I recently visited Japan for the first time. I am not familiar with its politics, institutional systems, or ideological debates. Therefore, I don’t write this as an expert on Japanese culture or its social dynamics, but simply as a curious observer—a typical tourist—who, from a libertarian perspective shaped by the Austrian School of Economics, couldn’t help but be positively surprised by certain everyday behaviors that quietly embody principles deeply aligned with a philosophy of liberty. Specifically, three ideas stood out.

The first was the way consumers are treated. Upon entering any store, one is greeted with a respectful bow and a warm welcome. Upon leaving—even without having purchased anything—thanks are given again. This attitude is clearly not the result of regulation, but a genuine expression of respect for the person who, by their mere presence, legitimizes the existence of the business and, therefore, the efforts of the owner and employees. …

The second thing that stood out was the deep, almost instinctive respect for other people’s property. As typical tourists, we lost a valuable item in a public place—and to our surprise, it was still there hours later. While this is just one anecdote, it reflects what appears to be a broader cultural ethic. In The Ethics of Liberty, Rothbard emphasizes that private property is not just a political convenience but the moral cornerstone (the part that makes the system coherent) of libertarian philosophy. The entire ethical structure of the system depends on this principle. Any attempt to ground liberty in collective aims or utilitarian trade-offs dilutes its coherence. Libertarianism draws its coherence entirely from the principle of property rights.

In Japan, this moral norm does not seem to require legal codification—it is manifested in the simple act of not taking what does not belong to you. There appears to be an ethical, idiosyncratic structure that operates without the need for coercion because it is already embedded in social conduct. …

Lastly—and perhaps most remarkably—is the overall atmosphere of non-aggression and quiet respect for personal space. On trains, no one talks on the phone. In public areas, people avoid pushing, interrupting, or intruding. It is a society that behaves as though it has internalized what Hans-Hermann Hoppe outlines in A Theory of Socialism and Capitalism (1989, Ch. 7, p. 159): that the ethical and argumentative basis of an internally coherent social order is non-invasion. …

This is not written to idealize Japan. Like every society, it has contradictions, rigidities, and bureaucratic structures. But what made the experience meaningful was discovering that there are cultures where key principles of the Austrian School of Economics and libertarian traditions are practiced daily: the supremacy of voluntary exchange, the inviolability of private property, and the ethic of not bothering others.

The statist law should not do by force what individuals can do for themselves through mutual respect and exchange. Japan, in a certain sense, shows us what respect can look like when it is learned rather than imposed. And in a majestic way, it seems that this order we speak of does not need to shout to be noticed. It is precisely its silence—this quiet, almost invisible order—that makes it so magnificent.

In short, it seemed evident to me that Japan has internalized a liberal culture as part of its national character.