Seventy Years On, Japan’s Anti-Prostitution Law Faces New Questions About Holding Sex Buyers Accountable

Japan’s abolitionist model

Closely related to prohibitionism is the abolitionist model, a term derived from the abolitionist movement that sought to eliminate state-regulated prostitution. Like prohibitionism, abolitionism views prostitution as a violation of human rights and human dignity that should ultimately be eradicated. The key difference is that abolitionism regards those who sell sex not as offenders, but as victims. The 1949 United Nations Convention for the Suppression of the Traffic in Persons and of the Exploitation of the Prostitution of Others was founded on this principle.

Under the abolitionist model, the act of prostitution itself is generally not subject to criminal punishment, and those who sell sex are often treated as individuals in need of protection and rehabilitation. Instead, criminal penalties target activities such as operating prostitution establishments, facilitating prostitution, and soliciting for the purpose of prostitution.

For many years, however, buyers—primarily men—remained a legal blind spot, as reducing demand for paid sex was not considered a policy objective. The Nordic Model, introduced in the first installment of this series, was developed to address this issue by criminalizing only the purchaser of sexual services. For this reason, it is also referred to as “neo-abolitionism.”

Japan’s Anti-Prostitution Act is generally classified as abolitionist because it punishes those who profit from or facilitate prostitution while providing protection for women who sell sex. What makes Japan unique, however, is that although the Anti-Prostitution Act criminalizes prostitution-related businesses, many of those same businesses are effectively permitted under the Entertainment Business Act (Fūeihō). This unusual coexistence of prohibition and legal tolerance is widely regarded as a distinctive feature of Japan’s regulatory system.

Japan’s unique regulatory system centered on the Anti-Prostitution Act

Japan’s regulation of prostitution is centered on the Anti-Prostitution Act, enacted in 1956. Based on the traditional abolitionist model, the law prohibits prostitution itself without imposing criminal penalties on those who engage in it. Instead, it punishes intermediaries and establishes a rehabilitation and guidance system for women who sell sex.

However, the law prohibits soliciting for prostitution, meaning that women who publicly solicit customers can be arrested and punished. By contrast, men seeking to purchase sex are not punished for soliciting, leading to criticism that only women are penalized, creating an unequal system.

The Act also defines prostitution exclusively as vaginal intercourse between a man and a woman. This narrow definition created a legal loophole, allowing businesses that provide intercourse-like sexual services—such as “health clubs” and “delivery health” services—to operate legally under the Entertainment Business Act, contributing to the growth of Japan’s sex industry.

Furthermore, soaplands are officially classified as private bathhouses with individual rooms, while Osaka’s traditional Shinchi districts are recognized on paper as high-end restaurants. Thus, although Japanese law formally declares prostitution illegal, in practice many forms of commercial sexual services are effectively tolerated, creating a fundamental contradiction.

This ambiguous “Japanese model”—a mixture of illegality, legality, and tacit tolerance—is highly unusual. For decades, it has operated under the principle that prostitution is officially prohibited under the Anti-Prostitution Act but effectively permitted under the Entertainment Business Act—in other words, prohibited, but not punished. As a result, nearly 70 years after its enactment, the Anti-Prostitution Act has fallen short of achieving either of its original objectives: eliminating prostitution or adequately protecting the human rights of women involved in the sex trade.Growing numbers of people are therefore calling for the law to be fundamentally reexamined.

The reality that defies a simple “victim” label

Is prostitution and the provision of sexual services sexual violence or labor? The author believes it is both. Human sexuality, emotions, and sexual behavior are extraordinarily diverse, making it impossible to reduce them to a single category.

Women who begin selling sex because of difficult circumstances may initially be victims of society. Yet many gradually come to see themselves as voluntary workers. Cases in which women, after initially lamenting their misfortune, eventually change their outlook and begin actively seeking customers are far from uncommon.

Stories like the following are widespread: A housewife who entered the sex industry out of financial desperation initially cried after every client. Over time, however, being repeatedly requested by customers restored her confidence as a woman, her appearance became noticeably more polished, her income increased, and she was able to rebuild her life. In such cases, the woman’s own perception of herself changes over time.

