Issue:
December 2025 | Japan Media Review
The government's crackdown on welfare is allowing too many people to slip though the safety net
In June, the Supreme Court ruled that government cuts to welfare benefits enacted between 2013 and 2015 were unlawful. The court had heard appeals on decisions made in two lower courts, one in Osaka, the other in Nagoya, regarding lawsuits against the government that were first filed about 10 years ago by welfare recipients affected by the cuts. There are still related decisions pending in about 30 other district courts throughout Japan, and various media have speculated that the Supreme Court ruling could affect the outcomes of these trials.
On November 7, the new prime minister, Sanae Takaichi, apologized for the cuts on behalf of the government as the welfare ministry announced a plan to "provide additional welfare benefit payments to plaintiffs and others", according to Jiji Press. Initially, the payments would "partially compensate for the cuts," but later the ministry said it would fully compensate plaintiffs while readjusting the compensation for all other welfare recipients whose benefits were reduced during the period in question.
The Mainichi Shimbun analyzed the Supreme Court decision in August, surmising that the cuts enacted after 2013 had been in line with the ruling Liberal Democratic Party's campaign platform announced in 2012, when it said it aimed to reduce benefits by 10%. Ostensibly, the 2013 cuts were made due to a decrease in the cost of living. The Supreme Court's reasons for finding the cuts unlawful were that the methodology used by the government to justify the reductions had been arbitrary and flawed, and that the ministry had not consulted with experts. One professor who specializes in public welfare told the Mainichi that the welfare ministry essentially used a calculus that reduced payments by about 10%, thus matching the LDP's 2012 pledge.
At the time, the LDP was courting voters who consider welfare recipients freeloaders. In an earlier Mainichi article that appeared on June 9, Oita University Professor Nobuo Shiga, who has written extensively about poverty, explained that during the general election campaign in 2012 the LDP exploited a public scandal surrounding the mother of a popular TV comedian who was getting welfare benefits she wasn't qualified to receive. The media pounced on the story to drive home the narrative that lower income people who may qualify for welfare but do not apply for it resent people on lower incomes who do receive benefits from the government. Shiga says this dynamic has intensified since the end of the bubble period because of changes in employment structure, with more people working non-regular full-time jobs that pay less and offer fewer benefits than regular full-time jobs. As a result, he says, "there are people whose standard of living is lower than that of people who are receiving benefits". Only about 30% of people who qualify for government assistance actually apply for it. Rather than attempt to correct this imbalance in any kind of meaningful way, the LDP took advantage of it in its quest to reduce government assistance across the board. It should be noted that the LDP lawmaker who spearheaded this policy was Satsuki Katayama, the new finance minister.
In principle, public assistance guarantees a "minimum standard of healthy and cultured living" for low income earners. Every five years, surveys are conducted and the consumption expenditures of low-income households – roughly the bottom 105 of income earners – is compared to that of the general population. Benefits are then calculated based on these findings, the idea being that benefits should raise the incomes of lower earning households to a level considered minimal for living. Currently, that level is about ¥130,000 a month, but the government also takes into consideration people who fall below that line but who do not receive benefits.
One of the reasons people do not apply for benefits even though they qualify is the conditions for approval. These conditions may, in fact, become more onerous despite the Supreme Court ruling. According to Reuters, Takaichi has advocated for a "stricter ability-to-pay principle" that could adversely affect single parents and low-income earners, many of whom are dependent on public assistance to make ends meet.
The rationale behind this principle was illustrated by the Asahi Shimbun in a recent series of articles about the use of automobiles by welfare recipients. In one, a single mother who lives in northeastern Japan applied for public assistance, since she couldn't raise her four children on the money she earned from her full-time job. The woman had divorced her husband early in 2024 because of his "reckless" attitude toward money, which made it difficult for her to plan for her family's future. (As is often the case with such stories, the Asahi failed to mention whether the ex-husband is legally expected to pay any kind of support.) She made the best of her situation for as long as she could and found her living expenses exceeded her pay, so "as a last resort" she went to city hall and applied for government assistance to make up the difference.
