Hikikomania: Existential Horror or National Malaise?
Consider a country in which one percent of the population (one million youths) choose to stay within their own rooms to escape from a society that seeks harmony over freedom, sacrifices individuals for collective progress, has a government sanctioned precise curriculum nationwide, and restricts immigration so that foreign thoughts do not taint the homogenous ideology. This country is surrounded by walls of an ocean mirroring the four-walled room in which these social isolates express their malaise of a nation built on fixed social mores in a swiftly changing world. Well, it sounds like an intriguing Science-fiction novel but, here, in Japan, the hikikomori are silent rebels protesting Japanese society.
Hikikomori are perceived in two ways: as lazy and anxious youths who cannot communicate easily or as mentally diseased. In reality, hikikomori are more like canaries in a coalmine, being sensitive individuals searching for identity in a society that does not support deviations from the norm. The hikikomori can instinctively sense that something is wrong with Japanese society and thus choose to do the only kind of rebellion acceptable, retreat into their rooms blocking out the sun and the society of the Rising Sun. A hikikomori is defined as “a person sequestered in his room for six months or longer with no social life beyond his home” (Jones 48).
Nakane Chie, a Japanese anthropologist, describes Japan as a vertical society or tate-shakai in which each relationship is put into a hierarchical structure emphasizing the inequality between persons. Each human interaction can be understood through superiors and inferiors with each person having a specific place within a group (Roberson). The Japanese find their identity through association with a group, be that a company or a role in life, such as ryosai-kenbo or “good wife, wise mother”. This emphasis on group identification creates a great distinction between people who are uchi and soto, inside and outside, respectively, of one’s group: “individual identity is deeply swathed in mutual interdependence” (Zielenziger 18).
There exists a dichotomy in every Japanese self: this dichotomy can be explained in terms of honne and tatemae, true feelings and façade, respectively. A Japanese person is very selective in whom they will show their honne too, usually only members of their uchi and sometimes not at all or with the aid of inebriates, the Health Ministry estimates over two million alcoholics in Japan (Zielenziger 215).
This shutting off of personal feelings and living through their façade can lead to many problems expressing healthy emotions and difficulty with intimacy or communication. However, many Japanese are quite able to switch effortlessly between their different façades, as one hikikomori puts it, “Regular people have an ability to hide their true feelings just to be able to get along with others in the world” (Zielenziger 24). This switching between manifestations of self may account for the drastic difference in percentages of diagnosed multiple personality disorders when contrasted with the Western world. So says Japanese psychologist, Yuichi Hattori, “Because all of us Japanese grow up with multiple personalities, we almost never see this disorder in our patients” (Zielenziger 64). The rate of mental illness associated with anxiety disorders is 18% in the US and 5.3% in Japan, although due to the difference in number of psychologists in the US and Japan, Japanese rates of anxiety disorders may be under-diagnosed.
As a whole, Japanese society seeks harmony or wa as their “preeminent social value” (Reid 79). This permeates Japanese language where honorifics are built into daily interactions and apologies are used frequently (Reid 81). This seeking of wa is evident in all aspects of Japanese society from their social interactions, their school system, and their corporate world. “The hierarchical nature of the social architecture, the need to maintain group harmony, and the fear of standing out only make the tendency to acquiesce more powerful” which emphasizes the collective wa and seeks to crush individual dissidents who pose a threat to the wa: “Deru kui wa utarareru” or “The nail that sticks up gets hammered down” (Zielenziger 128, Reid 151).
