Saturday, September 19, 2026
Suvendrini Kakuchi
- Six years ago, 30-year-old Toru Fukushima, made a major career change. He quit his secure job at a major alcohol-producing company and joined the uncertain world of freelance work.
“It was a difficult decision,” says the former salesman who joined the prestigious firm when he had just turned 21 after graduating from one of Japan’s top universities. “I knew I was turning my back on what most people considered a stable future.”
Today, Fukushima does not draw a regular salary, nor can he count on the perks that are part and parcel of being a young and upcoming executive. Most of his diminished earnings come from private tutoring.
Yet, he has not regrets. He says, his own sanity was at stake.
“I was mentally and physically exhausted at the end of each day. In addition, the atmosphere in the company was claustrophobic,” he explained.
Fukushima’s experience is typical of Japan’s famed “salaryman”, say union leaders.
“The salaryman’s life is miserable,” explains Kyostubu Shitara, spokesman for Japan Executives Union, a recently established organisation that deals with problems faced by mid- career company employees. “They are overworked and underpaid and the government just turns a blind eye to the situation.”
Of course ‘underpaid’ is a relative term. In big firms, a university graduate can expect a starting salary, including perks, of about 2,500 dollars a month.
However, they can pay a high price health-wise and on the family front, say analysts and other ex-company employees.
The pressure is particularly acute on new employees who are expected to prove their loyalty and commitment to the company by making several personal sacrifices.
“Bosses expected you to become part of the company not so much by producing great results but by becoming like everybody else,” he said.
As one of the new recruits, Fukushima was also expected to arrive ahead of and leave work after his seniors. Sometimes that meant putting in 90-hour work weeks.
In addition he had to be careful not to express his opinions at important meetings which would be considered “rude” — something that is absolutely taboo in Japan’s conservative corporate world.
It was not long before Fukushima gave up trying to be the model recruit, and it was then, he says, that his bosses really started making life difficult for him.
“But my boss never told me directly why he did not approve of me which was the hardest blow of all. He just made the atmosphere unbearable like ignoring me at meetings,” he said.
Labour analysts say that had Fukushima stayed on at his company he would probably still have climbed the seniority ladder. “But the climb is long and hard,” points out Shitara. “For most people it is a difficult sacrifice which has been carefully hidden under the myth of security.”
The “myth” of job security was under at the turn of the decade when an economic recession from which Japan is now only recovering, saw big companies shed thousands of jobs.
“It is a myth that Japanese workers are treated better than their Western counterparts,” says 50-year-old Akio Misuda, who has worked for both large and medium-sized enterprises. “We are expected to give our body and soul for the company and I doubt Western employees are willing to do that.
“I could not be myself because I had to restrict my opinions. I also had to sacrifice my family life and hobbies to keep up my job. This is very unfair,” he explained.
Shitara says one measure of how “typical” Fukushima is among white collar employees is how busy the telephone lines have been since his union started a “job bullying helpline”.
“We first offered the support system for four days during which we had close to 100 calls from mid-career workers who complained of being mistreated by their company. Some of them were even suicidal because they had no one to turn to.”
Misuda himself says that the pressure of long hours and stress drove him to drink “heavily” and this in turn resulted in “abusive” behaviour at home. “My wife and family suffered.”
But the workers and their families are fighting back.
In recent years, several widows have won huge settlements in and outside of the law courts in which Japanese companies were blamed for working their husbands to death.
The labour ministry has since established a special office unit specifically to deal with claims related to “karoshi” — the Japanese term for death due to overwork.
Labour unions have also hailed a decision taken in January this year by the government, that recognises irregular heartbeats as a sign of overwork.
The adverse publicity has forced big companies to show themselves to be responsible employers by hiring on-the-spot staff counsellors.
But the smaller companies have been slow to follow that lead and union officials say the pressure can often be equally as great in small and medium-sized businesses that employ more than 50 per cent of the work force.
“The changes we see are at the big companies which can afford to improve conditions. But what about the vast majority?,” asks Shitara.