Increasing Signs of Stress

Dependence on the corporation often begins at home

In Japan, where Freud is of small importance and his Oedipus complex makes little sense, a Tokyo therapist once proposed a more applicable myth for his nation. Called the Ajase complex by the late psychoanalyst Heisaku Kosawa, it comes much closer to the heart of the child-mother relationship in Japan.

In ancient times, the

myth goes, the young

prince Ajase, feeling betrayed by his mother because of her sexual feelings toward his father, killed the older man. Ajase had planned to murder his mother as well but could not bring himself to do it. Ajase then broke out in suppurating sores so offensive that no one would help him. But his mother, despite her horror at her son's deed, cared for him, and he was so moved that they reconciled.

A similar cycle of love, hate and forgiveness arises from the extraordinary child-rearing practices of Japan: a deep and sustained dependence on Mother that paves the way for the adult's dependence on the familial group and the corporation that engulfs and sustains him. A Japanese child is pampered, brought up permissively and then tossed into a rigid and highly competitive school system. This sets off a yearning for the old dependency on Mother and a search for unity with others that Psychiatrist Takeo Doi of Tokyo considers a critical factor in the formation of Japanese adult character.

One early sign of this stress is school phobia, a major crisis involving fever, depression, even autism and suicide. It accounts for almost half of the mental illness among Japanese youngsters under 18 and takes an average of two years of drug therapy and counseling to cure.

Among adults, stress seems to be rising to Western levels. According to the government, one of every 25 wage earners is treated annually at a mental hospital or clinic for a tension-related malady, a rise of 70% in 25 years. The feeling among some Japanese health professionals is that the system does not allow people many ways to release their anger. Men are allowed a few surly comments under the cover of drunkenness, and women sometimes take to their beds to show displeasure, but most of the time people just swallow their rage.

The major emotional distress disorders in Japan are familiar enough: schizophrenia, depression, alcoholism. But the neuroses are often culture-bound, centered on the overwhelming sense of obligation and dependence. Shinkeishitsu (nervous temperament), for example, involves hypersensitivity, perfectionism, social withdrawal or total discomfort in unfamiliar surroundings.

To Americans, some of the treatments for these maladies may seem like anti-therapies or even brainwashing. Naikan (introspection) is a one-week program of directed meditation. It is a 30-year-old folk treatment invented by Ishin Yoshimoto, a layman with a background in Buddhism. A "guide" first discusses the devotion of the patient's mother. Then the process is repeated with the other important contributors to his life. The guide steers the patient away from abstract comments and complaints and focuses on his ingratitude toward the sacrifices of other persons. Many patients break down crying, and some want to commit suicide out of guilt and regret. The final message from the therapist is that the only escape from mental anguish is to plunge into acts of service. The naikan program is used in prisons, schools and offices. Some companies require everyone from the president to the newest hireling to go through it.

Another therapy called Morita also aims at erasing introspection and getting patients back to work. For a week patients are confined to bed, with no visitors, no TV and no reading matter. Forced to wallow in their own thoughts, they come to see that action is better than endless self-obsession. Patients then work outdoors for two weeks, going from light to heavy labor. They also attend indoctrination lectures. No talk about the self is allowed. The whole program is tinged with a sense of resignation: things are the way they are, and all we can do is get on with life and do the best we can. Morita practitioners claim a cure rate of 90%.

A therapist in Japan is a shepherd, prodding straying lambs back toward the flock. Mental health means to live with and for others. To some American observers, it may seem that methods of both child rearing and therapy push people in Japan toward a pathologically dependent role. But, of course, the freewheeling, individualistic American, with a disposable mate and two parents stashed away in Florida, may look a bit odd to the Japanese. This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.