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  • Measuring the Weight of Malady: Burden of Disease vs. Burden of Illness

    When people get sick, we often talk about the “weight” of the condition. We say a disease is heavy, or that it demands a huge budget.

    But “being sick” is not a single state. Sociology splits this reality into three lenses: Disease, Illness, and Sickness. Naturally, when we measure the impact of a condition, we also split the approach into two different models: Burden of Disease (BoD) and Burden of Illness (BoI).

    These two terms look like synonyms, but they are not. They come from different perspectives, measure different realities, and assign social responsibility in entirely different ways.

    Let us look past the simple definitions. We need to examine their history, their spatial dimensions, and their structural flaws.

    1. Space and Reality: The Static Grid vs. The Dynamic Ripple

    The core difference between BoD and BoI is how they move through space.

    Burden of Disease (Top-Down / Universal / Macro)
    A static, standardized grid laid over a population. It measures the objective “Load” on the social machine.

    Burden of Illness (Bottom-Up / Contextual / Micro to Macro)
    A dynamic fire starting at the core of human experience. It ripples outward to erode finances, labor, and GDP.

    Burden of Disease: The Metric of the System

    • How it moves: Top-down. It sits exclusively on macro-structures.
    • The Principle: BoD views a medical condition as an objective, third-person object. It deliberately ignores personal stories, emotions, and local culture. Instead, it treats a nation or a population as a biological machine. It measures the mechanical “Load” (過重) that a malfunction places on the state infrastructure. This model starts and ends strictly within population data.

    Burden of Illness: The Metric of Lived Experience

    • How it moves: Bottom-up. It starts with the individual and breaks vertically through the macro-system.
    • The Principle: BoI starts with the first-person experience of suffering. This is the “Weight” (重量) carried by a living human. Crucially, this micro-level stress does not stay contained. Like falling dominoes, it leaks outward. It drains the family budget, causes absenteeism at the office, lowers daily performance (presenteeism), and ultimately hurts national productivity. It is a dynamic ripple. It turns a personal struggle into a market loss.

    2. History: Governance vs. Markets

    Neither metric came from pure science. Shifting political and economic needs in the late 20th century forced their creation.

    The Rise of BoD: Neoliberal Governance (1990s)

    Until the late 20th century, global health metrics only counted dead bodies through mortality rates. This data ignored conditions that do not kill but cause decades of severe impairment, like major depression, blindness, or back pain.

    In 1993, the World Bank, the WHO, and Christopher Murray of Harvard launched the Global Burden of Disease (GBD) study. They wanted to compare completely different conditions. To do this, they invented a standardized, non-monetary currency: the DALY (Disability-Adjusted Life Year).

    DALY = YLL(Years of Life Lost) + YLD(Years Lived with Disability)

    The 1990s demanded economic efficiency. International aid organizations and welfare states needed a cold, uniform metric to allocate finite budgets. By condensing all suffering into a single number (DALYs), governments could run cost-effective analyses. They chose interventions that yielded the highest return on investment. It shifted the focus from measuring death to measuring the loss of life’s quality.

    DALYs appear as neutral, scientific measures, but they embed value judgments at every step. They dictate which disabilities matter, how much they matter, and whose life-years count. Disability weights are not discovered in nature; they are constructed through expert panels, surveys, and cultural assumptions. The Global Burden of Disease is not merely a measurement tool. It is a political technology that actively shapes global health priorities.

    The Rise of BoI: Pharmacoeconomics and Value (1980s)

    At the same time, the pharmaceutical industry and Quality of Life (QOL) studies refined the term Burden of Illness.

    As molecular biology advanced, drug companies produced revolutionary, highly targeted therapies. But these new drugs were highly expensive. Governments and insurance providers demanded proof. They asked: Why should we pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for this drug?

    To justify high prices, drug companies and researchers had to look beyond basic survival rates. They had to show that a drug did more than fix a biological marker (Disease); it had to reduce the Illness burden. They designed “Burden of Illness Studies” to quantify the hidden costs: direct medical fees, out-of-pocket expenses for families, lost wages for caregivers, and the daily price of pain.

