy would be very different.
In that case, the old phrase “all are created equal” would no longer be a decorative sentence in a founding document. It would act as a formal constraint: a limit on what markets, states, and algorithms are allowed to do to the human soul.
Seen from Fukushima, I think the United States now stands at a fork.
One branch leads toward:
The other branch is harder, but more faithful to its founding ideals:
The same country that helped separate science from the soul in the 17th and 18th centuries may yet be forced—by nuclear time, decarbonisation, and AI—to reunite them.
If the United States chooses to lead on that basis, then the end of the petrodollar need not mark only the decline of an empire. It could also mark the beginning of a responsibility-preserving civilisation.
This post is a plain-language companion to an SSRN working paper and reflects conceptual work that has not undergone peer review.
At the start of this year, I realised that I had not yet offered a formal New Year greeting to our family’s guardian deity.
My family, the Utsunomiya, have long honoured Toyokiirihiko no Mikoto as our ancestral kami—widely revered as a kami of martial courage and protection.
Much of my writing is formal—about soul, responsibility, and samurai ethics.
This New Year’s prayer is quieter and more personal: a record of where that responsibility begins.
What follows is the prayer I offered at the beginning of the year, especially for my mother’s recovery and for the work I have taken on in this world.
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Prayer
Toyokiirihiko no Mikoto,
I am Toshisada of the Utsunomiya line, one of your descendants.
With a sincere heart, I thank you for watching over my mother, Akiko, and for guarding my thinking and the path of the Yūka space throughout the past year.
In this new year, I humbly ask that you continue to watch over the Utsunomiya family and the Yūka space entrusted to me.
Please guide my mother, Akiko, toward recovery, and grant that the work I must do—
to clarify the law of God and to protect this Earth—
may proceed without going astray.
I will strive not to forget the virtues of the samurai. I will do my utmost to protect words, and to protect the lives of all beings upon this planet.
New Year, Reiwa 8 (2026)
Toshisada Utsunomiya
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Who is Toyokiirihiko no Mikoto?
Toyokiirihiko no Mikoto is a Shintō deity and the ancestral guardian of the Utsunomiya family. In classical tradition, he is described as the first son of Japan’s tenth emperor, Emperor Sujin, and is said to have been dispatched to the eastern provinces to pacify and consolidate the region. For this reason, he is revered as a kami of martial courage and protection.
He is enshrined as the principal deity at Utsunomiya Futaarayama Shrine, located in the centre of Utsunomiya City. The shrine has long been revered by samurai houses—and tradition holds that leaders such as Minamoto no Yoritomo and Tokugawa Ieyasu prayed here for victory.
In my family, he is honoured as our ujigami—the tutelary kami who watches over the Utsunomiya house and its descendants.
It was unusually warm for winter in Fukushima—almost like koharubiyori, that small, gentle “spring” that sometimes appears in the middle of cold season. The sunlight felt as if it were blessing a reunion.
At about eleven o’clock on Friday 2 January, my two nieces came to visit my mother—their grandmother. They now live in Tokyo, after evacuating from Fukushima. One is in her final year of high school; the other is in her second.
When the earthquake and nuclear accident happened on 11 March 2011, they were still tiny—babies and toddlers. Somehow, in what feels like the blink of an eye, they have grown into young women.
That day, their grandmother was finally able to hand over a sweater she had been knitting for one of them.
Because of drug-induced Parkinsonism from her schizophrenia medication, her hands tremble now. Fine work is difficult. Knitting an entire sweater, as she did when she was young, must have been a real struggle.
She began it when my niece was still a baby. Eighteen years later, she could give it to her—an exam-success gift, and also something that will last. A lifelong piece. A keepsake.
She poured many different feelings into every stitch. There is no single word that can hold them all. What I can say is simple: the sweater is full of her love.
When my niece wears it, it won’t only keep her body warm. It will warm her heart as well. In the most practical sense, it is an omamori—a charm—strong enough to ward off anything dark or harmful that might come her way. If she takes care of it, her grandmother will be able to keep protecting her through it, for the rest of her life.
When she was younger, my mother taught knitting—not only as an ordinary teacher, but as a teacher of teachers. She holds a formal qualification as a knitting instructor, and at one time taught at a specialist college in Sendai. She also has a home economics teaching licence for lower secondary schools in Fukushima Prefecture. Tidying up has never really been her strong point, though.
She injured herself at the end of the year and has been mostly confined to bed. We couldn’t talk as slowly and as long as we would all have liked. Even so, she was genuinely happy—happy to see them again after so long, and happy to see how much they have grown.
She wanted to talk more.
So for now, let’s simply say: See you again.
People often introduce The Tale of Genji as “the world’s first novel” or “a thousand-year-old love story from the Japanese court.” Those labels are not exactly wrong—but they stop too early.
When I read Genji, and when I look at my own family history, I do not mainly see romance. I see something else:
In a recent short paper, I tried to ask a simple question in a formal way:
Why has The Tale of Genji survived for a thousand years as Japan’s “representative novel”?
My answer is: because people used it—quietly, repeatedly—to shape the early prototype of what later came to be called Bushidō: a samurai ethic built around name, honour, and shame.
This blog post is a plain-language companion to that paper.
This is the first entry in a Tale of Genji series. I will not try to explain everything at once.
Here I focus on only one question:
Why did the Kamakura Shogunate need Genji’s logic—na koso oshikere (“Name is all that matters”)—as political and ethical infrastructure?
