Working life in Japan, and the “Lost Generation”

According to some estimates, approximately one-third of the Japanese workforce consists of part-time or temporary workers. This percentage appears to be increasing, thus contributing to the growing gap between the "Haves" and the "Have-nots" - an unprecedented change in post-war Japanese society that has unnerved a large portion of the population. Since the first effects of former PM Koizumi's "Reform" policies were felt a few years ago, this increasing stratification of society has been the subject of intense debate, over so-called "Winners" and "Losers" in Japan.

After all, this is a country in which for many years the overwhelming majority identified themselves as "middle class," and it is also one that has grown rich while largely avoiding many of the structural difficulties that have plagued other industrialized nations (compare it with the US, to take but one example, in terms of unemployment, income discrepancy, crime and so forth). However, this now appears to be changing. As an aside, I often wonder if the current Showa-era nostalgia "boom" is a symptom of the fears and anxiety born of this change, but that is a topic for another time.

At any rate, it is hard to avoid coming across the terms "Freeter" (freelance workers, who tend to move between low-end jobs) or "NEET" (Not engaged in Employment, Education or Training) when observing Japanese society these days. In several of my classes, we discuss current events and news topics, and the growing trend of unstable or temporary employment keeps coming up time and again. We have read several accounts of NEETs, both criticizing and defending them, but my students have largely been critical. Of course, this may be because college students have basically succeeded in the very system that NEETs apparently have dropped out of. But one student’s comment captured for me the complexity of this issue.

"It seems to me that NEETs fall into two large groups," she said, "with one, well, I guess they are just lazy... the other group would like to join society, but they cannot, or don't know how." She went on to explain what she meant by "cannot... join society" by pointing to the so-called "Bubble economy" of the 1980s, its aftermath in the early-to-mid-1990s, and the fact that a large number of the NEETs we read about are in their late-20s to mid-30s, which would place them squarely in the era of "downsizing" that followed the bursting of the Bubble economy. In other words, when they graduated from high school or college, and entered the workforce, the economic outlook was not quite as rosy as it is now (you'll often see reports these days of how unemployment is down, and how firms are struggling to find young workers, etc.). And since they missed out on their chance to secure full-time, regular employment (never mind "lifetime employment," which has largely become a thing of the past) while in their 20s, they delayed marriage and having children, and are now stuck, at an age when they should be moving from apartment life to buying a home (and moving into middle management in their companies), in a kind of permanent dependency and childhood.

It doesn't help that so much of Japanese culture is infantilizing - particularly popular culture, which assumes that everyone has the emotional maturity of an 8-year old, the attention span of a gnat, and absolutely no memory or critical consciousness whatsoever. Can we really blame 20- or 30-somethings who want to lock themselves in their rooms and escape into the worlds of their imaginations - anime, cartoon figurines, boy- or girl-bands lip-synching the saccharine soundtracks to their stunted lives? Or blame the ones who flock to the so-called "Maid Cafes" to enjoy the pleasures of a simulated, albeit twisted, domestic existence? After all, society considers them children, and treats them as such, until they marry and have their own kids - and yet, these young men and women are prevented from doing just that. Can anyone else see the vicious circle at work here?

Lately, I have been thinking about the contrast I noticed in two recent films, which in their own ways deal (albeit in a humorous way) with this issue: the American film "The 40-year old Virgin" and the Japanese film "The Mamiya Brothers." Both films focused upon the pathetic, Peter Pan-like existence of men rapidly approaching middle age, but in the American film, the protagonist adjusts to society's expectations, "grows up," gets married and starts his own business. In the Japanese film, however, the Mamiya brothers wind up retreating from reality and re-entering their warm cocoon of Otaku obsession and perpetual adolescence. The two films frame their narratives in such a way that we expect and cheer for, on the one hand, the assimilation into society of the 40-year old virgin, while on the other, the withdrawal from society of the brothers Mamiya. If the stories ended differently, we would certainly be disappointed. But therein lies the difference, and the reason why the Mamiya brothers' story left me so worried about the future of Japan.

Can it really be all right, as the movie implies, for two intelligent, healthy, caring young men to spend their lives living in a never-ending slumber party? And what happens to a society in which a large number of such young people opt to drop out, withdraw; or otherwise remain unassimilated?

Perhaps this will call for a new form of Social Contract in Japan, in which the right and responsibility of (secure, meaningful) work is somehow assured. Or perhaps it will entail a radical change in immigration policy, and a rethinking of what the phrase "Japanese society" really means. But in any case, the fact that even the deeply entrenched and notoriously rigid political establishment has taken notice of public concerns over the quality of life in Japan leads me to believe that some kind of change is on the horizon. For a country as resourceful and resilient as Japan, one would expect nothing less.

With the first wave of Baby Boomers set to retire in the next few years, one wonders what will become of Japanese society. Certainly Japan's so-called "Lost Generation" cannot replace the Boomers, or even assume their own rightful place in society, given current conditions. But it would be premature to count them out, or to join the growing chorus of doomsayers. Regardless, it will be interesting to observe just how this plays out in the upcoming years. Let’s hope that solutions other than the one found at the end of "the Mamiya Brothers" are found - and soon.