How to Live with the Assertive “da(だ)”――Why “It’s hopeless (da-me-da)” Doesn’t Have to Terrify Us Anymore

Abstract

Why does being told “It’s no good” hurt so deeply — especially when we say it to ourselves?
This essay begins with the Japanese assertive auxiliary da, a small word that carries surprising force, and follows its resonance into Arabic, where three distinct “d” sounds (d, dh, and ḍ) shape meanings of guidance, remembrance, and deviation.
Through Qur’anic language and lived experience, the essay reconsiders dhikr not as ritualized chanting but as an act of remembering that restores orientation and releases inner pressure.
In a world saturated with harsh judgments and absolutist certainty, the question becomes not what condemns us, but what we choose to remember.

“So strong — this ‘…da(だ).’”

In Japanese, da is an assertive auxiliary.
It attaches to nouns and to the sentence-final forms of verbs and adjectives, and it is an extremely strong word. Not only the assertive da itself, but even the sound da carries force. In expressions such as dame da (“It’s no good”) or dame-dashi (“pointing out what’s wrong”), it appears twice over.
Whether we say it to ourselves or hear it from someone else, the damage it inflicts can be considerable. That is why it takes real courage to ask, “Is that really no good?”
There was a time when one of my former students would deliberately invite criticism from all members of the seminar after presenting a research report at a training camp, turning those “put-downs” into nourishment for growth. Perhaps that is already a story of the past.
These days, people have become extraordinarily easy to wound. Even if we summon all our courage to ask, we are not always rewarded with an answer. When we are denied, the das erupt once more: “Why?” “How come?” “But…” “Still…” — a barrage of da-row sounds. And then we may sink into the thought, “After all, it’s no good.”

The da of dalīl (د)

So how might we loosen the spell cast by this da?
In an age when even the period “.” at the end of a LINE message can feel oppressive and is sometimes avoided, let us borrow a bit of wisdom from Arabic.
Arabic has three different “da” sounds.
The first is da (د), the second is dh (ذ), and the third is ḍ (ض).
A word that comes to mind using the first da is the verb ḍalla, a basic verb meaning “to indicate” or “to point out.” Its noun form, dalīl, means a “guide” or “indicator.”
The consonant dh appears in the word dhikr (ذِكْر), which will be our key to loosening the spell of da. It is often translated as “admonition” or “remembrance (of God),” but it is not a term commonly used in everyday Japanese. By now, it may already carry for some readers the faint scent of Islamic esoteric practice.[1]

The dh of dhikr (ذ)

Yet in the Qur’an we read:

At first glance, one might think, “So this is an Islamic argument after all.” But “all beings” includes, first and foremost, all people everywhere in the world. It makes no distinction between believers and non-believers; it concerns each and every reader.
The nuance of dhikr is actually gentler than its Sino-Japanese gloss suggests. At its core, it means “memory” or “remembering” — in other words, words that should not be forgotten.
Moreover, the initial consonant dh (ذ) in Arabic is used in words meaning “that very thing itself” (dhāt), “one who possesses something” (dhū), and even in forming the masculine singular relative pronoun (alladhī). Thanks to this consonant, a sense of particularity stands out.[2]

What It Means to Be “Straight”

Dhikr, then, is not simply an inward-facing act in which believers or mystics recite fixed phrases or Qur’anic verses. It becomes dhikr only when each person — or each thing — truly gives voice to it. It is open to all people of the world, regardless of religion or faith.
The Qur’an, however, attaches one condition:

The Arabic verb used here is yastaqīm (يستقيم), which literally means “he stands upright.”
And yet, this idea of being “straight” is dangerous. The stronger the will behind it, the more firmly one believes in it, the more precarious it can become.

Choosing “the Nation”

In 2026, the world opened the year not only with ongoing wars but also with a new act of warfare: a U.S. attack on Venezuela. Leaders of powerful expansionist states — the United States, China, Russia, Israel — each press forward along what they see as a straight path. Yet tensions and confrontations intensify, divisions and hatred deepen, and the number of victims and the sorrow they bear show no sign of abating.