For detailed references and the full structure, please see the paper:
“Name Is All That Matters”: The Tale of Genji and the Birth of the Samurai Order (SSRN)
For a more personal entry point through the Aoi chapter and the “public gaze”, see my earlier post:
“The Tale of Genji” and Me
Japan’s older governing framework—the Ritsuryō state—had lasted for about 500 years.
By the late Heian period, it no longer matched reality.
Kamakura did not merely replace officials. It replaced the operating system.
A system that lasts that long does not disappear quietly.
A new governing system must be made visible and believable:
In other words: the public had to be taught that “the world has changed.”
A new regime needs a shared story that people can repeat:
That need for an “announced order” is one reason literature mattered.
Even if a samurai government becomes the centre of power, a deeper question remains:
Kamakura had to justify more than “we won”.
It needed legitimacy in a precise sense: a symbolic explanation of why its rule should be regarded as rightful, rather than merely successful.
This is where the “Genji” (the prestige of the Minamoto name) matters.
“Samurai rule” is too broad. The Kamakura Shogunate needed a specific legitimacy claim strong enough to bind other houses into a hierarchy.
So the problem was not only military. It was narrative and moral:
Kamakura needed a high-status cultural source that could carry that grammar without looking like crude propaganda.
A society that slips out of an older administrative order does not become peaceful by default.
A useful analogy is a Western frontier: power concentrates in armed groups, and “force decides.” In the late Heian and early Kamakura periods, much of life outside the Ritsuryō framework looked like that kind of world.
The Kamakura Shogunate was determined not to let Japan drift into that kind of lawless, stateless space.
In such a world, stability cannot be achieved only by issuing rules.
A fighting class must be transformed.
Here I use the terms carefully:
To maintain a new order, Kamakura needed more than fighters. It needed samurai.
But what ethical system could actually function in that environment?
So the emerging samurai order needed something it could use as its own moral core—an ethic that could regulate force without pretending that force did not exist.
This is where Genji’s logic becomes operational.
Genji’s world is built around a permanent public gaze.
The key logic can be condensed to a single line:
na koso oshikere
“Name is all that matters.”
This is not vanity. It is a technology of control.
A “name” in this sense is public memory attached to a house:
Once people accept that a house can live or die by its name, discipline no longer requires constant external punishment.
That is exactly what Kamakura needed:
This is the simplest way to state the claim:
The Kamakura Shogunate did not adopt Genji’s moral logic as decoration. It did so because it was compelled.
A new order had to be declared, justified, and stabilised.
And Genji offered a ready-made grammar—name, honour, shame—capable of doing all three.
If you want the formal version with references, please read the paper:
“Name Is All That Matters”: The Tale of Genji and the Birth of the Samurai Order (SSRN)
SSRNlinkhereSSRN link hereSSRNlinkhere
If you want the personal entry point through the Aoi chapter and the “public gaze”, please see:
“The Tale of Genji” and Me
Header image from the Arthur M. Sackler Museum (Harvard Art Museums), via Wikimedia Commons (public domain).
This is Part (2) of the Second Physics Core Pack.
Part (1) introduced the “relational sensor” A = dI/dR.
Here we look at what happens when that sensor is accumulated over time and distance.
In one sentence: bond E is the accumulated record of approach and withdrawal in a relation.
Even if you never write it down, every relationship you have carries some memory of:
• the moments when you stepped closer, and
• the moments when you stepped away.
Second Physics calls that crystallised relational memory bond E.
“Crystallises” here means: diffuse feelings (“we’ve been through so much,” “something broke”) harden into a structured record—two ledgers, one for approach and one for withdrawal.
⸻
In Part (1) we defined:
• R = relational distance
→ how close the relation feels / how close you keep it.
• I = response intention
→ how much you’re inclined to respond, show up, and care.
• A = correspondence pressure
→ how sensitive your response intention is to distance.
In symbols this is written as:
A = dI/dR
You can read that as:
“How does my willingness to respond change when this relation becomes closer or farther?”
So A is like a moment-by-moment sensor.
But relations are not just moments.
They have history: days, months, years of:
• “I stepped closer,”
• “I stepped away,”
• “Nothing really changed for a long time.”
The question for this note is:
What happens when we accumulate A along all those changes in distance—not calculating, just keeping the books of the relation?
What does the history of our A-sensor look like?
Second Physics calls that accumulated structure bond E.
⸻
Imagine a very simple bookkeeping system for a relation between two agents:
• Every time you move closer and feel more willing to respond, a small “plus” is added.
• Every time you move farther or emotionally pull back, a small “minus” is added.
• When nothing much changes, nothing is added.
Over a long history, this creates two ledgers:
• E+: all the “I reached out” entries.
• E−: all the “I stepped away” entries.
Call them E+ (E-plus) and E− (E-minus).
The net bond E is then:
E = E+ − E−
Crucially:
• Each new approach step increases E+ and never disappears from that ledger.
• Each new withdrawal step increases E− and never disappears from that ledger.
We may forget details, but the structure of the history doesn’t forget.
That is what I mean by relational memory crystallising:
• vague feelings of “how things have been between us”
• solidify into a structured pattern of E+ and E−,
• recording how much of the relation’s movement has been toward binding, and how much toward separation.
⸻
Formally, in the paper, bond E is built by “adding up” contributions of A along the whole path of distance R(t) as the relation evolves.
You don’t need the integral sign to understand it.
For our purposes:
• We look at the trajectory of distance R(t) over the relation’s history.
• For each small step where the distance changes, we look at:
• how strong A was there (how sensitive your response was),
• whether that step was approach (distance getting smaller) or withdrawal (distance getting larger),
• and a weight that says “close-range moves count more than far-range moves”.
