The Aesthetics of Departure
Why Japanese Seek to Settle Everything Before They Die
In 2025, Japan will enter the world’s first super-aged society. Amid unprecedented circumstances, with a population of 120 million people, the concept of “end-of-life planning” (終活, shūkatsu) has spread significantly, especially among older generations over the past five years. Behind this phenomenon lies the fact that this elderly demographic, having experienced Japan’s rapid economic growth and bubble economy, has lived lives overflowing with material goods and information—essentially, a lifestyle filled with desires. Recognizing that passing all these belongings onto their children and relatives would impose a significant burden, they aim to organize and minimize their possessions as thoroughly as possible before death, positioning this as a new societal trend that emphasizes not causing inconvenience to others after one’s passing.
From the perspective of someone residing in Japan who observes this phenomenon daily, it is profoundly intriguing, as it appears deeply rooted in the traditional Japanese mentality of “contemplating death (死ぬことを考える).” Its origins, I believe, trace back to the concept of “departing kami” (去る神), as discussed in my previous article. This spiritual mindset notably blossomed during the era when such values permeated everyday people’s lives. Therefore, I will explore this in detail under the theme “the aesthetics of departure (去り際の美学).”
Coincidentally, yesterday I revisited the pioneering yakuza film, “Jinsei Gekijo: Hisha-Kaku” (人生劇場 飛車角, 1963), while researching the social conditions surrounding the rise of Toei’s yakuza movies in the 1960s and 1970s. Watching it, I strongly felt that this “aesthetics of departure” was central to the lifestyle of “ninkyō” (任侠, yakuza), which emphasizes honor and chivalry. This principle is not limited to yakuza; it is also a critical element in the aesthetic sensibilities of the samurai and frequently appears in memorable scenes within Japanese cinema.
For instance, in Akira Kurosawa’s masterpiece “Yojimbo” (用心棒, 1961), there is a compelling final scene where the protagonist, Kuwabatake Sanjuro, played by Toshiro Mifune, saves a village from violent yakuza factions and restores peace. Instead of remaining in the village, he turns toward the wilderness, simply uttering “あばよ”（See ya）before calmly walking away into the distance as the movie ends (this scene’s composition is truly magnificent!). I particularly adore this scene and always find it deeply moving—not merely due to the film’s cinematic brilliance, but primarily because Sanjuro seeks neither fame nor reward, entirely casting aside personal desires and moving forward decisively. In Japan, this attitude has long been revered as “kokoroiki” (心意気), reflecting a certain noble spirit. This concept was later philosophically refined by Kuki Shūzō into the notion of “iki” (粋, stylishness or chic elegance).