Japan needs to rethink how it helps hikikomori

Japan Times

16-06-2025

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. |
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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.