Why University of Tokyo Students Are Turning Away from the Bureaucracy—The Disappearance of Amakudari as a Reward for Years of Overwork
Recently, I have often heard that University of Tokyo students are losing interest in becoming government bureaucrats.
Becoming an elite career bureaucrat in a central government ministry after graduating from the University of Tokyo’s Faculty of Law was once the classic path for Japan’s best and brightest. Today, however, students increasingly aim for foreign consulting firms or major technology companies such as Google.
Why have private companies become more attractive than work that shapes the country?
Personally, I think it is the result of young people becoming more rational.
A Ministry of Health and Welfare Bureaucrat I Once Knew
Many years ago, I became acquainted with an official at what was then Japan’s Ministry of Health and Welfare.
What astonished me was his brutal working schedule.
During sessions of the National Diet in particular, work continued until late at night as officials prepared briefing papers for responses to legislators. On some days, he said, even going home was difficult.
By then, I had already been working in the IT industry long enough to be reasonably accustomed to long hours. Even so, the bureaucrat’s working life seemed to be in a different league.
And despite all that work, the salary was not exceptionally high.
At a private company, highly capable people who endure punishing hours can expect substantial compensation. Bureaucrats, however, are civil servants. No matter how talented they are, the government pay structure has limits.
What, then, motivated them to work so hard?
Of course, they probably felt a sense of mission and satisfaction from helping to run the country.
But another factor that cannot be ignored was promotion and the treatment awaiting them afterward.
Beyond the Overwork Was Amakudari
The bureaucracy has a rigid pyramid structure.
Only a tiny minority can rise to administrative vice-minister, the highest-ranking civil service position within a ministry. Most fall out of the promotion race along the way.
In the past, amakudari—the practice of retired bureaucrats moving into senior positions at organizations or companies connected to their former ministries—provided an exit route for those officials.
They endured modest salaries and punishing work during their active careers. In return, an appropriate position and level of compensation awaited them after retirement.
In a sense, it was a long-term reward system.
Amakudari, however, came under fierce public criticism.
“It is a waste of taxpayers’ money.” “Only bureaucrats get to enjoy these cushy benefits.”
As a result, restrictions on post-government employment were strengthened, and amakudari could no longer be taken for granted as it once had been.
Of course, bureaucrats did not stop finding employment after retirement altogether. But it became much harder to plan an entire life around the expectation of favorable treatment after leaving government service.
Only the Rewards Shrunk; the Punishing Work Remained
What I want to consider here is not whether amakudari itself was right or wrong.
The question is whether only the returns from a bureaucratic career were cut while its punishing work structure remained largely unchanged.
Officials prepare parliamentary responses late into the night, are pushed around by politicians’ demands, and compete in a harsh promotion race.
Even then, there is no guarantee of becoming an administrative vice-minister.
In the past, those who fell out of the promotion race could still hope for a different reward in the form of favorable treatment after retirement.
But that exit narrowed.
Under those conditions, it is only natural for talented young people to choose another path.
If the Hours Are Equally Brutal, You Might as Well Earn More at a Foreign Firm
Changing employers is now commonplace.
In the past, remaining with one organization until retirement carried value. Young people today, however, consider what experience they can gain in their twenties and thirties and how much they can increase their value in the labor market.
Foreign consulting is by no means easy work. Some firms may demand hours every bit as punishing as those in the bureaucracy.
But the pay is higher, and the experience can be used to move to another company or become independent.
The same is true of major technology companies.
A bureaucratic career provides deep knowledge of national institutions and public administration. Consulting and technology companies, by contrast, allow people to build skills and achievements valued in the private market.
And if they succeed, they can earn substantial compensation while still young.
If the work is going to be equally punishing, it is rational to prioritize current pay and one’s value in the job market rather than gamble on future promotion and favorable treatment after retirement.
It is an entirely reasonable decision.
Is the Flight from the Bureaucracy Simply the Result of Young People Becoming Smarter?
In Japan, some people view the decline in talented candidates seeking bureaucratic careers as a serious problem.
But when you think about it, the reaction is strange.
The punishing work remains. Salaries do not match those at leading private companies. Only a handful reach the top. And the favorable post-retirement treatment that once existed has become harder to expect.
When conditions change this much, a decline in applicants is a natural outcome.
There is a reasonable case for criticizing amakudari and reducing bureaucratic privileges.
But unless the treatment and working conditions of active bureaucrats improve in return, attracting talented people will become difficult.
And yet, when students turn away from the bureaucracy, people complain that “young people today lack a sense of duty to the nation.”
Cut the rewards, preserve the punishing workload, and then tell people to work out of a sense of mission.
Apparently, in Japan, the most talented people are not supposed to consider whether a career is in their own interest.