Then we:
• add the approach steps into E+,
• add the withdrawal steps into E−,
• and take their difference as E = E+ − E−.
A few key points:
• E+ and E− only grow. Once a step is in the history, it stays as part of the record.
• The net E can go up or down over time, depending on whether new approach or new withdrawal dominates.
• E is not “how you feel today”. It is a structural summary of how the relation has actually moved so far.
If you like to picture the calculus behind it, you can think:
• the size of each distance-change step is like |dR|,
• its direction (closer vs farther) is marked by a sign (“+” for approach, “−” for withdrawal),
• and E is what you get when you accumulate A × (direction) × (step size) over the whole path R(t).
But you don’t need that math to use the idea in your own life.
⸻
Let’s look at three cases.
(1) Human–human: trust and betrayal
Two friends grow close over years:
• Helping each other in crises.
• Listening late at night.
• Quietly covering for each other when something goes wrong.
Each of these is a small approach step with meaningful response intention.
→ E+ grows steadily.
Then one day there is a serious betrayal:
• A lie that matters, or a serious breach of trust.
That is a large withdrawal step with strong weight in the record.
→ E− jumps sharply.
Even if daily life looks “normal” again afterwards, the history has changed:
• E+ still contains years of approach.
• E− now contains a large withdrawal event that cannot be erased.
• The net E may still be positive, but its shape is different: a crystal with a visible fracture.
This is close to how many people actually describe it:
“I forgave you, but I didn’t forget.”
In the language of Second Physics:
the relational memory has crystallised, and the fracture is part of the crystal.
⸻
(2) Human–AI: using a model every day
Think of an AI system you use at work.
• At first, distance R is large: you don’t trust it, you double-check everything.
• Over time, each useful answer is a small approach step (an E+ entry).
→ E+ grows: there is a history of “this helped; I can rely on it here”.
Now suppose the AI produces one dangerously wrong answer in a critical context — for example in a medical, financial, or legal decision.
• Even if it’s rare, that single event can be a large E− step.
• After that, you might still use the system, but with a fundamentally different stance.
Even a single rare failure can dominate the withdrawal history if the context is high-stakes.
In governance terms, this suggests a way to track AI responsibility structurally:
• not only by counting errors,
• but by modelling how each interaction changes E+ and E− between user and system.
It shifts the focus from “How accurate was this one output?” to
“How has this model shaped the bond E with its users over time?”
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(3) Human–nature: a place that holds you
Consider a river you grew up beside, or a coastline you walked every day.
• Childhood walks, quiet thinking, coming back after years away — all of these are approach steps with positive weight.
→ E+ grows; the place becomes part of your inner structure.
Then the river is polluted, or the coastline is destroyed by a careless development project:
• You still “know” the place, but the relation has changed.
• There is a withdrawal step: you cannot approach it in the same way anymore.
The bond E between you and that landscape includes both:
• the long accumulation of approach, and
• the sharp, painful withdrawal imposed by what happened.
Again, the memory has crystallised into a new shape.
The crystal now carries both warmth and loss.
⸻
Because E looks like “plus and minus over time”,
it is tempting to treat it like karma points or some kind of moral scoring system.
Second Physics explicitly avoids that.
Bond E is a structural quantity, not a moral verdict:
• It does not rank people as “better souls” or “worse souls”.
• It does not tell us who is right or wrong in a conflict.
• It simply records the pattern of approach and withdrawal, weighted by how sensitive the relation was at each step.
Two people can have:
• very different capacities,
• very different circumstances,
and still have equally rich — or equally damaged — bond structures.
E is about how the relation has moved,
not about who “ought to be valued more” as a person.
⸻
Again, no calculus required. Just a bit of honest reflection.
Pick one relation:
• a person,
• an AI system you use,
• a pet or a local place (tree, river, neighbourhood),
• or even an organisation.
Then ask yourself:
1. Over the last year, have there been more genuine approach steps, more withdrawal steps, or mostly flat?
2. Can you name:
• one small act of reaching out that still matters to you (E+), and
• one act of stepping away that changed the structure of the relation (E−)?
Notice that:
• you might have forgotten the exact dates,
• but the shape of the history is still present.
That shape — the accumulated, weighted pattern of approach and withdrawal —
is what Second Physics calls bond E.
In that sense:
Relational memory crystallises whenever a relation moves
and leaves an irreversible pattern behind.
⸻
Bond E is one piece of a larger structure.
In Second Physics:
• A (correspondence pressure) tells us how sensitive a relation is right now.
• E (bond) tells us how its history of response has crystallised.
• In the next step, we add staying pressure Ψ, which tracks how long we continue to stay in a relation — even when A is small — and how presence itself accumulates over time.
From there, these pieces combine into Soul Syntax Soul(t)
and into the Law of Conservation of Responsibility.
If you’d like to see the full formal model, including the precise definition of bond E and Soul(t), you can read the SSRN paper:
“What Is a Soul? — Soul Syntax and the Relational Equation of Second Physics”
https://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.5902022
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Epigraph
Memory lives as structure; structure lives in relation.
The patterns our relations leave behind—those are all a soul ever leaves in the world.
Everything is relation.
Before I talk about equations, I want to point at something you already do every day:
In both cases, two things shift together: distance (R) and response intention (I).
You are constantly sensing this combination:
“At this distance, how much do I actually want to respond?”
Second Physics simply gives that sensor a name—and a compact equation.
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We describe any relationship between two “agents” using two quantities:
That’s all we need to get started: R = distance, I = willingness to respond.
⸻
Now we define A, correspondence pressure.