The hammering down of individuals begins in the school yard where ijime, roughly translated as bullying, is prevalent. Students who do not readily conform to the ideal or fit in, for whatever reason, will be bullied by the group (Reid 130). This practice is not particularly discouraged by teachers or parents as it encourages “behavior modification” in order to harmoniously fit in to groups and prepares students for real life by developing skills to form and operate within “cohesive social units and hierarchical relationships” upon which Japanese society is built (Zielenziger 50). Parents and teachers do not interfere as they believe that the group has recognized within the bullied party some character flaws that need to be worked out (Zielenziger 51). In 1994, the Ministry of Education reported 58.4 percent of all junior high schools report serious ijime incidents, which corresponds to an increase in school refusal, climbing to two percent of high school students not showing up for class in 2005 (Zielenziger 52, 53). The rate of school refusal has doubled since 1990 (Jones 48). This bullying is often a trigger for the hikikomori to retract themselves from society.
The smallest unit of traditional Japanese society is the ie or house/family, which Nakane Chie defines as a corporate, co-residential group. Traditionally, it is composed of a hierarchy in which the active members, the first son and his bride, take on the family name and care for their elders and descendents until the next first-born son takes over the job. The traditional ie consisted of a multi-generational household with men and women taking on gender appropriate roles, the man acting as the “main pillar” or daikokubashira and the woman acting as a “good wife and wise mother” or ryosai-kenbo. As Japan has industrialized and experienced a nuclearization of the family, with the additional factor of declining birthrates, the family has shrunk, generally, to a husband, wife and child. The members of the family still perform their gendered roles with the father working late hours and the mother being the primary, and usually sole, caregiver for the child. Urban Japanese parents “lead increasingly isolated lives” in a community based society, “removed from the extended family and tight-knit communities of previous generations” which results in an inability to teach their children how to properly “communicate and negotiate relationships with peers” (Jones 49).Without a male model, Japanese males have been said to become increasingly feminized. This family structure deepens the bond of the mother and son to a point of amae or “dependency” bolstered by Japanese society, a term proposed by psychoanalyst Takeo Doi in 1971 (Zielenziger 61). This dependence is not perceived as negative to the Japanese as it would be in Western culture but is something which helps to define the mother’s role as nurturer and protector and, as such, when a child becomes a hikikomori the mother rarely seeks to help empower their child back into society, due to this interdependency and the social stigma: “a person can spend on average four years in seclusion before parents set aside their shame to seek outside help” (Zielenziger 65, Rees). The interdependency between mother and child only exacerbates the problems of the hikikomori.
While bullying, family dependence, and lack of proper communication skills can account for the hikikomori phenomenon, another possible explanation for the pandemic of social withdrawal could be attributed to an existential crisis and pessimistic turn in Japanese consciousness. In an interview for the Carnegie Council in 2008, Michael Zielenziger states that the reason the hikikomori phenomenon is relatively new is due to the new wealth that Japan is experiencing as this wealthy society searches for value and identity (Stewart). The existential questions pop up “only in societies blessed with unrivaled prosperity where people have the luxury to consider what it is that truly makes them happy.” After the boom in the 1980’s, “when the pursuit of material extravagance delivers emptiness rather than inner contentment, a people are forced to confront deeper, more existential questions about meaning, value, self-affirmation, and moral purpose that classroom training cannot teach” (Zielenziger 11). Many youths turn away from their school lives which emphasize rote learning over critical thinking and the collective over the individual to search for their own identity, defined not through a group but through their own selves. They drop out of society “to maintain [their] individuality” and “to protect themselves and their insides” (Zielenziger 26, 32). As one hikikomori states, “I know it’s going to be difficult for me to fit in and I don’t feel much value in fitting in. So I’m still thinking, ‘How can I live a meaningful life?’” (Zielenziger 38). Searching for identity in a society that “is not capable of accepting people with different attitudes” naturally calls for a withdrawal from that society, barricading “themselves in their rooms for protection rather than attempt to engage with a society they feel denies them any expression of self” (Rees, Zielenziger 12). As one hikikomori describes it, “I have an arrow pointed deep inside of me” indicating a need for introspection and self-expression (Zielenziger 16). In Japan, a person is defined contextually through their group or ie, so if a person cannot define themselves within the context of the group do they cease to exist? In Japan, all too often, they do. Hikikomori retreat to the “protective womb of their rooms rather than stake out an independent oath that would eventually lead to self-awareness” (Zielenziger 265). However, some do find their self-awareness. Yuji Sunaga, now at University after his two and half years in seclusion says his experience as a hikikomori was very important for him: “It was the most important time in my life, I think… When I did school-refusal, teachers, relatives, parents, neighbors didn’t understand me… And during that time I had to ask myself who I am.” The time spent in solitude can lead to self-awareness, as an individual seeks to define himself without the extreme restrictions and suffocations that Japanese society can impose.
