Building a Meaningful Life in Contemporary Japan

Following Japan’s cataclysmic defeat in the Second World War, the American-led occupation forces worked closely with Japanese political and industrial leaders to rebuild the war-torn country and, during the Cold War, to make Japan a bulwark against communism in East Asia. Close relationships between industry and government, a hallmark of the prewar economy, continued to drive Japan’s postwar economic recovery, though in slightly different forms. Within the corporate world, a highly gendered Japanese workforce also depended on long-term relationships, and lifetime employment at a single company became the norm for Japanese men. After the collapse of the economic “bubble” in the early 1990s, however, Japanese men began to question their relationship with Japan’s economy and society. The selections here present a range of contemporary Japanese male voices on the changing definition of ikigai — that which makes life worth living.

For the past thirty years, my ikigai has been the companies I’ve worked for; they’ve been more important to me than my family. I don’t expect much from my family; they don’t expect me to be at home on weekends anymore. Yes, I can’t say that I’m a family man. I have more human communication with the young girls . . . in my office than I do with my own daughters. . . .

There are fewer and fewer company men like me these days; there are many more “my home” types — these kind of people aren’t at all happy if I tell them to come to the office on Sunday! I’ve never said no to any of my job assignments — I was always there when they needed me. I like men who do that: manly men . . . , like Western cowboys! Men living for their companies are better than those who live for their families; that’s why Japan’s developed! I get upset when I see a young man with dyed hair driving around in a fancy car with a pretty girl. Fifty years ago, people his age all died in the war; they didn’t have the chance to enjoy their youth! I want to drag that young man out of his car and put a judo hold on him, teach him a lesson!

Maybe Americans can separate business and private life, but I can’t, and most Japanese can’t. If you don’t have business, you can’t have any private life. . . . In my house, my wife was like a widow; I was busy, even on Sundays, with my school clubs. So now, if I’m not home, everyone feels more relaxed! . . .

Young people today overwhelmingly value being with their families. They calmly say, “My child’s sick. I’ll take the day off.” Nobody ever did that when I was young! Today’s young people don’t have any fighting spirit! They relax with their families before they think about work!

The problem was that we worked too hard, generated too much money, that had to be plowed back into the system, into stocks and land, creating “the bubble economy.” . . . If only Japanese hadn’t worked so hard, maybe the economic downturn would never have happened.

If you ask my coworkers whether they find ikigai in work for this company, they might say they do. But they’d be lying. . . . But, then, maybe they really do find ikigai here. If you don’t have time to do anything but work, then isn’t that your ikigai?

You know how work is. The husband has to be subservient to his boss, and so when he comes home, he wants to boss around his wife and children: “Turn off the TV! Put the kids to bed!” And communication between husband and wife, father and children, goes bad.

I believe that the husband’s the boss of the family. A wife should know what her husband is thinking by looking at his face. She should properly send him off to work in the morning; and when he comes home at night, there should be a drink and some good food waiting for him. A husband should educate his wife to do that. . . . When I got married, my wife fell in love with me; I didn’t care whether I married her or not. She works part-time at the supermarket as a cashier — she’s a little overbearing now, since she’s got her own money.

Early in our marriage, my wife was always angry because I came home late from work, and because I wasn’t yasashii (affectionate); I didn’t take her anywhere on weekends, I didn’t convey to her that I loved her. We came very close to divorce several times. Once my wife left with the kids and didn’t come home for three days; I still don’t know where they went. I wasn’t thinking much about my family then; that’s why my wife got so upset. I realized that I’d have to change. My wife made me promise that, unless I was out of town on business, I’d have breakfast with the family no matter how late I came home the previous night. I also spend every Sunday — at least half the day — with my family. Saturdays I use for myself: I go fishing. . . . I feel exhausted because of the stress on my job — that’s why I need Saturdays for myself. When I’m with my family, I just can’t get rid of stress.

I don’t like my work — I really hate it — but I wouldn’t want to stay at home either, taking care of my children. Maybe that’s my pride — maybe I don’t want to deviate from the ideal image of a man. A man is supposed to work outside the home. In Japan, if a man says his child rather than his work is his ikigai, he’ll be considered a sissy. . . . I could never say that. . . . In Japan women are discriminated against in the workplace, but at the same time they have less obligation; they have more time to follow their own pursuits. Do I wish I could be a woman instead of a man? Well . . . I could never say that; but it’s possible that it’s true.

I want to be with my wife when she gives birth; I’ll need to take three days off from school for that. When I told that to the mothers in the PTA, they said, “That’s great — go ahead!” I thought they were going to say, “What? Why so long a vacation!” But they didn’t. They really appreciate me! . . . I usually get home by 7:30 or 8:00; sometimes not until 9:00 or 10:00. All I can do after I come home so late is bathe, eat and sleep; that’s tough on my wife. I’m really tired. Sometimes it’s just too much trouble to listen to her, to be honest. I’d really like more free time. . . . My family — my wife and child to be — is more important than my work. I’d quit my work, if I had to, for my family. My family is my ikigai. I just wish I had more time to be with my family.

I like myself now because I’m working hard for my family, but I hate myself because I gave up music. I’m not a bad father — I’m supporting my family — but maybe it’d be better for my two kids if I showed them a father who’s pursuing his dream. Life isn’t only a matter of making money; that’s why I half regret my life now. I want to quit my job and play music again. But it’d be hard. The older you get, the less courage you’ve got. Compared to five years ago, I’m much more of a coward than I used to be. Maybe I’ve become a better husband and father to the extent that I’ve grown chicken-hearted! . . . I live for my dream of music, but I also live for my wife: she too is my ikigai. But yeah, I guess that my real ikigai is music. I don’t play the guitar much these days, but I have that desire — I’ll have that for the rest of my life.

READING AND DISCUSSION QUESTIONS