Latest news with #Issei
Japan Forward
03-07-2025
- General
- Japan Forward
Together in Manzanar: The True Story of a Japanese Jewish Family in an American Concentration Camp
Together in Manzanar , by Tracey Slater, is the story of Karl and Elaine Yoneda and their relocation to the Manzanar concentration camp during the Second World War. The Manzanar camp is situated in Death Valley, California. It is one of 12 camps within which around 120,000 Japanese-Americans were infamously interned under Executive Order 9066, commencing in February 1942. There were three categories of interned Japanese-Americans. The Issei were immigrants who had been born in Japan but who had migrated to the United States. Nissei were the children of the Issei. They had been born in the US and were thereby American citizens. Kibei-Nissei were Nissei who were American citizens by birth, but who had temporarily resided in Japan, generally for a period of schooling. Karl Yoneda was a Kibei-Nissei. Elaine Yoneda, his wife, was a Caucasian Jew. At the time of the Pearl Harbor attack, their son, Thomas Yoneda, was just shy of three years old. Elaine additionally had a twelve-year-old daughter from a previous marriage. The Yoneda's were well-known activists - passionate supporters of unionism during the union movement's formative years. They were labelled as communists by the US government. After her eventual death, a newspaper tribute to Elaine confidently predicted she was "unionizing Heaven." As a military-aged male, Karl's internment was inevitable. He had hoped that his sickly infant Japanese-American son would be exempt, but this was not to be. The initial months of the internment program operated under the "one drop (of blood) rule." There were to be no exceptions. Elaine was left with a choice. Remain with her twelve-year-old daughter or follow her three-year-old son into camp. Karl joined the camp construction team in return for the promise that the families of such volunteers would be the last to be interned. The promise was unkept. On April 1, 1942, the Yoneda family was reunited when Elaine and Tommy arrived at the Manzanar camp. They were part of the first group of forced incarcerees. One of the many virtues of Slater's book is its account of how the policy of internment for Japanese-Americans came into being. It was promoted by the army as a "military necessity." A Navy report did not concur. This report concluded that the matter "should be handled on the basis of the individual," regardless of race or "citizenship." J Edgar Hoover, head of the FBI, considered the policy to be "primarily" motivated by "public and political pressure" rather than a "factual" foundation. The opinions of both Hoover and the Navy were ignored. Karl, Tommy and Elaine in front of their barrack apartment (Courtesy of the Karl G. Yoneda papers, UCLA Library of Special Collections) A further strength is Slater's recounting of the prewar racist construction of the US and the popularization of the pseudo-science of eugenics. The prominence of eugenics is made clear by a quote from President Franklin Roosevelt himself. In 1925, he stated that "the mingling of Asiatic blood with European or American blood produces, in nine cases out of ten, the most unfortunate results." After the initiation of the Asia-Pacific War, the tone of public discourse shifted dramatically. A host of American politicians and commentators began to express openly the full extent of racist views that had previously been spoken only in private, whispered, or left unsaid. Congressman John E Rankin of Mississippi declared that "all Japanese, alien or native born, should be taken into custody immediately and deported to the Orient after the war." A radio broadcast from San Francisco proposed that Japanese-Americans "be hung, deported," and "deprived of American citizenship," to which Slater adds, "presumably not in that order." Calls for the Japanese-American incarcerees to be stripped of their citizenship had a profound effect within the Manzanar camp. Most internees were "fence sitters" who were simply hoping to endure their incarceration without "added turmoil." Gradually, however, the uncertainties regarding their fate led to the emergence of a pro-Japan faction. The dominant personality of the pro-Japan group was Joe Kurihara, a Nissei who had never lived in Japan. Kurihara was a patriotic American who carried the scars of combat from World War I upon his torso. Upon American entry into the Second World War, he volunteered to once again fight but was sent into internment instead. Unable to reconcile his dedication and patriotism with the treatment received in return, he embraced his Japanese heritage. Kurihara ultimately opted to be expatriated to Japan, which occurred after the conclusion of the war. The response of Karl Yoneda to incarceration, by contrast, was one of total compliance. This brought him into conflict with Kurihara and his like-minded supporters. The eventual implication was a December 1942 riot during which the guards were marshaled and two internees were killed. The disparities between Yoneda and Kurihara generate thought-providing issues that are an unexpected theme of the book. Most Western readers of Together at Manzanar would be naturally drawn towards identifying with Karl Yoneda, but should they? The standard 1940s trope about the Japanese (largely intact to this day) is of blind acceptance of that which is inflicted upon them from above, irrespective of how unjust it is. By contrast, the perception of Americanism is of passionately standing up for one's rights. Under this rubric, however, it was Kurihara, not Yoneda, who responded like an American. The Kurihara/Yoneda