This case began after I questioned what appeared to be a change in the university’s policy regarding online classes. I believed that if working conditions were changing, teachers and their union should be consulted. I repeatedly asked for a simple clarification: was this a new rule or merely a recommendation? Instead of receiving a clear answer, I was met with contradictory explanations, shifting expectations, and increasingly obscure instructions that left me uncertain about what was actually being required.

As the exchanges continued, I felt I was being singled out. My questions were repeatedly mischaracterized, my concerns dismissed, and I was left with the impression that simply seeking clarification had made me a target. At one point, I returned to my classroom to find the word “snowflake” written prominently on the whiteboard after it had been used by the administrator with whom I had been corresponding. Whether intended for me or not, given the circumstances it was difficult not to see it as a personal insult. 

I also began receiving emails that I regarded as unnecessarily confrontational and deliberately confusing, making it increasingly difficult to understand what was actually expected of me. What should have been a straightforward discussion about university policy instead became an exhausting cycle of contradictory instructions, shifting explanations, and what I regarded as deliberate obfuscation.

Not long afterward, I discovered that I was one of only a handful of teachers whose class allocation had been reduced for the following academic year. Later, I was warned that I could lose all of my remaining classes unless I complied with new demands. I cannot prove that these events were connected, but from my perspective the sequence was impossible to ignore. 

The experience left me feeling intimidated, isolated, and fearful that raising legitimate questions about my working conditions had come at a professional cost. What disturbed me most, however, was what happened after I attempted to seek help through the university’s own internal procedures. 

I believed that if I presented the documentary evidence—the contradictory emails, the repeated mischaracterizations of my words, the reduction in my teaching allocation following my questions, and the pattern of increasingly hostile treatment—there would at last be an impartial examination of what had occurred. So far, despite repeated promises, there has been little action. Instead, I have found myself in the bewildering position of feeling that the focus has shifted away from the conduct I was reporting and onto me personally.

At this point, it seems like the university, rather than investigating the pattern of harassment that I believed I had documented, has instead required me to justify why I had raised concerns in the first place. The issues that lay at the heart of my complaint have not been squarely confronted. Instead, they appear to have been minimized, reframed, or simply left unanswered. I have repeatedly sought straightforward explanations and objective consideration of the evidence, yet I have come away with the impression that defending the arbitrary announcements of rogue faculty members has become a higher priority than determining whether a member of staff has in fact been subjected to workplace harassment.

This is perhaps the most disheartening aspect of the entire experience. It is one thing to believe that one has been harassed by a supervisor. It is quite another to seek assistance through the university’s own complaint process only to feel that the process itself offers no meaningful remedy.

I now feel like the university is effectively sweeping my concerns under the rug while I, rather than the conduct I had reported, have become the subject of scrutiny. Instead of restoring my confidence that workplace harassment would be taken seriously, the process left me feeling even more isolated and vulnerable.

The practical consequences of this failure have been significant. The pattern of behaviour did not stop. My concerns remained unresolved, my teaching opportunities were reduced, I continue to face uncertainty regarding my employment, and the pressure exerted upon me only intensified.

Far from restoring confidence in the university’s commitment to a safe and professional workplace, the handling of my complaint has led me to suspect that employees who report harassment may instead expose themselves to further disadvantage. For these reasons, I am starting to regard the university as slow walking the process of investigation as an integral part of the harassment that I experienced.

Employers in Japan are required to have measures in place to address workplace power harassment. Unfortunately, that doesn’t always mean complaints are handled fairly or effectively. Conflicts of interest, misunderstandings, or a lack of documentation can all affect the outcome. Investigations may also take time and can seem frustratingly opaque because confidentiality must be maintained. Even when harassment is substantiated, the response may fall short of what the affected worker expected.
You don’t have to navigate the process alone. If you’re experiencing workplace harassment or want to understand your options, the General Union can help. Request a confidential consultation

The Heat is ON: Power Harassment in the workplace