Hospitality, the custom as well as the concept, has been around[2] just about forever[3] and is surely prized,[4] if not always practiced, everywhere. It may be the original social grace.[5] Here in Chicago it's snowing outside my window right now − an inhospitable turn in the weather and a reminder that, while it may be expressed in many different ways, hospitality means more than merely shelter from the storm.

　　It may take a formal gesture to signify the onset of hospitality: a ritualistic greeting (Irasshaimase!), the bestowal of a garland of flowers, the doffing[6] of a hat, the removal of shoes. The popular novelist George R. R. Martin,[7] no doubt inspired by ancient hospitality rituals still observed[8] in Russia and Eastern Europe, presents a fictional scenario in which, by partaking[9] of bread and salt under their[10] host's roof, warriors entering the castle of an enemy ensure their own safety within his[11] walls, while the host and his minions thereby secure their own safety as well. Hospitality as a reciprocal state of nonaggression.

　　The word hospitality is a descendant, via Latin, of the same Proto-Indo-European root[12] from which both host and guest (also ghost!) are also derived. While the latter two words are generally considered to be opposite in meaning, they refer to social roles that were originally seen as reciprocal expressions[13] of a single relationship − two sides of the very same coin. Not every English speaker may be aware of it, but the reciprocal connection is still there: you can't have a host without a guest nor a guest without a host.

　　With host, as so often happens in English, the noun eventually begat[14] a verb. In ordinary usage (although not in telecommunications and TV show jargon), “to host” means to entertain (but not necessarily to be entertaining) or provide accommodations for. Is hosting the same as offering hospitality? Not necessarily, I'd say, but it can be.

　　These ruminations[15] are occasioned by the resurgence of the term omotenashi − probably most often translated into English as “hospitality” − arising from the grandiose invocation of that term in a brief speech promoting Tokyo's bid to host the 2020 summer Olympics, originally delivered to the International Olympic Committee in September, and replayed incessantly ever since.

　　The speaker was one[16] Christel Takigawa, a television news reader (an “anchor,” to my mind, is something you throw out of a boat) whose French-Japanese parentage evidently constituted an important credential.[17] Apart from the aforesaid key word, the speech was delivered entirely in French, one of the IOC's two official languages (the other is English). The Japanese delegation to the IOC had a full share of[18] the august and the eminent,[19] including the prime minister and a member of the imperial family, but many people are apparently convinced that it was Takigawa, painstakingly enunciating o-mo-te-na-shi and hailing[20] the city's honest citizens and friendly taxi drivers (!), who clinched the deal for Tokyo.

　　Prior to undertaking this essay, I doubt I ever used the word omotenashi in a sentence even once. It doesn't come up in conversation much, for one thing, and it's one of those words that tends to be larded with self-serving implications, especially the profit-oriented[21] kind. Wander through the websites and you'll find omotenashi adorning the front end[22] of many a commercial scheme, grist for a (slightly) refined carnival barker[23]: Step right up! See Mount Fuji from your window! Getcher[24] omotenashi here! Step right up! Given the way the word is used and abused by resort operators, hoteliers, restaurateurs, and the whole “hospitality industry,” among others, it's not surprising to find omotenashi rendered in puffed-up English as “selfless hospitality” or a “uniquely Japanese spirit of hospitality.” That's not a definition, it's advertising copy.

　　As befits[25] such an inflated catchword, omotenashi has acquired[26] a rarified pedigree,[27] at least in the minds of some. It's claimed that the noun omotenashi was derived from the union of two component nouns: omote, which means “surface” or “front,” and nashi, meaning “without” or “the absence of.” Being “without a surface” or “without a front,” it's said, means being wholly open and receptive, eschewing separateness, such as that[28] between host and guest. This, of course, is represented as the ideal attitude underlying true hospitality − a “uniquely Japanese” hospitality.

　　It's an appealing etymology, especially for people interested in commodifying omotenashi and peddling it to the rest of us. It's also apparently fictional. Evidently, omotenashi is actually simply the noun form of the verb motenasu, which means “treat (someone) a certain way” or “do (something) a certain way,” with the standard honorific prefix “o” appended. Having been derived from a verb that's broadly general in scope, the noun omotenashi seems to have acquired the specific connotation of “hospitality” through a prosaic process of conventional usage.[29] It isn't quite such[30] a satisfying story, but then again, this is the way language usually works.

　　At least one scholar has noted an inherent dissonance within the concept expressed by the English word hospitality. Isn't the host, as master of the premises, in a dominant position, and if so, doesn't this contradict the reciprocal relationship − and implied equality − between guest and host? I'm not qualified to take a position on[31] that issue, but I have noticed dissonance in certain related expressions. For instance, it's common to describe the practice of proper hospitality as “making you feel at home,” but your home is the place where you pour the drinks and you serve the food. It would hardly be hospitable to impose those duties on a guest. The point is to graciously accommodate you as a visitor, to make you feel not at home.

　　A different kind of dissonance has attached itself to the term omotenashi, I'd say: the tension between omotenashi, the “uniquely Japanese” brand name and marketing tool, and the omotenashi that denotes actual attitudes and actions, collectively defined as “hospitality,” practiced by real people.

　　The snow is still falling here, and now I'm reminded of a yearend visit to the city of Niigata nearly 30 years ago and the heartwarming welcome I received at the home of a colleague's family there, while drifts[32] piled up around the house for days. (The going wisdom at the time held that[33] we foreigners would never set foot inside a private home.) Hospitality like that can't be bought at any price. True omotenashi can't be cheapened by the selling of the phony version; the sellers only cheapen themselves.