Meconium

Meconium (pronounced mi-koh-nee-uhm)

(1) In medicine, the first fecal excretion of a newborn child, composed chiefly of bile, mucus, and epithelial cells; it accumulates in the fetal intestines, manifesting as dark green mucoid material.

(2) In zoology, a dark green mass, the contents of the fetal intestines during the later stages of mammalian gestation, that forms the first feces of the newborn

(3) In entomology, the fecal mass released at pupation by the larvae of some insects.

(4) The milky sap of the unripe seed pods of the opium poppy; crude opium, sometimes called opium juice.

(5) Slang for opium (obsolete).

1595–1605: From the New Latin, from Classical Latin mēcōnium (opium; excrement of a newborn child), from the Ancient Greek μηκώνιον (mēkṓnion) (poppy-juice; opium”), from μήκων (mḗkōn) (poppy).  The Ancient Greek mēkōnion & mēkōn may be related to the Old Church Slavonic maku & the German Mohn and many etymologists support this although it’s not impossible both are of pre-Greek origin, one noting the consensus among botanists that the opium poppy is of Mediterranean origin and the word may later have entered the primitive lndo-European at a later date.  The fecal discharge was so called by classical physicians for its resemblance to the pappy sap, the notion later adopted by entomologists and zoologists to describe the same phenomenon respectively in some insects and mammals.  In chemistry, meconin is an anhydride of meconinic acid (found in opium).  The adjective meconic was first documented in the sense of “pertaining to or derived from the poppy” in 1818 in reference to an acid obtained from opium, and the French meconine exists in the literature as an alternative to the English form meconin.  However, it’s noted meconic may long have been in oral use among physicians.  In Hellenic medicine, mēkōnion came to be used to describe an infant's first excrement because of similarity in colour to the sap of the opium poppy (mēkōn) that had long been so-named.  In human gestation (and of mammals generally & even some insects), a little of the substance called meconium collects lower in the intestines and is discharged at birth.  Meconium is a noun and meconic & meconial are adjectives and (perhaps thankfully), it seems there's no adverb; the noun plural is meconiums.

One charming linguistic coincidence is that the anagram of meconium (baby shit) is encomium, meaning, inter alia, “a formal speech delivering praise”, the connection between the two not unfamiliar to those who have heard many such insincere orations.  Economium was from the Latin encōmium (praise, eulogy), from the Ancient Greek ἐγκώμιον (enkṓmion) (laudatory ode, praise), from ἐγκώμιος (enkṓmios) (of or pertaining to the victor), from κῶμος (kômos), (festival, revel, ode).  One obstetrician nominated the Ferrari paint color Verde Medio Nijinsky (medium green Nijinsky (Italver)) as a fine way to illustrate to medical students the shade of green a healthy infant’s meconium should display.  A Ferrari so finished will be more pleasing than a photograph (and certainly a sample) of the real thing.

Lester Piggott in green, red & yellow silks, aboard Nijinsky, 1970.

The Ferrari factory named Verde Medio Nijinsky after Nijinsky (Nijinsky II, 1967–1992, by Northern Dancer out of Flaming Page), a Canadian-bred, Irish-trained thoroughbred.  In 1970, trained by Vincent O'Brien (1917-2009) and ridden by Lester Piggott (1935–2022), he was the twelfth winner of the English Triple Crown (run since 1853 and comprising (1) the 2,000 Guineas Stakes (run over 1 mile (1.6 km) at Newmarket, (2) the Derby (1 mile, 4 furlongs & 10 yards (2,423 m) at Epsom & the St Leger Stakes (1 mile, 6 furlongs & 132 yards (2,937 m) at Town Moor)).  No horse has since won the English Triple Crown and Aidan O'Brien (b 1969), who in 1996 took over Vincent O'Brien’s Ballydoyle stables, was not related to his predecessor.  The link between horse and factory paint chart was in the colors of the silks worn by the jockey; Piggott’s shade of green chosen for Verde Medio Nijinsky.  Ferrari during the 1960s offered almost thirty colors named after thoroughbreds, a few of the more lyrical being Bianco Tetratema (1.441.110), Grigio Ortello (2.443.813), Blu Caracalla (2.666.901), Blu Turchese Molvedo (2.443.632) & Verde Sea-Bird (2.665.902).

Major Count Francesco Baracca with his SPAD S-XIII (left), the prancing horse on the fuselage based of that on his family’s coat of arms (right).

