Every year in Japan 100,000 people voluntarily go missing. 100,000 lives, 100,000 faces, for 100,000 different reasons vanish. These are the Johatsu. They are a seemingly unknown subsect of the Japanese population, their cases often going unreported, undocumented, and unsolved. After disappearing some choose to start a new life, some choose to end their life, but regardless those 100,000 are more often than not, gone for good.
Johatsu, meaning “Evaporated”, stems from 17th century Japanese folk lore in which the springs of Mount Fuji had restorative powers washing away or “evaporating” the sins and pasts of all who bathed in the waters; thus allowing one to be reborn into a new life. Originally a spiritual cleansing ritual this has now taken on a darker purpose as the increased popularity of voluntary disappearance has driven many of the mentally and emotionally afflicted to the springs in hopes of finding peace before they begin their new life or commit suicide.
Disappearances have been high in Japan since the 1960s, averaging close to 100,000 every year. You may be asking, “Why?” It’s not that complicated of an answer. Japan makes it easy. Geographically, legally and socially easy. Despite being small, the islands (6,852 islands of which approximately 430 are inhabited) are home to many places no one is bound to look; Sanya a broken city home to vagabonds, day-laborers, and homeless. The Akihabara District where one can give their life away and fall into flashing lights, loud pop-music, and seemingly twisted perversions. The densely populated city of Tokyo filled with back-alley bars and clubs commonly hosting members of the Japanese criminal organization, The Yakuza. Kamagasaki, Osaka, is the slums of the anonymous.
For those looking for an end rather than a new beginning, the Tojinbo Cliffs, a sheer drop-off into jagged rocks or the Aokigahara forest, both noted for their mass number of suicides, are visited. Also, it is not uncommon for Johatsu to leap before a passing train or subway. Suicides in Japan peaked in 2009 at 32,845, but have been decreasing with a current total in 2017 of 21,321. (https://www.statista.com/statistics/622065/japan-suicide-number/)
In Japan, much like everywhere else, disappearing isn’t a crime. If there`s no evidence of foul-play or criminal activity there`s no investigation, people are allowed to do as they wish; and the law allows it to be done with ease. Strict-privacy laws keep families from accessing personal financial records of missing relatives, making it harder to track them down or even check if their alive, while poorly enforced employment documentation allows the evaporated to work from labor camp to labor camp without anyone knowing they were ever truly there. The ease of disappearance promotes the practice of it, letting people leave behind their lives for issues most people would seek therapy or legal remedies for. Addiction issues, gambling, alcoholism are prevalent. Depression, rejection, or relationship problems often leave a supposed widow or incomplete family. And crimes such as fleeing debt, embezzlement, murder and their ramification such as visits from the Yakuza or prison time, do make the list. Though the solution to this issue does not fully lie in revision to privacy or labor law, but rather Japan’s culture and its societal perceptions of mental health.
So, I recently spoke with Takuya Tsunoda, a Japanese immigrant and professor of film at Columbia university, to better understand the culture that causes the Johatsu Epidemic. Tsunoda spoke of his youth in Japan, mentioning “Accident involving Human Body” a term frequently used to explain weekly delays at Japanese Train stations. Suicide by jumping off platform into oncoming trains was and is incredibly common in Japan, for decades, so much so, that the nation has become “desensitized”, Tsunoda says, often “checking their watches to see if they’ll still get to their destination on time rather than caring about the person, who lived in the same city as them, feeling the need to jump in front of a train”.
This Apathy towards suicide is why Japan boasts a 60% higher suicide rate than that of other countries, this drastic difference is also in part offset by the rigidity of Japanese Society. In Japan societal value is placed on the idea of “Fulfilling one’s role”, this is done by having an “honorable” job, typically an upper-level position in an office, near reverential respect from contemporaries, a healthy marriage and family, and financial stability. But in a country plagued by consistent economic crises, one of the higher poverty rates for a developed country, a third of marriages ending in divorce, and the acts of one relative being known to bring about shame to an entire family it is hard to find anyone person without emotional, mental, or familial handicaps. But, as Japan has failed to take a more realistic, empathetic approach to “fulfilling one’s role” when one finds themselves incapable of having what society deems a necessity, it’s as if guilt and shame were a knife stabbing them in the chest, prompting many to be driven to suicide or, of course, disappearance.
Not only does this unforgiving societal ideal cause disappearances, it also keeps them from being solved. When a relative disappears, seemingly voluntarily, the shame a family feels is immense and their desire to “save face” often comes before their parent, child, or spouse. Family members are often keen to act as if it never happened or fully renounce their missing relative, often proclaiming themselves as the victim, rather than the one who is most likely mentally ill. The clearest depiction of this can be seen in the 1967 film “A Man Vanishes”, a pseudo-fiction documentary, released the same year Japan had 91,000 disappearances feature, which Tsunoda remarked as “highly reminiscent” of Japanese society.
In the film, Tadashi Oshima, initially the main character, chooses to disappear for reasons similar to those who continue to disappear today. He has the same sense of guilt for failing to “Fulfill his role”, he’s embezzled money from his company while addiction problems, alcoholism, and poor financial management control his life. Upon hearing of his disappearance, Tadashi`s family, friends, and boss all react the same by holding a great sense of contempt towards him. They ridicule Tadashi for being “passive” or “timid” or “not smart enough”. They essentially shame Tadashi for being ashamed. It`s also mentioned those who want him found are too embarrassed to speak up and that a family`s “pride” or desire to “save face” comes before finding their son. And in comparison to a recently published non-fiction book “The Vanished”, documenting the lives and effects of “Evaporation”, 50 years later the film is truly as close as it gets to the real thing.
So, how does one prompt a whole country to change its ideas, perceptions, and culture after 50 years of remaining silent and ashamed?
The answer is in awareness, awareness of depression, stigmatisms, relationships, your friends, your family, focusing less on one self and more on the others around you. The Japanese government has already implemented this idea into the country in several ways, most effectively with increased access to drugs like anti-depressants, prevention technology in suicide hotspots such as gates infront of rail lines and mentally “calming” blue lights in rail way stations to deter suicide attempts, and the country’s “Gatekeepers of Life” program in which trained professionals identify and approach people with apparent suicidal tendencies in social settings in efforts to encourage them to seek counseling. So, it wouldn’t be fair to say Japan wasn’t doing anything in regards to their country’s mental health issues, but based on the fact that just last year youth suicide hit a 30 year peak in Japan, it is completely fair to say they aren’t doing enough, But where the government falters there are people taking up the charge. Take for example Yukio Shige, a retiree cop, who has spent years of his life patrolling the Tojinbo cliffs preventing suicide attempts, and Azusa Hayano a geologist who monitors the Aokigahara forest speaking with those who have lost their way in hopes of preventing their suicide or disappareance.
And you may be asking in the grand scheme of things what do 2 people do? They spark conversation, as documentaries are made and articles written about their efforts they create a forum for open and honest discussion, and like a chain reaction they give a little bit of hope to the whoever may be in need. I understand this idea can be seem artificial or overly optimistic to some, but the way I view it is; if one death can start a war, saving one life can help end it.
But Japan with continuing problems and new ones arising Japan still has much more to do before this issue is truly put to rest