La crisi più profonda del Giappone: non solo l’economia, ma anche la cultura
Japan is not losing land, but it is losing people in a way that threatens its future. In 2024, the birth rate dropped to a record low of 1.15 children per woman, while annual births fell below 700,000 for the first time in modern history. And today, more adult diapers are sold than baby nappies. And street vendors are thriving by selling high fashion to a growing senior population. Japan isn’t just aging, it’s shrinking. In Tokyo, toss a stone and there’s a 30% chance you’ll hit someone over 65. And 1 in 10 people, they’re already over 80. Japan’s population has been falling rapidly, down by 5 million to 123 million in 2024. in just over a decade. By 2070, it’s projected to drop below 87 million, a 32% plunge within a single lifetime. But this isn’t just a story about aging. It’s about disappearing workers, dying towns, and a way of life that now stands at a turning point. Japan must choose how to adapt or risk losing more than just its people. So, why is Japan resisting the one solution most other countries have embraced, immigration? Before we dive into that, let’s step back and see how Japan ended up on the edge of this demographic crisis. Japan’s crisis didn’t happen overnight. It was shaped by decades of hard work, strict routines, and a system that once built a powerful nation. But the very things that made Japan strong are now holding it back. To understand how we got here, we need to look at where it all began. Japan, known for its innovation, deep traditions, and hardworking spirit. But for decades, its work culture has been marked by one harsh truth, relentless overtime. Long hours at the office, strict routines, and even tragic deaths from overwork. After World War II, Japan rose from devastation to become the world’s second largest economy in just a few decades. [Music] With limited natural resources, the country leaned heavily on its greatest asset, its people. Hard work wasn’t a choice, it was a duty. This gave birth to a relentless work culture, one that fueled economic revival, industry growth, and national pride. Over time, this intense system became deeply ingrained, passed down through generations, followed without question. It brought success, but also stress, sacrifice, and burnout. But why has Japan’s work culture been so hardcore? And is it really changing today? This culture of overwork has deep roots. In the postwar years, Japan’s rapid economic recovery depended on dedication and sacrifice. Companies expected employees to commit fully, often working long hours in exchange for job security and a shared sense of national progress. This led to the rise of the salaryman. The ideal worker put the company before family or self for his life, working more than 12 hours daily, often with unpaid overtime. His identity and pride were tied to his work. Staying late at the office wasn’t just about finishing tasks. It was a symbol of commitment and responsibility. In those days, the social expectation was clear. Leaving work early or refusing overtime meant you weren’t doing your part. It wasn’t just about rules. It was about group harmony, respect, and duty. This culture was built around lifetime employment where people stayed at one company for their whole career. Promotions were based on seniority. So to keep their job security, workers accepted long hours, stayed loyal, and rarely changed jobs to stay on track for promotion. Social norms discouraged taking time off. According to a 2023 survey by Staff Service Holdings paid leave utilization in Japan, 18.8% of Japanese workers took all of their annual paid leave. 62.1% was the average paid leave utilization rate among private sector workers, equating to 10.9 out, 17.6 days taken. 43.7% of employees felt uncomfortable requesting time off, highlighting a cultural reluctance to utilize paid leave. Japan’s intense work culture led to dire consequences. Kroshi or death by overwork became a recognized phenomenon in the 1980s. For decades, over 200 work-related deaths were reported annually. High-profile cases like Matsuri Takahashi, who took her life after logging over 100 hours of overtime in a month, highlighted the severe toll of Japan’s long hours culture. In 2023, there were 3,573 applications for workers compensation due to mental health disorders. with 883 cases recognized, including 79 suicide attempts. After World War II, Japan rebuilt its economy through hard work and discipline. Long hours paid off, turning the country into a global powerhouse. This system thrived in the industrial age, driven by mass production and loyalty. Beyond Kroshi, Japan’s intense work culture has had lasting consequences. Long hours and constant pressure have led to stress, burnout, depression, and in some cases, suicide. Families suffered, too. Parents had little time for children. Birth rates