When “New” Means 90-years Old: Japan’s Long View of Time and Business

By Maya Matsuoka 

Part 1

A while ago, I was talking with Prof. Mariko Anno, a Japanese American scholar and performer who bridges the worlds of academia and traditional Japanese music. Towards the end of the conversation, she mentioned a friend of hers who belongs to a new school of ikebana. Casually, almost in passing, Mariko said ‘The school is a new one, founded just 90 years ago.’

That comment, brought back another conversation – this  time with my husband. When he first told me about the company he works for, he described it as “young.” I assumed it was a startup or perhaps a rapidly growing company founded sometime in the 1990s or early 2000s. Then, the other day, he casually mentioned that they would celebrate the company’s 70th anniversary later this year.

To my friends back home, a “new” ikebana school founded ninety years ago and a “young” company preparing for its seventieth anniversary sound almost absurd. In Bulgaria – and more broadly in Europe – a  “new” business is usually one that opened one, two, or perhaps five years ago. A company surviving for thirty years is considered established. Reaching seventy years is remarkable. Ninety years begins to feel as historic as the first industrial revolution. But here in Japan? 

Japan’s Cultural Clock

If you have lived in Japan, you have probably noticed that Japan measures time differently. If you have worked here, you know: time is not measured by quarters. Corporate philosophies and mission statements talk about realizing corporate visions decades and even generations in the future. Even today, “Looking Ahead to the Next 100 Years” and “Contributing to the development of an affluent society” are the motifs of many big and small businesses in Japan.

The Weight of Continuity

Japan is home to some of the oldest continuously operating businesses in the world. Many traditional inns, sake breweries, tea merchants, crafts workshops, and family businesses trace their histories back hundreds of years. Some companies were founded before many modern nation-states even existed. My home country Bulgaria (f. 681 AD), for example, is 103 years younger than Kongo Gumi that was founded in 578 AD. 

According to a 2025 survey by Teikoku Databank, Japan had 46,708 companies that were more than 100 years old, with more than 1,800 operating for over 200 years. In addition, there are 11 companies that can trace their origins back more than 1,000 years. While a small number of centennial companies close for good each year, the overall population continues to grow as new firms join the ranks of the long-lived.

The vast majority are small family-run enterprises serving local communities. But this number also includes household names such as Panasonic, Nintendo, Shiseido, and Mitsubishi Corporation, companies whose names have become synonymous with stability, resilience, and a sense of responsibility that extends beyond short-term profits.

As Japan continues to celebrate and honor its centennial businesses, it is perhaps no surprise that longevity has become normalized as a business aspiration. In a society where companies are expected to endure, leadership is not judged by the speed of growth or the magnitude of disruption, but by the ability to preserve trust, adapt across generations, and leave the organization stronger for those who will inherit it. In addition to building a successful company, the gioal is to also create an institution that is capable of serving society for decades, or even centuries, to come.

So a seventy-year-old company may indeed feel young when compared with competitors founded in the Meiji era (1868-1912) or earlier. A ninety-year-old ikebana school is still viewed as a relatively recent branch compared with schools like Ikenobo whose roots stretch back several centuries.

This creates a different psychological relationship with time in business, too.

Relationship with Time

When I talk with foreign companies coming to Japan, growth is measured through fast market entry, speed of scaling, rapid innovation, and quarterly results. And yet, the emphasis in Japan is almost always on longevity of operations, reputation, trust and legacy. 

Neither of these two perspectives is superior to the other. Both have strengths and weaknesses and have continuously worked well in their respective environments. The value of comparing them lies in understanding how they lead to very different organizational behaviors.

Business as Stewardship

Every January, a company I worked for for 14 years publishes a New Year’s address from its Chairman. In every address, the Chairman speaks about the organization’s vision: creating value for society and the global community so that, even decades from now, the legacy of today’s efforts will continue to benefit future generations. The themes are very consistent: contributing to a better nation, creating a better future, and leaving something meaningful for those who will come after us.

During my first few years at the company, I often found myself thinking, “But we are not going to be here to see the results of our work.” Over time, however, I came to understand what lay behind that perspective. The company operated less with a sense of ownership and more with a sense of stewardship.

Each successive chairman (I witnessed four come and go during my tenure) saw himself first as a gardian of an ongoing era and then as the architect of a new one. He ensured continuity by preserving and passing on relationships, reputation, trust, and internal harmony. Rather than seeking disruption, each leader served as a temporary custodian of a much longer institutional story.

They came and went, but the organization endured. The transformations they oversaw were deliberate, measured, and built on broad stakeholder consensus rather than individual ambition. Success was not defined by how dramatically the leader could reshape the company during his tenure, but by whether he could strengthen it and leave it in better condition for those who would come next.

This perspective is not unique to one company. For example, ITOCHU’s management philosophy emphasizes the sustainable enhancement of corporate value through the continuation of principles developed over generations, reflecting a view that management’s role is to preserve and strengthen an inheritance rather than simply maximize short-term results. Sharp’s 100-year History gives us another example: “Our future prosperity is directly linked to the prosperity of our customers, dealers and shareholders … indeed, the entire Sharp family.”

Worth a Thought

This long horizon helps understand why Japanese companies appear cautious, relationships are cultivated carefully and with patience, and why trust precedes business rather than follows it. Relationships are considered assets which are accumulated over decades. Decisions are therefore evaluated not only for their immediate financial impact, but also for how they may affect employees, customers, suppliers, communities, and future generations.

After all, if the consequences of a snap decision may affect the organization for decades, haste becomes counterproductive and even dangerous.

Seen from this perspective, Japanese resistance to change begins to look more like a commitment to continuity. The goal is not only to achieve success this year, but to ensure that this year’s success does not come at the expense of next year’s stability.

This naturally brings up the question: then how do Japanese companies innovate, if they do at all?

And I am going to provide the answer to this question in the second part of this article, so stay tuned!

Until then, I invite you to read the article about efficiency in Japan interesting.