This is Samejima, a designer at andu amet. During my recent temporary return to Japan, I participated as a judge in the “Mission Challenge 2025” contest hosted by the Corrections Bureau of the Ministry of Justice.
Correctional administration is undergoing a major transformation, including the implementation of custodial sentences starting this June. In response, this first-ever contest was held for those working in prisons, juvenile detention centers, and assessment centers to present their unique initiatives and concepts.
Meaningful change for inmates and juveniles prevents recidivism, which directly contributes to community safety. Precisely because correctional facilities are the “last line of defense,” we must strive to make them better organizations. The presentations I heard at the venue conveyed this earnest and sincere conviction with palpable intensity.
Each initiative was so outstanding that judging them proved difficult, but here I'd like to highlight two that personally left a strong impression.
One is Kumamoto Prison. This facility houses many inmates serving long sentences, including life sentences, for particularly serious crimes. Its walls are reportedly thicker and taller than those at other institutions. Precisely because of this, “dialogue” is indispensable. For years, they've practiced “Reflecting,” a dialogue process developed in Nordic psychiatric care settings.
This presentation highlighted their effort to share this specialized technique, honed through years of practice, not only with inmates but also with citizens. The high walls of the facility can easily fuel societal anxiety and resistance, often leading to issues of isolation. That's precisely why their stance of opening windows to let in fresh air felt like a glimpse into the future.
Another initiative comes from Kyoto Prison. Their presentation began with a prison officer's confession: “I couldn't believe in rehabilitation.” Despite their earnest efforts, inmates often returned repeatedly, and days sometimes involved exposure to violence.
Amidst this discouragement, a project emerged connecting inmates' work to society through collaboration with traditional craftsmen. In fact, many products are made within prisons, but until now, they were often sold without disclosing their origin. Kyoto Prison decided to openly brand them and bring them into society.
The closing statement was very impactful: by gaining society's recognition, the staff found renewed motivation to keep working, believing a little more in the power of rehabilitation.
Photo: from PR TIMES
I have volunteered in Ethiopia and Ghana, and lived in Iran during the Iran-Iraq War. What I was repeatedly confronted with there was the harsh reality of how unfair the world is and how unevenly opportunities are distributed. There is a definite gap that cannot be bridged by effort or talent alone. Yet I wanted to believe that “given the chance, anyone can achieve their potential.” That's why I founded andu amet.
In 2012, when we first started
But once we actually began, reality proved far less simple than our ideals. We hit countless walls, grappled with frustrations when things didn't go as planned, yet we kept pushing forward without stopping. That's precisely why I felt such a deep, painful resonance with the attitude of those working in correctional settings—persisting through struggles while steadfastly believing in human potential.
At the same time, I was confronted with just how grueling this work is, and how easily misunderstood it can be. Often, sincere efforts go unrewarded. Society's gaze is harsh. It's a field where it's no wonder people break down.
Yet, seeing them still believe in “a better society” and strive to move forward with their own hands, I simply felt my heart grow warm and my respect deepen.
While this story isn't directly related to andu amet, I wanted to share it today because I hope more people will learn about the sincere efforts of those doing truly wonderful work—work that, for various reasons, rarely comes to light.