    While pharmacoeconomics formalized BoI in the 1980s, the concept has deeper roots. In the 1970s, medical anthropologists like Arthur Kleinman reframed illness as a lived experience. During the 1980s and 1990s, patient movements—particularly HIV/AIDS activism and ME/CFS advocacy—politicized this experience. They demanded social recognition beyond bare biomedical markers. Thus, BoI developed as a hybrid concept: part lived experience, part economic calculation, and part political claim.

    3. Five Intersections: A Cross-Disciplinary Critique

    To evaluate BoD and BoI fairly, we must see how they function across different fields of thought. Both have distinct strengths and fatal blind spots.

    • Philosophy of Science
      • Burden of Disease: Positivist abstraction. It prioritizes what can be standardized and counted. Strength: universal comparison. Weakness: erases lived depth.
      • Burden of Illness: Phenomenological grounding. It prioritizes what is felt and lived. Strength: captures reality. Weakness: hard to standardize.
    • Ethics & Justice
      • Burden of Disease: Utilitarianism. It aims for the greatest happiness for the greatest number. It is efficient but cold; minorities vanish in averages.
      • Burden of Illness: Ethics of care. It focuses on immediate networks of vulnerability. It protects vulnerability but resists scaling.
    • Economics
      • Burden of Disease: Macro-fiscal accounting. It measures the health of the system, tracking GDP loss and social security strain.
      • Burden of Illness: Micro-labor & shadow work. It measures the health of the home, tracking household ruin and unpaid caregiving.
    • Anthropology
      • Burden of Disease: Etic (external). It de-contextualizes suffering. Disability weights ignore cultural context.
      • Burden of Illness: Emic (internal). It re-contextualizes suffering, mapping stigma, gender, class, and local narratives.
    • Sociology
      • Burden of Disease: Top-down biopolitics. It operates as a tool for state surveillance, treating populations as variables to optimize.
      • Burden of Illness: Lateral biopolitics. It functions as a trap of self-governance, where individuals internalize productivity pressure.

    4. The Social Architecture: Why There is No “Burden of Sickness”

    We have Burden of Disease (the biological) and Burden of Illness (the experiential). Why does medical literature completely lack the term “Burden of Sickness” as a disease-specific metric?

    The answer is simple: Sickness is a feature of the social infrastructure, not a feature of the disease.

    Sickness represents the socially approved status given to an unwell person (the “Sick Role”). The institutional costs in this layer—like paid sick leaves, disability pensions, and insurance payouts—are highly volatile. They do not depend on the biological severity of the disease. They depend on the political and cultural laws of the country.

    For example, the social cost of pelvic girdle pain is immense in Norway because the state funds long-term sick leave for it. In a country without such labor laws, like the United States, the Sickness cost is virtually zero. Yet, the Disease and Illness remain identical in both nations. Because the infrastructure itself determines these costs, macro-economics already tracks them under “National Healthcare Expenditure” or “Social Security Outlays.” There was never a need for a disease-specific term.

    The absence of a “Burden of Sickness” metric is structural. Sickness is not a property of the disease or the patient. It is a property of the social system, reflecting labor laws, welfare regimes, and political choices. Because these infrastructures vary dramatically across countries, any attempt to quantify a universal, standardized “Burden of Sickness” would collapse under its own institutional relativism.

    5. The Japanese Linguistic Trap: Fuka (負荷) vs. Futan (負担)

    When translating these concepts into Japanese, we find a clear theoretical alignment in the characters—but a messy, confusing reality in practice.

    • Disease Load –> 疾病負荷 (Fuka) = Engineering stress on a system
    • Illness Weight –> 疾病負担 (Futan) = A heavy backpack carried by a human

    In a perfect theoretical world:

    • 疾病負荷 (Shippei-Fuka): Matches Burden of Disease. It uses Fu (負 – to bear) and Ka (荷 – a load/charge). Like electrical load or mechanical stress, it represents the engineering strain placed on state infrastructure by a biological anomaly.
    • 疾病負担 (Shippei-Futan): Matches Burden of Illness. It uses Fu (負) and Tan (担 – to shoulder). It evokes a living human physically carrying a heavy backpack along a difficult path.

    The Real-World Friction

    But if you open Japanese public health white papers or medical economics journals, this clarity disappears.

