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Japan needs to rethink how it helps hikikomori
Japan needs to rethink how it helps hikikomori

Japan Times

time3 days ago

  • Health
  • Japan Times

Japan needs to rethink how it helps hikikomori

Over 1 million people live in social isolation in Japan today, cut off from work, school and even family: 1.46 million people to be precise, or 2% of those aged 15 to 62, according to a 2023 Cabinet Office survey. While hikikomori, the Japanese term for acute social withdrawal, often brings to mind young recluses in dark bedrooms, the reality is broader — and made even more urgent by the COVID-19 pandemic's impact on mental health, which we are still feeling today. A significant proportion of hikikomori are in their 30s, 40s and even 50s, and their numbers are growing. Some of these middle-aged adults have been isolated for a decade or more, in part due to the progressive decline of Japan's lifetime employment model. Many want to work, connect and rejoin society, but don't know how to. If we are serious about addressing the dual crises of a shrinking population and social withdrawal, we must stop blaming individuals and start building sustainable, community-led support systems — especially for 'invisible' hikikomori who have left the school system or are too old to be eligible for youth support services. Instead of short-term interventions or bureaucratic responses, we need trust-based, human-centered solutions that continue over time. At the moment, traditional frameworks are often failing. If a hikikomori doesn't respond after one or two visits, most services just stop knocking. Hospital care is too rigid, schools emphasize conformity over recovery and most government interventions are short-term or reactive. For example, despite a recent expansion of the age eligibility for certain types of job support, most of these are short-term or one-time programs, not the kind of long-term interventions needed for hikikomori to rebuild confidence and reconnect with society. The level of concern in Japan is high, but the country's support systems remain fragmented. These often rely on volunteer labor and vanish when funding ends, and families are left to cope alone. Older hikikomori are almost entirely overlooked — especially men in their 40s and 50s, who have dropped out of society and feel ashamed and fear judgment if they try to return. Although hikikomori are frequently perceived as being mostly male, this is not the case. Women also experience social withdrawal, but they are often less visible: Social expectations can make it easier for them to blend into family life while still feeling isolated, leading to their struggles being ignored. In my experience, the emotional burden they carry is just as heavy and past traumas can feel as fresh as if they happened yesterday, and building trust with female hikikomori requires more time and patience. Worryingly, social disconnection is also being seen in increasingly younger people. Teachers and parents report that even secondary school students are showing signs of disengagement, withdrawing from daily routines and retreating from social interactions. Japan faces a growing crisis of social isolation, with over 1.4 million people — many middle-aged — living reclusive lifestyles, and experts say only long-term, trust-based community support can reverse the trend. | Getty Images This trend is closely linked to youth suicide, which remains a pressing issue in Japan: In 2023, 513 elementary, junior high and high school students took their own lives, according to the health ministry. The stress of academic pressure, social expectations and bullying can push vulnerable young people into isolation, where hopelessness takes root. Addressing this is not just an act of compassion — it is critical to prevent long-term social exclusion and, ultimately, save lives. Many hikikomori are told by those around them to 'just get a job' or 'go to the ward office.' But healing from years of silence, trauma and isolation takes more than a job referral. It takes a relationship. Yet budgets rarely reflect this need. Funding flows to academic studies or flashy pilot projects, not to long-term, grassroots efforts that patiently walk beside each person. In 2019, I founded Quietude, a social enterprise supporting hikikomori, NEETs — which stands for 'not in education, employment or training' — and school dropouts. Our approach is based on building long-term relationships rather than relying on temporary interventions. Trust doesn't come easily — from our work, we have seen that it takes at least 20 hours of consistent interaction before individuals start to open up. Plus, we focus on offering multiple approaches that accommodate different needs rather than customizing programs for every individual. This helps strike a balance between meeting people's specific needs and encouraging them to learn flexibility and adaptation, practicing being part of a group and being given some structure. One common challenge is helping hikikomori understand their distorted perceptions, such as their tendency to generalize negative feedback by believing that everyone thinks a certain way about them. Addressing these misconceptions helps people develop a more balanced and realistic view of themselves and others. We work on rebuilding confidence and teaching practical social skills while addressing the emotional pain that has led to isolation in the first place. We have learned that no one is too far gone. With time, trust and care, healing is possible, even after years of silence. Tackling the hikikomori issue is a strategic investment that ensures social stability and economic recovery. Families who have a hikikomori member often struggle with financial hardship, although this doesn't just affect finances; it seeps into relationships, creating an environment of mistrust, frustration, helplessness and, in some cases, violence. This strain can even extend into the wider community, leading to hurt, crime or suicide. On a societal scale, Japan cannot afford to lose another generation to disconnection. Every person who re-engages with society contributes not only emotionally, but economically. Helping even one long-term NEET rejoin the workforce can lead to an estimated injection of ¥150 million ($1 million) into the system over their lifetime, which includes both the taxes they will pay and the reduction in welfare costs, according to health ministry data. Reintegration is more than just about providing help. It is about actively preventing poverty, social decline and harm — strengthening the individual while rebuilding family and community life through a positive cycle of recovery and participation. The question Japan faces is not why hikikomori aren't trying harder, but why our systems give up on people so easily. To build a healthier society, we must move from stigma to support. From isolation to quiet belonging. If we rethink how to tackle social withdrawal, we can do more than help individuals. We can create sustainable, community-rooted models that prevent isolation from happening in the first place. But to take action, we must not wait for another crisis to unfold. Chaa Chaa Ogino is the CEO of Quietude Japan, a grassroots social enterprise supporting hikikomori, NEETs and school dropouts, and a member of the Ueda City Board of Education. For nearly 20 years, she has supported hikikomori, NEETs and at-risk youth across Japan through hands-on, direct reintegration programs.