fell and social isolation worsened. Despite the long hours, Japan’s productivity remained low, especially compared to other developed countries. In 2023, Japan ranked 29th out of 38 OECD countries in labor productivity with workers producing about $5680 per hour. A clear sign of how its postworld war II work culture still lingers, favoring loyalty and long hours over innovation and efficiency, digital progress, and investing in human capital. Japan’s economy took a major hit due to low employee engagement. According to Gallup’s 2024 state of the global workplace report, only 6% of Japanese workers feel engaged, the lowest rate globally. As a result, Japanese companies lost an estimated $557 billion in opportunity costs. In response to mounting concerns, the Japanese government enacted the workstyle reform laws in 2018 known as Hataraki Katakaiaku aimed to improve work life balance. These reforms set legal limits on overtime, capping it at 45 hours per month and 360 hours per year and encourage workers to take more paid leave. Since the pandemic, Japan’s rigid work culture has begun to shift. More companies are becoming open to flexible hours, remote work, and telecommuting. Let’s take a look back at some key events that led to Japan’s current economic slowdown. After Japan’s Nikki index reached its highest point in December 1989, the economy began to crumble in early 1990, triggered by a bursting asset bubble, overvalued real estate, and a sluggish government response. This marked the beginning of what would later be called the lost decade. This triggered the Shushoku Hyogaki, Japan’s employment ice age in the 1990s, when most companies stopped hiring new graduates. Many young people could only find part-time jobs or none at all, leaving an entire generation locked out of stable careers. This forgotten group shaped by the lost decade is now known as the lost generation. This social fracture contributed to phenomena like hikumori. It means social withdrawal and isolation and jhatsu or known as disappearances. Japan’s rigid lifetime employment system, once seen as a source of stability, along with major demographic changes like a falling birth rate and an aging population, has worsened the country’s social isolation problem. Strict workplace expectations, few career second chances, and weaker support networks have led more people to withdraw from society as Hikamorei or disappear completely as Johu. Though Japan’s Nikki reached a new all-time high in 2024, severe demographic challenges continue to hold back a full recovery. Japan’s economy still suffers from deep decades old wounds that continue to hold the nation back. Japan has one of the world’s lowest fertility rates, 1.3 births per woman in 2020, dropping to 1.2 in 2023 and further to 1.15 in 2024. Only 686,61 babies were born in 2024. a 5.7% decline from 2023, and the first time births fell below 700,000 since records began over a century ago. A fertility rate below the replacement level of 2.1 signals a shrinking population, a threshold Japan has not surpassed in over 5 decades. Japan’s low birth rate is a social problem decades in the making, driven by deeprooted work culture, high living costs, heavy pressure on women to raise families, and delayed marriage. all of which discourage starting a family. Japan has the world’s oldest population with 30% aged 65 or older. Japan’s workforce reached 70.03 million in June 2024, surpassing the 70 million mark earlier than expected due to more elderly and women joining the labor force. This workforce makes up about 57% of its total population of 123 million. Around 17 million, about 24% of Japan’s workforce, belong to the lost generation. They missed stable careers during the slump, causing lasting social issues. As of April 2025, despite signs of workforce growth, most industries in Japan still face a 26% labor shortage with 1.26 jobs for every job seeker. In construction, it is more extreme. There are 5.32 openings per seeker. Japan’s labor force may be growing, but shortages remain across industries. Without urgent reforms, the gap will only widen in the coming decades, revealing deeper, long-term problems. A shortfall of 250,000 was estimated in 2024, and it could swell to 11 million by 2040. Japan is ready to shine again, but major hurdles stand in the way. an aging population and a slow growing, strained and aging workforce, low wages and a weak currency. Now that we’ve seen how Japan’s work culture, social pressures, and rigid systems have shaped its demographics, workforce, and pay structure since World War II, Japan stands at a turning point. A declining population, an aging workforce, and outdated structures have created a crisis decades in the making. While policy reforms and automation offer some hope, there’s one path that still divides the nation. Immigration. Can Japan protect its cultural identity while