factional divide did not cease with Allied victory and the closure of the camp. It continued into the postwar years, during which the Manzanar narrative was hotly contested. In reporting on Kurihara and his fellow agitators to the camp administration, Yoneda was accused of being an informant. His detractors further contend that the riot should be considered a "revolt." Yoneda retorted that his adversaries did not "realize what WWII was all about" and that characterizations of him as "blind patriot" hardly jibed with his lifetime of activism "against imperialism, exploitation, fascism, racism, and for decent working conditions." Leaving Los Angeles for Manzanar on the same transport as Elaine and Tommy, April 1, 1942 (Photo by Clem Albers, courtesy of the Online Archive of California, War Relocation Authority Photographs of Japanese-American Evacuation and Resettlement) The animosity that remained between the competing Manzanar camp narrative factions during the postwar years is best characterized by a comment from Karl Yoneda. He remarked that if not for the Axis defeat, Kurihara and his team would have been "oven-tenders. " This most disparaging of summations, however, suggests that Yoneda was the one who lacked understanding of the Second World War. Hitler's stated intention was to acquire living space for the Germanic people to the east. He attacked the Western powers because they had first declared war over the issue of Poland. The Japanese sought to establish a "Monroe Doctrine over Asia." They sought to enjoy the same prerogatives within Asia that the US reserved for itself within America. Neither of these belligerents was a direct threat to the US. This is especially true with the Japanese. After the Pearl Harbor attack, they withdrew into a defensive posture immediately. Rhetoric from the pro-Japan faction at Manzanar may have sometimes been overly passionate. However, their support for the Japanese cause need not necessarily imply that they wanted America to be occupied. Ultimately, the best interests of the US were for the internment program to be discontinued. The incarceration of the Japanese-American population denied America thousands of soldiers and tens of thousands of war industry laborers. It also tied up large numbers of non-Japanese-American guards and administrative workers. Which approach, compliance or dissent, would open the way for Japanese-Americans to participate in the war effort? Both factions could reasonably have assumed that their option was more likely to prevail. As Together in Manzanar focuses on the Yoneda family, rather than the Manzanar camp per se , Slater's narrative of camp life ends, somewhat frustratingly, after the Yoneda family departed. This occurred in early 1943, when Karl was accepted into the Military Intelligence Service. He worked within the Asian war zone as a Japanese language specialist, interrogator, and translator. Elaine and Tommy left Manzanar when less draconian applications of Executive Order 9066 decreed that infant Tommy was no longer a threat to national security. In October 1944, Elaine was informed that she no longer needed to file the monthly report for Tommy, which had been a condition of his release. An activity of the Military Intelligence Service in which Karl Yoneda was actively involved was producing flyers imploring Japanese soldiers to surrender. The program rarely worked, Karl conceded, but the flyers, Japanese soldiers, assured him, "were very useful for toilet needs." A combat role for Japanese-Americans came about when the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, composed of Nissei, was formed in early 1943. During active service within Europe, it went on to become one of the most decorated and widely respected US fighting units of the entire war. Discrimination towards Asian-Americans did not end with the closure of the internment camps. All of the principal characters within this tale had struggles during the postwar years. There were no winners. Ironically, however, through the very existence of camp factionalism, a collective victory was achieved. When Karl Yoneda directed complaints to the camp leadership, he was met with the reply, "You are all Japanese. I want you to get along." This rejoinder is a mirror of the rationale behind the incarceration itself: that a "Jap" is a "Jap." The factionalism of the camp and the battle for the postwar Manzanar narrative is the compelling proof that this was never the case – if, of course, further proof is still required. Tommy on the train to Manzanar, waving goodbye. (Courtesy of the Karl G. Yoneda papers, UCLA Library of Special Collections) Together at Manzanar is a valuable book that comprehensively details the wartime experience of Japanese-Americans and the enabling racist culture. It personalizes the impact of the internment policy upon the Japanese-American community before, during, and after incarceration. It is a book that is also particularly well-timed. In March of this year, the webpage of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team was temporarily deleted from the US Army's website in line with President Donald Trump's anti-DEI crusade. More significantly, hardline applications of immigration law are presently forcing soon-to-be deported immigrant parents to make Elaine Yoneda-like decisions regarding whether or not to separate from their American-born and thus American citizen children. One hopes those American youngsters will fare better than their WWII-era Japanese-American counterparts. Author: Paul de Vries
Time of India
26-05-2025
- Business
- Time of India
Quiet quitting takes hold in Japan: Are young workers driving office reforms or just checking out?
