How posture impacts cultural formation and the creation of crafts, plus the evolution of “seiza” from social circles to widespread Japanese soceity.

There are gestures in Japanese culture so discreet that they seem almost inexpressible, yet they embody entire worlds of transmission, respect, and mastery. Seiza, literally "proper sitting", is one of these gestures. Sitting on one's knees, back straight, hands placed on the thighs or on the floor in a sign of greeting, the body enters into an alignment that is simultaneously physical, symbolic, and social. While this posture may seem austere or uncomfortable to many contemporary observers today, it nonetheless remains a fundamental key to numerous Japanese artistic and practices, from tea ceremony and calligraphy, to noh theater and traditional crafts.

Seiza is not limited to a sitting position; it is a mental and physical disposition that organizes one's way of being in the world. Gradually codified during the Edo period (1603-1868), particularly in samurai, religious, and artistic circles, becoming the standard of formal politeness in Japanese society, seiza established itself as a silent language of respect in social interactions and ritualized practices, structuring space through restraint rather than occupation.

What makes seiza so unique is the way it engages the entire body in listening to the ground, to others, and to the moment. In many traditional spheres, seiza is the starting point for a learning process that goes beyond words, shaping the relationship with both matter and memory, and reflecting a relationship with time where slowness is synonymous with attention.

Genealogy of a posture

Long before seiza became the formal etiquette of contemporary Japan, people sat on the floor in a much more liberal manner. Until the Middle Ages, it was common to sit cross-legged (agura), kneeling on one foot (tatehiza), or even squatting (sonkyo). These positions varied according to social class, ritual or warlike contexts, and the architecture of the spaces, which were often open, sparsely furnished, and conducive to a low and flexible posture. Seiza as we know it today–sitting on the heels with the legs folded under the body–was not yet codified as a norm. It was one posture among others, sometimes used in religious or ceremonial contexts, but without the rigid universality it later acquired.

It was during the Edo period, under the authority of the Tokugawa shogunate, that seiza became institutionalized. In a society pacified by more than two centuries of political stability, codes of behavior, dress, and etiquette were refined. Posture then became a social marker as much as a tool of control. According to some studies, notably those conducted by sociologist Masao Yamaguchi, the systematic introduction of seiza into formal interactions helped reduce any capacity for physical rebellion during audiences with the shogun. With numb legs, it became impossible to suddenly stand up or attack a superior. Seiza thus became a body language of coded submission, hierarchical respect, and inner discipline.

But this rigid position was not confined to the political sphere alone. It was quickly imitated in urban bourgeois circles, notably by wealthy merchants who participated in the tea ceremony, a highly ritualized domain where the slightest gesture became significant. As tatami mats spread throughout urban dwellings from the 18th century onward, seiza naturally became a standard. It was accompanied by the zabuton, a flat cushion that relieved pressure on the knees, although its use was also strictly codified. According to tradition, one never stepped on a zabuton, did not change places without being invited, and left the cushion to humbly address one's host in a low position, directly on the floor.

This structuring of the body by the floor was accompanied by a moralization of posture. During the Meiji era (1868-1912), as Japan opened up to the West, seiza was promoted in school education as a symbol of national tradition, in the face of the invasion of chairs, tables, and manners from Europe. The body in seiza became the silent embodiment of a disciplined, sober, and rooted Japanese identity.

However, it is essential to remember that seiza was never universally practiced or accepted. Some lower classes, notably peasants, continued to adopt more flexible positions for everyday tasks. As for warrior elites, they switched from seiza to sonkyo depending on the circumstances, from greeting to duelling to giving orders. The posture itself also varied, the feet could be slightly apart (wariza), the toes pointed (kiza), or the knees open to the side. All these variations testify to the historical plasticity of ways of sitting in Japan, far from a fixed or unique model.