During the application process, she was asked if she had a car, and she said that she did since she needs it to shuttle her kids to daycare and to commute to her job. Her assistance was approved, but in the fall of 2024, she received a phone call from city hall telling her she would have to get rid of her car by the end of the year or forfeit her benefits. The welfare division had determined that her car was an "asset" so, according to the rules, she would have to sell it before she could receive benefits.
The daycare facility her children attend is a 15-minute walk from her house. Without the use of a car she has to walk three of her children to the facility while also carrying futons and changes of clothing for them. The commute to her workplace, where she returned last spring after maternity leave, takes 20 minutes by car. If she uses public transportation, it takes an hour and 20 minutes each way. She told the welfare officer that she needs her car to keep her full-time job. Without one, she would probably have to reduce her hours, meaning she would then have to apply for more benefits. With the car, her benefits can be reduced. Eventually, the woman hired a lawyer who argued her case with the pertinent officials, and last March the welfare division relented and allowed her to keep her car and her benefits.
After investigating the case, the Asahi found that many single mothers in Japan face a similar dilemma, and most simply give up on welfare and try to make do with what they've got. Permission to own a car varies depending on the location – welfare recipients in large cities with extensive public transportation do not need cars as much as recipients in the countryside or outlying suburbs. In addition, people with disabilities who can drive often receive dispensation from local welfare authorities.
Behind the restriction of automobile ownership for welfare recipients lies the concept of the moral hazard, which holds that when a higher power allows the individuals under its authority some freedom of choice, there is the danger that the individuals will use that freedom to do things that contradict the authority's purposes. In this case, allowing welfare recipients to have a car might mean that the recipient uses the car for activities the authorities deem unnecessary or frivolous, like going to the store to buy beer.
The amount of assistance a recipient receives is determined by the difference between the recipient's income and the amount calculated to guarantee a life of minimum comfort, so if someone is making only ¥100,000 a month without other income and the calculation for their particular area is considered to be ¥130,000, then the person will receive ¥30,000 in assistance. Further adjustments are made for number of dependents and disabilities. Also, welfare recipients receive free healthcare and other supplemental assistance according to their needs, such as a housing allowance (though often recipients are asked to find cheaper rentals than the one they're currently occupying) and subsidies for heating. As for dependents, minors are only included until they graduate from high school, although they can receive a one-time subsidy if they go on to a college or university.
Welfare officials assess an applicant's eligibility by looking at their assets. If there is a substantial savings account or property/assets that can be liquidated, then the application will be rejected. Automobiles are considered assets, but over time some items once considered assets have moved over into the "necessity" column. The ministry designates "an item needed for living" after surveying the population of a given region. If at least 70% of the population possesses the item, it is deemed a necessity "unless it is otherwise designated as an asset". Refrigerators, TVs, and air conditioners were once considered assets. More than 20 years ago, having an air conditioner would disqualify someone from receiving assistance, but now, especially with more old people dying of heat stroke at home due to global warming, air conditioners are considered necessary for survival.
In fact, it is the elderly who pose the biggest challenge to the government's aim of shrinking the safety net. As of July, about 2 million people in Japan received government assistance. More than half of these people are over 65, and the portion is growing. As already mentioned, a person must liquidate all their assets before receiving welfare. Then if there are "family members" who can support them, the person in question must solicit their help. Only if the person has exhausted both these options can they apply for assistance.
In the case of seniors, the local welfare office will take into consideration the amount of national pension they receive. Normally, people who have paid into the kosei nenkin pension system for regular salaried workers their entire working life will have enough money to live off of, but for those who have only paid into the basic kokumin nenkin pension system - students, the self-employed, and non-regular workers including part-timers – the maximum benefits one can receive upon retirement is about ¥69,000 a month, which is not enough to live off. And it should be noted that most people receive much lower amounts owing to how much they contributed. So if a person receiving kokumin nenkin pension benefits does not have substantial savings, or supplemental income from a portfolio or annuity, or a job, then they would likely need to apply for public assistance.
This situation will become more prevalent as Japanese people who entered the work force after the bubble period of the late 1980s start to retire, because the government effectively restructured employment rules to allow companies to use more part-time, non-regular workers whose earnings did not keep up with cost-of-living increases. Moreover, there has been a steady increase over the years in the number of single-person elderly households.