    While Shippei-Fuka is strictly reserved for GBD and DALY metrics, the term Shippei-Futan is heavily abused. Bureaucrats use it as a lazy translation for macro statistical data. Clinicians use it to describe a family’s emotional exhaustion. Economists use it to mean the financial strain on the national insurance pool (Zaisei-Futan – 財政負担).

    In Japan, macro-systems, micro-homes, and state finances are all jammed into this single phrase: Shippei-Futan. Without a conscious effort to separate them, the unique suffering of the individual is easily swallowed by the fiscal anxieties of the state.

    In Japanese policy discourse, the term Futan (負担) collapses three distinct layers—patient burden, caregiver burden, and fiscal burden—into a single word. This linguistic compression carries severe political consequences. The lived burden of illness is easily overshadowed by concerns about national insurance costs (Zaisei-Futan). As a result, the experiential dimension of the human being becomes structurally invisible.

    Conclusion: The Creative Tension

    Neither Burden of Disease nor Burden of Illness holds a monopoly on truth. Both are non-negotiable dimensions of the health ecosystem.

    If we look only through Burden of Disease, we can build an efficient, mathematically optimized healthcare system. But we become blind to the people slipping through its grates. We create a world where a rare disease is ignored because its DALY impact is statistically irrelevant.

    If we look only through Burden of Illness, we can deeply feel the tragic story of every broken life. But we lose the ability to organize society, build hospitals, or distribute limited resources fairly. We risk paralyzing the macro-policies that keep the entire community safe.

    The true goal of studying health humanities and social sciences is not to choose between the “Static Grid” and the “Dynamic Ripple.” It is to stand firmly in the creative tension between them. We must acknowledge the numbers, honor the stories, and ensure that our tools of measurement never lose sight of the humanity they are meant to serve.

  • Seeing “Being Sick” Through Three Lenses: Disease, Illness, and Sickness

    When we feel unwell, we reach for our phones and type the same familiar words: “I’m sick.”

    In Japanese, byōki (病気) is a generous container. It can hold a mild cold, a chronic condition, a diagnosable pathology, or simply the vague heaviness of a day when the world feels too bright.

    But in medical anthropology, sociology, and philosophy, “being sick” is not a single state.

    It is a three‑layered phenomenon, each layer revealing a different truth about the human condition: Disease, Illness, and Sickness.

    In an age when AI can analyze data in seconds and propose optimal treatment plans, this triad reminds us of something essential: health is never just biological. It is lived, narrated, negotiated. It is where the algorithm ends and the person begins.

    1. Etymology: The Historical Origins of the Three Words

    Before they became academic terms, these words belonged to the everyday lives of medieval Europeans. They carried the weight of discomfort, misfortune, and human fragility. Their evolution reflects the gradual separation of body, self, and society in Western thought. 

    Disease: Away from Ease

    Origin: Old French desaise (also attested as desease) — des- “away from” + aise “comfort/ease”. 

    Literal Meaning: “Lack of comfort” or “physical inconvenience.”

    Evolution: Until the late Middle Ages, disease referred broadly to discomfort, inconvenience, or misfortune. Only with the rise of anatomical science and pathological thinking did it narrow into its modern biomedical meaning.

    Illness: The Texture of Feeling Ill 

    Origin: Formed within English from ill (Old Norse illr, “bad/difficult”) + ‑ness.

    Literal Meaning: “The state of being in bad shape.”

    Evolution: In early modern English, illness could refer to moral badness or wickedness. By the late 17th century, it shifted almost entirely to bodily or mental unwellness.

    Sickness: The Social Status of the Sick

    Origin: Old English seocnes (seoc, “ill, feeble, grieving”).

    Literal Meaning: “A weakened or unwell condition,” often blending physical frailty with emotional or spiritual distress.

    Evolution: Long used interchangeably with illness, but 20th‑century sociology refined it to mean the socially recognized status of being unwell.

    2. The Triad Model: Three Ways of Seeing a Malady 

    In the late 20th century, scholars like Andrew Twaddle, Leon Eisenberg, Arthur Kleinman, Horacio Fabrega, and Byron Good reframed these words as three analytic perspectives.

    “Patients suffer illnesses; physicians diagnose and treat diseases.”