Japan, a nation that has long carried the bastion of tireless dedication and unflinching corporate loyalty, now finds itself at a quiet inflection point. A country once synonymous with grueling hours, unpaid overtime, and near-sacred allegiance to employers is witnessing a subtle yet significant rebellion. It does not prevail through mass resignations but simmers in measured silence—latent beneath a transparent veil of polite detachment, muted resistance, and a conscious decision to do only what the contract demands. The emerging trend, sobriqueted as 'quiet quitting' in the American lexicon, finds uniquely Japanese contours. Here, it is not merely a refusal to work beyond designated hours; it is a generational retaliation to the burden of inherited expectations and the hollow promise of reward through overexertion. Generation Z—often dubbed the 'rebellious generation'—has repeatedly dominated headlines for its unconventional approach to work. As the debate intensifies over whether they are the changemakers dismantling outdated workplace norms or merely a lethargic cohort, one truth remains: They are the future. To seek 'me time' is not an act of defiance but one of necessity. And yet, when that recalibration crosses its demarcations and commitment translates to complacency, it brings forth a sobering question: Is Japan's quiet quitting trend a signal of long-overdue cultural evolution or the first crack in a once unshakable work ethic? A culture of reluctant minimalism According to recent data from the Mynavi Career Research Lab, 45% of Japanese workers between the ages of 20 and 59 now admit to performing only the bare minimum required of them. This silent pullback from the workplace is most prominent among workers in their twenties—those too young to have bought into the post-war promise of corporate security, and too aware of its unravelling to stay faithful to outdated ideals. Their defiance is not an extraordinary act of complacency. It is a matter of arriving on time, clocking out when the clock strikes 6, and declining unpaid overtime. They are bold enough to say an emphatic 'no' to the wondrous promotion labels that demand personal sacrifice. In a nutshell, it is an act of sticking to work just during 'work hours' a norm that seems to be abnormal in a world that constantly glorifies overworked and underpaid workers. The Rise of the self over the system For Issei, a 26-year-old office worker, the motivation is disarmingly simple: he wants his life back. "I don't hate my job," he says, "but I'd rather spend my time with friends, travel, or go to concerts. My parents' generation equated value with work. I don't see it that way" as quoted by TNN. His sentiments reverberate through a generation raised amid economic fluctuations and social transformations. The 'hustle culture', once decoded as the only way to succeed, now feels to many like a hollow performance. Instead, young professionals are actively reclaiming their time, not out of laziness, but as a measure of self-preservation and principle. The Mynavi study underscores this shift: Most quiet quitters cite the pursuit of personal time and life balance as their primary motivation. Others believe their current effort matches their compensation, and some feel unappreciated in their roles or simply disengaged from the traditional reward structures of Japanese corporate life. A system no longer reciprocating According to Sumie Kawakami, a social sciences lecturer and certified career consultant, this detachment is not surprising. The once-sacrosanct promise of stable, lifelong employment has eroded. 'Companies are cutting costs, bonuses are shrinking, and permanent contracts are no longer guaranteed,' Kawakami explains. 'The reciprocal loyalty that once defined the employer-employee relationship is vanishing' as reported by TNN. The pandemic further disrupted this fragile equilibrium. As remote work blurred professional boundaries and personal introspection deepened, many workers began to question the virtue of unrelenting sacrifice. Escaping the shadow of 'Karoshi' Overwork is killing people all over the world, and Japan is no exception. Perhaps the most sobering rationale behind quiet quitting lies in the historical specter of karoshi—death by overwork. For decades, this grim reality haunted Japan's corporate landscape, culminating in a suicide peak in Japan,which many attributed to punishing work hours. Slackers or silent reformers? Is quiet quitting merely symptomatic of waning ambition, or a necessary response to an obsolete system that constantly champions overwork? It may be both—a fading echo of collective burnout and the birth cry of a more humane professional ethic. It is forcing Japan, and perhaps the world, to re-evaluate the metrics of productivity and the meaning of work. As companies grapple to retain talent and maintain morale, the real question is no longer why employees are disengaging, but whether institutions are willing to evolve with them. In the end, Japan's quiet quitters are not abandoning responsibility—they are redefining it. In their quiet refusal to overextend, they may just be laying the foundation for a workplace revolution that speaks not in shouts, but in whispers. Ready to empower your child for the AI era? Join our program now! Hurry, only a few seats left.
