Why Do So Few Japanese People Hold Passports? Unpacking the Low Ownership Rate and Its Broader Implications
In an era of globalization where international travel has become a staple for many, Japan stands out as an anomaly. Despite boasting one of the world’s most powerful passports—ranked second globally for visa-free access—only about 17% of Japanese citizens hold a valid one. This stark figure highlights a deeper cultural, economic, and societal shift that’s reshaping Japan’s relationship with the world. As inbound tourism surges with millions of foreigners flocking to Japan’s shores, outbound travel by Japanese nationals remains stagnant, creating an imbalance with far-reaching consequences. We’ll delve into the reasons behind this low passport ownership rate, hear from everyday Japanese voices, examine the economic and social impacts, and offer unique perspectives on what this means for Japan’s future. Whether you’re a traveler curious about Japan or a global citizen pondering cultural differences, understanding this phenomenon reveals much about modern Japanese society.
The Current State of Passport Ownership in Japan
Let’s start with the numbers. According to data from Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, as of the end of 2024, there were approximately 20.77 million valid passports in circulation (excluding official ones), translating to a possession rate of just 16.8% to 17.5% of the population. This is a significant drop from the peak of 27.7% in 2005 and represents a 15% reduction compared to 2019 levels before the COVID-19 pandemic. For context, this rate is drastically lower than in other developed nations. In the United Kingdom, around 60% of citizens hold passports; in the United States, it’s about 50%; and even in neighboring South Korea, the figure stands at 40%. These comparisons underscore Japan’s unique position—home to a passport that grants access to 193 destinations visa-free, yet so few bother to obtain one.
This low rate isn’t a new development but has intensified in recent years. Historically, Japan’s passport ownership hovered around 22-24% in the late 20th century, a period when economic prosperity fueled a boom in outbound travel. The 1980s and 1990s saw Japanese backpackers and tourists flooding Europe, Asia, and beyond, driven by a strong yen and a curiosity for the world. However, post-2005, factors like economic stagnation, demographic shifts, and global events have eroded this enthusiasm.
Key Reasons Behind the Decline
Why are Japanese people increasingly opting out of international travel? Hiroyuki Takahashi, Chairman of the Japan Association of Travel Agents (JATA), points to three primary culprits: the COVID-19 pandemic, a weakened yen, and soaring inflation. The pandemic not only halted travel but also chilled the overall mindset toward venturing abroad. Many who let their passports expire during lockdowns haven’t renewed them, viewing overseas trips as unnecessary luxuries amid economic pressures.
The yen’s depreciation—hitting historic lows against the dollar and euro—has made foreign destinations prohibitively expensive. A trip to Europe or the U.S. that once cost ¥200,000 might now exceed ¥400,000, factoring in flights, accommodations, and meals inflated by global price hikes. This “weak yen bite” has deterred even middle-class families, pushing them toward domestic alternatives like Kyoto’s temples or Hokkaido’s ski resorts.
Beyond economics, structural issues play a role. Japan’s work culture, infamous for long hours and limited vacation time, makes extended trips challenging. Most employees get only 10-20 paid days off annually, often taken during peak seasons like Golden Week or New Year’s, when international fares skyrocket. Language barriers add another layer; while English education has improved, many Japanese feel uncomfortable navigating non-Japanese-speaking environments, preferring the familiarity of home.
The pandemic also decimated travel infrastructure. Travel agencies, once bustling hubs for consultations, saw massive closures, reducing accessible points for planning trips. Moreover, the rise of digital alternatives—virtual tours, social media, and streaming—has satisfied wanderlust without the hassle. Younger generations, in particular, find fulfillment in online explorations, questioning the need to physically travel when “the world is at their fingertips.”
Cultural factors contribute too. Japan is often described as a “risk-averse” society, where stability and harmony (wa) are prized over adventure. This manifests in a preference for domestic travel, which is seen as safer, more convenient, and culturally enriching. As one respondent in a recent survey noted, “Japan has everything—mountains, beaches, cities. Why risk discomfort abroad?”
Voices from the Ground: Personal Stories and Sentiments
To humanize these statistics, consider anecdotes from ordinary Japanese people. A 41-year-old office worker from Kanagawa expressed surprise at the low rate: “I had no idea it was so low. It feels like fewer people dream of going abroad these days, especially with the yen so weak.” She reminisced about her childhood aspirations for world travel, now dimmed by financial realities.
