From We to Me
With its in-your-face style and endless thirst for thrills, Japan's new generation wants to transform the nation
By TIM LARIMER Tokyo
The pulsating beat and flashing neon lure university student Mirai Honda into a videogame palace in Tokyo's Shibuya, the glitzy entertainment hub where Japan's youth culture comes alive at night. He plops two 100-yen coins (about $0.85 each) into a slot, taps his game choice on a video display and waits for the music to begin. Standing on a small platform in front of the screen, the 19-year-old tries to match the moves of a digitized dancer. "Perfect!" the screen's message announces as Honda furiously stamps on four large neon squares. "Great!" it assures him.
Dance Dance Revolution, the full-body, rap-enhanced interactive game, speaks volumes about the generation that will lead Japan in the 21st century. Talk about escapism: Honda--his first name, Mirai, means "future"--doesn't bother with clubs and discos; he prefers dancing with a machine. "I love the competition; you don't get that in regular clubs," he says, wiping perspiration off his brow with his shirtsleeve.
Japan's youth are out for thrills, stepping clear of the buttoned-down, uniformed life of their parents and onto society's dance floor. They are crafting their own style, an unfocused commitment to doing things differently with in-your-face manners that are shocking a country that reveres politeness. They dye their hair shades of brown, red, yellow, blue and purple. They tan their skin until their complexions resemble those of California lifeguards. They jabber noisily on phones in public. They are rude. They cause trouble; a juvenile crime wave is spreading across Japan. Teenage girls from middle-class families prostitute themselves for middle-aged men. Schools once famous for rigidity and discipline have turned into chaotic places where students even physically assault teachers.
Advocating disharmony in a land that venerates harmony, this generation is talking revolution. "I want to change Japan," says the young mayor of a bedroom suburb of Tokyo. "I want to change Japan," says a 29-year-old entrepreneur. "I want to change Japan," says a 24-year-old student who was the victim of bullying in high school. They all want to overhaul a government that seems out of touch with the people, to reform a business climate that rewards longevity instead of performance and to change an education philosophy that values conformity over creativity.
It's quite an agenda they have set for themselves. But can this passionate generation unite to transform Japan? Is this truly a revolt of individualism that can shake the country to its core? And will affluent kids who depend on their parents for everything really give it all up to foment change? The young man working up a sweat at the video arcade might look to his parents like something from the future. But is he really such an anarchist? Listen to him talk about his obsession. "I like it because the machine gives you the pattern to follow," says Honda. This is dancing, all right, but with all the rhythm of a drill sergeant. There's no soul, no romance, yet Honda is just the first in a long line of beaus on this machine's dance card.
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Windsurfing mayor Nagashima leads a Tokyo suburb. Tom Wagner--Saba for TIME
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Young Japan Home
The Me Generation:
The country's privileged youth are struggling to define what they want. Their efforts--both frivolous and fundamental--are already beginning to transform the culture
Day in the Life:
What a 17-year-old girl does--and buys
Culture Club:
Tokyo has taken over as the source of what's hip and happening for the rest of East Asia
Sound Factory:
An Okinawa school turns out stars
Talk Talk:
What teens are chatting about online
Not Playing Ball:
A fresh generation is starting to shake up the hidebound world of Japanese baseball
Outside the Box:
Breaking the education straitjacket
Viewpoint:
Actress Youki Kudoh says respect the old ways
Viewpoint:
Parents should examine their own ethics
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