Another issue is the pension for wives of breadwinners who pay into the kosei nenkin system. These women are automatically enrolled in the pension system but do not have to pay as long as they are dependents for tax purposes and don't earn income above a certain amount, at which point they would have to pay into the system. This exception was implemented in the 1980s, when full-time homemakers were still the norm and families could live off the income of one earner. That reality disappeared after the bubble and now many homemakers have to earn money in order to supplement household income, but since they have to limit their income in order to qualify for the social security exemption it's often a problem for employers who want them to work more. The fact that these women don't pay premiums but receive benefits in the long run puts a strain on the pension system, so the government would like to abolish the exemption, but politically it's difficult.
Foreign residents are also being targeted. The portion of foreigners who pay into the pension system is 49.7%, even though payment is mandatory for everyone between the ages of 20 and 59 who lives in Japan. The main reason for non-payment is the cost. At present, the monthly contribution to the basic pension system is ¥17,510, regardless of income. People who cannot afford to pay for various reasons can apply for either an exemption or a deferral. Exemptions are usually granted only to people with disabilities and those who are already approved to receive public assistance. Deferrals that allow payments to be made at a later date are granted to people deemed temporarily unemployed or students with no income. The deferral system was originally implemented to help people who graduated from university during the 1990s "ice age", when recruitments were down and many had to take lower paying jobs with no prospect for advancement.
The media have been covering this tension between the pension system and government assistance through much of the year. A recent article in the weekly magazine Shukan Shincho illustrated the situation by visiting a free meal service run by a non-profit group in a park in Ikebukuro, Tokyo. Originally, the group only served the homeless, but in recent years there has been a marked increase in pensioners. The leader of the group told Shincho says that about 70% of the people who show up for the free meals actually have places to live, but that they struggle to come up with rent every month due to "unstable income," and a good portion are seniors living on fixed incomes. "We usually advise them to apply for welfare," he added. According to Shincho's research, about 60% elderly people who are eligible for welfare have not applied.
As the Shincho article points out, the Japanese welfare system was originally devised as a stopgap remedy for temporary unemployment, and was never intended to help seniors get through their twilight years. That was the job of the national pension system.
One 68-year-old man who was on line for food told Shincho that he's been coming to these kinds of free meal services for eight years and that over time he's observed fewer homeless people in attendance and more people like him. He used to work as a security guard but had to quit after he was injured. His pension benefits are only ¥50,000 a month, so he applied for and receives ¥80,000 a month in government assistance. Though his rent is only ¥20,000 a month, heating and other necessities, including rice, have gone up considerably since the end of the pandemic, so he always checks the bulletin boards for free food services. "I never eat out or buy food from a convenience store," he said.
Another man, who is 65 years old, receives the reverse safety net combination: ¥80,000 in pension benefits and ¥50,000 in welfare payments. He's a college graduate who taught at a private cram school but grew sick of the job in his late 40s and quit. "It was a bad decision," he says, since he could only find temp jobs afterwards. As a result, his savings slowly dwindled and he had nothing to fall back on except his pension. "I myself used to think that welfare recipients were parasites," he says. "Now I'm on the other side and I don't feel comfortable.”
This feeling of resentment toward welfare recipients is exacerbated by the media, including Shincho, which points out that half the budget for government assistance goes to paying for the free medical care that welfare recipients are entitled to. Shincho says that welfare recipients abuse the program by consulting doctors for even the slightest infirmity – the very definition of a moral hazard, according to one expert – placing unnecessary strain on an already stretched national healthcare system. One professor who has made a study of the relationship between pensions and welfare told Shincho: "If the social welfare system doesn't seem to be fair then people will wonder if they should work at all and pay taxes, because the more they work, the more the government takes. In some cases, their living situation may be worse than that of someone on welfare, and so they lose the desire to work."
Philip Brasor is a Tokyo-based writer who covers entertainment, the Japanese media, and money issues. He writes the Japan Media Watch column for the Number 1 Shimbun.
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