welcoming new people to rebuild its future? Let’s take a closer look and whether Japan can truly open its doors before time runs out. First, we look at the data of foreignb born population in Japan. About 3% of Japan’s population was born overseas, making it one of the least immigrant reliant countries in the developed world. Comparing with other developed countries like USA, which have 14.3% foreignb born population, UK 16%, Germany 17.4% and Canada 23%. This reflects Japan’s long-standing preference for cultural homogeneity and strict immigration controls. The government has significantly relaxed its visa and residency rules for foreign workers in December 2018. As a result, Japan’s foreign workforce has doubled over the past decade from around 800,000 in 2014 to 2.3 million in 2024. Japan has long struggled to open its doors to foreign labor. Despite severe workforce shortages, policymakers remain hesitant, fearing that liberal immigration could weaken the country’s cultural identity and social harmony. The issue is still sensitive as many worry that allowing more immigration could change the traditions and way of life that have shaped Japan for generations. Japan now faces the challenge of balancing immigration while making sure there’s enough housing and support for both citizens and foreign workers. After years of delay and lack of effective solutions, Japan has reached a tipping point. It’s now or never. Without bold and constructive reforms, the nation risks an irreversible demographic and economic decline. But critics from cultural and policy traditionalist circles argue that Japan should focus on three key measures instead. Strategies they believe have sustained the economy without relying heavily on immigration. Number one, more aggressive probirth policies. Current incentives like a onetime Y $50,000 about $4,000 for each child birth. Others include tax cuts, free education, and even matchmaking supports. However, results were slow due to deeprooted work life imbalance, and urban cost of living. Families want stronger long-term support like better parental leave, housing grants, and local incentives. Number two, workforce optimization. Japan has raised the retirement age and encouraged the elderly to rejoin the workforce. The government also pushed to increase female workforce participation, which now exceeds 79% among working age women. This has helped in lifting up Japan’s total workforce to over 70 million. But gaps remain in pay, career growth, and long-term retention. Number three, accelerate automation and productivity growth. In this aspect, Japan is aggressively deploying robots across industries from factories, retails, and restaurants to elder care and logistics, reflecting innovation under the National Society 5.0 initiative. But while these machines boost efficiency and ease human strain, they can’t replace emotional care, creative work, or skilled farming. Even Japan with over 400 robots per 10,000 workers, automation is part of the solution, not a full fix to Japan’s labor crisis. Japan is known for its discipline and precision. But when it comes to reform or immigration, the debate is complex. Now, with an aging population and a declining birth rate, leaders are becoming more open to selective controlled immigration. Japan isn’t likely to open borders widely, but it may expand controlled skills-based immigration, especially in elderly care, construction, agriculture, tech, and engineering. Foreign workers may stay longer, but without full rights like citizenship. The government is cautious. It’s not just about numbers. It’s about integration, offering stable residency, and building community trust. Public support is slowly rising with about 30% now in favor, but concerns over cultural identity remain. The path forward, reforms that respect tradition while meeting real economic needs. Japan once rose from the ashes of war to become the world’s second largest economy. But over the past few decades, the country has faced mounting challenges. Aging population, shrinking workforce, low birth rates, and stagnant growth. These long-standing issues have gradually pushed Japan down to fourth place in global nominal GDP by 2023. By June 2025, the IMF estimates India will slightly surpass Japan, dropping it to fifth place. Its domestic GDP has slipped and public debt has soared to over 235% of GDP at the end of March 2025, the highest among developed nations. One of the most alarming signs of this deeper crisis is the rapid decline of small and medium-sized enterprises. These businesses make up 99.7% of all companies in Japan and employs 70% of the workforce. In 2024 alone, nearly 10,000memes went bankrupt, a 15% increase from the previous year. Bankruptcies and business closures rose due to aging owners without successors, labor shortages, rising costs, and declining local demand. By 2025, 1.27 