The Duality of Japan: Behind the Bright Lights and Dark Secrets
When most people think of Japan, they picture a land of absurd technologies, neon-lit streets, and an endless variety of entertainment in all forms and formulas. From dinosaur robots that serve as hotel staff to the craze around J-pop idols and countless karaoke bars, Japan is seen as a place of vibrant, colourful chaos: a country where entertainment takes many forms, and fun never stops. Tourists flock to Tokyo’s entertainment districts like Shibuya and Shinjuku, exploring towering arcades, packed izakayas, and the extravagant nightlife that never seems to slow down.
But, what people often don't see is the stark contrast beneath this façade. A country that is known for its tech and entertainment still clings to outdated practices, like fax machines. Yes, fax machines. While Japan is a pioneer in robotics and tech, it still uses fax machines in many businesses and administrative tasks. Hell, when I first arrived at the city hall of my particular district, I felt like I stepped straight into a time capsule office. Instead of computers, documents were stacked up to the ceiling in boxes and files, and a mild breeze would probably blow up the entire administrative system if it managed to reach inside.
The computers that were there, were browned by time, like the walls, making it seem like not too long ago people were still allowed to smoke inside. This blend of modern progress alongside old-fashioned, sometimes outdated systems points to a deeper, more complex truth: Japan’s struggles are very well hidden beneath the bright lights and loud sounds of entertainment.
Toxic Work Culture: The Price of Success
I found that one of the darkest sides of Japan’s otherwise shiny exterior is its toxic work culture. Long hours, unpaid overtime, and the pressure to constantly perform are the harsh realities many Japanese “salarymen” face. This karoshi culture (literally "death by overwork") has become an invasive problem in society, often leading to train delays due to “personal injury”. I’ll let you figure out for yourself what exactly that means.
In the corporate world, there’s an unspoken expectation to stay late, even if it means sacrificing personal time. Although you are allowed to leave when your workday ends, it is heavily looked down upon. Leaving earlier than the boss? Not done. This is compounded by obligatory socialising, where employees are expected to go out drinking with colleagues after work. It's seen as an essential part of building relationships and showing loyalty to the company, colleagues and boss, even if it means staying out until the early hours, further blurring the line between work and personal life.
But it’s not just the long hours. It's the way work is often prioritised above personal well-being. The pressure to succeed and conform is immense. People give up their personal lives for the sake of corporate loyalty, with little to no recognition or support for their sacrifices. And for many, this leads to burnout, anxiety, and a pervasive sense of disconnection. Oftentimes, the company becomes the family, and family becomes a side-hustle.
The Lost Generation: Japan’s Struggling 90s Generation
The economic crash of the early 1990s in Japan, known as the "Lost Decade," had far-reaching consequences that are still felt today. This was a time when the country, once at the height of its economic power, found itself like a deer staring straight into the headlights in the form of an immense financial crisis. For many, this era marked the end of the post-war economic boom, with corporate restructurings, layoffs, and a contracting job market becoming the harsh new reality.
For an entire generation of young people opportunities that once seemed abundant were suddenly out of reach. These individuals, often dubbed "lost generation" or "neets" (Not in Education, Employment, or Training), were left with limited prospects in a society that valued corporate stability and long-term employment. The job market became increasingly competitive, with fewer positions available for new graduates and an overwhelming focus on securing jobs at big companies. For many, the dream of a steady career and financial security was replaced with uncertainty and stagnation.
In the years that followed, those who had been denied entry into the workforce found themselves stuck in a cycle of low-paying, unstable jobs or unable to find employment altogether. This “bubble generation” was no longer able to live up to the expectations of Japan's rigid work culture, but also too young to retire or escape the pressures of societal norms. This led to a national crisis of disillusionment, isolation, and, for many, a deep sense of failure. The lack of support for mental health and the societal stigma around asking for help has made the emotional toll even heavier.
In a society that prizes productivity and success, the personal fallout of the Lost Decade remains largely unaddressed. These individuals, who were once full of potential, now find themselves disconnected from society as a whole, quietly suffering from the weight of unrealised dreams and financial problems. The combination of missed opportunities, an unforgiving job market, and a culture that doesn’t allow for failure has left them feeling invisible, trapped in a limbo of loneliness and depression.
Toxic Family Expectations: The Hidden Strain
Japan's family culture can be just as challenging. The expectations placed on individuals by their families are often suffocating. It’s not uncommon for people to feel the weight of being the “perfect” son, daughter, or parent: each role meticulously crafted by society's standards. Success isn’t just measured by your career achievements; it's also about fulfilling traditional family obligations and roles. The pressure to marry, have children, and support your parents can feel overwhelming, especially when personal desires and needs conflict with family expectations. These expectations go hand in hand with a lingering aversion to same-sex relationships. Of course, this is not just present in Japan, but it plays a big role in the loneliness pandemic that’s having the country in its tight grip.
While Tokyo's LGBTQ+ scene has grown in visibility, Japan's society remains somewhat conservative when it comes to fully embracing sexual diversity. Public acceptance of LGBTQ+ individuals is slowly improving, but there are still significant social stigmas, particularly in rural areas and within more traditional circles. Many LGBTQ+ people face pressure to conform to heteronormative expectations, and public displays of affection or open discussions about sexual identity remain relatively rare in comparison to some Western countries.
Gender identity, too, remains an area of tension. Japan is home to a deeply ingrained gender binary that often restricts the freedom of expression for individuals outside these norms. While the country has made strides with legal protections, such as the ability for transgender individuals to legally change their gender after surgery, discrimination and lack of full societal acceptance persist. The pressure to conform to traditional gender roles in both the workplace and family life can be overwhelming, and there is a noticeable absence of representation in mainstream media for non-binary or gender-fluid individuals.