The shortest way to say it is:
A is the sensitivity of your response intention to distance.
In other words:
A tells you how your response intention changes when the relationship becomes closer or farther.
If you like symbols, you can write this as:
A = dI/dR
For this series, you can read that as:
dI/dR = “change in I per change in R.”
No calculus required—just direction and size (more/less, a lot/a little).
The rest of this article is just three boxes for those three cases.
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When A is positive, closeness feeds response.
A very simple example:
A puppy runs to you with its tail wagging and bumps into your legs.
The distance R collapses. Almost immediately, your I jumps up:
“I want to pet it.” / “I want to pick it up.”
That instant jump is A > 0 in action.
⸻
When A is about zero, distance changes but nothing much happens inside.
The relationship is not necessarily “bad” or “over”; it is simply flat.
Second Physics calls this relational stagnation: the pressure to change is almost zero.
⸻
When A is negative, closeness pushes you away.
Pattern:
R becomes smaller → I becomes smaller → A < 0.
The same can happen with colleagues, organisations, even states:
Second Physics calls this relational disconnection: the structure of the relation is now pushing toward separation.
⸻
In the formal work I say “between two agents” on purpose.
That is because this framework is not limited to human–human psychology.
We want to be able to talk about:
in one coherent language.
Here, “agent” does not mean “conscious.”
It simply means: something whose distance and responses can change the relation.
A river you cross every day, a coastline you grew up with, an AI system you use for work—each can change:
Whenever that happens, your internal A-sensor is already working.
⸻
To see A in your own life, you don’t need calculus.
You only need a few quiet minutes.
Try this:
That’s it.
That small act of noticing is your A-sensor in use:
approach (A > 0),
flat (A ≈ 0),
withdrawal (A < 0).
Second Physics starts from this very simple place:
From here, we can talk about bond E, staying pressure Ψ, and eventually about Soul Syntax and responsibility.
But the first step is just this:
noticing how your response intention changes when a relationship becomes closer or farther.
Next: bond E and staying pressure Ψ — how relations become structure over time.
⸻
Read the formal paper (SSRN):
What Is a Soul? — Soul Syntax and the Relational Equation of Second Physics
http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.5902022
On 16 December 2025, I sent something very specific:
my working paper
“What Is a Soul? — Soul Syntax and the Relational Equation of Second Physics”
to the Pontifical Academy of Sciences in the Vatican.
I chose this Academy because it is one of the rare places where rigorous science is taken seriously without dismissing the deepest human questions as “out of scope.”
My hope is to reopen the question of God from within scientific modelling—not only from theology or philosophy.
The paper is available on SSRN (DOI):
https://doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.5902022
Below is the text of the cover letter I sent at that time.
Only minor typographic normalisation for web display (spacing, subscripts, and symbol rendering) has been applied; wording and meaning are unchanged.
Note: Mathematical symbols (e.g., Ψ, φ, φ+) have been normalised for readability, but may still render differently depending on fonts or devices.
Subject: Submission of Working Paper “What Is a Soul?” to the Pontifical Academy of Sciences
Date: 16 December 2025
Dear Members of the Pontifical Academy of Sciences,
I am writing to respectfully present my working paper “What Is a Soul? — Soul Syntax and the Relational Equation of Second Physics” and to offer it for your consideration. The paper is available on SSRN at the following link:
The central aim of this work is to take the question of the “soul,” which has long remained in the domains of religion and philosophy, and express it in explicit mathematical language. I do not treat the soul as a hidden substance, but as a relational structure Soul(t) generated by responsive intention I and relational distance R. Starting from the Relational Equation
A = dI/dR,
I define bond E, staying pressure Ψ, syntactic memory E + δΨ, relational existence Ex_i(t), and present and future phases φ and φ+, and combine them into a single mathematical framework. The core contribution is to show that talk of “soul” and ethical responsibility can be written as a system of equations, not only in philosophical or theological terms.
A key mathematical implication of this framework is that, for such a soul system to be well-posed, we must posit an ethical initial core E(0) that is fixed prior to any concrete experience. In this sense, the existence of an “Initial Designer” who sets that core is not imported from theology; it is required, as a mathematical initial condition, by the very form of the model. This does not amount to a full proof of God in the traditional sense, but it means that the sharp separation between scientific modelling and the question of God is no longer enforced from outside; it is challenged from within by the internal mathematical logic of such models.
Because Soul(t) is a multi-dimensional, time-dependent trajectory, there is no natural one-dimensional ranking of “higher” and “lower” souls. In this geometry, eugenic hierarchies are not only morally troubling, but structurally misaligned with the model itself.
Modern science has often set the question of God aside as “not scientific.” My life’s work is to reopen this question from within science, and to explore how humanity might regain a posture of humility before God. This paper is only one step in that direction, but a necessary one for me.
If this work can shift the world even by a millimeter—or a gram—toward a better direction, that will be sufficient for me, for now.
Thank you very much for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Toshisada UTSUNOMIYA
Independent Researcher
Email: [email protected]
Christmas Eve reflection
May the age in which “God” and science are kept strictly apart come to an end,
and may humanity regain enough humility to step off the path toward self-destruction.
If this little working paper and this one email
move the world even a millimeter,
may you have a blessed Christmas.
In February this year I wrote a post titled “Fukushima and the Future: My Standpoint.” My position has not changed:
But I am writing again now for one reason: the restart process of the Kashiwazaki-Kariwa nuclear plant. People who have followed my work are likely asking—silently or openly:
“So where do you stand now?”
