What Does Gen Z Want That's Actually Still Japanese? Redefining Work, Loyalty, and Belonging in Modern Japan By: Zakari Watto

 

What Does Gen Z Want That's Actually Still Japanese? Redefining Work, Loyalty, and Belonging in Modern Japan

By: Zakari Watto 

Discover how Japan's Gen Z workers are redefining loyalty and workplace culture while staying true to Japanese values. Expert insights on generational shifts, business adaptation, and cross-cultural leadership.

Location: Aomori, Japan

Diverse group of Gen Z Japanese workers collaborating together in modern office, representing generational workplace culture and team collaboration

Introduction by Zakari Watto

When Westerners ask me about Japanese Gen Z workers, they usually start the same way: "Are young Japanese people rejecting your traditional culture? Are they becoming like us?"

The question itself tells me something important. It assumes that change means abandonment. That if young Japanese want flexibility or direct feedback, they must be rejecting Japanese values entirely. After fifteen years working across these cultures, I've learned this is not true at all.

What's actually happening is more interesting and, honestly, more Japanese than people realize.

Gen Z in Japan isn't saying "your values are wrong." They're saying "your values are still right, but the world has changed, and we need to figure out what these values mean now." That's not rebellion. That's adaptation. That's actually very Japanese—we've always been good at taking something valuable and making it work in a new context.

I want to explain what I see, because I think many Western managers working in Japan, or hiring Japanese talent, are misunderstanding this moment. You think Gen Z is becoming Western. What's really happening is they're being very Japanese about changing circumstances.

Let me show you what I mean.

The Wrong Conversation We Keep Having

In Tokyo, Osaka, and now everywhere, I hear the same conversation from both Western and Japanese leaders. They say Gen Z is "breaking" tradition. That younger workers don't respect hierarchy. That they want to be like Americans—flexible, individual, mobile.

I understand why this narrative exists. When you see a young Japanese person saying "I don't want to go to nomikai every night" or "I want to change companies to learn new skills," it looks like rejection. It looks Western.

But listen more carefully, and you hear something different.

A young person saying they need to leave at 6 p.m. to care for a family member isn't rejecting loyalty. They're saying loyalty should work both ways. They're asking: if I contribute excellent work, does it have to come with the requirement to sacrifice my family time?

A young person asking for clear feedback isn't asking you to be American. They're saying: help me understand how I'm doing so I can improve. That's the spirit of kaizen—continuous improvement—which is about as Japanese as it gets. They just want the feedback to be explicit rather than hidden in context and hierarchy.

A young person wanting to develop specific skills rather than just accumulating years at one company isn't rejecting Japan. They grew up watching economic instability. They're being practical. They want to own their own mastery the way a craftsman owns their craft. That's very Japanese. Very takumi.

So when Westerners ask me if Gen Z is becoming like America, I say: no. They're staying Japanese. They're just asking their companies to be more honest about what that means.

What I Actually See When I Talk to Gen Z

I spend a lot of time talking to young Japanese workers. Not in surveys. Just conversations. Coffee, sometimes dinner. Listening.

Here's what strikes me most: they care deeply about the same things their parents cared about. Excellence. Being useful. Belonging to something bigger than themselves. Contributing to their team. These are not Western values. These are Japanese values. Gen Z has not abandoned them.

What's different is the context where they're trying to live these values.

They want to contribute in a way where their contribution is visible. In the old system, you proved yourself over decades through presence and deference. You became the person everyone trusted because you were always there, always respectful, always loyal. That took time, and that was okay because you had time—your company promised you forty years. Now? A young person might have five years at a company before it restructures or they need to move. So they're asking: can I prove myself faster? Can my work speak for itself? Can I show excellence in a shorter timeframe? This isn't Western. This is practical. This is someone trying to build a reputation in a world that moves faster than their parents' world did.

They want clarity about what's expected so they can deliver it excellently. Japanese communication is traditionally indirect. You learn what's expected through context, through watching senior people, through understanding your role in the hierarchy. This works beautifully when you've known your colleagues for twenty years. It's harder when you might stay at a company for five years, or when the company itself is uncertain about the future. Gen Z is asking: tell me clearly what excellence looks like in this role so I can achieve it. This isn't a rejection of Japanese subtlety. It's a practical request in uncertain times. And honestly? It's also more respectful. It treats people as capable of understanding, not as children who need to figure things out slowly.