    — Leon Eisenberg (1977)

    This distinction became foundational in medical anthropology and patient‑centered care.

    Disease (The Medical Lens)

    Focus: Biological, pathological, biochemical abnormalities

    Characteristics: Objective, measurable, standardized

    Goal: Cure — restoring physiological function or correcting the underlying abnormality

    Illness (The Personal Lens)

    Focus: The subjective, first‑person experience of being unwell

    Characteristics: Phenomenological, narrative, deeply personal

    Goal: Care — alleviating suffering and helping the person make sense of their experience

    Sickness (The Social Lens)

    Focus: Social identity, institutional labels, cultural expectations

    Characteristics: Inter‑subjective, political, regulatory

    Goal: Social management — allocating resources, defining rights, maintaining social order

    3. When the Three Lenses Align—and When They Don’t 

    Philosopher Bjørn Hofmann visualized these concepts as a Venn diagram. 

    When all three overlap, the world feels coherent:

    you feel unwell (Illness), the doctor finds a cause (Disease), and society acknowledges your condition (Sickness).

    But often, the circles drift apart, creating ethical, clinical, and social dilemmas.

    Pattern A — Disease (+), Illness (–), Sickness (–)

    A biological abnormality exists, but the person feels fine and society does not treat them as a patient.

    Examples: Asymptomatic hypertension, early‑stage carcinoma, viral incubation

    Dilemma: Overdiagnosis and anxiety in otherwise healthy individuals

    Pattern B — Disease (–), Illness (+), Sickness (–)

    The person suffers, but tests show nothing abnormal.

    Examples: Fibromyalgia, ME/CFS, Long COVID, early psychosomatic disorders

    Dilemma: Patients are dismissed as “lazy” or “imagining it,” losing both medical validation and social support

    Pattern C — Disease (–), Illness (–), Sickness (+)

    No biological defect or subjective suffering, yet society labels the state as a medical condition.

    Examples: Historical pathologization of homosexuality

    Dilemma: Medicalization of social or moral categories

    4. The Social Architecture of Being Sick 

    The “Sick Role” (Talcott Parsons, 1951)

    Parsons argued that sickness is a regulated social role with: 

    Privileges:

    • Exemption from normal responsibilities
    • Exemption from blame

    Obligations:

    • Wanting to recover
    • Seeking competent medical help and cooperating with it

    Failure to meet these obligations risks losing legitimacy and being labeled as malingering. 

    A Parallel with WHO’s Classic Framework

    The triad mirrors the WHO’s 1980 model (later the ICF):

    • Impairment (body level): Disease
    • Disability (activity level): Illness
    • Handicap (participation level): Sickness

    This alignment underscores that health is simultaneously biological, experiential, and social. 

    5. Japan: A Culture Where “Byōki” Holds Everything 

    To apply this triad to Japan, we must first acknowledge a linguistic truth: Japanese does not naturally separate these three layers. 

    The Elasticity of Byōki 

    In Japanese, byōki can refer to: 

    • a cold
    • a diagnosable pathology
    • chronic conditions
    • or simply “not feeling well today”

    Unlike English, Japanese rarely distinguishes between:

    • biological abnormality (disease)
    • subjective suffering (illness)
    • social recognition and institutional status (sickness)

    This linguistic compression shapes social expectations. Without distinct terms for disease, illness, and sickness, the boundaries blur. 

    The Struggle for Sickness Recognition

    In many workplaces, saying “I don’t feel well” (illness) is insufficient.

    A doctor’s note—proof of disease—is required to unlock social protections (sickness), such as:

    • paid sick leave
    • workplace accommodations
    • Shōbyō‑teatekin (傷病手当金)

    In Japan, sickness is tightly regulated by certification, often more so than in Western contexts.

    The Stigma of Sickness in the COVID Era 

    During the pandemic, infection became more than a biological event.

    It became a social identity, sometimes a dangerous one.

    People were judged not for how they felt, but for what they represented:

    • risk
    • irresponsibility
    • contamination
    • moral failure

    This is sickness in its purest form:

    the social meaning of being unwell, detached from biology or experience.

    Conclusion: Balancing the Ecosystem of Health

    None of these three lenses is superior. They are mutually dependent pieces of a larger ecosystem.