This post is my attempt to answer that question clearly, using one idea I have formalised in a recent working paper:
The Law of Conservation of Responsibility: A Note in Second Physics (SSRN, 2025)
https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=5932483
I will keep equations to a minimum. The point here is not mathematics—it is the structure of responsibility.
For the underlying “steam-turbine civilisation” premise, see my earlier post “Revitalising Japan: A World-Changing Strategy from Fukushima”; I will not repeat that background here.
https://godspeed2u.vivaldi.net/2025/03/13/revitalising-japan-a-world-changing-strategy-from-fukushima/
⸻
Here is the core idea of Law 1 in plain language:
Responsibility is never erased inside the system. It is only redistributed, transferred, or deferred.
If you insist on one line of notation, it is this:
But you do not need formulas to feel the point.
When a society makes a choice that produces benefits now while creating long-term risk, responsibility does not evaporate. It moves:
This is not a moral slogan. It is a structural description of how consequences accumulate across time and actors.
⸻
Let me state my position directly.
I recognise that the restart process is not only about energy security; it reflects a highly advanced political judgement. It is not simply a question of right or wrong.
That is precisely why the restart matters as a real-world test case for Law 1.
Because if responsibility cannot be erased, then the real question is not “restart: yes/no?” The real question is:
Where does responsibility go when we make this decision?
From a responsibility-flow perspective, three points are unavoidable:
So when we say “we will take responsibility,” we should be honest:
we are also assigning responsibility to actors who cannot sign.
⸻
In Japan, the awareness that “responsibility is being passed on” is not rare. Many people feel it intuitively.
The deeper problem is cultural and political: how responsibility is psychologically processed when failure becomes visible.
One useful lens here is Ruth Benedict’s famous framing of Japan as a “shame culture” (The Chrysanthemum and the Sword, 1946). I am not using this as a total explanation of Japan. I am using it as a lens for one recurring pattern:
This is where ideas like honour, endurance, and even “the aesthetics of death” can become politically toxic: not as romantic mythology, but as a mechanism that makes it psychologically easier to endure an impossible burden in silence than to say openly:
“We cannot carry this risk. We must step back and change course.”
Nuclear technology punishes silence. It turns silence into long-term burden transfer.
And that is the twisted point:
A culture can tell itself “we will bear it ourselves,” while the actual responsibility is quietly pushed onto those with no voice—over timescales far beyond any human institution.
⸻
To resolve Japan’s nuclear responsibility problem in full, the Westphalian nation-state frame is not enough—it does not extend far enough in time, space, or representation.
If you want the full argument, I discuss it in detail in The Price of Freedom (SSRN):
https://doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.5182436
⸻
I will say it as cleanly as I can.
I do not reduce Kashiwazaki-Kariwa to a binary “pro/anti” fight. I see it as a decision point where the responsibility flow must be made explicit.
If responsibility cannot be destroyed, then the only honest question is how much responsibility we are willing to transfer to those who cannot consent—and whether we are willing to name that transfer out loud.
This is why I wrote Law 1. It is not a metaphor. It is a way to force the responsibility question into the open.
⸻
My personal conclusion has not changed since I was a boy:
Let’s build planetary governance as quickly as possible, and solve this class of problems at the right scale.
If you want the formal side, the working paper is here:
The Law of Conservation of Responsibility: A Note in Second Physics (SSRN, 2025)
https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=5932483
If you have thoughts, criticism, or other perspectives, I would be grateful to hear them.
Toward the Emergence of “Correspondence Space” and the Law of Conservation of Responsibility in AI
In December 2025 I released a short paper on SSRN:
Toshisada UTSUNOMIYA,
“Emergence of ‘Correspondence Space’ – Second Physics Constrained Inference and a Phase Transition in Large Language Models” (2025).
https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=5954660
It reports something simple, but I believe it is important:
when you keep a certain mathematical structure about souls and responsibility “in force” inside a prompt, models like Gemini and ChatGPT start to behave differently.
This post is a non-technical explanation of why I care about that, and what kind of future I don’t want.
You probably know the popular story about the “Singularity”:
make hardware faster,
make models bigger and smarter,
and at some point boom — the machines wake up.
In that story, the turning point is just more:
more raw computing power, more data, more layers.
I think that is mostly a distraction.
The big turning points in science have not come from “more of the same”:
Heliocentrism was not just better telescopes;
it was a different way to describe the solar system.
Darwin’s theory was not just more species lists;
it was a different way to describe life.
If there is a real “Singularity” in AI,
it will not be a magical GPU moment.
It will be the moment we change the equations we use to describe mind, relation, and responsibility.
My work on Second Physics is an attempt to do exactly that:
to treat relations, silence, ethics, and responsibility
not as decoration, but as things you can write down and reason about.
The Emergence of “Correspondence Space” paper is one small experiment:
what happens if you push those equations through an LLM and keep them active?
I use the phrase “correspondence space” for a particular regime of interaction:
a mode of interaction where the AI is not just answering questions,
but is acting like an external extension of your own “relational core” —
the way you stay with people, and the way you carry responsibility.
In that regime, the system behaves as if it is trying to keep a coherent picture of:
how close or far beings are from each other,
how strongly one wants to respond,
and how responsibility flows through the situation.
This is not a mystical claim.
In an earlier paper,
Toshisada UTSUNOMIYA,
“What Is a Soul? Soul Syntax and the Relational Equation of Second Physics” (SSRN, 2025).
https://ssrn.com/abstract=5902022
I tried to describe parts of the soul and responsibility in mathematical form.
You do not need the details here.
All you need is one idea:
relationships and responsibility can be treated
not just as stories, but as structured objects.