Muscat Daily
25-05-2025
- Business
- Muscat Daily
Why Japan's Gen Z is ‘quiet quitting' work
Tokyo, Japan – In a nation that has long been synonymous with working hard and showing unswerving loyalty to an employer, more and more Japanese people are 'quiet quitting' their jobs. A term originally coined in the United States in 2022 for people who are disengaged and just do the bare minimum of work, 'quiet quitting' has taken on a slightly different meaning in Japan – and one that would arguably make legions of toiling 'salarymen' shudder. A growing number of Japanese are choosing to clock in at work exactly on time and leave as soon as they can. They are not looking for praise or promotion from their seniors. They are unbothered by the prospect of better pay if it means more work, while performance-related bonuses also fail to inspire them. According to a study of 3,000 workers aged 20 to 59 conducted by the Mynavi Career Research Lab, a Tokyo-based employment research agency, some 45% say they are doing the bare minimum in their jobs. Significantly, employees in their 20s are most likely to admit to being 'quiet quitters'. The quest for more 'me time' There are many reasons why Japanese workers are no longer giving their all for their companies. For 26-year-old Issei, the answer is straightforward: He wants more time to pursue the things he enjoys. 'I don't hate my job and I know I have to work to pay my rent and bills, but I would much rather be meeting up with my friends, traveling or listening to live music,' said Issei, who asked that his family name not be provided. 'I know that my grandfather and even my parents' generation thought they had no choice but to work hard and earn more money, but I do not understand that way of thinking,' he said. 'I think it is better to balance work and the things I want to do away from the office and I believe that most of my friends feel that way as well.' The Mynavi study concluded that being able to have more 'me time' was the primary motivation for most people who admitted to 'quiet quitting'. Others said they believed the amount of work they were putting in was appropriate for the pay they were receiving and that they were 'satisfied' with their level of input and still gained a sense of accomplishment at work. Others said they were doing the bare minimum to get by because they felt their contribution to the company was not appreciated or they had no interest in promotion or advancing their career. 'A lot of young people saw their parents sacrifice their lives to a company, putting in many, many hours of overtime and effectively giving up on their private life,' said Sumie Kawakami, a social sciences lecturer at Yamanashi Gakuin University and a certified career consultant. 'They have figured out that is not what they want.' 'In the past, an employer would pay a fair wage and provide benefits so people stayed with the same company all the way until retirement,' she told DW. 'But that is no longer the case; companies are trying to cut costs, not all staff are on full contracts and pay while bonuses are not as generous as they were,' she added. Change of attitudes 'People see that and do not feel obliged to sacrifice themselves for the company,' she said. Attitudes have also changed as a result of the restrictions imposed by the coronavirus pandemic, which prompted some to question their priorities. A new generation of young adults started 'finding it difficult to accept the concept of lifetime commitment to one company', Kawakami said. Izumi Tsuji, a professor of the sociology of culture at Tokyo's Chuo University, said his experiences around young people have led him to the same conclusions. 'There is a huge change in the attitudes towards work among young people and my generation of people in their 50s,' he said. 'In the past, workers were extremely loyal to their employers, worked long hours, put in unpaid overtime and did not look to switch companies,' he said. 'In return, they and their families were provided for until they retired.' Today, young people want to 'concentrate on their hobbies, to be freer and to have a better work-life balance', he said. Tsuji sees the shift as a welcome change after decades of intense demands placed on workers by corporate Japan. 'It has to be a good thing,' Tsuji said. 'People were too loyal to their companies in the past and they had no life outside the office. Now, if they have lots more free time then maybe they will be spending more money and helping the economy or, even more importantly, meeting a partner and having a family. And that is important because the population is shrinking.' DW
Time of India
25-05-2025
- Business
- Time of India
Why Japan's Gen Z is 'quiet quitting' work
