CODE IN TOKYO

“What Happens to the Country Is None of My Concern”: The Quiet Indifference of Japan’s Employment Ice Age Generation

I recently watched a television program about Japan’s “employment ice age generation”—people who entered the job market after the collapse of the country’s economic bubble, when companies sharply reduced hiring.

The program covered measures to help people move from non-regular to permanent employment and other forms of support for this generation.

I belong squarely to that generation.

My first reaction was simple: Why now?

Of course, late support is better than no support. People are still struggling, and I do not oppose helping them. But I cannot help thinking that this support was needed when we were in our twenties.

Rejected by Company After Company

I graduated from university shortly after Japan’s economic bubble burst.

I had studied physics and used computers for simulation work. For a student at the time, I had a reasonable amount of computing experience.

But there were no jobs.

I applied to dozens of companies and was rejected by every one of them.

Even now, I remember the particular sense of disappointment that defined job hunting in those years. I had studied hard and developed technical skills. Yet the moment I tried to enter society, I was told again and again that I was not needed.

People could say that I had not worked hard enough, but what exactly was I supposed to do? Companies were simply not hiring.

In the end, I could not find a job on my own. A professor in my university laboratory introduced me to a computer-related company.

I did not join as an engineer. I was hired to sell computer systems.

I wanted to work in technology, but it was not an era in which people like me could afford to be particular.

I Was Simply Lucky

After about a year in sales, I was fortunate enough to find a company that valued my technical background. I moved to a software development company.

From there, my engineering career progressed relatively well. I have now worked in the IT industry for nearly thirty years.

This may sound like a story about overcoming adversity through hard work. I do not see it that way.

I was simply lucky.

What would have happened if my university laboratory had not introduced me to that first company? What if I had never met an employer willing to recognize my technical background while I was working in sales?

With slightly different timing, my life could have turned out completely differently.

When I look at the problems facing the employment ice age generation, I suspect that a small amount of luck created enormous differences in the lives of millions of people.

I happened to find a way up. Others did not.

It is impossible to explain that difference entirely in terms of individual effort.

Back Then, Everything Was Dismissed as Personal Responsibility

Today, the employment ice age generation is treated as a social issue.

The media reports on middle-aged social isolation, poverty, and insecure employment. Politicians now say that this generation needs support.

My response is: You should have noticed thirty years ago.

When we were struggling most, the prevailing attitude was remarkably cold.

If you could not find a job, you had not tried hard enough. If you were in non-regular employment, that was your choice. If you failed to build a career, it was your responsibility.

That was more or less how we were treated.

Thirty years later, Japan is aging, the workforce supporting its social security system is shrinking, and middle-aged financial hardship has become a visible cost to society. Only now do people say that the employment ice age generation must be rescued.

It is late—far too late.

Our Generation Has a Distinctive Indifference Toward Society

Perhaps this is just me. But when I talk to people of my generation, I often sense an unusual detachment from the country and society.

It is not anger. We are not organizing demonstrations or calling for a revolution.

We simply expect nothing.

“Japan faces a serious demographic crisis.”

I see.

“The social security system will become unsustainable.”

I see.

“Everyone must contribute more for Japan’s future.”

That is not my problem.

At least part of me feels that way.

When we were in our twenties and needed help most, the country did not help us. Instead, it dismissed our problems as personal responsibility.

It is difficult to feel moved when the same country, now facing problems of its own, asks us to sacrifice ourselves for Japan’s future.

This feels colder than anger.

What happens to the country is no longer of much concern to me.

That Does Not Mean I Hate Japan

My feelings are more complicated than that.

I do not hate Japan. I am naturally attached to my family and to Tokyo, where I was born and raised. I like Japanese culture, history, and language. When I travel abroad, I often appreciate Japan’s convenience and safety.

In other words, I feel a strong attachment to Japan as a culture, a history, and a place to live.

Whether I feel the same attachment to Japan as a state or to its present social system is another question.

To take an extreme example, I would strongly object if Japan were absorbed as a province of China. The implications for freedom of expression alone would be deeply troubling.

But if someone said, “Tomorrow, Japan will become a state of the United States,” part of me might respond, “Perhaps that would be fine.”

I do not become emotional at the sight of the Japanese flag. I have never felt a powerful need to preserve the Japanese state at any cost.

I love Japan as a culture and feel attached to the place where I grew up. But I do not believe that the state or society exists to protect people like us.

The Dangerous Conclusion of This Logic

In the end, I think society taught the employment ice age generation one lesson when we were young:

Do not depend on the government or your employer. Take care of yourself.

So I developed technical skills. I made sure I could earn a living even if I left my company. Now in my fifties, I still follow AI closely and continue learning new technologies. I do not expect the government to protect me in retirement.

In that sense, I have been an exceptionally obedient student. I am still following the lesson society taught me thirty years ago.

That is why it is difficult to respond enthusiastically when people now say, “Let us all think about Japan’s future.”

After all, you were the ones who taught us to look after ourselves.

But there is something profoundly dangerous in this logic.

I think only about myself and my family. Companies think only about their own profits. Members of parliament prioritize their positions and the next election. Civil servants prioritize their organizations and their lives after retirement over the public.

What happens when everyone begins to ask, “What is wrong with protecting myself?”

Each person has a seemingly reasonable explanation. I do not want to be the only one who loses out. There is no point in being the only honest person. Everyone else is doing it. It is permitted under the rules.

When everyone gives themselves a little more priority, eventually no one thinks about the public good.

Social morality does not necessarily collapse overnight at the hands of obvious villains.

It collapses when ordinary people begin asking, “Why should I be the only one who acts honestly?”

The news already seems full of stories like this. Politicians, bureaucrats, companies, and individuals act to protect themselves or their organizations. When a problem becomes public, each explains that they are not solely to blame.

Perhaps those explanations are sincere from each person’s point of view. That is precisely what makes the problem so difficult.

It is hardly surprising that people abandoned when they were young become indifferent toward society. But if that indifference spreads throughout society, we end up in a country where no one can expect help from anyone.

The doctrine of personal responsibility that Japan taught us made me stronger. It also created people who do not trust the government or society.

Those people now occupy the center of society.

In a society where everyone thinks only of themselves, eventually no one can protect even themselves.

That may be the real outcome of the lesson in personal responsibility that began thirty years ago.

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