NEW YORK/TOKYO -- When Japanese meteorologist Syukuro Manabe spoke about his problems with Japan, chuckles could be heard among the audience assembled at Princeton University to hear this year's Nobel Prize laureate in physics speak.
"In Japan, if you ask some question, you get 'yes' or 'no,'" Manabe said to a packed auditorium on Tuesday, the same day he was given the prize for his work in helping the world understand climate change. "However, when the Japanese say 'yes,' it does not necessarily mean 'yes.' It could mean 'no.'"
But in the U.S., "I can do things I want. I don't worry about what other people feel."
Although those words were received half in jest, they contained a message that should be heeded by Japanese policymakers and academic circles. Manabe's criticism of a culture that places a higher value on so-called face-saving over frank directness is one factor that some academics say could weaken Japan's traditionally stout science and technology community.
For Manabe, the desire to leave the bubble of conformity came soon after completing his studies. He moved to the U.S. in 1958 after receiving his doctorate in meteorology from the prestigious University of Tokyo. It was there that his cutting-edge research was fostered. He would go on develop a computer simulation that showed the connection between an increase in carbon dioxide concentration and higher global temperatures.
"I never imagined that this thing I was beginning to study has such a huge consequence," said Manabe, now Princeton's senior meteorologist.
To be "curiosity driven," a phrase he used repeatedly during the hourlong news conference on the Ivy League campus, is his biggest motivator. Even at 90 years old, he talks about climate and its relation to all living things with the fascination of a young boy.
However, neither Manabe's climate model nor the truth about global warming was quickly accepted. It took time for meaningful action to be taken. The first major step toward a wider awareness of climate change came in 1992 when the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change was adopted after the Earth Summit in Brazil.
Even then, global warming skeptics remained firmly in the mainstream for several more years.
Understanding climate change is not easy, "but [it's] much, much easier than what is happening in current politics," Manabe quipped.
Manabe likely dealt with his share of frustrations -- with much stemming from Japan. When asked why he switched his citizenship to the U.S., his answer was blunt.
"I don't want to go back to Japan," said Manabe. "Because I'm not capable of living harmoniously."
Manabe returned to Japan briefly in 1997 when he was appointed to head climate change forecast research at an agency under what is now the nation's science ministry, around the time of the adoption of the Kyoto Protocol, a U.N. treaty that called for reducing greenhouse gas emissions on a global scale. While in Japan, he worked on the Earth Simulator supercomputer project, which used climate models to evaluate the effects of global warming.
But the stint did not last long. "Global warming research ace returns to the U.S.," read a 2001 headline in the Nikkei newspaper.
During his time in Japan, Manabe would get caught in the web the country's bureaucracy, spending copious amounts of time coordinating between different research agencies. There were also staff shortages and Japan's unique custom that discourages people from speaking their minds frankly.
These burdens to his research work would be unimaginable in the U.S. If Manabe had spent his entire career in Japan, he may not have achieved such historic accomplishments.
A nonconformist would be sorely out of place in an environment that demands accommodating attitudes and reading the room. For a researcher daring to achieve the unprecedented, Japan could not have been a good fit.
Manabe was ebullient in his praise for his supervisor in the U.S.
"My boss was generous enough to let me do anything I liked to do," said Manabe. "And here I got all [the] computer expenditure."
Even with climate deniers around, Manabe was afforded lavish funds that allowed him to research what his heart desired.
Manabe believes that Japan is engaging in "less and less curiosity-driven research." Though he is the 20th Japanese-born Nobel laureate since 2000, most of the winning achievements date back to the salad days before the economic bubble burst in the 1990s.
In 2018, Japan placed ninth in the world in terms of belonging to the top 1% of academic citations, according to Japan's National Institute of Science & Technology Policy, which is a step down from fourth place 20 years earlier.
Progress seems stagnant due to the shortage of stable research funds and posts geared toward young scientists. As a result, the number of groundbreaking research findings has been on the decline. More than a few critics believe that the rush of Japanese Nobelists will vanish sooner or later.
The structural problems in Japan's scientific community that Manabe criticized stem from the lack of communication between scientists and policymakers. The gap between academia and Japan's center of government is exceptionally wide, and science and technology is rarely given political priority.
This dearth of understanding between the two sides was in full display during Japan's coronavirus epidemic.
In recent years, Japanese Nobel laureates have warned about a looming science and technology crisis in the country. While those alarm bells may garner brief spans of attention, they have not led to any radical changes in government policy.
With new Japanese Prime Minister Fumio Kishida, who once served as the minister of state for science and technology policy, maybe the warnings of Manabe and other scientists will no longer fall on deaf ears.