Social stratification in Japan for women

The question about the origins for extensive luxury consumption in Japan lead us to the basic questions about social stratification. We want to be upwardly mobile in society, we want to perceive the world around us as being open for everybody to climb the success ladder, should he or she just try hard enough. Things have to be fair in Japan, entrance examinations that guard the gates of "higher eduaction" are delivered in a tank to the most prestigious institution of them all, Toudai. I will not elaborate on that issue, as reality, like most of the time, is much more complex than this. The fact is that a handful of the most prestigious institutions (considering their reputation) are the entrance into the world of succes in Japan. Taking recent data from the magazine "President", the department of business administration at Keio University (商学部) produces by average the most CEOs and board members. As always, these stats should be enjoyed with utmost care. People now in their 40s and 50s, holding those prestigious jobs had been in university 20-30 years ago, in the 70s and 80s. Drawing a connection to the effect of those channels is possible, if only indrectly, by expecting a self-fullfilling prophecy (yes, Merton). In Japan this might not be so far from the truth.

If we take the following assumptions, 1) social gratification in Japan is heavily influenced by your academic credentials, 2) the glass ceiling in upper management for women really exists, then we come to the conclusion that upward mobility in such a society is for most women limited to one option: marriage, meaning getting the "right" husband, who is part of the new rich or has the potential to become one. As economic constraints of the last 15 years have led to higher income inequality, the fight for the smaller group of men who are able to provide a woman with a comfortable lifestyle, has become more severe. It is no longer the question of belonging to the middle-class with steadily increasing wages in life-long employment, it has become a struggle to not belong to the lower middle-class, or worse.

Taking this, the question is what do women do to be included in the race and to increase their chances. Magazines like CanCam who teach "mote" or the art of getting the right guy, and how to behave in standard situations of the dating ritual, promote pre-market tested styles that are able to guarantee high chances for opposite sex approval. This magazine can be taken seriously, being one of many of its kind, with over 500,000 monthly copies (including the sister magazine AneCan) being printed, probably not only read by one person, with word of mouth and people browsing contents within convenience stores adding to its effect. Let us not see it as a simple lifestyle magazine and shopping catalogue, but as a guide for social gratification.

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CanCam has suffered heavily though, in the last few years. Within 3 years the volume has decreased by over 50%, leaving the question open whether girls these days believe that CanCam can really help them to find Mr. Right. It seems as if the CanCam days are over. The basic logic remains, though. It needs to be answered how Japanese girls are dealing with it now.
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Cutting this argument short, let us take a look at what happens to a 22 year old girl in Tokyo when she enters the job market in an average clerical position, in a medium-prestigious company in the more central part of town. Not counting bonuses, her average salary in the first year will be around 170,000 - 220,000 Yen, if she is lucky. If she wants to live alone, an appartment in a not completely bad part of town (commuting below 1 hour one-way), including footwork, will cost (not counting key money and real estate agent fee) around 70,000 Yen, minimum, meaning a 1DK, 25 square meter charming home on the 6th floor somewhere near Kichijouji or Jiyuugaoka. She buys the fridge, the furniture, and is left (after heavy parental support), with less than 100.000 Yen a month, after her mobile phone bill and some other bills and health insurance are paid. This leaves her with, per day, around 3000 Yen, which is about 23 Euros. No going out, no shopping. Just plain living. If she is not on the career track, her perspectives are limited. If she is, her time will be even more so.

Now lets make this scenario a little bit nicer for the girl. She will stay with her parents who understand that in order to get the right marriage-material, she needs some backup. Suddenly, she has 100,000 Yen per month more to spend. The food is provided by her caring mom who can use the relationship to get over the separation anxiety. Assuming that this situation can't continue forever, the chances to get out of this deadlock in which no independent living is possible and salary increases are incremental (also on the long run if not on the career track), are increased by presenting yourself in the best light to adapt to social expectations posed on the female sex in respect to their appearance, accessories and manner of behaving.

My intention here is, of course, to sound cynical. How can a society function in which the first-year salary of most if not all jobs after university is basically never enough to lead an independent life that still grants enough time to find a partner.

Many women who decide to go on the career track face an interesting situation. Their salary in the beginning is somewhat higher, the bonuses more attractive. They will find out that what is lacking is time. And by living alone (if they do), their disposible income is very low, even after 2-3 years. The magical 30 years of age, which in Japan is referred to as the border to becoming a "make-inu" or loser-dog if not married by that age, is drawing closer and for most women promotion to high paying jobs is still a rarity. The strange outcome is now that women living with their parents, becoming so-called parasite singles, have more disposable income and more time for the dating ritual, including clothes and accessories, than their successful career-women counterparts.

The changing meaning of luxury in Japan

The middle-class consciousness that Japan was so famous for is being questioned. In the midst of this hype further confusion is caused by a perceived breakdown of traditional values such as the lifelong employment and the seniority based wage system. These changes are more than a trend or fashion. They are part of the social and demographic changes in Japan and the rest of the world, connected to such phenomena as the information age, the retirement waves of the baby boomer generation, the rising affluence among consumers, and the disappearance of clear segmentations. All these factors have led to a much more diversified surrounding for marketing products, and transformed the consumer with modest influence into a sophisticated and discerning consumer with substantial buying power (Silverstein and Fiske 2005: 9).
The term kakusashakai 格差社会, meaning a society with an income gap, has become a buzz word with political relevance. In the “lost decade” of the 90s, after the bursting of the asset price bubble, increasing social inequalities began to surface, betraying the international image of Japan as a country of equality and a population where 90% are seeing themselves belonging to the middle-class. A change in the demographic structure of an aging society with a declining birthrate can lead to a consciousness of perceived inequality (If we take a closer look at the development of the Gini coefficient, we can see that about 90% of the change in the last 10 years can be attributed to factors other than an actual change in income, namely the impact of changes in household membership and the aging population of Japan. For contemporary discussions on this topic see Tachibanaki 2005; Sugimoto 2003; Nihonsôgôkenkyûsho 2006; Hayashi 2005, and also Hashimoto 2006. The image that 90% of the Japanese used to view themselves as belonging to the middle class is analyzed critically by Sugimoto 2003: 35-46). Although the economy might have regained momentum and salaries are about to rise, this is not true for most of the part-time workers, leading to a strong polarization of living standards (Nikkei Konwakai 2005).
The transition from the bubble economy to the long economic slump, and now back to an economy of regained strength, left an enormous impact on the mind set of Japanese people (McCreery 2000: 29). The terms kachigumi (winners) and makegumi (losers) have appeared in the media and illustrate how Japanese see the effects of the “lost decade” on their society. In reality, the word kachigumi refers to at the most 1% of the Japanese population, but since these people are featured frequently on TV and in magazines, they appear to be a much larger group. Furthermore, the media portrays kachigumi-lifestyle as accessible to everyone, which has led to a perceived change in lifestyle role-models. Being a salaryman in a prestigious corporation has lost part of its appeal (Hui 2006: 42). After being disillusioned by the economical recession, continuing social turmoil have led to a desire for stability in Japan, where companies used to be the provider of social security. With additional impact arriving in recent years from global competition, and the anticipation of a time when performance is rewarded and not being persistent in adapting to predifined patterns of social selection, taking their lives into their own hands is becoming the new trend among consumers. Hakuhodo (2006b) sees people having developed a “creative sensibility” during the years of the “lost decade”, a kind of adaptive skill for consolidating and rebuilding their lives, giving way to the pursuit of distinctive lifestyles. Consumption in Japan has become more symbolic and meaningful, in contrast to the mass consumption, mass production times of the 1980s. Its is now a way to construct a personal identity.