Japan is home to more centuries-old companies than any other country in the world. From small family-run inns and traditional confectionery makers to globally recognized sake brewers and temple builders, these enterprises have survived wars, earthquakes, recessions, and revolutions. At the heart of this phenomenon is an unusual balance between continuity and adaptation—a cultural and economic ecosystem that rewards resilience and long-term thinking over rapid growth and disruption.
As of recent counts, Japan has more than 33,000 companies that are over a century old. According to the Tokyo-based Research Institute of Centennial Management and the international Enokian Association, Japan hosts over half of the world’s companies that are at least 200 years old. Among them, Kongō Gumi stands out: founded in 578 AD, it is widely recognized as the oldest continuously operating company in the world. Originally brought from the Korean kingdom of Baekje—an ancient kingdom on the Korean Peninsula—to build Buddhist temples in Japan, the firm has specialized in temple construction for over 1,400 years.
Why does Japan produce so many corporate Methuselahs? The answer lies in a unique combination of culture, values, and business structure. In Japan, stability is often considered more desirable than expansion. The idea that “unchanging is good” (kawaranai koto ga yoi) permeates many aspects of Japanese life, from design aesthetics to organizational behavior. In contrast to the Silicon Valley ideal of “move fast and break things,” Japanese companies are more likely to embrace slow, incremental change that prioritizes legacy and trust.
A major factor is the tradition of passing businesses down through generations. Many long-standing Japanese firms are family-owned, with leadership passed from parent to child or sometimes to a trusted employee who is adopted into the family—a practice known as mukoyōshi. This emphasis on succession planning fosters continuity of purpose and careful stewardship of the brand, rather than chasing short-term profits. It also reinforces the sense that a company’s legacy is part of a family’s moral duty.
Japan’s business environment also discourages hostile takeovers and aggressive acquisitions. Historically, the country’s financial regulations and business culture have favored internal stability over shareholder primacy. Many companies have long-term relationships with banks and suppliers, creating interdependent networks. This has protected older firms from sudden external pressure and allowed them to make decisions based on multi-decade horizons.
Moreover, many of Japan’s oldest companies are embedded in industries where trust and tradition are essential: sake brewing, Buddhist altar crafting, kimono manufacturing, and innkeeping. These sectors value authenticity over innovation, and customers often seek connection to heritage rather than novelty. As such, older firms are not necessarily penalized for avoiding flashy trends; instead, they are revered for upholding standards across generations.
Geographically, these companies are often found in culturally significant regions such as Kyoto, Nara, and Kanazawa, where tourism and tradition reinforce one another. In rural areas, these businesses often function as cultural custodians, sustaining local crafts and community identity. It is not uncommon for a centuries-old paper mill or swordsmith workshop to also serve as a museum or educational center.
Japan’s corporate governance also reflects long-term thinking. CEO tenure is generally longer than in Western countries, and internal promotion is often favored over external recruitment. This fosters institutional memory and cultural coherence, helping the company maintain a consistent identity over time. While such conservatism may slow down radical change, it enhances resilience and continuity.
Financially, many of these firms adopt conservative policies. High cash reserves and minimal debt levels enable them to withstand crises—from natural disasters to pandemics to financial collapses. In fact, one reason for their longevity is their ability to survive “bad years” without panicking or taking unsustainable risks.
The Enokian Association, founded in Europe but active in Japan, celebrates companies that are over 200 years old and still family-operated. Membership is not only an honor but a signal of corporate integrity, tradition, and cultural responsibility. Japanese firms make up a disproportionate share of the association’s roster, reinforcing Japan’s unique status in the global business landscape.
Globally, Japan’s record is unmatched. Germany, France, and the UK also host a fair number of old companies, especially in wine, textiles, and metallurgy. But no other nation comes close to Japan in terms of the absolute number and continuity of centuries-old businesses. In countries with more aggressive market dynamics or colonial histories, long-term stability has often been harder to preserve.
Consumer expectations in Japan also play a key role. Loyalty, consistency, and trust are often prioritized over novelty. A centuries-old miso producer is expected not to “disrupt” the food industry but to continue producing the same recipe passed down for generations. Customers reward this dedication with multi-generational patronage, creating a reinforcing loop of support and stability.
Yet, these firms are not stuck in the past. Many have embraced selective modernization. Some operate e-commerce websites, accept digital payments, and market themselves globally while maintaining traditional production methods. For instance, the Ichiwa mochi shop in Kyoto, founded over 1,000 years ago, now appears in international media and caters to global tourists—all while continuing to operate with the same wooden tools it has used for centuries.
Of course, longevity brings its own challenges. Succession is becoming harder in a low-birthrate society. Digital transformation is uneven. Younger generations may be reluctant to take over family businesses, especially in rural areas. But some firms are now proactively recruiting external successors, fostering entrepreneurship programs, or partnering with universities to secure future leadership.
In a global context where companies often rise and fall in the span of a few decades, Japan’s long-lived firms offer an alternative vision: one where stability is not stagnation, where tradition coexists with measured evolution, and where business is not just a pursuit of profit, but a vehicle for cultural continuity.
This way of thinking poses both an opportunity and a challenge for foreign businesspeople in Japan. Can one truly understand the legitimacy of preserving tradition—not as inertia, but as an active value? In a society where decisions and transactions may seem slow, the underlying reason is often a deep-rooted cultural respect for consistency and accountability. Foreigners who grasp this logic will find greater success in navigating Japan’s business environment. It’s not about slowing down; it’s about understanding why “not changing” can sometimes be the smartest move.
However, one must also ask whether this reverence for tradition is always consciously practiced. In modern Japan, there is a growing concern that these traditional mechanisms—such as consensus-building, multi-tiered sign-offs, and the ringi-sho approval process—may be used not to preserve value, but to avoid responsibility. What may appear to be a democratic process involving board members, department heads, and frontline managers often resembles the sentiment of “no one gets blamed if everyone agrees” — a dynamic not unlike the phrase “a red light isn’t scary when everyone crosses together.”
This risk-aversion, while culturally embedded, can lead to paralysis. The meaning of “unchanging values” is itself evolving in response to societal changes. Foreign professionals would do well to recognize that in Japan, tradition can be both a strength and a shield. Understanding when it empowers and when it obstructs is crucial to doing business effectively in the Japanese context.
As the world increasingly rethinks the values of growth, scale, and disruption, Japan’s centuries-old companies may become models of how to endure—quietly, humbly, and successfully.