Loneliness and Mental Health: The Silent Struggle
Beneath the pressure of work and family lies another dark secret: loneliness and mental health issues. Despite being surrounded by so many people and endless entertainment options, many in Japan feel deeply isolated. The expectations to keep up appearances, whether it’s a successful career or a well-adjusted family life, often prevent people from seeking help. The stigma surrounding mental health is still prevalent in Japan, where therapy is seen as a sign of weakness, and discussing emotional struggles is often avoided.
This taboo leads to many residents, both Japanese and foreigners, suffering in silence. People bottle up their emotions because they fear judgment or alienation. Mental healthcare remains underdeveloped and often expensive and not covered by the National Health Insurance, with few people openly talking about their struggles.
The Role of Entertainment: A Counterbalance to the Strain
So, where does all the stress go? How does one cope with the weight of such a demanding society? The answer, for many, lies in entertainment, but not just any entertainment. Japan’s immense drinking culture is a prime example. From the endless advertisements for alcohol to the ubiquitous happy hour specials and nomihodai (all-you-can-drink) deals, alcohol plays a central role in unwinding from the pressures of work. The practice of going out for drinks with colleagues or friends serves as a release valve for the otherwise stiffened social and professional lives people lead.
But alcohol is just one facet. There’s also the ubiquitous sexual fantasy industry that thrives in Japan. Places like maid cafes, love hotels, and sex shops are pervasive across cities like Tokyo, offering an escape into a world where fantasy and reality merge into one. These spaces allow people to indulge in desires and escapism, offering a relief from the rigid social structures they navigate daily.
This contrast of strict work and family expectations on one hand, and the boundless, sometimes escapist entertainment options on the other, demonstrates the dual nature of life in Japan. The country provides outlets for release, but those outlets often exist because of the societal pressures that push people to their breaking point.
The Chicken or the Egg?
Japan’s pervasive mental health struggles and its extravagant entertainment industry seem, at first glance, to be two separate issues. Yet, they may be more interlinked than we realise. The question arises: Is it Japan's mental health crisis that fuels its hyperactive entertainment culture, or is it the other way around? Could Japan maintain its larger-than-life entertainment scene if the country's approach to mental health were more open and supportive?
On one hand, Japan’s intense work culture, family pressures, and societal expectations have created a mental health crisis where many people are left battling stress, anxiety, and isolation in silence. With mental health resources being underdeveloped and the stigma surrounding therapy still pervasive, entertainment becomes an essential coping mechanism for a population that feels trapped by its own society. In this sense, the entertainment industry thrives on the escapism that people crave. Entertainment offers a chance to forget about the daily grind, the expectations, and the loneliness that many people face. This over-the-top culture of entertainment may be both a symptom of, and a reaction to, Japan’s mental health struggles.
On the other hand, one could argue that Japan’s entertainment industry is so deeply ingrained in the social fabric that it might be contributing to the mental health crisis. With the constant bombardment of advertisements, flashy visuals, and an emphasis on perpetual excitement, people are conditioned to live in a state of high energy and overstimulation. The pressure to constantly engage with entertainment, whether through endless work-sponsored drinking nights, the availability of all-you-can-drink deals, or the seductive world of maid cafes and adult entertainment, can create a sense of dependency. If the entertainment industry provides the only outlet for people to cope with their stress, the reliance on these temporary distractions might perpetuate a cycle where people avoid addressing the underlying mental health issues.
But what happens if mental health improves in Japan?
Could the country sustain its extravagant entertainment culture in the absence of this coping mechanism? Greater mental health awareness could lead to more fulfilling, balanced lives. With more access to therapy, a shift toward work-life balance, and a greater societal acceptance of discussing personal struggles, people might find themselves less reliant on entertainment as an escape. If society's focus shifted toward genuine well-being rather than constant stimulation, Japan's entertainment industry might see a shift from the extravagant, high-octane forms of entertainment to more intimate, meaningful experiences, like mindfulness retreats or art-based forms of expression that focus on personal connection rather than consumption.
However, Japan's entertainment industry has become so integral to the economy and social life that it's hard to imagine a complete shift away from its current state. The abundance of options in entertainment, from karaoke bars and arcades to video games and streaming services, has created an ecosystem that thrives on constant engagement. Even as mental health improves, it's likely that entertainment will still play a central role, but perhaps in a more balanced, mindful way. The real question is whether the industry will adapt to become more sustainable and holistic, meeting the evolving needs of a population that is increasingly seeking mental and emotional health alongside stimulation.
Japan is Not an Exception
Honestly, I’m not here to bash on Japanese culture. On the contrary! There is a reason I fell in love with the country, including its dark secrets and many taboos. Yet, while Japan is often viewed through a lens of innovation, entertainment, and fun, the country’s hidden struggles reflect a deeper need for progress, especially when it comes to mental health and openness. Behind the flashy ads and neon signs, there are real people facing real challenges, often all by themselves. Japan, like every culture, has its dark secrets, and it’s important to acknowledge them in order to make space for growth and improvement.
That said, Japan isn’t all bad. There are still countless things to love about this country: its unique culture, its innovation, and the resilience of its people. But for Japan to continue thriving, it must learn to be more open about its struggles, especially when it comes to mental healthcare. I already notice a shift in ways of thinking among younger generations and larger cities. Especially people who have travelled or lived abroad often see that Japan can learn from other countries when it comes to openness about feelings and struggles. One can only hope that the inevitable participation of Japan in globalisation keeps stimulating progress in mental healthcare.