How ‘hikikomori' shut-ins ‘start to have dreams for the future'
How ‘hikikomori' shut-ins ‘start to have dreams for the future'

Japan Times

time30-05-2025

  • Health
  • Japan Times

How ‘hikikomori' shut-ins ‘start to have dreams for the future'

Yusuke Morishima is the vice president of Quietude, a company based in Nagano that provides services in everything from translation, interpretation, counseling and consulting to job recruiting. But as of 2019, he had been a hikikomori — a social recluse who rarely leaves their home or makes contact with others — for five years. 'Being in a large group was always exhausting to me,' says Morishima, 33. 'I was overly concerned about the people around me, and it really affected my mental health. Eventually, I stopped going to school, and then when I became even more tired, I stopped going out altogether and became a hikikomori.' But after attending Samurai Gakuen (Samugaku for short), a school based in Ueda, Nagano Prefecture, that has been providing specialized education for hikikomori and troubled youth for 20 years, Morishima managed to not only overcome his social anxiety but earn gainful employment at Quietude — and then move up the ranks to boot. He's not the only one to come out of the program with his life changed. Masahiro Minemura, 43, had been a hikikomori for 15 years and also served two years in prison. But after studying at Samugaku and eventually earning his high school diploma, he got a sales and delivery job at Yamato Transport. School founder and director Hidetaka Nagaoka remembers attending university to become a teacher, where he recalls being fed a certain narrative by his professors: that all students were the same. Samurai Gakuen accepts students ranging from teenagers to middle-age men and women who have withdrawn from the workforce and social activities. | SAMURAI GAKUEN 'I was shocked by this so-called fact, and my desire to resist it grew stronger and stronger,' he says. After touring over a hundred schools and educational facilities across Japan, he founded Samugaku and its unique approach to education, providing tailored programs to all ages (current students range from 14 to 46 years old). 'We believe that it is possible to learn and grow at any age,' Nagaoka says. 'And since most of our students are adults, our educational goals are focused on financial independence and psychological independence, which we call 'basic life skills.'' In essence, the goal of the school is for its graduates to be able to live ordinary, self-sufficient lives in terms of their financial situations, mental stability, social networks and support systems. Many students need assistance of the most basic level. Introductory-level classes help students wake up in the morning, eat three meals a day and adjust to a proper sleep schedule. Former student Tomoaki Ogawauchi, who now works full-time at Quietude, recalls that as a hikikomori, he ate and slept whenever he wanted, causing difficulties for his family. 'But coming here and living in the dorm, we have to follow the schedule and rules,' says Ogawauchi, 27. 'I had to learn the importance of following a routine to respect the staff and other students now that we were all together.' Teaching former "hikikomori" shut-ins actionable employment skills can help them more easily reintegrate back into an active role in society. | SAMURAI GAKUEN The school offers seven courses, ranging from basic physical self-care to cooking and eating; house hunting and cleaning; self-exploration through psychology and philosophy; understanding others; social studies and interacting in public; and enjoying life through hobbies and passions. The last stage of schooling prepares students for graduation by assisting them with job hunting and establishing independent living situations. Current student Yukiko Sasai says that special events such as a 15-kilometer walk have helped her with her determination. 'I used to think that school was purely something that I hated, but now I don't mind it nearly as much,' says Sasai, 28. 'Although at first I struggled to get along with other people, I've really improved those relationships.' 