Ultimately, the hikikomori can be seen as a warning that something is not right in contemporary Japanese society: “Like barometric gauges, they sense atmospheric changes most adults can’t discern” (Zielenziger 78). When asked what they thought of Japan today, two young kogals, a subculture of Japanese girls who essentially control the trends and therefore the markets in Japan, answered, “It’s shit” (Karman). Even if they cannot properly articulate it, Japanese youths are aware of a problem: the Japan that conquered the industrial era simply is not effective in a globalized post-industrial era. The ie or family was once the most important thing: Hayao Kawai, a clinical psychologist in Japan, states, “In Japan, there is no God but the ie” (Zielenziger 70). Over time the family as ie has been replaced by the corporation or career as ie, resulting in on over focus on the career which in turn had negative effects on the family. The façade of the family was able to carry on with each member clinging onto their roles bolstered by economic well-being. When the bubble-burst and did not re-inflate, the “jewels of the Japanese workplace—lifetime employment, company unions, and seniority-based wages,” which once secured a man’s status as daikokubashira within his family ie and helped to establish the salaryman model as appealing, began to dissolve (Zielenziger 99). Japan’s bank centric system began the spiral downward when faced with a nation holding onto their savings; the banks began riskier loaning using the then rising land prices as collateral. After real estate prices climbed to ridiculous heights, the Bank of Japan was forced to increase interest rates causing land prices to tumble and the entire economy to collapse (Zielenziger 106). In 2006, the national debt was 176.2% of Japan’s Gross Domestic Product up from the 150% in 2002. Companies cut off excess assets to pay back the mounting debts and the “jewels” were no longer there. Many middle aged men, who had worked for their lifetime employment, were now unemployed and filled with shame, as suicide rates topped 30,000 per year.
Growing up during the great recession, youths are watching what is happening to their fathers and have decided not to follow the same path (Karman). Masahisa Okuyama, a hikikomori activists and father of a hikikomori said, “The Japanese system is showing signs of system fatigue. That’s why our young people don’t want to—or can’t—become adult. They are afraid of participating in a society where there is no hope and no ambition” (Zielenziger 41). The hikikomori are saying “no, I don’t want to be part of a system that doesn’t work anymore” (Stewart). And they are “aware that good old Japan will never come back” (Zielenziger 41).
While 80 percent of hikikomori are males, females have their own way of rebelling in contemporary Japanese society; they are going on “womb strike” (Jones 48, Zielenziger 161). Females are choosing to focus on their careers instead of having children. Since Japan does not have a readily available day care system to aid working parents and since men are not choosing to contribute to the raising of their children, women are forced to choose between children and a career; “For a woman, having a baby, having a full-time job, and doing housework is like committing suicide” (Zielenziger 167). The number of births is dropping, posing problems for an aging workforce. Last year, Japan’s population lost 51,000 people, the largest population drop on record (LA Times). But staying in the workforce is not the only reason women are choosing not to reproduce, economics and pessimism play a role, as well. Sixty-two percent of women without children, in a Japanese governmental survey, believe that raiding children is too expensive, while one in five of those women believe that present day Japanese society is not a good environment to raise children (Zielenziger 170). An air of cynicism has been cast over the Japanese women of childbearing age.