Representative Image (AI) In a nation that has long been synonymous with working hard and showing unswerving loyalty to an employer, more and more Japanese people are "quiet quitting" their jobs. A term originally coined in the United States in 2022 for people who are disengaged and just do the bare minimum of work, "quiet quitting" has taken on a slightly different meaning in Japan — and one that would arguably make legions of toiling "salarymen" shudder. A growing number of Japanese are choosing to clock in at work exactly on time and leave as soon as they can. They are not looking for praise or promotion from their seniors. They are unbothered by the prospect of better pay if it means more work, while performance-related bonuses also fail to inspire them. According to a study of 3,000 workers aged 20 to 59 conducted by the Mynavi Career Research Lab, a Tokyo-based employment research agency, some 45% say they are doing the bare minimum in their jobs. Significantly, employees in their 20s are most likely to admit to being "quiet quitters." The quest for more 'me time' There are many reasons why Japanese workers are no longer giving their all for their companies. For 26-year-old Issei, the answer is straightforward: He wants more time to pursue the things he enjoys. "I don't hate my job and I know I have to work to pay my rent and bills, but I would much rather be meeting up with my friends, traveling or listening to live music," said Issei, who asked that his family name not be provided. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Click Here - This Might Save You From Losing Money Expertinspector Click Here Undo "I know that my grandfather and even my parents' generation thought they had no choice but to work hard and earn more money, but I do not understand that way of thinking," he said. "I think it is better to balance work and the things I want to do away from the office and I believe that most of my friends feel that way as well." The Mynavi study concluded that being able to have more "me time" was the primary motivation for most people who admitted to "quiet quitting." Others said they believed the amount of work they were putting in was appropriate for the pay they were receiving and that they were "satisfied" with their level of input and still gained a sense of accomplishment at work. Others said they were doing the bare minimum to get by because they felt their contribution to the company was not appreciated or they had no interest in promotion or advancing their career. "A lot of young people saw their parents sacrifice their lives to a company, putting in many, many hours of overtime and effectively giving up on their private life," said Sumie Kawakami, a social sciences lecturer at Yamanashi Gakuin University and a certified career consultant. "They have figured out that is not what they want." "In the past, an employer would pay a fair wage and provide benefits so people stayed with the same company all the way until retirement," she told DW. "But that is no longer the case; companies are trying to cut costs, not all staff are on full contracts and pay while bonuses are not as generous as they were," she added. No longer giving it all for the company "People see that and do not feel obliged to sacrifice themselves for the company," she said. Attitudes have also changed as a result of the restrictions imposed by the coronavirus pandemic, which prompted some to question their priorities. A new generation of young adultsstarted "finding it difficult to accept the concept of lifetime commitment to one company," Kawakami said. Izumi Tsuji, a professor of the sociology of culture at Tokyo's Chuo University, said his experiences around young people have led him to the same conclusions. "There is a huge change in the attitudes towards work among young people and my generation of people in their 50s," he said. "In the past, workers were extremely loyal to their employers, worked long hours, put in unpaid overtime and did not look to switch companies," he said. "In return, they and their families were provided for until they retired." Today, young people want to "concentrate on their hobbies, to be freer and to have a better work-life balance," he said. Tsuji sees the shift as a welcome change after decades of intense demands placed on workers by corporate Japan. "It has to be a good thing," Tsuji said. "People were too loyal to their companies in the past and they had no life outside the office. Now, if they have lots more free time then maybe they will be spending more money and helping the economy or, even more importantly, meeting a partner and having a family. And that is important because the population is shrinking." Death by overwork Kawakami adds another reason why "quiet quitting" marks a shift for the better for millions of Japanese employees. "I welcome this change because older generations of workers would give 150% to their companies but the price they paid was 'karoshi'," she said, the Japanese term for death brought on by overwork. In 1998, there were 32,863 suicides in Japan, with many linked to brutally long working hours and workplace pressure. The total figure for suicides remained above the 30,000 threshold for the next 14 years, but has been gradually declining since. In 2024, some 20,320 people died by their own hand, the second-lowest figure since 1978, when statistics were first compiled. "Young people no longer feel that they have no choice but to stay in a job where they are not happy or to spend more time on themselves," Kawakami said. "The result is happier people
DW
23-05-2025
- Business
- DW
Why Japan's Gen Z is 'quiet quitting' work – DW – 05/23/2025
