Unprecedented Shrinkage: Can Japan Save Its Population from the Reproductive Crisis?

In a recent report by Kyodo News, it was revealed that Japan experienced a historic decline in the number of newborns in 2023. This decline coincided with the country’s largest-ever population decrease.

According to preliminary data released by the health ministry, the figure for babies born dropped by 5.1%, reaching 758,631. This trend has persisted since 2022, with annual birth rates remaining below the 800,000 mark.

Japan’s overall population, including foreign residents, decreased by a staggering 831,872, primarily due to deaths outnumbering births.

The National Institute of Population and Social Security Research, a government agency, predicts that births in the country will continue to decline, reaching below 760,000 by 2035.

The rapid decline in newborns has been attributed to factors such as delayed marriages and an increasing number of single individuals.

Prime Minister Fumio Kishida’s administration has labeled the period leading up to 2030 as “the last chance” to reverse this trend.

Interestingly, the number of births reached its peak in 1973, with approximately 2.09 million babies born, but has since plummeted to below 1 million in 2016.

Simultaneously, government data indicates that Japan also faced a record number of deaths, totaling 1,590,503. Additionally, the number of marriages hit its lowest level since the end of World War II, with only 489,281 reported.

Economy or Reproduction?

Japan, renowned for its technological prowess and economic might, faces a paradox: a declining birth rate juxtaposed with a robust economy.

Last year marked a pivotal moment when the number of births dipped below one million, while the overall population shrank by over 300,000 individuals. What lies behind this demographic shift?

Experts attribute part of the decline to waning interest among Japanese youth in romantic relationships. Additionally, career-focused women prioritize work over marriage and family life. The result? A dwindling desire to wed and start families.

Surprisingly, Japan’s economic prosperity does not translate into ample job opportunities for its young population.

Traditionally, men were the family breadwinners, but today’s reality is different. The scarcity of stable, well-paying jobs makes marriage and child-rearing seem like unattainable dreams.

Behind the scenes, Japan grapples with a high proportion of precarious workers. In the post-war era, citizens enjoyed stable employment with benefits until retirement, provided they worked diligently.

However, times have changed. Jeff Kingston, a professor at the Temple University of Japan, highlights a startling statistic: 40% of Japan’s workforce lacks stable positions.

Instead, they hold low-paying, part-time jobs devoid of benefits (often misclassified as full-time employees in government records).

Only a meager 20% secure stable employment, leaving the rest in perpetual anxiety, far from their aspirations.

One of the terms used to describe Japanese workers is “freeters” — a term blending “freelance” and the German word “arbeiter” (worker).

These temporary laborers epitomize Japan’s evolving employment landscape. The trend began in the early 1990s when labor laws shifted, favoring temporary and contract workers.

Globalization intensified cost-cutting pressures on companies, leading them to rely heavily on this transient workforce — a trend that persisted even during the Great Depression.

Machiko Osawa, a professor at Japan Women’s University, concurs with Kingston’s analysis; recent graduates now struggle to find stable footholds in their careers.

According to Osawa, Japan’s cultural emphasis on hard work clashes with the reality of precarious employment, leaving many young professionals adrift.

In this intricate dance between economic prosperity and demographic decline, Japan grapples with the delicate balance of tradition and modernity. The future hinges on how it navigates these challenges.

Precariat Phenomenon

In the bustling streets of Tokyo, where neon signs and skyscrapers dominate the skyline, a quieter struggle unfolds—one that reverberates through the hearts of Japanese citizens.

It is the fear of instability, the gnawing uncertainty that accompanies precarious employment. For many, a stable job is not merely a means to financial security; it is a prerequisite for becoming a desirable marriage partner.

Ryosuke Nishida, a respected professor at the Tokyo Institute of Technology, has long studied youth unemployment. He observes, “Even if a couple wants to get married, and both have irregular jobs, their parents will likely oppose it.”

The reason? According to Nishida, a stable and permanent job remains a cornerstone of Japanese culture. Failing to secure one after graduation swiftly labels an individual as a “disappointment.”

Recent data sheds light on this predicament. Among those in their early thirties, only 30% hold stable positions, while a more fortunate 56% work full-time within established companies.

But the crisis extends beyond gender lines. Women, too, find themselves caught in the web of temporary employment.

Irregular hours and meager wages strain family life, especially when 70% of Japanese women leave work after childbirth, relying on their husbands’ salaries.

In major cities like Tokyo, where the pace is relentless, women lament the scarcity of suitable partners. This is where Zwei Company, a Japanese matchmaking service, steps in.

Their unconventional solution? Offering women cooking and meal preparation lessons from other prefectures, such as Miyazaki in southern Japan.

The goal: broaden perspectives and connect women from urban centers with men in regions boasting stable jobs—a potential path to marital bliss.

These initiatives provide a lifeline for women, easing the stigma associated with men who grapple with economic uncertainty.

Kouta Takada, an employee at Zwei Company, explains, “Men in this city are not very masculine and they don’t want to get married.” A recent survey revealed that nearly 70% of men and 60% of women aged 18 to 34 have never dated.

Beyond matchmaking, organizations like the POSSE Foundation strive to address the crisis. Comprising university graduates, they seek to establish a youth labor union.

The harsh reality? Irregular jobholders in Japan earn an average of $1,800 per month. It Sounds decent, but after factoring in expenses such as rent, university fees, and insurance, little remains.

Only a quarter of university graduates secure lifelong stability, leaving the majority to grapple with temporary positions.

Makoto Iwahashi, a foundation member, reflects that in this unyielding economy, marriage, and family-building seem distant dreams for twenty-somethings.

As the number of temporary workers rises, so does the gap between aspiration and reality, leading to the reproduction crisis.