What about that twenty percent of female hikikomori? Estimates of the number of hikikomori were established by Saito Tamaki, the Japanese psychologist who coined the term “hikikomori”, chose his estimate based on the number of schizophrenics in Japan, convinced, through his clinical work, that the number of hikikomori would be at least as prevalent (Zielenziger 60). But, in all my reading, I only came across three instances of hikikomori as females. One possibility for the disparity could be simply that females staying in the house, under their parents’ care, are not as alarming and do not seemingly carry the same socio-political ramifications as one fifth of the male youth population . Another possibility could be linked to a gender role reversal; as Japanese men become more efficient, women could be stepping up to take their turn in the workplace. Even though some psychologists believe it to affect both genders equally, public opinion has associated it with young males.
Women who do stay in their parents’ home are also becoming increasingly more commonplace; although, contrary to the hikikomori, these women are working and have no social withdrawal symptoms. They are living at home simply for economic reasons and they are called “parasite singles.” These parasaitos use the money they save on rent for the finer things in life: vacations, fashion, and pampering. The question that lingers on is if the youths are retiring from their society into the womb of their rooms, if the birth rate keeps decreasing, and if the general pessimism of Japanese inhabitants continues will Japan’s society survive in the future? Can Japan hold onto its status in this post-industrial world? In April 2005, the government issued white paper predicted, unless rejuvenation tactics intervened, that Japan would have “an increasing number of people who lose hope” and “be left behind in globalization” through a “ gradual but steady pathway to decline. (Zielenziger 268).The hikikomori have shut themselves off from the world much like Japan has shut itself off from further globalization and new tactics and social reconstruction may be necessary for an optimistic outcome.
Works Cited
“Japan: Birthrate Report Shows It’s not getting any Younger.” Los Angeles Times 06 May 2009. Print.
“Mental Focus.” Hikikomori. Web. 15 Dec. 2009. <http://vickery.dk/hikikomori/>.
Hikikomori. Dir. Kal Karman and Francesco Jodice. Http://www.kalkarman.com/documentary/hikikomori.html. Paola Tognon. Web.
Japan: The Missing Million. Dir. Darren Conway. Narr. Phil Rees. BBC, Oct. 2002.
Maggie, Jones. “In Japan, Thousands of Boys and Young Men are Retreating to Their Bedrooms and Refusing to Come Out. Why.” The New York Times Magazine 15 Jan. 2006: 46-51. Print.
Reid, T. R. Confucius Lives Next Door What Living in the East Teaches Us About Living in the West. New York: Vintage, 2000. Print.
Zielenziger, Michael. “”Hikikomori” and Japan’s Role in the World.” Interview by Devin Stewart, T. Devin. Carnegie Council: The Voice for Ethics in International Policy. 30 June 2008. Web. <http://www.cceia.org/resources/audio/data/000208>.
Zielenziger, Michael. Shutting Out the Sun: How Japan Created Its Own Generation. New York: Vintage Books, 2006. Print.
























Halloween was actually a little disappointing for me. Towards the end of September, Halloween decorations started popping up in stores and malls everywhere. The decorations were even more intricate than in the states and each store seemed to sell decorations, candy, or costumes. I was so pumped. I just knew that Halloween would be even better than in the States as the Japanese collectively are people who appropriate aspects of other cultures and add their own twist usually making it better (their food, for example… Japan of course had traditional Japanese food but they have taken things from other cuisines and tweaked them for optimal deliciousness… in most cases. Pizza here is essentially the same but generally has corn bits on it and can have exotic toppings like seaweed or octopus. Curry is very popular here but it’s not as spicy as traditional curry. Hamburgers here are nothing like their Western counterpart sometimes featuring a rice patty as a bun.). So I was expecting (and from what I had heard about other Western holidays in Japan, like Christmas, which is a dazzling array of lights and decorations) something outrageously wonderful and Japanese. I later found out that this holiday is mostly just a chance to decorate things and dress up little kids.





