They want to develop skills that belong to them. In my parents' generation, you developed skills that made you more valuable to your company. That was the exchange—loyalty for development. Gen Z watched that exchange break down. They watched companies lay people off, restructure, move production overseas. They realized: the skills I develop here, do they make me more valuable just to this company? Or do they make me a better professional in general? They want the second one. They want to own their own development. This is takumi spirit—the commitment to mastery. It's deeply Japanese. It's just that they want to be the master of their own craft, not dependent on one company's definition of what that craft is.

They want their personal life to be separate from work in a way previous generations didn't openly ask for. This is maybe the biggest shock to older Japanese managers. In the past, work and life were not separate. Your company was part of your identity. Your relationships with colleagues extended into personal time. That was actually beautiful in many ways—it created deep bonds, real community. But Gen Z is saying: I want both. I want strong work relationships and I want a personal life that's mine. I want to be excellent at work and also have energy for my family, my hobbies, my own growth. This isn't Western selfishness. This is someone trying to live a full life. And honestly, it's not that different from what their parents wanted—they're just willing to say it out loud instead of pretending.

When you listen to these requests without the filter of "this is Western change," you realize something: Gen Z isn't trying to destroy Japanese culture. They're trying to be Japanese in circumstances their parents didn't face.

Why This Matters: The Economic Reality Nobody Talks About Enough

I think Western managers sometimes miss the economic backbone of this shift. They think it's cultural or generational preference. But it's also just mathematics.

Gen Z in Japan grew up in stagnation. Not recession—stagnation. Their parents' real wages mostly didn't grow. Their parents stayed at companies that let them go during restructuring. Their parents were promised security that didn't materialize. That creates a different psychological relationship to employment than if you grew up during high growth.

When your parents' generation worked hard, stayed loyal, and the economy rewarded them, you think: loyalty pays off, so I should be loyal too. When you watch your parents work hard, stay loyal, and the economy doesn't reward them, you think: I need to manage my own security. I can't rely on one company. I need skills that matter everywhere. I need options.

This isn't cynicism. It's self-preservation. It's wisdom from watching what happened.

At the same time, Japan's population is shrinking. There are fewer young people than ever before. This means, for the first time in decades, young workers have actual bargaining power. Companies need them more than they need companies. That changes everything. Suddenly, it's okay to ask for flexibility. Suddenly, companies listen. It's not that Gen Z became demanding. It's that Gen Z suddenly had leverage.

Add to this the cost of living in cities, the uncertainty about pensions, the expectation that you'll care for aging parents—these are real financial pressures. A young person can't afford to wait until age fifty for their salary to increase. They need income now. They need to develop skills they can monetize now. This isn't Western individualism. This is survival in a different economy than their parents faced.

When you understand this—the economic reality, the bargaining power shift, the broken promises their parents experienced—the generational shift stops looking like cultural rejection. It looks like adaptation. Intelligent adaptation.

The Real Problem: When We Pretend Nothing Has Changed

The biggest friction I see in Japanese organizations isn't between old and new values. It's between old and new circumstances with nobody willing to acknowledge the shift.

A manager trained in the traditional system might think: "If these young people don't want to stay late, they don't understand commitment." But the manager hasn't asked: what does commitment look like in an era where companies don't promise lifetime employment? What does loyalty mean when the contract is temporary?

A young worker might think: "My manager doesn't respect me because they don't take my feedback seriously." But they haven't understood: in my manager's world, hierarchy meant that seniors knew better, so direct feedback would be disrespectful. My manager isn't ignoring you to be mean. They're showing respect the way they were taught.

These misunderstandings create tension. Not because the values are wrong, but because nobody's being explicit about how values work in the new context.

I see this most clearly around what I call "interpretive mismatch." Take nomikai—the after-work drinking gathering. For older generations, going to nomikai is how you build trust, how relationships deepen, how you signal loyalty. It's not optional. It's the real work of being part of a team.

