Jita Kyoei 自他共栄: Can Mutual Prosperity Become the Next Viral Japanese Philosophy?

When Netflix released Tidying Up with Marie Kondo, it caught me at a vulnerable moment. I was already under the spell of Goodbye, Things by Fumio Sasaki.

My phase of strict minimalism and “sparking joy” didn’t last long. Still, it left behind small, useful habits that continue to shape my days, if not daily, then at least weekly.

In recent years, the West has eagerly absorbed a range of Japanese philosophies: Ikigai, Kintsugi, the courage to be disliked, and more. Many arrive packaged in the messy world of self-help, simplified for quick consumption. And while I’m grateful for the exchange, I sometimes wonder what gets lost in translation.

Take Ikigai. In Western interpretations, it’s often reduced to a neat Venn diagram promising the perfect career at the intersection of passion, talent, and income. But its original meaning in Japan is broader — closer to “that which makes life worth living,” whether or not it fits neatly on a résumé.

One concept that quietly lodged itself in my mind is Jita Kyoei, or mutual prosperity. I came across it almost by accident, in Mind Over Muscle, a book about Judo. But it stayed with me because it challenges the way many of us are trained to think: as though life is a zero-sum game, where one person’s gain must come at another’s loss.

Jita Kyoei suggests the opposite.

Judo — “the gentle way” — was developed in the late 19th century by Jigoro Kano. Kano was not only a martial artist but also an educator. He believed the dojo was a microcosm of society. On the mat, you cannot progress alone. You need a partner, someone to resist you, to yield to you, to challenge you. Growth requires cooperation.

In groups, when members act with mutual aid rather than self-interest, the whole becomes stronger.

Too often, though, we approach life as if it were a competitive match with limited spoils. Psychologically, this zero-sum mindset fosters hostility, reduces cooperation, and erodes trust. It may feel realistic. In certain contexts, interactions can appear zero-sum. But that’s not an unchangeable truth of existence. It’s a structure we’ve built and a belief we reinforce.

We act as if the pie is fixed.

But perhaps there is no fixed pie.

We are the bakers. We often decide how much cake there is to go around.

Biology is frequently invoked to justify competition, selfish genes and survival of the fittest. Yet life is as collaborative as it is competitive. Humans evolved not only through biology but through moral systems, shared stories, technology, and collective imagination. We cooperate. We empathize. We build societies.

Whether or not mirror neurons fully explain it, history and daily experience suggest something clear: we flourish together.

Many traditions echo this. Loving-kindness and compassion practices, rooted in Buddhism, reflect the spirit of Jita Kyoei. All beings are seen as interdependent. My wellbeing is not separate from yours.

And this idea extends beyond individuals.

In 1909, addressing the Inter-Parliamentary Union in Madrid, Kano said:

“The spirit of mutual prosperity must be respected between nations. A country that seeks only its own advantage will, in the end, destroy itself.”

It feels strikingly contemporary.

We’ve been taught, especially in economics, that scarcity is the fundamental condition of life. That resources are limited, and competition is inevitable. Perhaps this made sense at certain points in history. But today, we face a paradox: in many areas, the global problem is not pure scarcity but misdistribution and imbalance: abundance alongside deprivation.

Yet the scarcity mindset remains dominant. It shapes policy. It shapes education. It shapes how we define value.

When price alone determines value, we neglect other forms of wealth: human potential, dignity, sustainability, and cooperation.

In Doughnut Economics, Kate Raworth proposes reimagining growth altogether — moving away from endless expansion toward renewal and redistribution. It’s a reminder that systems can be redesigned.

If the dojo is a microcosm, then society is layered like an onion. The individual, the community, the nation, humanity as a whole, and each layer are interdependent.

An individual can cultivate mutual prosperity through compassion and attention. Communities can foster it through cooperation and trust. Nations can embody it through equity and shared responsibility. And humanity must extend it to the environment, because survival itself depends on reciprocity with the planet.

The world is both simple and complex at once.

If we dismiss mutual prosperity as naïve, we foreclose the possibility of genuine improvement, not just for a select few, but for people across faiths, ethnicities, and borders.

On the judo mat, selfishness backfires. If you push recklessly for your own advantage, you create resistance. You destabilise yourself. Ultimately, that path leads to self-destruction.

There is no sustainable way forward except Jita Kyoei. Each person playing their part so that all may prosper.

Total self-absorption is wasted energy.

Everything is connected. We depend on one another not only for survival, but for meaning.

And when we act within mutual prosperity, as Kano suggested, we benefit not only from our own effort, but from the shared energy of everyone around us.