If one believes that sex purchased with money inherently violates human rights, it is easy to conclude that women providing sexual services are victims of sexual violence inflicted by their customers. Yet, according to the author, speaking directly with sex workers often reveals a different reality: many genuinely enjoy their work. This is something, he argues, that can only be understood by observing the industry firsthand.

One woman working at a hotel health establishment in Tokyo’s Shibuya district, interviewed in 2012, said:

“I’m really glad I found this job. I couldn’t even keep a convenience store job, and I wasn’t cut out for working at a hostess club. But the staff here are kind, and this is the best place I’ve ever worked.”

She spoke with genuine enthusiasm, her eyes shining as she said she was happy to have found the sex industry. To the author, she did not appear to fit the image of a victim.

Today, many sex workers are pleased when customers extend their session, since it increases their earnings. Many also tell clients, “Please come back again,” before they leave. According to the author, this reflects the fact that they view providing sexual services as a job—a way to earn a living.

When considering an appropriate legal framework for the commercial sex industry, the author argues that it is important to avoid ideological extremes. Rather than condemning prostitution outright as something inherently shameful or, conversely, insisting that it is simply ordinary labor, society should recognize that sexuality has many different dimensions. People’s experiences of commercial sex exist along a spectrum, and their perspectives can change over time. Accepting that attitudes toward prostitution are nuanced rather than absolute is, in the author’s view, essential to any meaningful discussion of policy.

There is still no consensus on the correct answer

Throughout this series, four different legal frameworks for regulating prostitution have been introduced: the Nordic Model, the legalization model, the decriminalization model, and the prohibitionist model. Each has its own advantages and disadvantages, and it is impossible to say definitively which one is correct.

In Western countries, legal approaches to prostitution have undergone decades of trial and error, yet there is still no international consensus on the right answer. There remains no universally accepted solution for how prostitution should be regulated.

The optimal model differs depending on each country’s social background, the scale and reality of its sex industry, and the degree of public consensus. Legal systems and policies are shaped by differing priorities and goals, such as preventing crimes like human trafficking, protecting the rights of those involved, and maintaining social order and moral standards. These approaches also continue to change over time.

Recently, Japan’s Ministry of Justice has held active discussions through an expert panel on whether people who purchase sex should be punished. The author, however, believes that buyers should not be criminalized. The reason is that changing the law alone will not solve the underlying problems.

Even if legal penalties are introduced, they are unlikely to produce meaningful solutions unless broader issues—such as social structures, sex education, and national culture itself—also change. At most, punishment may influence public attitudes, but, as occurred after the enactment of the Anti-Prostitution Act, loopholes may remain, authorities may be forced into tacit acceptance, and the law may ultimately become ineffective—a so-called “toothless law.” Human sexuality is an area that cannot be resolved through legislation alone.

The example of South Korea can be seen as evidence of this. The Netherlands legalized prostitution because it had learned through history that prohibiting it by law does not eliminate the sex industry. A similar example can be found in the United States, where the introduction of Prohibition failed to eliminate alcohol consumption.

Should Japan adopt the Nordic Model, which punishes buyers in order to address discrimination and inequality against women? Should it instead recognize prostitution as labor and legalize it from the perspective of protecting sex workers’ rights? Or should it choose decriminalization, based on the idea that prostitution is a personal choice made through individual free will? Alternatively, should Japan maintain its current framework and continue managing the issue within the existing system?

The question now facing Japanese society is which approach would be most appropriate—and that requires thorough and serious debate.

References

“The Black Hole of Sex Work” — Shin Park Jin-young, Korokara, 2022

“Women’s Bodies and Human Rights” — Noriko Wakao, Gakuyo Shobo, 2005

“Sex Work Studies” — SWASH (ed.), Nippon Hyoron Sha, 2018

“A Theory of Sexual Self-Determination” — Shinji Miyadai, Yukiko Hayami, Naohide Yamamoto, Toshiko Miya, Seiji Fujii, Hiroaki Hirano, Noriko Kanazumi, Yuji Hirano, Kinokuniya Shoten, 1998

Numerous other books and online sources were also consulted.