Often called harakiri in the West, seppuku is a form of ritual suicide that originated with Japan's samurai warrior class. The act typically involved stabbing oneself in the abdomen with a short sword, slicing open the stomach, and then turning the blade upward to ensure a fatal wound. The seppuku custom dates back to the 12th century as a means for the upper and samurai classes exclusively to atone for crimes, regain lost honor, or avoid disgraceful capture. When executed correctly, seppuku was considered the noblest way for a samurai to die and, according to eyewitness accounts, one of the most painful. Through this ritual, samurai demonstrated courage in the face of pain and death, as well as the purity of their intentions before both people and gods. In modern times, some Japanese individuals are still prepared to commit harakiri if their personal honor, dignity, or that of their family or loved ones is questioned.

Throughout Japanese history, acts of self-denial have been celebrated as supreme values. The victim, by dying voluntarily, inspired not only pain but also respect and admiration. Unlike Americans, who justify their morality with a sense of guilt, Japan operates under a sense of shame. In their code of conduct, shame carries the same authority as "purity of conscience," "being with God," and "forgiveness of sins" in Western moral frameworks.

At first glance, it may seem incompatible for one of the world's most developed countries to maintain such seemingly medieval customs. However, when it comes to human honor and dignity, this ritual has retained its vitality and relevance. As in ancient times, seppuku remains a means of avoiding dishonor, moral decline, and public condemnation. If we're honest, this sense of accountability might not have been unwelcome among our military-political elite following the shameful defeat in the 44-day war. Such a gesture would have been a dignified acknowledgment of guilt and an effort to purify shame.

But where would they find such nobility? Consider the widely publicized suicide of Isao Inokuma, the 1964 Olympic and 1965 World Champion judoka, who ended his life in 2001 after his company went bankrupt due to mismanagement. In our case, we are not discussing the bankruptcy of a business but the loss of a flourishing homeland, thousands of casualties, missing and wounded individuals, and around 140,000 compatriots forcibly displaced from their 3,000-year-old Armenian homeland. The individual most culpable for this tragedy, rather than taking responsibility, rushed to deny his guilt and shift blame during a broadcast on "H1" Public TV.

Nations can generally be divided into guilt-based and shame-based societies. Japan, like Armenia, is a shame-based society. In modern Japan, when an official is accused of corruption or another serious crime, not only is the individual dishonored, but his entire family shares the disgrace. To cleanse this stain of dishonor, the only option is often harakiri, as state-imposed punishment alone is insufficient to restore the family’s good name. In a shame-based society, collective values dominate, whereas in a guilt-based society, individualism prevails.

In shame societies such as Japan and Armenia, public opinion plays a decisive role. This creates opportunities for governments to manipulate perceptions in their favor. In Armenia, the ruling political forces have a variety of tools at their disposal: paid propaganda outlets, fake social media accounts, and a faceless crowd of so-called "experts" and "political commentators" funded by the state. These actors have systematically attacked traditional institutions and reshaped societal perceptions of shame.

Such vulgar practices would not succeed in Japan, where public opinion remains stable and grounded. In Armenia, by contrast, public opinion is fluid and easily swayed.