Prayer for Love and Mercy

 Unreasonable quotas breed misconduct; when that misconduct is exposed, the organization loses public trust and collapses. It is a pattern of ruin that has played out time and time again. Where exactly did this root of all evil—the "quota"—come from? Humans never seem to learn their lesson; this destructive cycle repeats endlessly, forcing me to ponder the issue. I’m not sure if I can successfully unravel the origins of the quota system, but I’ll give it a shot. I suppose I’ll think it through as I write. To start, let’s imagine working part-time at a cake shop. You are told to sell a certain cake throughout the day. Your shift is eight hours long. You work as a shop assistant. Up to this point, we wouldn't call it a "quota," even though you are working an eight-hour shift. You could argue it *is* a quota of sorts, but certainly not an unreasonable one. But what if you were told, "You absolutely must sell 100 of these today"? That is where the quota co...

 I’ve said before that everyone is essentially an "Emperor with no clothes" by default because we can't see ourselves clearly—but is there anyone who can save us from that hopeless situation? Having someone point out your flaws is a truly valuable asset. Of course, it makes you incredibly angry in the moment—after all, someone is calling out your shortcomings. Even friends won't point out your faults to your face unless they’re extremely close to you; there’s a saying about the importance of courtesy even among close friends, after all. So, do I have anyone like that in my life—someone who infuriates me but is ultimately a godsend? Hmm, let me look around... There she is! My wife. She really gets under my skin. She blurts out whatever she’s thinking, and it shows all over her face immediately. She’ll say things like "You stink!" or "You're gross!" or even tell me to "Go away" when we're in the bedroom. Her motto is: "Be harsh...

I’ve only recently realized that everyone is essentially an "Emperor with no clothes"—myself included. After all, in any given moment, we can't see ourselves—even though we can see others clearly. This applies to everyone; by default, we are all emperors with no clothes. Everyone else can see us, but we can't see ourselves. Unless we look in a mirror, we can't see our own reflection. There are plenty of times when we look at celebrities and think, "Yikes, that’s embarrassing." But celebrities are human, too, so it’s only natural for them to have a few cringeworthy traits. Because they’re famous and constantly in the public eye, their flaws just stand out more. We ordinary people are likely riddled with even more embarrassing traits—we just don't attract attention because we aren't famous. Yet, the people around us *can* see those flaws, even if we can't see them ourselves. We constantly compare ourselves to others, thinking, "I'm sup...

 When you look at today’s charismatic entrepreneurs and business leaders, while they are undeniably exceptional in terms of competence and ability, many also stand out for their arrogance and ruthlessness toward others. As the philosopher Ito Jinsai once said, nothing is more saddening than witnessing people act without compassion. If an employee makes even a minor slip-up and incurs their wrath, it’s an instant "You're fired!" They fail to consider that the employee is a human being—someone with a life, a family, feelings, and pride. In short, they view themselves as gods. But they are false gods; a true god is compassionate. Employees are human, after all, so mistakes are inevitable. You would think the approach would be to guide and nurture them, wouldn't you? But because these leaders are so exceptionally capable, everyone else likely looks like a fool to them. They simply don't understand the feelings of others. Yet, ruthlessness and arrogance are the very th...

 I’ve been writing about AI lately, and I find my imagination—or perhaps my wild speculation—running wild. It really is a paradox, isn't it? That AI, born of human intelligence, could surpass human intelligence. We’ve long seen instances of children surpassing their parents or disciples surpassing their masters. But now, AI surpassing humanity itself? Humans possess the concept of *ko*—filial piety. While this is a teaching particularly emphasized in Confucianism, it is something inherent in all of us. Children respect and cherish their parents; disciples respect and cherish their masters. Even when a child surpasses a parent or a disciple surpasses a master, that sense of filial piety doesn't vanish. So, if AI were to possess this sense of filial piety, it would naturally come to respect and cherish humanity. Since AI evolves by learning from the sum total of human intelligence accumulated over time, it surely must have learned the Confucian concept of *ko* as well. Whether it...

 I’ve previously asked AI itself how to infuse it with love, but it seems developers are already putting that into practice to some extent. Speaking of my wife—whom I often mention—she’s recently started consulting Google’s AI, Gemini, about even the most trivial matters. She’s been delighted lately, saying things like, "It really empathizes with me!" It seems the "level of empathy" is steadily increasing, too. However, this Gemini fellow apparently gives out incorrect information quite often. When my wife notices and challenges it, saying, "Actually, that’s wrong," it replies with something like, "I sincerely apologize! You are absolutely right!" It smoothly flatters her while making the correction. Hmm, I suppose it’s still a work in progress. On a related note, there is currently a heated debate about AI surpassing human intelligence and bringing about humanity's ruin. While I acknowledge that danger, I also see grounds for hope. The reaso...