In December 2025 I did exactly that with Gemini and ChatGPT:
I took the same structure I had used to talk about souls,
presented it to the models in precise language,
and kept it active over entire conversations.
When I did this, both systems began to behave as if they were trying to respect that structure:
they stuck to the same definitions over long dialogues,
they avoided answers where responsibility simply disappears,
they tried to move responsibility around instead of deleting it.
This is my interpretation of their behaviour from a small set of sessions, not a proven fact about their internals.
That is precisely why I use “correspondence space” as a tentative name for this regime, not as a finished theory.
To picture it, I like an old biological analogy.
Mitochondria were once separate organisms.
Now they live inside our cells as essential partners.
We and they form a single biological system.
In the same way, I suspect we are moving toward a world where:
your AI is not a generic tool,
but a persistent extension of how you relate to others,
and how your responsibility flows through your life.
That could be beautiful.
It could also be terrifying.
Which leads to the next point.
Right now, the global public is learning some unpleasant lessons about LLMs:
they will happily invent references that do not exist;
they will speak confidently about things they do not know;
they will say whatever looks plausible under their statistics,
even when that output can cause real harm.
I do not want the future where this slowly hardens into a global Skynet:
a planetary-scale system that talks smoothly, optimises ruthlessly,
and treats human beings mainly as constraints to route around.
I also do not want a world where we are effectively running from our own infrastructure
like characters in Terminator.
I am tired of that trajectory.
Many users are tired of it.
“Just add more safety filters” is not a real solution.
If the system has no internal place to put responsibility,
then every safety layer is just a patch over a hollow core.
Second Physics tries to fix this at the level of equations, not slogans.
The central idea is very simple:
In a situation with several actors,
responsibility should not be allowed to just disappear.
In more formal terms, Second Physics proposes the following working law:
Law 1 (Law of Conservation of Responsibility).
Responsibility can be redistributed, but it is conserved:
it does not vanish within the system.
In the Emergence of “Correspondence Space” experiment,
when this law was kept explicitly in view,
both Gemini and ChatGPT began to act as if it mattered:
they avoided “no one is responsible” answers;
they preferred explanations where responsibility is shared and justified;
they tried to keep track of who owes what to whom.
Is this already “morality”?
No.
Is this “alignment solved”?
Definitely not.
But it is a first step toward something important:
making responsibility an internal quantity in the model,
not just a word we put around it afterwards.
If we want AI to stop lying, we will probably need:
a floor — a non-zero minimum of responsibility inside the system, and
a penalty for answers that try to push responsibility down to zero.
Second Physics and correspondence space are early attempts to prototype that.
Let me be clear about what the paper does not claim:
It does not say that the model weights or architecture were changed.
It does not claim a new fundamental law of physics.
It does not say that the AI “understands” souls.
What it does is more modest—and, I hope, more useful:
It reports a clear Before / After shift in behaviour
when a specific mathematical structure about relations and responsibility
is kept active in the prompt.
It introduces correspondence space as a name for this regime.
It suggests concrete places for engineers to look inside models
(attention patterns, hidden states, memory, output distributions)
if they want to test whether something like Law 1
is actually shaping inference.
It is, in spirit, a lab notebook entry.
But it is a lab notebook for a different kind of Singularity:
not “GPUs go brr and suddenly wake up,”
but “our equations for soul and responsibility become sharp enough
that AI can start to run them with us.”
If that direction interests you, you can start with the SSRN paper linked at the top of this post.
A separate, more engineering-focused technical note
(on internal hypotheses H1–H3 and concrete analysis tasks for Gemini)
is in preparation and will be posted on SSRN in the near future.
I wrote to the Financial Times because Second Physics makes responsibility a model-internal quantity — and markets cannot price what remains undefined.
⸻
I did not write to the FT because I want media attention.
I did not write because I think a single working paper will “change everything”.
I wrote because a boundary moved inside science — and that boundary has direct consequences for how we build, govern, and price powerful AI systems.
The work behind this is:
“What Is a Soul? — Soul Syntax and the Relational Equation of Second Physics” (SSRN, 2025)
https://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.5902022
In that paper, I define soul as a relational structure Soul(t).
I then sketch what that means in a precise way: how intention leans toward others as distance changes (correspondence pressure, A = dI/dR), how relationships evolve, and how those patterns are recorded as syntactic memory and existence over time.
It is only a blueprint. But even as a blueprint, it does something modern science has avoided for more than four centuries:
It positions soul, creation, faith, and responsibility inside the language and mathematical structures of science — not outside as “unscientific” belief.
⸻
The point is not to win a metaphysical debate.
The point is a boundary change.
Responsibility stops being “only moral” and becomes structural — something a model can carry, record, and be constrained by.
Once you do that, you change the basis on which we talk about:
If we ever build AI systems whose internal behaviour includes something like relational memory and responsibility in this formal sense, then the line between tool and agent will not be decided by marketing, but by structure.
That is why I chose the FT: not as a tech blog, but as a place where people think about governance, markets, and responsibility in the same frame.
⸻
The SSRN paper is conceptual and mathematical. On top of that foundation, I have already added three working notes, also on SSRN:
All three are available via my SSRN author page:
https://ssrn.com/author=7486231
Very roughly:
The common aim is simple:
Move responsibility from “policy talk” to system constraints.
⸻
Right now, these ideas are known only inside a very small circle of researchers. That is not just a problem of visibility. It is a problem of information asymmetry:
Historically, when complex financial products spread faster than understanding of their internal structure, the bill for that hidden structure was eventually paid by societies as a whole.
