If you use the word antibacterial in Japan,
people will usually ask one question:
“How many percent does it reduce?”
This reaction alone already tells us something important.
In Japan, antibacterial is no longer a general scientific term.
It has become a numerical label, closely tied to short-term reduction tests.
Outside Japan, this is not the case.
In English-speaking countries, antibacterial is a broad umbrella term.
It does not automatically mean “kills 99.9% of bacteria.”
Instead, the meaning depends on context, and is usually clarified with more precise terms:
Bactericidal – kills bacteria
Bacteriostatic – inhibits bacterial growth
Growth inhibition – suppresses proliferation over time
Antimicrobial – acts against microorganisms in general
These distinctions are fundamental.
Killing bacteria and preventing their growth are not the same phenomenon,
and they are evaluated differently.
Because of this, simply asking
“Is it antibacterial?”
is usually not a sufficient question overseas.
Interestingly, Chinese usage is closer to the international norm than to Japan.
In Chinese, 抗菌 or 抑菌 still commonly includes:
inhibiting growth
preventing adhesion
creating an environment unfavorable for bacteria
Killing bacteria is not a prerequisite.
From this perspective, technologies that modify surface conditions to suppress bacterial settlement are naturally described as antibacterial in China.
Japan is different.
Over time, antibacterial in Japan has become almost synonymous with:
short-term tests
high bacterial loads
controlled conditions
percentage reduction (often “99.9%”)
In practice, this means:
“Antibacterial” ≈ rapid bacterial reduction
This definition leaves little room for technologies that work by:
altering surface environments
preventing adhesion
suppressing growth over longer periods
These effects are not denied — they are simply not what the word “antibacterial” is understood to mean anymore.
This linguistic shift did not happen by accident.
In the 1970s, photocatalysis—especially titanium dioxide–based systems—became highly successful in Japan.
These technologies were:
visually convincing
strongly oxidative
fast-acting
easy to demonstrate and quantify
They fit perfectly with short-term reduction tests.
As a result, evaluation methods, standards, and public understanding gradually aligned with “strong, fast, and destructive” reactions as the model of effectiveness.
Over time, this model shaped not only testing methods, but also language itself.
The term semiconductor is another example.
Originally, it describes a specific electronic band structure.
In Japan, however, it came to be used loosely for anything that reacts to light and causes chemical change.
Once again, terminology drifted away from strict physical definitions toward image-based explanations optimized for a specific technological narrative.
REDOX does not aim to kill bacteria rapidly.
It works by modifying surface conditions so that bacteria:
do not easily adhere
do not easily settle
do not easily proliferate
In international terms, this is clearly bacteriostatic or growth-inhibitory behavior.
In China and many other regions, it can naturally be described as antibacterial.
In Japan, however, using the word antibacterial immediately triggers expectations of:
reduction percentages
rapid action
specific certification schemes
At that point, the discussion shifts away from the actual phenomenon being addressed.
This is why REDOX deliberately avoids the word antibacterial in Japan —
not because it lacks effect, but because the word no longer means the same thing.
Japan’s technology is not inferior.
Its standards are not “wrong.”
The problem is simpler and deeper:
A word shaped by past success has stopped describing new phenomena accurately.
When language no longer matches reality,
the responsible choice is not to force the technology into old definitions,
but to explain the phenomenon directly.
That is what REDOX does.
REDOX behaves the same worldwide.
What changes is not the technology, but what the word “antibacterial” has come to mean in Japan.