'Learning to think for myself was a big part of my experience at Samugaku,' reflects Minemura. 'I came to realize that I wanted to find something that I wanted to do for myself.' The phenomenon of hikikomori was first identified in the 1990s. The condition is characterized as a severe form of social withdrawal, where individuals stay at home and refrain from social participation such as schooling, work or socializing for more than six months. The number of hikikomori in Japan is estimated to be nearly 1.5 million in total and over 2% of 15- to 64-year-olds. In recent years, the malaise is now manifesting in other countries such as South Korea, China, the United States, Spain and France. Lessons at Samurai Gakuen encompass more than traditional classroom learning, broadening to outdoor activities that help students develop new interests. | SAMURAI GAKUEN Nagoya University professor Tadaaki Furuhashi, who researches hikikomori in Japan and France, says that modern science still hasn't identified the physiological cause of the syndrome or if it even is a pathological condition in the first place. 'This question will determine what kind of measures and responses are needed to help address it,' Furuhashi says. 'Hikikomori occurs in two stages,' he explains. 'The first stage is a 'trigger' stage that causes the individual to withdraw from normal life. Then, in the second stage, the individual finds the withdrawal comfortable and no longer wants to return to normal life.' According to Furuhashi, in France, hikikomori are not seen as having mental illnesses or as being a burden on society — in contrast to Japan, where the media and politicians lament these individuals and treat them as serious issues. 'So long as society views the hikikomori condition in a negative way, it will continue to be difficult for individuals to return to society,' Furuhashi says, adding that the role of the internet and video games should not be discounted in helping the second stage feel more comfortable. Lessons at Samurai Gakuen encompass more than traditional classroom learning, broadening to outdoor activities that help students develop new interests. | SAMURAI GAKUEN Students at Samugaku cited various 'triggers' for the start of their withdrawal: parental divorces, bullying at school, social anxiety, or simply the feeling of struggling to keep up with their peers. Momoka Taira, a 14-year-old who lost her mother two years ago, was receiving social support from her local government when she lost faith in adults. 'Grown-ups started to scare me and I thought I couldn't trust them,' Taira says. 'Then the whole outside world started to scare me.' Upon a recommendation, Taira joined Samugaku on a one-year trial period. Now she lives in the dorms and takes classes with the 10 other current students. 'After trying it out, I met a lot of interesting people,' she says. 'People have their own opinions, and we had all sorts of fun conversations. I've been able to reflect on my past mistakes and, even though I'm not really properly studying yet, I want to study for my high school examinations and try doing a part-time job, too. I've started to have dreams for the future.' Samugaku, as a nonprofit school funded by donations and partnerships, struggles with funding and maintaining a large student-body. Coronavirus severely reduced the number of students down from 30, but the school hopes to return this previous size. And though Samugaku has produced plenty of success stories, hikikomori face a challenging road. 'Developing communication skills is particularly tough for students who have spent years avoiding social interactions,' says Chaa Chaa Ogino, chief fundraiser and PTA head at Samugaku and CEO of Quietude. 'Reintegrating students into local companies and society is (also) a gradual process that requires consistent support. 'If we can maintain a relationship through at least 20 sessions, we build enough trust to help them grow,' Ogino says. For a long time, despite the invitations, Taira didn't want to go to Samugaku. When she did, her way of thinking changed. 'There's always going to be some place for you in society,' Taira says. 'But you have to go out there and find it.'

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