Driven by both internal turmoil and external peer pressure, thousands of Japanese people make the decision to disappear every year. Making money off their disappearances, the dubious ‘Johatsu’ business causes significant repercussions on families and communities.
In the quiet corners of Japan’s bustling cities, a strange phenomenon is taking place—people deliberately vanishing without a trace, leaving behind their lives, families, and identities. This practice, which is called Jōhatsu, or “evaporation,” is when people decide to fade away from society in order to get away from extreme pressures and internal conflicts.
While it seems like something out of a suspenseful movie, jōhatsu is a harsh reality in Japan, where an estimated 100,000 people disappear annually.
In her book, The Vanished: The ‘Evaporated People‘ of Japan in Stories and Photographs, French journalist Léna Mauger explores the stories of people who evaporated due to family conflicts, sexual identity struggles, or the extreme demands of Japan’s grueling work culture, karōshi (death by overwork).
What are the motivations for Johatsu?
There are several reasons why people choose to disappear, such as addiction, sexual impropriety, sadness, and a need for seclusion. There are instances when people utilize it to get away from abusive relationships, debt from gambling, employers, stalkers, and challenging family circumstances.
One’s own humiliation over a failed exam, a divorce, or losing their job can sometimes spur someone to flee.
In some cases, people choose Johastu as a means to start fresh. People give up their previous homes, occupations, families, identities, and even outward looks when they vanish.
The Johatsu Industry
Wherever there is demand, a market eventually appears. The jōhatsu phenomenon has given rise to a covert but growing sector in Japan, which specializes in assisting people disappear. This industry, known as yonige-ya, or “fly-by-night shops,” provides a range of services to make disappearance seamless and untraceable.
These businesses offer services ranging from ¥50,000 to ¥300,000 ($450 to $2,600), including transferring personal goods and acquiring new IDs for clients.
The cost varies depending on the intricacy of the operation—factors including the number of assets, the distance to be covered, and whether the client is fleeing debt collectors all play a role in determining the cost.
These businesses operate secretly, with cryptic websites catering to those wanting to flee their current situations.
Some people choose to do it alone, following step-by-step instructions on how to disappear without a trace. The success of these operations is frequently facilitated by Japan’s severe privacy regulations, which make it difficult to get personal information or locate missing persons.
Families may pay detective services to find their loved ones, but many jōhatsu remain untraceable. Law enforcement often does not interfere unless there is a crime involved, leaving families with little options.
Johatsu communities
After fleeing, jōhatsu generally seek refuge in urban places where they can blend in and avoid detection. Japan’s cities have numerous such havens, with communities that give anonymity and the opportunity to start again.
San’ya, a former skid row in Tokyo, is one such location, once known for housing day laborers but now a haven for individuals who have decided to vanish.
Another area, Kamagasaki in Osaka, provides a similar environment in which people can live without identity and obtain cash-in-hand labor.
These communities, however, carry their own risks. Many are yakuza strongholds, with organized crime gangs providing protection and work for individuals on the run.
The jōhatsu who seek sanctuary in these locations face a hazardous existence of secret and continual fear of discovery.
In a society where privacy is highly valued, these underground societies allow the jōhatsu to live in relative anonymity, free from societal expectations that once enslaved them.
Personal accounts of Johatsu
Jōhatsu practitioners have varied tales and motivations for disappearing. Léna Mauger’s book includes a particularly moving story about Norihiro, an engineer who was too ashamed to notify his family about losing his job. For weeks, he kept up the appearance of living a normal life, leaving the house every morning as if he were going to work. In actuality, he spent his days sitting in his car, refusing to confront the truth. The weight of his lie eventually became too much for him, and he fled to San’ya, seeking anonymity.
In a second case, an architect felt compelled to vanish since he had mistakenly dishonored a cook by failing to complete his dinner. In the context of Japan’s rigorous social conventions, this seemingly trivial incident was terrible to him.
The architect decided to disappear out of fear of the consequences. This reflects how even a seemingly insignificant mistake may have far-reaching effects in a society that expects perfection.
Cultural aspects
The dark side of Japan’s work culture and the inadequate support networks for individuals facing personal difficulties are reflected in the frequency of jōhatsu.
For people who are unable to live up to the demands set on them, disappearance can feel like the only practical alternative in a world where quitting a job is frowned upon and failure is viewed with severe criticism.
The jōhatsu industry and the communities that house these disappeared people highlight how much mental health and social support Japan needs to improve.
The increasing prevalence of jōhatsu prompts critical inquiries into the societal frameworks that facilitate this occurrence and highlights the pressing need for more extensive support networks to avert such extreme measures.