A discipline of the body

Sitting in seiza is akin to a true sensory and ethical apprenticeship, where the body becomes a platform for instilling fundamental values: patience, restraint, and respect. In traditional Japanese families, children are often introduced to seiza from a very young age, whether during meals eaten around a short-legged table (chabudai), family gatherings on tatami mats, or as part of artistic and religious activities. Sitting correctly becomes a way of learning to contain oneself, to hold one's body, and to recognize one's place in the group. Students are taught how to bend their legs quietly, where to place their hands, how to keep their back straight and their head slightly inclined according to the required degrees of formality or respect. Posture thus becomes an implicit socialization tool, where they learn not only how to sit but also how to behave.

At school, this bodily pedagogy takes on a more institutionalized character. Until the 1980s, it was not uncommon for children to be required to remain in seiza for part of their classes, particularly during ceremonies or group activities. This practice was intended to build character, cultivate endurance, and teach silence, virtues associated with self-control. However, criticism arose in the 1990s, highlighting the risks of musculoskeletal pain, circulatory problems, and even psychological trauma in children subjected to this posture in an authoritarian manner. Nowadays, imposing prolonged seiza in schools is considered a form of abuse and has been largely abandoned in Japanese public education.

Seiza is also an integral component in traditional arts. In the practice of the tea ceremony, seiza is integrated into a codified choreography of gestures, rhythms, and silences. The practitioner learns to manage the pain of the posture, to synchronize their movements with their breath, and to move gracefully despite numbness. This physical constraint allows them to sharpen their concentration, slow down their movements, and anchor them in a meditative temporality. In the world of kado (floral art), shodo (calligraphy), or noh (traditional theater), this posture also constitutes the foundation from which inner energy circulates, structures the gesture, and gives rise to artistic expression.

In martial arts such as aikido, judo, or kendo, seiza constitutes the initial posture of the bow (rei), and many techniques are taught from this position. The body, anchored to the ground, becomes the center of controlled energy, with practitioners learning to stand without rushing, to move without disturbing balance.

Seiza is therefore both a form of somatic education and a cultural code, shaping our relationship to time and space by bringing the body closer to the ground, erasing social heights. By its very constraints, it invites a form of physical humility. And yet, seiza is not an absolute. More masters are adapting their teaching to contemporary constraints, with meditation benches for older practitioners, ergonomic cushions, and sitting in a half-lotus position or on a chair. Because more than the rigid form of the sitting, it is the intention it carries that remains central: to be there, fully, with respect for others, the space, and oneself.

Between pain, resistance and decline

Changing lifestyles, the Westernization of domestic interiors, and issues related to bodily comfort have relegated the once essential seiza position to an increasingly marginal, even contested, practice. Since the 1980s, families have gathered less frequently around a chabudai, and today, only a few tatami mats remain in modern apartments, mainly for guests or ceremonial practices. Seiza as a daily posture has followed this evolution, losing its centrality.

Above all, this posture is now considered physically painful and even harmful to health. Due to the pressure exerted on the fibula nerves, it quickly causes numbness and joint pain, and, in the long term, is contraindicated in people suffering from musculoskeletal or circulatory disorders.

Despite this decline, seiza endures, driven by an image of respect, mastery, and tradition. It remains the expected posture during official ceremonies, public apologies, or gestures of gratitude. In traditional theater and in certain religious or family rituals, it continues to symbolize decorum and moral uprightness. Thus, as researcher Jennifer Robertson writes, "the Japanese body has long been shaped by visual norms of rectitude and restraint; in this context, seiza is an ethical mold as much as a physical posture".

Through the prism of the seiza posture, it is possible to glimpse a whole bodily genealogy of Japan. It is an art of living on the ground, a codification of respect, an internalized discipline, but also the visible signs of a society undergoing transformation. Born from a slow process of formalization over the ages, this sitting has established itself as a symbolic norm, at the crossroads of ritual, decorum, and control. Seiza thus illustrates the complexity of Japanese gestural heritage, being neither a fixed archaism nor a simple folkloric practice, but a living trace of a relationship to the ground, to the body, and to the other.

About the Author: Sébastien is a writer and videographer living in Tokyo. Born in 1995 under the sun of Marseille in the South of France, he has been living in Japan since 2022. He has written for several international media outlets, mainly about Japan, art, and cinema. In his free time, he enjoys drinking coffee and taking 35mm photos.