In the Buraku Liberation Movement(BLM), “Burakumin pride” as a narrative of the Zenkoku Suiheisha has been repeatedly invoked. Akinobu Tanimoto’s “Challenges and Assignments for the Fourth Phase of the Buraku Liberation Movement” (Monthly Buraku Liberation, December 2025) emphasizes this “strategy of pride” as an inalienable principle of the movement. This author read this argument as a response to Kanako Yoshida’s “People of Buraku Origin Living as ‘Invisible Beings’” (ibid., December 2023) and examines its theoretical implications. At the same time, it seeks to situate the author’s own sense of unease as a more general question.
It is well established that the “narrative of pride” has functioned as an apparatus for organizing people for the BLM. It was a practice that provided subjects who had been deprived of value with a basis for self-affirmation through the rewriting of history. The statement, “We have a proud history,” is not merely a recognition, but is performative in that it constitutes subjectivity. In this respect, it is compatible with the formation of social identity, simultaneously establishing belonging to a group and justifying actions.
However, this pride does not exist autonomously. Pride essentially exists only within a system of difference. That is, “we who are proud” are visible only in relation to “someone who does not (or cannot) have pride.” Since pride is established through differentiation from others, it inevitably contains the potential for exclusion. Here, pride was both a resource for liberation and an efficient mechanism for generating boundaries.
These boundaries are not fixed. The reality surrounding Buraku is always characterized by “reciprocal mobility” that continually crosses these boundaries. Here, “reciprocal mobility” refers not merely to population movement, but to the dynamics in which people repeatedly cross between Buraku and non-Buraku, and in the process, belonging and identity are reorganized. Through factors such as residence, marriage, work, and education, individuals move between different social positions, and each time, the meaning of the “Burakumin/non-Burakumin” distinction is delayed and shifted. This “reciprocal mobility” renders it impossible to grasp the community as a self-identical entity, and instead highlights the Buraku as a constantly evolving, process-oriented existence within its own boundaries.
In such a situation, the “normalization of the exceptional” occurs. That is, phenomena originally considered exceptional—the discrepancy between origin and self-perception, the narrative of “not being from a Buraku,” and the way one distances oneself from the movement—come to constitute a standard state through widespread observation. Exceptions are defined by norms, but when these exceptions are repeated, it becomes clear that the norms themselves fail to capture reality. In this sense, exceptions are not merely deviations, but rather sites that destabilize the conditions for the establishment of norms from within.
This perspective can also be connected to arguments surrounding the relationship between sovereignty and exception. Namely, exceptions do not exist outside the norm, but rather their limits are defined within the norm itself. The various categories surrounding Buraku are not established by excluding exceptions, but are maintained by encompassing them. Hence, concepts such as “Buraku roots” and “subject positions” do not indicate stable identity, but are merely indicators inherently fraught with fluctuation. “Buraku roots,” in particular, could accelerate ontological confusion.
Yoshida’s argument positively evaluates living as an “invisible existence” as a form of self-defense against discrimination. However, this evaluation needs careful consideration. This is because the distinction between “visible/invisible” itself already relies on a certain politics of visibility. The framework that determines who is visible and who is invisible must itself be questioned. Additionally, the positions that appear to be subjectively chosen by Buraku individuals are, in most cases, positions into which they have been placed by some factors behind them, and thus constitute a mode of reproducing Burakumin identity itself.
Furthermore, the violence inherent in the act of forcing Burakumin to speak should also be considered. Giving a name or addressing something involves the act of fixing the subject under a certain meaning. In this sense, the use of the word Buraku is not merely a description, but a form of violence that defines the subject. Especially for those who shun the term Buaku, it is unbearable and compels them to remain silent. The interview method, too, since it generates narratives within an asymmetrical relationship, cannot be a transparent representation. What is spoken is always constructed within power relations and institutional context.
What becomes crucial here is how to understand the “silence” of the Burakumin. Silence is not merely the absence of speech. It is an active configuration produced within a structure in which speech is rendered impossible or invalid. The silence observed among Burakumin is linked to the invisibility of discrimination. That is, discrimination not only exists in an overt form, but also persists in a form that “cannot be definitively identified as discrimination.” Or the word “Buraku” emerges as a symbolic term. At this point, the problem is not to prove the existence or non-existence of discrimination, but rather to reveal the structure that makes it impossible to prove.
Based on the above, a different ethical principle is required for the “strategy of pride.” This ethic does not arise from reinforcing one’s own identity, but rather from a moment that fundamentally shakes it.
To have a “strategy of pride” is a movement that seeks to secure one’s own legitimacy through history and belonging to a group, satisfying the subject as self-identical. However, such self-sufficiency carries the risk of closing off opportunities for responding to others. This is because, when one already feels justified, questions from others are only perceived as reinforcing that legitimacy. In contrast, “self-denial” here does not mean demeaning oneself as lacking value. Instead, it is an attitude of accepting that one’s own identity can constantly be disrupted by others. Self-denial in this sense is a movement in which the subject refuses self-containment and strives to remain constantly open to others.
Besides, “responsibility” is not about conforming to predetermined norms, but rather about an asymmetrical relationship in which one is compelled to respond to a call from others. This responsibility is imposed on the subject prior to choice or agreement, and is therefore unavoidable. The ethics of self-denial and responsibility, defined in this way, is not merely about norms, but about the very position of the subject.
It should be added here that there is an asymmetry in the positions on this issue. In the arguments of Tanimoto and Yoshida, a certain confidence in the judgments derived from their respective positions can be found. That is, whether defending “pride” or affirming “invisible beings,” the legitimacy of their own positions is not fundamentally questioned.
In contrast, the author’s position is different. The author does not have final confirmation of whether polemic writers own judgment is ethically justified. This uncertainty is not merely subjective hesitation, but rather stems from a structure in which responsibility to others is required prior to any self-justification.
Therefore, even if one is a subject of the problem involved, that does not constitute a basis for justifying one’s position. Precisely because one is directly involved, one inevitably incurs a responsibility to accept the impact that one’s own judgments have on others. This responsibility arises not from conviction in one’s own correctness, but rather from accepting the impossibility of such conviction. In this sense, the ethics presented here do not offer a “correct position.” Rather, it demands that one continue to respond under the condition that no position can ultimately be justified.
In the present age, where the instability of identity is exposed by the reciprocal mobility and normalization of exceptions, such an ethics open to non-identity is precisely what becomes necessary in order to resist the reproduction of discrimination.