Without regard for an already exhausted global environment, the securing of territory and resources — geopolitical advantage — comes to be seen as what is “right.” As in the Westphalian system after the Hundred Years’ War in Europe, the Versailles system after World War I, and the United Nations after World War II, the foolish idea that “war may be necessary” to construct a new framework of deterrence has acquired a strange persuasiveness.
There are nations, but humanity as a whole (al-ʿālamīn) is absent.

The Pressure of Becoming ḍād (ض)

Such a situation can be read as one in which a dalīl (دليل), meant to indicate the way forward, has been transformed by misguided certainty into ḍalāl (ضلال) — error, deviation from the straight path of faith.
The consonant ḍād (ض) is a distinctive Arabic sound that requires strong pressure from the tongue and oral cavity; it is always accompanied by an inner buildup of force.[3] At a level separate from what is broadly called Islamic mysticism, we might describe our present situation as a “ḍād-ification of dhikr” — an intensification of internal pressure.
That is why what we choose to remember matters so deeply. Should we keep recalling “put-downs”? “Painful failures”? Crushing “public condemnation,” “defamation,” or even curses such as “Go to hell”? If we keep updating such memories, we will ourselves be crushed by the pressure of ḍād.

Parting with Assertive “It is.”

So let us ask concretely: what is the dhikr meant for all people of the world?
One of the simplest forms of dhikr is lā ilāha illā Allāh — “There is no god but God.”[4] It means that no earthly power or force can ever rival what belongs to God alone. Yet daily life is filled with so many misleading substitutes that our eyes and hearts are easily drawn elsewhere.

What We Should Remember

Even lā ilāha illā Allāh may still feel imposing. The moment one says “Allāh,” one risks being labeled, given the realities of contemporary hatred.
In such moments, look up at the sky. Feel its blue. Remember the immeasurably vast Presence that created it and allows us to see it this way.
Then the ḍād of ḍalāl will fall away, and it will become dalīl once more. Before you know it, you will be freed from the spell of da. Remember that the One worthy of praise and obedience is that vast Presence.
Allāhu aʿlam — God knows best.

Notes

[1] For example, the Arabic–Japanese dictionary site Aladdin, based on Hans Wehr’s authoritative Arabic–English dictionary, lists for dhikr such translations as “the word of God, admonition” (Islamic usage) and “dhikr, chanting the divine name” (Sufi usage). One should note, however, that at the time of Qur’anic revelation, neither a fully systematized Islamic creed nor Islamic mysticism yet existed. Such translations reflect later usage and risk confining the word’s meaning to a specific cultural context. To seek the original meaning of revelation, an approach like the one developed in this essay — starting from the word’s more basic sense — is necessary.
[2] As a supplementary example illustrating the difference between d (د) and dh (ذ), consider darra and dharra. Darra as a verb can mean “to flow abundantly,” and as a noun “milk” (also “pearl,” which can be thought of as something that has flowed forth). Dharra, by contrast, as a verb means “to scatter,” and as a noun “grain” or “particle.” Here, too, the emphasis is not on flow but on discrete units. Whether “memory” or “remembering,” it is always something that belongs to each individual. This comparison inspired the idea of dh as a consonant of particularity.
[3] See my essay “Is ‘Muhammad Has Gone Mad’ Really True? — The Warning of ḍād (ض): Reflections on Qur’an 81:22–25.”
[4] See, for example, my essay “Night and Day, Male and Female: Reflections on the Qur’anic Sūrat al-Layl.”

Special Thanks to: ChatGPT-5.2

Title image:

The blue sky above Mount Fuji on New Year’s Day, 2026 (photograph by the author).

Acknowledgements

This English version was prepared with the support of ChatGPT-5.2.
The author gratefully acknowledges its assistance in translation and linguistic clarification.

Original version in Japanese:

断定の「だ」との上手な付き合い方ーーもう、「だめだ」は怖くない