Although the Land of the Rising Sun is better known as being one of the world’s premier producers of automobiles and pioneers in the nascent field of robotics, the country tops yet another, though more ominous, list: suicide. To set the record straight, Japan is not alone in this morbid predicament. It is not, contrary to popular belief, the only “suicide nation” around. In recent years, the countries of Russia, Kazakhstan and Lithuania have had higher rates of suicide.
Japan’s case is still unique, however, because, unlike other countries with similarly noticeable high rates of suicide, save perhaps for South Korea, it is an extremely well-developed country. As currently number three, behind China and the United States of America, in economy, Japan boasts of a technologically savvy society, a highly skilled and productive work force and a standard of living to put most other countries to shame. It appears only natural that the average Japanese citizen should have more, or at least, enough to be happy about to keep their mind off something as completely counter-intuitive as suicide.
But, as always, reality tells a different story. In 2007 alone, about 100 Japanese committed suicide a day, to make a total of 33,000 suicides by the end of the year. On the same note, the World Health Organization estimates Japan’s suicide rate to be around 51 for every 100,000 people with men twice more likely than women to commit the act. This trend has not shown any signs of abating soon despite the fact that the Japanese government launched a 220 million dollar campaign in 2007 in an attempt to significantly curb the suicide rate by 2016.
So what, you might ask, is responsible for Japanese society’s suicide pandemic? The answer to this question is embedded deep within Japan’s competitive culture whose adverse effects are compounded by an increasingly unstable economy that pits many of its citizens on the losing end of the financial spectrum.
Notably, the UK Guardian cited depression in 2007 as the number one cause followed by physical illness and debt. Rising unemployment is definitely a factor of depression especially given the suffocating social stigmas attached to the jobless and bankrupt. Moreover, since mental illness is also frowned upon, those contemplating suicide are often discouraged from disclosing their feelings. Government officials should definitely focus on overturning these social paradigms if they expect to make any gains in the fight against suicide.
Interestingly, suicide is also rapidly becoming a fad among the elderly, many of whom have been affected by financial woes because of pension and welfare reforms. The disintegration of the extended family structure, partly due to poor birth rates and a larger percentage of the population occupied by the elderly, has led to further isolation and greater vulnerability of the aged, towards financial mishap.
On the upside, the high frequency of suicide has led to the rise in celebrity status of popular suicide spots such as Aokigahara Forest near Mount Fuji. Taro, a 46-year old man interviewed by CNN, attempted to kill himself here after being fired from a job. According to Taro, suicide seemed the only option at the time because, “You need money to survive. If you have a girlfriend, you need money. If you want to get married, you need it for your life. Money is always necessary for your life.” As if to add further indignity to suicide victims, thieves, aware of the popularity of places such as Aokigahara Forest, raid cadavers at night searching for any items of value such as wallets or jewelry. It seems that in a sorry twist of irony, the very obsession --- monetary gain --- that drives too many Japanese citizens to kill themselves, is the cause for further indignity on their part, even in death.
However, disparaging our views on suicide may be, for the Japanese, it used to symbolize an act of honor to offset instances of public shame. This final act of saving face was not reserved only for the aristocratic and honor-conscious class of samurai. Whereas the samurai performed the purportedly honorable act of Hara-kiri or self-inflicted “stomach cutting,” commoners had at their disposal Shinjyuu, a variation of suicide traditionally reserved for intimate lovers.
This concept of saving face by the taking of one’s life clearly resonates even today although with slightly more twisted overtones. No longer is it used, for example, to display one’s indignation against injustice or respect for the passing of a daimyo, or master. Nowadays, it would not be a stretch of rhetorical etiquette and moderation to say that suicide has evolved, and grotesquely so, as more of a means for Japanese citizens to run away from the agony of dealing with their problems. Of course, we cannot know the exact circumstance behind every potential suicide victim’s decision to “pull the trigger.” Nonetheless, such ambiguity does not excuse each one from understanding full well, before taking action, the ripples of despair they will cause amongst their loved ones, acquaintances and society as whole.
More deeply, the root of Japan’s issues with suicide may reside in a society that has taught many of its citizens to embrace material success as the barometer for happiness; anything below this expectation is suffice impetus for self-destruction. Can the price of a human life really be summed up in the numbers a person makes in a year or the number of hours they punch in at work? Principles of economics might say yes, but hopefully the majority of us take a more appreciative view on the sanctity of life. On another tangent, given its suicide phenomenon, Japan also teaches us something about true happiness. Clearly, this hotly pursued human emotion is derived from more than the conveniences a developed society can offer. Undoubtedly, the Japanese government can learn something from even third world countries, whose citizens have learned, granted, out of sheer necessity, how to appreciate life even in the worst of situations.
Email Kyle at kcruz@knox.edu