Fear of Foreigners May Cost Japan Its Future

Sohei Kamiya, Sanseito party

Living in Tokyo, you can feel it in the air. Japan is running out of time. The signs are everywhere; empty countryside schools, the quiet disappearance of small family shops, companies desperate for workers, and yet, a stubborn hesitation to truly open up to the world.

Japan needs foreign workers. Everyone knows this. Politicians mention it, the media reports on it, and businesses quietly admit it. The population is shrinking, the birth rate is at historic lows, and the workforce is aging fast. In simple terms: there are not enough hands to keep the country running.

And yet, when foreign workers do come from Southeast Asia, South America, or elsewhere, what do they find? Often, they face suspicion, isolation, or quiet contempt. They’re brought here to work, but not to belong. They clean the hotels, care for the elderly, harvest the food, build the infrastructure, but they remain outsiders in a society that still struggles with the idea that “foreign” can also mean “part of us.”

This contradiction is Japan’s silent economic killer.

The Short-Term Fix That’s Becoming a Long-Term Problem

From a practical standpoint, foreign labor programs were supposed to be a lifeline, a way to fill urgent labor gaps. But instead of designing a system that builds long-term integration, Japan built one that treats foreigners as disposable.

Many workers are stuck in low-wage, dead-end jobs, unable to transition into meaningful careers. The message is clear: “We need your labor, not your presence.”

And word spreads fast. Across Asia, young workers are choosing Korea, Taiwan, or even European countries where, despite cultural hurdles, they feel they can grow and be respected. Japan, once seen as a dream destination, is slowly becoming a cautionary tale.

A Silly Kind of Fear

At the heart of this issue lies fear. Fear of losing cultural identity, fear of change, fear of others. But that fear, left unchecked, becomes economic self-sabotage.

Every major nation that has sustained its growth in the last fifty years - from the U.S. to Germany to Canada - has done so by learning to integrate diversity. Japan doesn’t need to copy their models, but it must find its own version of openness.

Because no amount of automation or robotics will replace what human diversity brings: new ideas, global connections, innovation born from different perspectives.

What Japan Must Do Now

If Japan wants to save its economy, it must first save its mindset. Build real integration pathways, not temporary labor programs. Foreign workers who learn the language, pay taxes, and raise families here deserve the right to stay and belong.

Reward skills and effort, not just seniority or nationality. A talented worker, whether Japanese or not, should have equal access to advancement.

Educate for coexistence. Schools and companies must start teaching not just technical skills, but cultural empathy; the ability to understand and live with difference.

Tell a new national story. Japan can remain uniquely Japanese while also being a home for others. Tradition and openness are not enemies; they’re the two legs any modern nation must walk on.

A Future Worth Choosing

The irony is heartbreaking. Japan, a country admired for its discipline, precision, and sense of beauty, is now being held back by something profoundly small: the inability to see outsiders as potential insiders.

If Japan finds the courage to open its heart as much as it opens its borders, it will not only save its economy, it will rediscover what it means to be a leader in the modern world.

Because in the end, nations don’t die from a lack of people. They die from a lack of vision. 

Thanks for reading. Abrazos.

Diego Rojas