    To heal the body, we must address disease.

    To ease suffering, we must understand illness.

    To protect the vulnerable, we must recognize sickness.

    When we look at medicine through this balanced, flat perspective, we stop blaming doctors for being overly analytical, and we stop blaming patients for having subjective pain that science cannot yet map. By understanding where the boundaries of Disease, Illness, and Sickness lie, we can build a more empathetic, integrated approach to human suffering.

  • Japan’s HTA System and the 2026 Reform: A Comprehensive Guide

    With the 2026 revisions shaping the landscape of healthcare policy, I felt the need to map out the current state of Japan’s HTA system. As someone working at the intersection of data and policy, this guide is my attempt to clarify how we measure “value” in modern medicine.

    Introduction: The Concept of “Value for Money” in Medicine

    Japan has a universal healthcare system that provides high-quality medical care to everyone. However, many ultra-high-cost drugs—like new cancer therapies and gene treatments—are appearing now. This makes it difficult to keep the national health insurance budget sustainable.

    Therefore, Japan started the Health Technology Assessment (HTA) system in April 2019. The goal is to check “Value for Money.” The system ensures that the price of a drug matches the clinical benefit it gives to patients and the healthcare system.

    Chapter 1. Japan’s Unique “Post-Reimbursement” Model

    The Japanese HTA system is structurally different from many other countries.

    1. Price Adjustment Instead of a Gatekeeper

    In some countries like the UK, if a drug gets a negative HTA result, the insurance will not cover it. Japan is different. Japan puts patient access first. Therefore, almost all approved drugs get insurance coverage first. The government uses HTA as a “complementary tool” to adjust the drug’s price (up or down) after it is already on the market.

    2. The Core Metrics: QALY and ICER

    To measure “value” scientifically, Japan uses two main international metrics:

    • QALY (Quality-Adjusted Life Year): This measures both the length of life (survival) and the quality of life (QOL). One QALY means one year of life in perfect health.
    • ICER (Incremental Cost-Effectiveness Ratio): This formula calculates the extra cost needed to get one extra QALY compared to existing standard treatments (i.e., standard of care, or the chosen comparator).
      ICER = \frac{\text{Cost (New Drug)} – \text{Cost (Existing Treatment)}}{\text{Effect (New Drug)} – \text{Effect (Existing Treatment)}}

    3. Thresholds for Value

    In Japan, if the ICER is below 5 million yen per QALY, the drug is “cost-effective.” The government keeps its price. For cancer or rare diseases, the threshold increases to 7.5 million yen per QALY because these patients have high unmet needs.

    Chapter 2. The 2026 (Reiwa 8) Reform: A New Era for HTA

    The April 2026 reform updates how Japan evaluates drug costs. The evaluations are becoming more strict and dynamic.

    1. The New Price Adjustment Formula

    If a new drug does not show an additional benefit compared to existing treatments, the government uses a new formula. This formula matches the new drug’s price closer to the existing treatment’s price (the comparator price).

    • New Formula:
      \text{Adjusted Price} = \text{Pre-adjusted Price} \times \frac{\text{Comparator Daily Drug Price}}{\text{Target Daily Drug Price}}
    • 15% Reduction Cap: A very big price drop can make drug supply unstable. Therefore, the maximum price cut from this HTA formula is limited to 15% (the price will not go below 85% of the original price).

    2. Dynamic Re-Evaluation (H3 Category)

    HTA is not a one-time check at the start. Under the 2026 rules, the government can evaluate a drug again (under category H3) even after the first review is finished. This happens if there is important new clinical data or new global HTA results.

    3. Terminology and Caregiving Costs

    The government changed the term “Additional Benefit” to “Improvement in health outcome indicators relative to the comparator.” This avoids confusion with other drug pricing rules. Also, the 2026 rules give clearer instructions on how to include caregiving costs. This recognizes that good drugs can reduce the burden on family members.

    4. Implementation Schedule

    For drugs that report HTA results after April 2026, the price adjustments will wait until September 2026. This gives the government time to check the technical effects of the new reform before changing prices.

    Chapter 3. Selection Criteria: The “H-Category” Framework

    Not all medicines go through HTA. The government selects drugs based on their impact on the national health budget using five categories.