It is a far cry from their parents' generation, but 20-something Japanese are happy to sacrifice a career and better pay for an improved work-life balance. In a nation that has long been synonymous with working hard and showing unswerving loyalty to an employer, more and more Japanese people are "quiet quitting" their jobs. Originally a term coined in the United States in 2022 for unproductive staff being reassigned to another role instead of being fired, "quiet quitting" has taken on a slightly different meaning in Japan — one that would arguably make legions of toiling "salarymen" shudder. A growing number of Japanese are choosing to clock in at work exactly on time and leave as soon as they are able to. They are not looking for acclaim for their work or promotion. They appear to be indifferent to greater pay if it means more work and performance-related bonuses mean nothing to them. According to a study of 3,000 workers aged 20 to 59 conducted by the Mynavi Career Research Lab, a Tokyo-based employment research agency, fully 45% say they are doing the bare minimum in their jobs. Significantly, employees in their 20s are most likely to admit to being "quiet quitters." Spending time on personal interests There are many reasons why Japanese workers are no longer giving their all for the company. For 26-year-old Issei, the answer is straightforward: He wants more time to pursue the things he enjoys doing instead of a job that he needs to earn an income. "I don't hate my job and I know I have to work to pay my rent and bills, but I would much rather be meeting up with my friends, traveling or listening to live music," said Issei, who asked that his family name not be provided. "I know that my grandfather and even my parents' generation thought they had no choice but to work hard and earn more money, but I do not understand that way of thinking," he said. "I think it is better to balance work and the things I want to do away from the office and I believe that most of my friends feel that way as well." 'In the past, workers were extremely loyal to their employers, worked long hours, put in unpaid overtime and did not look to switch companies' Image: Yoshikazu Tsuno/AFP The Mynavi study concluded that being able to have more "me time" was the primary motivation for most people who admitted to "quiet quitting." Others said they believed the amount of work they were putting in was appropriate for the pay they were receiving and that they were "satisfied" with their level of input and were still able to gain a sense of accomplishment at work. Others said they were doing the bare minimum to get by because they felt their contribution to the company was not appreciated or they had no interest in promotion or advancing their career. "A lot of young people saw their parents sacrifice their lives to a company, put in many, many hours of overtime and effectively give up a private life and they have figured out that is not what they want," said Sumie Kawakami, a social sciences lecturer at Yamanashi Gakuin University and a certified career consultant. "Also, in the past, an employer would pay a fair wage and provide benefits so people stayed with the same company all the way until retirement," she told DW. "But that is no longer the case; companies are trying to cut costs, not all staff are on full contracts and pay and bonuses are not as generous as they were," she added. No longer sacrificing for the company "People see that and do not feel obliged to sacrifice themselves for the company," she said. Attitudes have changed as a result of the restrictions imposed by the coronavirus pandemic, with a new generation of young adults "finding it difficult to accept the concept of lifetime commitment to one company," Kawakami said. Izumi Tsuji, a professor of the sociology of culture at Tokyo's Chuo University, said his experiences around young people have led him to the same conclusions. "There is a huge change in the attitudes towards work among young people and my generation of people in their 50s," he said. "In the past, workers were extremely loyal to their employers, worked long hours, put in unpaid overtime and did not look to switch companies," he said. "In return, they and their families were provided for until they retired." Today, young people want to "concentrate on their hobbies, to be freer and to have a better work-life balance," he said. Young German women find strength in sumo To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video Tsuji sees the shift as a welcome change after decades of intense demands placed on workers by corporate Japan. "It has to be a good thing," Tsuji said. "People were too loyal to their companies in the past and they had no life outside the office. Now, if they have lots more free time then maybe they will be spending more money and helping the economy or, even more importantly, meeting a partner and having a family. And that is important because the population is shrinking." Kawakami agrees, and adds another reason why "quiet quitting" is good for the well-being of millions of Japanese employees. Death by overwork "I welcome this change because older generations of workers would give 150% to their companies but the price they paid was 'karoshi'," she said, the Japanese term for death brought on by overwork. In 1998, there were 32,863 suicides in Japan with many linked to brutally long working hours and workplace pressures. The total figure for suicides remained above the 30,000 threshold for the next 14 years, but has been gradually declining since. In 2024, some 20,320 people died by their own hand, the second-lowest figure since 1978, when statistics were first compiled. "Young people no longer feel that they have no choice but to stay in a job where they are not happy or to spend more time on themselves," Kawakami said. "The result is happier people." Editor's note: If you are suffering from serious emotional strain or suicidal thoughts, do not hesitate to seek professional help. You can find information on where to find such help, no matter where you live in the world, at this website: K-pop dance in Germany: what's behind its rise? To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video Edited by: Keith Walker