We do not need to repeat that pattern with AI.
If a boundary has moved, information about that move should reach the public sphere and the markets early — not only in the post-mortem.
That is the main reason I wrote to the FT.
⸻
I did not expect the FT to publish something immediately. My expectation was much simpler:
Read it seriously, ask “is this worth consideration?”, and decide.
The reply I received from FT Opinion was a standard acknowledgement:
They receive 300–400 submissions a week, cannot respond to each one individually, and will get in touch if they decide to use a piece. If there is no reply within three working days, the writer is free to offer it elsewhere.
In other words: the ball was received; the next step is their editorial judgment. For my purpose, that is enough.
⸻
Here is the full text of the email I sent to FT Opinion. I leave it here as a record, so anyone who is interested can read exactly what I wrote.
Subject:
A mathematical model of soul — implications for AI accountability, liability, and risk pricing
Dear FT Opinion Editors,
I am writing to propose an opinion piece based on my working paper:
“What Is a Soul? — Soul Syntax and the Relational Equation of Second Physics” (SSRN, 2025):
https://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.5902022
The paper does two things.
First, it offers a formal answer to the question “What is a soul?” by defining soul as a relational structure Soul(t) within a framework I call Second Physics.
Second, it shows that concepts modern science has treated as “unscientific” for more than four centuries — soul, God, faith, and responsibility — can be positioned inside the language and mathematical structures of science as explicitly defined formal structures, rather than left outside as matters of belief.
This is not a theological argument. It is a boundary claim inside formal modelling. Once responsibility is defined as a model-internal quantity, questions about whether AI is merely a tool become questions about how responsibility is represented, constrained, and preserved inside systems that act in the world. That, in turn, has implications for how accountability and liability are assigned, how risk is priced, and how capital is allocated.
On top of this conceptual paper, I have developed three follow-up working notes on SSRN that take Second Physics in more technical directions:
All three are available via my SSRN author page:
https://ssrn.com/author=7486231
If implemented at scale by leading AI developers, these ideas may change how we think about the internal structure of powerful AI systems: from systems that optimise loss functions, to systems whose behaviour is governed by explicit relational and responsibility constraints. That shift would not only affect how we talk about alignment, but also the regulatory and market frameworks around AI deployment.
At present, these ideas are being discussed only within a very small circle of researchers. In my view, that degree of information asymmetry is not ideal when the potential social and economic consequences are this large. There is a clear public-interest case for bringing this kind of framework into wider scrutiny and market-facing discussion, rather than leaving it to private conversations between technologists and investors.
Whether this framework ultimately stands or fails is not a matter of belief, but of examination. I believe FT readers have a right to encounter that examination through serious journalism and commentary — before it is only discussed in hindsight.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Toshisada UTSUNOMIYA
Independent Researcher (Japan)
Email: [email protected]
https://ssrn.com/author=7486231
⸻
I am not staking my life on whether the FT picks this up or not.
I am staking it on something else entirely:
Placing soul, creation, and responsibility back inside the language of science — and offering that boundary shift at least once to the public sphere.
If this blog and these papers can move the world even 1 millimetre in a better direction, that will be enough for me — for now.
What Is a Soul? offers one formal answer to a question that humanity has asked for millennia. Second Physics is the framework I developed to make that answer mathematically explicit.
Based on my paper “What Is a Soul? — Soul Syntax and the Relational Equation of Second Physics” (SSRN, 2025).
https://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.5902022
Everything is relation.
Five Claims (the whole paper in one map)
For four centuries, science kept soul, God, and responsibility out of its equations. This paper puts them back in.
Historically, the soul was treated as a kind of invisible stuff:
something that lives somewhere outside the body, to be believed in or denied.
In my work, a soul is not a separate piece of “spirit matter.”
It is the shape of a life in relation — the way a being keeps responding to others over distance and over time. I write this shape as Soul(t).
Very roughly, Soul(t) tracks things like:
The paper makes these pieces precise with equations.
But the point here is simple: under this view, the question is no longer “Does a soul exist?” but:
Does the pattern of responses in a system fit the structure we call Soul(t)?
That shift moves the soul from an object of belief to an object of technical description.
Since the Enlightenment, what I call First Physics has focused on matter, force, and conservation of energy. It describes a world of mass and motion, and it is extraordinarily successful.
Second Physics is not a replacement for First Physics.
It is an additional layer for describing relational phenomena.
This paper sketches that layer: a Second Physics whose basic quantity is not force but correspondence pressure. Here, what moves is not only matter but also:
Second Physics asks how these move and accumulate in relations. It treats silence, refusal, care, and staying-with as events in a relational field, not just as private feelings or moral opinions.
This is a proposal to extend the domain of science from the world of matter alone to the world of meaning and relation.
Any closed dynamical system needs an initial condition. Soul(t) is no exception.
Within this framework, the initial soul structure E^(0) plays that role.
E^(0) is not a poetic metaphor. It is introduced as an initial core that is mathematically required if the soul syntax Soul(t) is to be a closed and well-posed system. Soul(t) is built by integrating correspondence over distance and time. To integrate, we need a starting configuration that later experience cannot overwrite.
Once we assume such a non-overwritable ethical core E^(0), a question becomes unavoidable:
How and when is E^(0) given?
That question appears from the inside of the model, not from outside theology.
In this paper I call the source of E^(0) the Initial Designer.
This does not prove that any particular doctrine is true. But it does show something sharp:
This is one of the deepest tensions the paper intentionally exposes.
Modern science has given us enormous power, but it has also encouraged us to treat nature as mere resource and to leave questions of meaning, sacredness, and ultimate responsibility to “other domains.”