    CategoryTimingMain Criteria
    H1At ListingHigh-budget drugs (predicted peak sales >50 billion yen).
    H2At ListingPredicted peak sales >10 billion yen and high innovation premiums.
    H3Post-ListingExpanding products with sales over 5 billion yen, or re-designated items.
    H4LegacyLarge-market drugs listed before the 2019 policy started.
    H5SimilarityFollow-on drugs adjusted based on the result of a similar representative drug.

    Exemptions: Drugs for ultra-rare diseases (designated intractable diseases) or pediatric conditions usually do not go through HTA. This ensures patients can get essential treatments quickly.

    Chapter 4. Technical Guidelines for Analysis

    The C2H (Center for Outcomes Research and Economic Evaluation for Health) checks the technical quality of the data.

    • EQ-5D-5L Standard: Japan prefers to measure quality of life (QOL) using the EQ-5D-5L tool. Companies can convert other scales (“mapping”), but review committees check this very strictly because it introduces uncertainty.
    • Perspective: The analysis must use the “Public Payer Perspective.” This includes public insurance costs and patient co-payments.
    • Discounting: Future costs and health effects decrease by 2.0% per year to calculate their value today.

    Chapter 5. International Comparison: 2026 Global Trends

    Japan is changing its pricing formulas, but other major HTA bodies are also changing their policies in 2026.

    Country2026 Policy OutlookHTA Role
    Japan15% cap on HTA price cuts; dynamic re-evaluation.Adjusts prices after the drug is listed.
    UK (NICE)Increased the threshold from £20k-£30k to £25k-£35k per QALY in April 2026.Decides if the insurance covers the drug (Gatekeeper).
    GermanyFocuses on “added therapeutic benefit” for price talks.Price negotiation based on evidence.

    The UK’s NICE increased its threshold for the first time in over 20 years to support industry growth and patient access. This is different from Japan, which focuses on controlling costs with mathematical formulas.

    Chapter 6. Real-World Evidence and Success Stories

    Japan is using more Real-World Data (RWD), such as health insurance claims (receipt data), to confirm a drug’s value in real clinical practice.

    • Success Case (Dapagliflozin): The government evaluated this SGLT2 inhibitor for Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD). The analysis combined clinical trial data with Japanese RWD. It proved that the drug significantly reduces long-term dialysis costs. The ICER was about 1.28 million yen per QALY. This is well below the 5 million yen threshold, proving the drug is highly cost-effective.

    Conclusion

    In 2026, Japan enters the “Second Stage” of its HTA system. Evaluating a drug’s value is now a dynamic process that lasts throughout its time on the market. The 15% reduction cap and the new re-evaluation rules mean that economic evidence must be strong not just at launch, but always. For everyone in the healthcare industry, showing long-term economic value with Japanese data is now the most important key to success.

    For me, the true “art of learning” in this field is not just tracking the changing formulas, but understanding how these policies ultimately affect real-world well-being. Keeping a steady eye on this balance is a core part of my ongoing inquiry.


    Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any affiliated organizations.

  • I’ve been blogging for 25 years. Now, I’m starting a “Now” page.

    Kyoto

    1. A small transition after 25 years

    I have been keeping blogs for over 25 years. It’s a long time—long enough to have a massive collection of archives. But those archives only show where I was.

    I realized that while my footprints are all over this site, it’s hard for anyone to see what I am actually doing today. That’s why I decided to create a “Now” page.

    2. Why “Now”?

    The idea is simple: while an “About” page stays the same for years, “Now” changes. Many of us are curious about what a person is focused on at this moment, not just their history. I believe that for long-term readers, these subtle shifts in focus are exactly what they are eager to know.

    I first noticed the “Now” page movement (popularized by Derek Sivers) a few years ago. It immediately struck me as a profound idea.

    I completely agree with this concept. So, I’ve made my own and even submitted it to nownownow.com. It feels good to be part of this quiet movement.

    3. My Essence: nownownow.com

    I have officially joined this global community by submitting my page to nownownow.com. To give you a sense of my current mindset, here is the “Q&A” from my profile there:

    Professional title?
    Epidemiologist seeking the best health outcomes.

    What do you actually do?
    I discern the quiet patterns within evidence to illuminate a path toward well-being.

