What Scared Me More Than English Was the ‘Global Standard Design Philosophy’ — The Confidence I Lost During My London Training in My 8th Year at Work

I Thought I Knew How to Build Systems

Whoa! The airplane wing looked strangely fragile.

I was boarding an ANA flight from Haneda Airport to London.
My very first “overseas system training program” was about to begin.

It was my eighth year in the company.
I had gained a fair amount of experience in system development and had already worked on systems actively used in society.

And I wasn’t just a developer anymore.
I had also been involved from the management side, overseeing projects from a broader perspective.

“This is how systems are built.”

I had gradually started to gain that confidence.

Of course, I was not a Java professional.
I wasn’t the kind of engineer who specialized in mastering code itself.
Rather, my strength was understanding overall architecture and connecting business operations with IT.

Little by little, I had started to understand the field where I could truly compete.

That was why I viewed this London business trip almost as a “confirmation exercise.”

Evaluate the system from an application perspective, understand it, and bring the knowledge back to Japan.
I thought I already knew what needed to be done.

…Or at least, that’s what I believed.

Overseas Systems Had a Completely Different Atmosphere

I had already reviewed the documents sent in advance.

I could somehow understand the English itself.
Technical terminology was not the main issue.

But something felt different.

The manuals didn’t feel like the system documents we created in Japan.

Japanese documentation often feels like explanations written by the developers themselves.
The London-side materials, however, were organized more like a “product.”

In many ways, they resembled package software manuals.

The focus wasn’t on “who built it,”
but on “how it should be used.”

At that point, I still didn’t fully understand the significance of that difference.

The “Boundary Line” I Felt in Premium Economy

The customer was flying on a different flight.

Our team was on ANA Premium Economy.

Until then, I honestly didn’t even know “Premium Economy” existed.

A slightly wider seat.
A slightly more forward position in the cabin.

That was all.

Yet somehow, it made me feel excited.

“So this is it… I’m heading into an international project.”

That feeling slowly grew inside me.

I was already used to overseas travel.
But this wasn’t tourism.

A business trip carries a completely different kind of tension.

The airport lounge.
English announcements.
Businesspeople around me opening their laptops.

In that atmosphere, I felt like I was finally standing at the entrance to “global IT.”

Then the airplane started moving down the runway.

I looked out the window.

For some reason, the airplane wing looked unnaturally light.

Thin.
Unstable.
Almost fragile.

But at the same time, I felt that perhaps this “lightness” was exactly what it meant to fly into the world.

Is Japanese IT Too “Internally Optimized”?

What truly shocked me during the London training wasn’t the technology.

It was the philosophy.

Overseas systems are designed with the assumption that they will continue operating over time.

Anyone can take over and run them.
They remain understandable across countries.
They can survive organizational changes.

Meanwhile, many Japanese systems rely heavily on the strength of the local team.

They are detailed.
High quality.
But often designed in a way that only works because “that specific team” supports it.

That can be incredibly powerful.
But also dangerous.

Because it turns dependency on individuals into a virtue.

During this London trip, I realized something for the first time.

“Developing a system” and “building a system that functions as social infrastructure” are completely different abilities.

Global Projects Cannot Be Solved by English Alone

In Japan, people often think:

“Global projects = English skills.”

Of course, English is necessary.

But what is truly necessary is the ability to “translate design philosophy.”

Why is the structure designed this way?
Why are responsibilities divided like this?
Why do these operational rules exist?

Without understanding those questions, you remain nothing more than a translator.

That strange lightness I felt from the airplane wing on the way to London—

Perhaps that was the moment when the values I had built entirely within Japan were thrown into the sky for the very first time.
I can do this! Tomorrow, I will take the first step forward.