For Gen Z, especially anyone with caregiving responsibilities, mandatory evening events feel like work creeping into personal time. A parent who needs to pick up a child from daycare isn't being disloyal by skipping nomikai. They're honoring a different responsibility. But if nobody talks about this, the manager thinks the person doesn't care. The person thinks the manager doesn't respect their life. Both feel disrespected. Both are frustrated.

This happens everywhere. Performance evaluations based on time spent in the office, not output delivered. Career advancement based on tenure, not capability. Feedback that's so indirect it's confusing. These systems made sense in a different era. They don't make sense now. Not because Gen Z is right and older generations are wrong, but because circumstances changed and systems didn't.

The friction isn't generational. It's the friction between old systems and new reality.

What Actually Works: Examples From Real Japanese Companies

I don't want to pretend this is easy or that I have all the answers. But I do see companies in Japan figuring it out. Not by becoming American, but by thinking carefully about what their values actually require in 2025.

Mercari is a good example because they're deliberately thinking about this. They offer hybrid work—maybe two days in office, the rest flexible. But they're not doing this because they're copying Silicon Valley startups. They're doing it because they realized something: when do we actually need to be in the same room? When is presence valuable? For them, the answer is: when we're collaborating on complex problems, when we're building relationships, when we need to move fast together. For individual focused work, people are more productive where they're comfortable. This is actually more Japanese than it sounds. It's about being efficient, about respecting people's circumstances, about designing systems around what actually works. The traditional system assumed presence = contribution. Mercari is saying: let's measure what actually matters.

Rakuten took a different approach. They made career pathways explicit. You can see what skills you need to develop to advance. You can see what people in different roles do. They created global mobility programs where talented people can move between teams, geographies, roles. This sounds Western, but it's actually rooted in something Japanese: they're saying we want to develop our people, and we're being transparent about how that happens. Instead of the mysterious process where people somehow advance through invisible criteria, Rakuten says: here's the path, here's what we're investing in your development, here's how we'll evaluate you. It's explicit, which feels un-Japanese on the surface. But it's actually honoring the Japanese value of development and investment in people. It's just doing it transparently.

Smaller companies are experimenting too. Some are bringing in reverse mentoring—older employees learning from younger employees about new technologies, new ways of thinking. Some are running workshops where managers and younger employees talk explicitly about generational differences. Some are redesigning performance reviews to focus on what people delivered, not how long they sat at a desk. None of this requires abandoning Japanese values. It requires asking: how do we live our values in a different world?

The common thread in companies that are doing well with this shift is honesty. They're not pretending nothing changed. They're not trying to maintain old systems in new circumstances. They're saying: our values remain. The way we express and reward those values needs to evolve. And they're doing that consciously, intentionally, with their people.

What I Tell Managers: How to Actually Lead Across This Divide

When I work with Japanese managers struggling with Gen Z employees, or Western managers trying to understand Japanese Gen Z, I usually start with this: you're not dealing with a values conflict. You're dealing with a communication gap. And communication gaps are fixable.

Here's what I recommend, based on what I've actually seen work:

First, be explicit about what you actually expect. This feels uncomfortable if you were trained in indirect communication. You learned that saying things directly is rude, that the real message lives in context and hierarchy. But Gen Z didn't grow up learning to read that code. And honestly, the world moves too fast for everyone to spend months figuring out implicit expectations. So say things. "Here's what excellent work looks like in this role. Here's how we'll evaluate you. Here's what I'm hoping you'll develop over the next year." This isn't less respectful. It's actually more respectful because you're treating people as adults who deserve to understand the system they're working within.

Second, listen to why people make the choices they make. If a young employee doesn't want to attend every nomikai, don't assume disloyalty. Ask. Maybe they're caring for a parent. Maybe they're dealing with health issues. Maybe they have a partner who also works late and they're trying to share household responsibility. Maybe they just have different ways of building relationships. When you understand the why, you can often find a solution that honors both their needs and the team's need for connection. Maybe they come to nomikai once a month instead of every time. Maybe they build relationships differently. The point is: understand before you judge.

Third, connect new ways of working to values that matter. If you want someone to embrace flexible schedules, explain why it actually serves what you care about. Maybe it's: "We want people to do their best work. We trust you know where you're most productive. We'll measure what matters—the quality of your output." Maybe it's: "We value people having full lives, because people with energy and engagement do better work." Connect the new practice to old values. This isn't manipulation. It's translation. It's saying: yes, this looks different, and here's why it actually honors what we've always believed.

