Walking through the bustling streets of Tokyo, one might think Japan has an unusually open attitude toward sex. Sex shops line the alleys of Shinjuku, porn magazines are sold in convenience stores, and entire districts are dedicated to commercialized sex. Yet, beneath this apparent openness lies a culture that stigmatizes sex, suppresses sexual education, and enables the exploitation of young women. Japan’s contradictory relationship with sex is not just a cultural curiosity—it reflects a regulatory failure with real consequences for society.

The legal landscape surrounding Japan’s sex industry is a paradox. On paper, prostitution is illegal under Article 3 of the Prostitution Prevention Law. However, the law is riddled with loopholes. The regulation only bans vaginal intercourse for money, meaning other forms of paid sex work exist in a legal gray area. As a result, an entire industry of “delivery health” services, hostess clubs, and soaplands thrives by skirting legal definitions and thereby avoiding prohibition. Rather than protecting vulnerable individuals, this fragmented policy approach fosters an environment where abuse flourishes unchecked.

Even with seemingly appropriate laws in place, social factors influence their enforcement and efficacy. The sexualization of young schoolgirls in media, the widespread availability of pornography, and the normalization of transactional sex have profound societal costs. Women, particularly those working in the sex industry, face high levels of violence and coercion, yet the stigma around sex discourages victims from coming forward. Japan’s consistently low reported rates of sexual assault are not a sign of safety but a symptom of a society that punishes survivors for speaking out. A 2020 survey by Japan’s Cabinet Office found that only 5.6% of sexual violence victims reported the incidents to the police. Without cultural shifts and institutional support, even well-intended regulations cannot fully address these issues.

The failure to provide comprehensive sexual education further exacerbates these problems. Japan lacks robust sex education policies, leaving many young men without a clear understanding of consent, healthy relationships, or the realities of the sex industry. As a result, some turn to hypersexualized media for guidance, reinforcing harmful stereotypes and unrealistic expectations. This cultural climate discourages genuine intimacy, contributing to Japan’s rising rates of loneliness and declining birthrate.

Historically, Japan’s approach to sex work has been shaped by both domestic and foreign influences. The U.S. occupation played a significant role in institutionalizing and regulating sex work in postwar Japan. Policies from that era prioritized state control over individual rights, a legacy that persists today. As scholar Sarah Kovner insightfully points out, this normalization of transactional relationships, often under the guise of voluntary exchange, continues to blur the lines between coercion and consent. These historical precedents help explain why the government remains hesitant to take decisive action against exploitation.

Japan needs a coherent and ethical approach to regulating sex work. Legalizing and regulating the industry, as seen in countries like Germany and the Netherlands, would provide workers with legal protections, health benefits, and avenues for reporting abuse.

At the same time, comprehensive sex education must become a priority. Teaching consent, healthy relationships, and the dangers of exploitation would empower young people to make informed choices rather than absorbing damaging cultural messages.

The status quo is unsustainable. Japan cannot continue to profit from the sex industry while pretending to condemn it. Policymakers must confront this contradiction and enact reforms that protect individuals, promote public health, and create a more just society. A clear, well-regulated system is not just a matter of legal efficiency—it is a moral imperative.