    Why do you do it?
    I find a kind of beauty in the hidden order within complexity. I bridge the gap between evidence and the policies that shape our lives. I do this to dispel the fog of uncertainty.

    Recent thought?
    Evidence does not shout its secrets; it waits for the stillness required to hear the patterns within the noise.

    Recommended book?
    The Master of Go by Yasunari Kawabata.

    4. Now Log: April 2026

    A “Now” page is meant to be updated and overwritten. To make sure these moments don’t just disappear, I’m recording my current status here as a “Log.”

    Where I am

    I am currently based in Shinagawa, Tokyo. While I navigate the urban energy of the capital, my heart remains connected to my home in Gifu. This duality of city and nature, of “now” and “roots,” defines my current perspective.

    Professional Focus

    My career is rooted in the pharmaceutical industry, where I work to ensure that medical decisions are grounded in solid evidence and logic. I am dedicated to the pursuit of sustainable public health, bridging the gap between data-driven science and real-world well-being.

    Ongoing Inquiries

    The Art of Learning: I am constantly exploring new fields of knowledge to broaden my horizons. For me, learning is not a means to an end, but a lifelong journey of connecting disparate ideas into a cohesive worldview.
    Learning in Public: This blog is my laboratory. I am practicing my English communication skills by documenting my thoughts and reflections in real-time. I embrace the imperfection of the process.

    Finding Stillness

    Between the demands of strategy and science, I find balance through:

    • The Tea Ceremony (Urasenke): Practicing the art of presence and tranquility.
    • Go: Engaging in the silent, strategic dialogue of the board game.
    • Art & Craftsmanship: Observing the dedication of creators in museums and galleries, which inspires my own approach to work and life.

    5. Keeping it updated

    I’ll keep updating my live page. If you have a blog, maybe you should try making one too. It helps you see your own focus more clearly.

    My live “Now” page is here: tamai.blog/now/

  • Looking back on AlphaGo after 10 years

    2026-04-18 14.20.24

    Ten years have passed since AlphaGo defeated Lee Sedol.

    It feels like just yesterday, but that match was the moment a new AI era really started. I have been a big fan of Go for a long time, so I watched the series with great interest. To be honest, at that time, I didn’t think AlphaGo was strong enough to beat a top human professional. But as we all know, AlphaGo won the series 4-1.

    Looking back, two moves still stand out in my mind. One is from Game 2, and the other is from Game 4.

    Through the series, AlphaGo showed its true strength in the fuseki (the beginning of the game). Until then, I had a strong prejudice that computers were only good at exact, local calculations. I thought “judgment” or “intuition” belonged only to humans. But I was wrong. The computer was far better at the abstract parts of the game than I ever expected.

    I still remember Move 37 in Game 2. It was beyond human common sense. On the live stream, Michael Redmond 9-dan looked confused at first. He said it was a surprising move, and another commentator even thought it was a mistake. But it wasn’t. It was a move that changed the history of Go.

    Then, there was Game 4. After three losses, Lee Sedol played Move 78. Move 78 was what we call in Japanese “a move that threads the eye of a needle”. Even Demis Hassabis called it a “God’s move.” He must have felt something special—something that his own creation couldn’t see, but a human heart could. I remember seeing the news and the tweets from Demis Hassabis. He said AlphaGo was “confused” and its win percentage dropped suddenly. It was a very emotional moment for all Go fans. It felt like Lee Sedol had found a tiny light in the dark.

    It has been 10 years. The world of Go has changed, and so has our world with AI. But when I think back to those moves, I still feel the same excitement and wonder I felt that day. It was the moment I felt that “Science” could create a new kind of “Art.”

  • Two Months in Tokyo: My New Commute and Small Changes

    From Gifu to Shinagawa

    It has been exactly two months since I moved to Shinagawa, Tokyo. My morning view has changed completely. In Gifu, I saw mountains and felt a quiet atmosphere every day. Now, I see tall office buildings made of glass and steel. Every morning, I walk to the station and take the Rinkai Line to Osaki.

    The Time to Switch My Mind

    My commute is only 20 minutes, but this time is very important for me. It is a “switching time.” During the walk and the train ride, my mind changes from a private person to a professional scientist. I leave my apartment and prepare for my work in Health Economics and Outcomes Research (HEOR).