Others have consciously let passports lapse. A 41-year-old university staffer from Kyoto shared: “Post-COVID, my passport expired, and I thought, ‘Maybe I’m done with overseas.’ With prices so high, I’d rather splurge domestically.” A 49-year-old part-timer from Miyagi cited bureaucratic hassles: “Renewing takes time and effort. If I’m not planning a trip, why bother?”
For non-holders, reasons vary. A 40s service worker from Tokyo said: “You don’t need a passport to live well here. It’s for the wealthy or work-related.” A 50s university professor added: “I used it for ID before, but now with My Number cards, that’s obsolete. Plus, costs are too high.”
A 39-year-old engineer from Osaka highlighted vacation constraints: “I can’t get long breaks except holidays, when prices surge. Better to boost domestic economy.” Meanwhile, a 49-year-old civil servant from Nagano worried about youth: “Kids today know the world via smartphones. Without real experiences, Japan might lose competitiveness.”
These stories reflect a broader inward turn, where practicality trumps exploration.
The Imbalance: Inbound Boom vs. Outbound Slump
Japan’s tourism landscape is lopsided. Inbound visitors (indbound) hit record highs, with projections for 60 million by 2030, injecting trillions into the economy. Yet outbound numbers lag at 70% of 2019 levels, with just 13 million Japanese traveling abroad in 2024—a 35% drop from pre-pandemic figures.
This asymmetry harms multiple sectors. Airlines can’t expand routes without balanced demand; fewer outbound flights mean higher costs and reduced connectivity. Takahashi warns: “International exchange is two-way. Without outbound growth, infrastructure for inbound suffers too.”
Economically, low outbound stifles the travel industry, which employs millions. JATA represents 1,170 agencies facing closures and job losses. Broader ripple effects include missed opportunities for cultural diplomacy and business networking.
Socially, the impacts are profound. Youth outbound mobility has plummeted, with international student numbers still below 2019 peaks (from 80,000 in 2004). School trips abroad are canceled due to costs, limiting global exposure. This “lost generation” risks narrower worldviews, potentially weakening Japan’s innovation and adaptability in a globalized economy.
Demographically, Japan’s aging population exacerbates this. Older generations, once avid travelers, now prioritize health and familiarity, while youth grapple with stagnant wages and job insecurity. Overtourism in popular spots like Kyoto adds irony—foreign crowds deter locals from domestic travel too, though some blame population decline.
Deeper Influences and Unique Perspectives
This trend signals a “hikikomori nation” syndrome—Japan withdrawing inward amid external pressures. While hikikomori typically refers to social recluses, it metaphorically applies here: a society content within its borders, fortified by technology and self-sufficiency.
Historically, Japan’s isolationist Sakoku policy (1633-1853) echoes this, but today’s version is economic and psychological. The bubble economy’s burst in the 1990s initiated “lost decades,” fostering caution. Post-Fukushima and COVID, resilience turned to insularity.
Yet, this isn’t all negative. Domestic tourism booms, supporting rural economies and preserving culture. Inbound tourism fosters positive changes: more English signage, diverse cuisine, and sustainability efforts. It exposes Japanese to foreigners daily, indirectly broadening horizons.
However, the risks outweigh benefits. In a world facing climate change, AI disruption, and geopolitical shifts, experiential learning abroad builds empathy and creativity. My “backpacker era” recollections—navigating China’s buses or debating in European trains—highlight how such encounters shape identity. Without them, Japan may foster “kojinmari” (small-minded) youth, as one respondent feared, eroding competitive edge.
Comparatively, countries like South Korea, with higher passport rates despite similar challenges, invest in youth programs. Japan could follow: subsidize student exchanges, ease visa processes, or promote budget travel via apps.
Unique viewpoint: Technology’s double-edged sword. While VR tours replace trips, they lack serendipity—the unexpected friendships or cultural shocks that foster growth. As global challenges demand collaboration, Japan’s low outbound could isolate it, much like pre-Meiji era.
Solutions? Government incentives like tax breaks for travel, corporate vacation mandates, or school curricula emphasizing global citizenship. Travel agencies could pivot to hybrid experiences, blending virtual and real. With outbound projected to grow to ¥4.71 trillion by 2025, there’s hope, but action is needed.
Conclusion: A Call to Rediscover the World
Japan’s low passport ownership—rooted in economic woes, cultural preferences, and post-pandemic inertia—poses challenges but also opportunities for reflection.