Fourth, be willing to learn from how Gen Z thinks. They grew up with different tools, different information, different ways of solving problems. They might see solutions you wouldn't see. They might challenge processes that made sense ten years ago but don't anymore. This isn't disrespect. This is fresh thinking. In Japanese tradition, we value continuous improvement. Gen Z is offering that. The question is whether you're humble enough to listen.

Fifth, protect the things that actually matter. Not everything old is wrong just because it's old. If your team's ability to work together across differences is built on real relationships, protect that. Maybe that's nomikai, or maybe it's something else. But don't abandon connection just because you're becoming more flexible about schedules. What you need to figure out is: what actually builds the culture we want? Then do that intentionally, not out of habit.

The core message I give managers is this: you're not weak or Western if you adapt. You're wise. Japan has always been a country that learns from the world while staying true to itself. This is the same thing. Different circumstances, same values, new expression.

For Organizations: Where to Actually Start

If you're leading a company in Japan and you recognize this in your own workplace, I don't want to give you a complicated roadmap. You know your organization better than I do. But I can tell you what tends to work.

Start by listening. Not surveys—real conversations. Talk to your Gen Z employees. Ask what matters to them. Ask what frustrates them. Ask what they see that seems broken. Don't defend. Just listen. You'll hear patterns. Some will be predictable. Some will surprise you.

Then have an honest conversation with your leadership team. Say: "Here's what we're hearing from younger people. Here's what we think it means. What do we think about this?" Not "how do we stop this" but "how do we understand it and decide how to respond?"

Pick one small thing to try. Maybe it's a hybrid schedule in one department. Maybe it's clearer performance evaluation criteria. Maybe it's a reverse mentoring program. Something small, measurable, with a timeline. Run it for six months. See what changes—turnover, productivity, engagement, quality. Use that data to decide what's next.

Train your managers. This is the part that often gets skipped. You can announce new policies all you want, but if managers don't understand the thinking behind them, they'll undermine them. So actually invest in helping managers understand generational differences, practice explicit communication, learn to lead across this divide.

And don't pretend this is just about Gen Z. It's about surviving as a competitive organization in a world that's different from the one your systems were built for. Companies that figure this out will attract talent, retain talent, and be more innovative. Companies that don't will lose talented people and wonder why they can't compete.

This doesn't require becoming American. It requires being smart about being Japanese in new circumstances.

Frequently Asked Questions: Practical Things Leaders Ask Me

Isn't this just copying Silicon Valley? How is it Japanese?

Japan has always been good at learning from the world while staying true to itself. We learned about manufacturing from America, adapted it through kaizen and quality circles, and made it our own. We do the same with technology, design, business practices. This is the same thing. We're learning that explicit communication, skill-based advancement, and flexibility can serve Japanese values—excellence, development, efficiency, respect. It's not abandonment. It's evolution. And frankly, being rigid about systems just because they're old is less Japanese than being willing to adapt while keeping what matters.

But if I give flexibility, won't people just leave?

Some people will leave anyway. That's not new. The question is: will your best people stay? The data I see suggests that good people stay when they feel developed, respected, and trusted. Flexibility signals trust. Clear feedback signals respect. Intentional development signals investment. These tend to build loyalty better than forced presence ever did. And even if someone does eventually leave to try something new, at least they leave as an advocate for your company, not frustrated. They tell people good things. They come back if circumstances change. That's actually valuable.

What if my older managers resist this?

They probably will. They've succeeded in the current system. Changing it feels like criticism of how they got there. So don't frame it that way. Frame it as: "Our situation has changed. Our competitors are adapting. We need to attract talent in a different way. Can you help us figure out how to do that while preserving what's been valuable?" Involve them in solving it rather than imposing change on them. Often, older managers have wisdom about building relationships, developing people, and creating culture that's incredibly valuable. You're not replacing them. You're asking them to apply that wisdom in a new context.

Is it disrespectful to give feedback directly?