    From February to April

    I arrived in Tokyo in February. At that time, the wind from Tokyo Bay was very cold. Now, it is April, and the air is soft. I can feel the change of seasons even in the big city. I see people wearing lighter coats, and I noticed small flowers blooming near the office buildings. I miss the quiet time in Gifu sometimes, but I feel a similar atmosphere even in energetic Tokyo now.

    Observing the Patterns

    In my work as an epidemiologist, I always look for patterns in data. On my commute, I look for patterns in the city. After two months, I am starting to understand the rhythm of Tokyo. I am still a newcomer, but this 15-minute walk helps me observe the world before I look at my computer screen.

  • From Hand-coded HTML to Blocks: 25 Years Online

    The Secret of the Footer

    In the footer of this blog, I have written a small note: “Proudly Powered by WordPress since 2006.” I recently updated this to reflect the actual timeline of my relationship with the platform. However, my journey on the web began even earlier, in the spring of 2001.

    2001: The Tripod Era

    My first website was hosted on Tripod. As a university student, I manually edited HTML files and uploaded them via FTP. It was a slow and repetitive process.

    At that time, the web was centered around BBS (Bulletin Board Systems) and link collections. I even used CGI scripts to display Go (囲碁) game records. It was my first attempt to bring my personal interests into the digital world.

    2002–2005: Crossing Borders via Xanga and ICQ

    By 2002, I moved to Blogger and discovered the “Blogosphere.” But more importantly, I discovered the world.

    Through platforms like Xanga, I met people from different countries who became real friends. We communicated across borders through the iconic “Uh-oh!” of ICQ. Some of those digital acquaintances eventually became real-life friends whom I met in person. I still remember the thrill of those late-night chat sessions on Yahoo! Messenger, connecting me to a global community that felt new and significant to me at the time.

    2006: Finding a Home in WordPress

    After using MovableType on my own domain in 2003, I finally settled on WordPress in 2006.

    Since then, WordPress has been my primary tool for writing. It has stayed with me through my medical studies in Gifu and my current work in Shinagawa, Tokyo. The technology has evolved from the “Kubrick” theme to today’s block editor, but my reason for writing remains the same: to observe, reflect, and record.

    2026: Why Start Again in English?

    I have spent 25 years writing mostly in Japanese at tamai.net. Starting tamai.blog in English is a new challenge. Just as I struggled with HTML tags in 2001, I am now learning to navigate the nuances of English.

    Writing in a second language requires a different kind of clarity. It allows me to look at my interests—science, the tea ceremony, and Go—from a fresh perspective.

    The Constant Thread

    The web of 2001 felt smaller and more personal. Today’s web is vast and often noisy. Yet, by maintaining this small corner of the internet, I find that the underlying motive has not changed. Whether you remember the “Uh-oh!” of ICQ or are discovering my notes for the first time, thank you for stopping by.

  • Hello from Tokyo: Starting tamai.blog

    Welcome to tamai.blog.

    I am writing this at my desk in Shinagawa, Tokyo.

    I am a physician-scientist. My daily work involves epidemiology and data in the pharmaceutical industry. When I am not in front of a screen, I spend my time practicing the Urasenke tea ceremony, playing Go, and appreciating Japanese craftsmanship.

    This blog is a simple place where my professional and personal interests meet.

    What I will record here

    I do not have a grand plan for this site. I expect to write about:

    • Science & Health: Thoughts from my work in medicine and HEOR.
    • Culture & Aesthetics: My journey with traditional arts and the “stillness” they provide.
    • The Art of Learning: My attempts to study new fields and improve my English.

    Learning in Public

    English is my second language. I am still a student. I have decided to share my thoughts as they are, even if my expressions are imperfect. I consider this blog a part of my “learning in public” process.

    Just a Small Corner

    I am not trying to change the world. I am just happy to have a small corner on the internet to organize my thoughts.

    Thank you for stopping by. Please feel free to look around.

    A New Chapter

    This blog is a new chapter in a journey that began in 2001. I have used WordPress since 2006, and it remains a silent partner in my intellectual inquiry. I look forward to sharing more about this history in my next entry.