millionme owners in Japan will be aged 70 or older. Without successors, many businesses face closure. A 2024 survey by the World Economic Forum indicated that 52.1% of Japanese firms have no successor lined up to take over. By 2030, an estimated 1.27 millionmemes are expected to shut down nearly 38% of Japan’s entire theme sector. This could lead to the loss of 6.5 million jobs and wipe Y22 trillion yen from the economy, equivalent to approximately 150 billion US. Younger generations are growing increasingly uncertain about the future. Although the government has rolled out support measures such as promoting business succession, facilitating mergers and acquisitions, easing immigration rules, encouraging automation, and providing subsidies. Many worry these efforts may be too little, too late. But Japan still holds powerful strengths, social stability, strong institutions, and a deeply rooted culture of discipline and endurance. But the question now is how long can quiet resilience last before something has to change. This isn’t just a temporary setback. It’s a structural shift. The drastic decline ofmemes threatens rural communities, traditional industries, and the very backbone of Japan’s economy. Now, some observers are beginning to think Japan’s problems run deeper than just succession gaps or policy shortfalls. Perhaps they’re the result of a nation that once raced ahead, now weighed down by the very systems that once fueled its rise. Some wonder if Japan’s postwar miracle and its rapid economic climb, simply went too fast. Combined with a rigid work culture and long-standing resistance to immigration, Japan now stands at a crossroads few countries have ever faced. Yet, through it all, it survives. For now, how much longer? No one truly knows. To economists and observers, Japan is a paradox. A nation showing all the signs of economic failure, aging population, stalled growth, shrinking workforce. Yet, it survives. Not collapsing, not thriving, just moving forward slowly, precariously, caught between resilience and uncertainty. Back in the 1990s, economist Paul Krugman warned that Japan was stuck in a liquidity trap where even low interest rates couldn’t revive growth. Decades later, the country still hasn’t fallen, but it hasn’t broken free either. Despite prolonged stagnation, Japan remains stable, modern in many respects, yet weighed down by deeprooted challenges. The real question now isn’t if Japan will fall, but how far it can still go and how much more it can endure. Japan faces challenges no other nation has. Yet, it endures. Japan has acted and more plans are on the way. But bold action is needed to face the challenges uncovered. Deep, systemic, and long overdue for change. For economists, it’s a case study in resilience, struggle, and quiet transformation. The future is uncertain, sometimes promising, yet never guaranteed. But hope remains. Can Japan strike the right balance, honoring its traditions while embracing bold reforms for a sustainable future? Share your thoughts and subscribe for more stories from a country still rewriting its future.
Japan’s Deepest Crisis: Not Just the Economy, It’s the Culture.
Japan is confronting a quiet crisis—one unlike any other nation has ever faced. A shrinking population, declining birth rate, and rapidly aging society are reshaping the country’s future.
These are not just demographic shifts, but deep-rooted social challenges accumulated over decades.
More than 50% of Japanese businesses have no successor, raising fears of mass SME closures and hollowed-out communities. Meanwhile, the nation’s long-standing overwork culture, once credited for its post-war miracle, is now a burden—draining energy, stifling innovation, and pushing young people away from marriage and parenthood.
Adding to this is Japan’s strict stance on immigration, limiting its ability to attract new talent or replenish a shrinking workforce—problems compounded by rising living costs and rigid societal expectations, especially for women.
Despite all this, Japan’s economy has not collapsed. In the late 1990s, economist Paul Krugman warned of a “liquidity trap” and stagnation. Yet, Japan lingers: not failing, not thriving—a wealthy but slow-moving paradox.
At the heart of this struggle is a cultural dilemma: Japan’s beautiful traditions and strong national identity have long been its pride, but now threaten to stall its future. The very values that built modern Japan may be the ones quietly holding it back.
📉 This video explores how Japan’s unique mix of economic, demographic, and cultural burdens is creating a slow-motion crisis—and why the world should be watching.
⚠️ Will Japan act boldly to transform? Or continue to drift under the weight of its own legacy?
Watch now to explore a story of survival, contradiction, and the quiet urgency for change.
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