Indirect feedback made sense when you had years to build understanding through subtle signals. Now it often just creates confusion. Gen Z interprets vague feedback as disinterest. Older managers interpret directness as rudeness. The truth is somewhere in the middle. You can be direct and respectful. "I noticed this. Here's what I was hoping to see instead. Let's talk about how to get there." It's clear. It's focused on improvement. It's rooted in respect for the person's capability. That's not Western rudeness. That's clarity.

What about companies outside Tokyo? Does this apply to us too?

Maybe even more. Big companies in Tokyo have options—they can move to other companies, they can go international. Talented people in regional areas might want to stay if their local company respects them, develops them, and trusts them. Regional companies have an advantage if they can offer real opportunity and real connection. Don't assume Gen Z wants to leave for the big city. Many want to stay home if they can build good careers there. Your job is to make that possible.

How do I know if my company is actually ready for this?

Ask yourself: Are we losing talented younger people? Are our managers uncomfortable managing across age differences? Are our systems measuring what we say matters, or measuring something else? Are we being honest with ourselves about how the world has changed? If you answered yes to any of these, you're ready. Start small. Start with listening. You don't need to be perfect. You need to be willing.

What I Actually Believe About This Moment

I've been thinking about these things for fifteen years. Watching how Japan works, how Western companies work, how people navigate the space between cultures. And I think this moment—this generational shift—is actually an opportunity, not a crisis.

It's an opportunity to ask: what do we really value? Not what we've always done, but what we actually believe matters? When you answer that honestly, you often find that Gen Z wants to serve those values. They just want to do it in a way that works for their lives.

It's also an opportunity to be more honest about what loyalty means. The old system was built on a fantasy that both sides knew wasn't entirely true—that the company would take care of you forever, that you'd stay forever, that security was guaranteed. Gen Z is asking: what if we're honest about what we can actually offer each other? What kind of loyalty is possible in the real world? What kind of development can we actually do together? When you answer that honestly, you often find something more sustainable than the old system.

And it's an opportunity for Japan to remain competitive and attractive in a global world. If you can figure out how to keep Japanese values while adapting to global realities, you're incredibly strong. Employees want to work for organizations that know who they are. That haven't abandoned their identity just to follow trends. But also haven't refused to adapt. That's actually the strongest position to be in.

I don't know if Japan will get this right. I see companies doing it well. I see companies struggling. I see resistance and fear. But I also see genuine effort to bridge the gap, to listen, to adapt. That gives me hope.

My job is to help people understand each other across this divide. To help Western managers understand that Gen Z Japanese workers aren't rejecting Japan. To help Japanese leaders understand that Gen Z isn't trying to destroy tradition. To help both see that there's actually a way forward that honors what matters while adapting to what's real.

That's what I do. That's what I believe is possible.

About the Author

Zakari Watto is a cross-cultural communication expert based in Aomori, Japan, with fifteen years of experience helping organizations bridge the gap between Japanese and global business cultures. Working with multinational corporations, Japanese enterprises, and organizations across Japan, Zakari specializes in helping leaders understand generational shifts, navigate cultural differences, and build teams that value both tradition and adaptation.

Zakari's approach is grounded in listening—to what people actually need, what they actually value, and how to create space for both old wisdom and new thinking to coexist.

Contact Information:

• Website: www.japaninsider.org
• Email: info@japaninsider.org
• LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/company/JapanInsider
• Based in: Aomori, Japan | Serving organizations globally

Expertise: Cross-cultural leadership, generational communication, organizational adaptation, Japanese business culture, talent development, Western-Japanese integration.

Resources & References

Japanese Government & Research:

• Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare (MHLW) - General Survey on Employment of Young People: https://www.mhlw.go.jp/english/database/db-l/index.html
• Japan Institute for Labour Policy and Training (JILPT) - Research on Employment Systems and Work Style Reform: https://www.jil.go.jp/english/index.html

Corporate Examples:

• Mercari - Global Career Opportunities and Work Culture: https://careers.mercari.com/en/
• Rakuten - Global Talent Development and Diversity: https://global.rakuten.com/corp/

International Data:

• OECD Employment Outlook 2025 - Japan: https://www.oecd.org/en/publications/oecd-employment-outlook-2025-country-notes_f91531f7-en/japan_7672bd00-en.html