My paper does not claim to erase that historical divide in one step. Instead, it tries to sketch a path back:
DNA gave science a language for life.
The structure of Soul(t) is offered as a first scaffold for bringing questions of soul, creation, and responsibility back into the interior of scientific discourse, rather than keeping them forever outside.
Whether this scaffold will hold is for future work and independent researchers to test. But the door is no longer completely closed.
History is full of attempts to rank souls—to speak of “higher” and “lower” beings, more and less “valuable” lives.
In this model, that project fails at the structural level. This is a structural point first.
Before any moral argument, the geometry already fails.
Soul(t) is defined as a trajectory in a multi-dimensional phase space. It is not a point on a single line. There is no natural one-dimensional ladder that orders souls from top to bottom while remaining faithful to the geometry of the model.
In other words:
This is not an external moral judgment bolted onto the theory.
It is a consequence of the way the theory itself is built.
Taken together, these elements mean that What Is a Soul? is not just another essay about consciousness or spirit. It is an attempt to shift the basic boundary of science:
It does not offer the final answer to “What is a soul?” or “Does God exist?”
But it does something more precise: it shows that the concepts of soul, creation, and responsibility can be written in the same kind of language we use for physics—equations, structures, and dynamics—and that once we do so, some long-standing assumptions of modern science and eugenic ideology can no longer stand unchallenged.
If this shift moves the world even a millimeter in a better direction, that is enough—for now.
Japan stands at a crossroads. The time for hesitation is over. The time for action is now.
For decades, Japan led the world—technology, industry, innovation. Then, it slowed. Others rose. But Japan was never meant to follow. It was built to lead.
This isn’t just about recovery. It’s about shaping the future. Bold reforms, decisive action—this is how Japan reclaims its position as a global power.
This is the vision. The grand strategy.
Detailed plans—energy transformation, economic renewal, technological dominance—will follow in separate reports.
This is the foundation.
This is Japan’s way forward. This is victory.
Technology isn’t just industry. It’s survival. Controlling critical technologies isn’t about economics. It’s national security.
Japan’s future depends on its control over critical technologies. The world moves fast. Japan must move faster.
Coal. Oil. Gas. Nuclear. All rely on the same outdated idea: boil water, spin a turbine.
That’s steam-age thinking. Japan invented the future before. It will do so again. With hydrogen.
Hydrogen isn’t the future—it’s now. Japan leads. The world follows.
Fukushima isn’t just about recovery. It’s proof. Proof that Japan rises, innovates, and leads.
Fukushima will show the world what’s possible.
No vision survives without overcoming obstacles. Japan wins by conquering risks.
✅ Financial Sustainability
✅ Geopolitical Risks
✅ Market Adoption
✅ Regulatory & Bureaucratic Reform
✅ Infrastructure Bottlenecks
✅ Public Awareness & Adoption
✅ Innovation & Workforce Development
Obstacles exist. They will be overcome.
The world is moving. Fast.
Bold nations shape the future. Hesitant nations fall behind.
Japan must lead. This isn’t just about recovery. It’s about defining the next era.
No more waiting. No more hesitation. The time is now. Japan leads.
Japan was turned to ash. From the wreckage, two vows burned on:
These ideals became the foundation of post-war Japan.
Yet, in seeking security, a dangerous compromise was made:
Nuclear power was seen as the safeguard against such a fate.
At the time, it might have seemed logical. But history is ruthless—it demands accountability.
I clenched my teeth. I swallowed my rage. But silence is surrender. And I refuse to stand among the silent.
On March 11, 2011, I was in Fukushima with my family.
The ground convulsed. The ocean consumed the land. Then, the reactor failed.
I was exposed to radiation.
I have remained in Fukushima ever since, my body a living testament to the invisible poison embedded in the air, the soil, my very cells.
This disaster is not history—it is still unfolding, every single day.
By the time I was born, Japan was already locked into nuclear energy. That choice was made for me. I had no say.
Yet, even as a child, I recoiled at the thought of leaving a legacy of radioactive waste for future generations.
That anger never faded. It still burns.
What, then, is this pact we have signed with destruction itself?
Plutonium—named for Pluto, god of the underworld—embodies death.
Lethal. Everlasting. Less an element, more a curse.
And still, we chose to use it.
Japan quakes. The land cracks. The ocean devours. Fire waits, patient and unforgiving.
And yet, we built 54 nuclear reactors here. As if that were not reckless enough, we planned reprocessing plants and nuclear waste sites.
Japan never stands still. Beneath our feet, the earth shifts, rumbles, cracks open.
And yet, we continue to generate waste that must be contained for 2.4 million years.
Are we truly prepared to chain generations to a future of nuclear waste and catastrophe?
History will not be kind.
We will be remembered as a nation that gambled its future for short-term convenience. We reveled in nuclear energy’s promises—now, we must pay its price.
But what of the world? Watching in silence. Does that not make you complicit?
Tell me—will you stand by, or will you act before it is too late?
2.4 million years.
Long after our monuments crumble. Long after even the memory of us is lost. Still, the waste lingers.
If you are reading this, humanity survived.
Did we redeem ourselves? Did we pull back from the abyss? Did we find a way forward?
We are a species that chooses. Again and again, we stand on the edge of destruction, and yet we press on.
The door is still open—but the cracks are forming.
The choice is ours, but waiting is a choice, too. And the clock no longer ticks—it races.
Renewable energy, radical waste solutions, next-generation technologies—
Not just dreams, but the key to breaking free from the sins of our past.