The link between horses and the Cavallino Rampante ((little) prancing horse) escutcheon chosen by Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) for both the Scuderia Ferrari team and later the cars he would build lies in a meeting il Commendatore had with the mother of Major Count Francesco Baracca (1888–1918), Italy's top fighter ace of World War I (1914-1918).  The count had emblazoned on the side of his aircraft a horse rearing on its rear hooves, a stylized variation of that which appeared on his family’s coat of arms and in Italian heraldry the prancing horse was of some significance, dating from 1692 when it appeared on the standard of Victor Amadeus II (1666–1732; Duke of Savoy 1675-1730 & King of Piedmont-Sardinia 1720-1730) of Savoy’s Royal Piedmont cavalry regiment.  The horse on the fuselage originally was red, the black version appearing on one of the count’s surviving fighters following his death in aerial combat.  A myth later arose Rolls-Royce had followed the precedent, switching the lettering on their radiator emblem from red to black to mark the death in 1933 of Sir Henry Royce (1863-1933) but although usually red, Rolls-Royce often had used black and other colors; the change in 1933 was aesthetic rather than romantic, the feeling that a dark hue would better suit the colors owners tended to choose for the coach-work and Sir Henry had endorsed the decision well before his death.  It was mere coincidence he died the same year as the change.

Alfa Romeo 8C Monza, Spa Francorchamps, Belgium, 1932.

Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) and Giulio Ramponi (1902–1986) in June 1923 won the first Grand Prix at the Savio Circuit in Ravenna, driving an Alfa Romeo RL-Targa Florio.  As part of the ceremony following the race, Count Enrco Baracca (1855-1936), father of the aviator, "entrusted" Ferrari with the image of the prancing horse to carry on the memory of his late son, later introducing him to the pilot’s mother, Countess Paolina Baracca.  It was the countess who suggested adding the symbol to his cars, assuring him it would bring good luck.  Alfa-Romeo’s corporate policies prevented an immediate use of the prancing horse but, in 1929, Enzo Ferrari created Auto Avio Costruzioni (later to become Scuderia Ferrari) as a separate racing team although one still affiliated with Alfa Romeo and permission finally was received for the symbol to adorn the cars.  On that very day in 1932, fielding a pair of Alfa-Romeo 8C Monzas at Belgium’s Spa Francorchamps, the scuderia was again victorious, vindicating the faith the countess had shown and the prancing horse continued to be displayed until 1939 when Ferrari began his own car-making operation.  Squabbles and the war intervened but in 1947, Ferrari displayed the 125S (1.5 litre (91 cubic inch) Colombo V12, thus 125 cm³ per cylinder, the origin of the factory’s original convention for model names) with the equine logo, although subtly modified, the tail now upturned (al la the Baracca coat of arms) the beast more sinuous and the background the canary yellow of Modena where il Commendatore had based his operation.  The prancing horse has adorned every Ferrari since.

1972 Ferrari 365 GTC/4 (left) in Verde Medio Nijinsky over beige leather (left) and Ferrari 365 GTB/4 Coupé (right) in Rosso Corsa (Racing Red) over tan leather (right).

Although one of the minor classics of the era, the 365 GTC/4 lives still in the shadow of the illustrious 365 GTB/4 with which, mechanically, it shares much.  The GTB/4 picked up the nickname “Daytona”, an opportunistic association given 1-2-3 finish in the 1967 24 Hours of Daytona involved three entirely different Ferraris while the GTC/4 enjoyed only the less complementary recognition of being labeled by some il gobbone (the hunchback) or quello alla banana (the banana one).  It was an unfair slight and under the anyway elegant skin the GTC/4 shared much with & GTB/4, the engine of the former differing mainly in lacking the dry-sump lubrication and the use of six twin-choke side-draft Weber carburetors rather than the down-drafts, this permitting a lower hood (bonnet) line.  Revisions to the cylinder heads allowed the GTC/4's V12 to be tuned to deliver torque across a broader range rather than the focus on top-end power that made the GTB/4 so intoxicating.  One quirk in the specification of the Daytona was, unusually for a front-engined car, it used a rear-mounted transaxle to provide optimal weight distribution, reflecting the quest for as close to perfect a weight-distribution as was possible with the front-engine configuration. 

Runner-up & winner, 2015 Miss Universe Contest.  Ariadna María Gutiérrez Arévalo (b 1993), Miss Colombia 2014 & first runner-up (left) and Pia Alonzo Wurtzbach (b 1989), Miss Philippines 2015 & Miss Universe 2015 (right).  

Criticizing the GTC/4 because it doesn’t quite have the visceral appeal of the GTB/4 seems rather like casually dismissing the model who managed only to be runner-up to Miss Universe.  The two cars anyway, despite sharing a platform with the same wheelbase and track, were intended for different purposes, the GTB/4 a high performance road car able, with relatively few modifications, to be competitive in racing whereas the GTC/4 was a grand tourer, even offering occasional rear seating for two (short or uncomplaining) people.  One footnote in the history of the marque is the GTC/4 was the last Ferrari offered with the lovely Borrani triple-laced wire wheels; some GTB/4s had them fitted by the factory and a few more were added by dealers but the factory advised that with increasing weight, tyres with much superior grip and higher speeds, they were, which subject to extreme loadings, no longer strong enough and the cast aluminum units should be fitted for use in environments without speed restrictions such as race tracks or certain de-restricted public roads (then seen mostly in the Middle East, the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany, 1949-1990), Montana & Nevada in the US and Australia's Northern Territory & outback NSW (New South Wales)).  A Ferrari in Verde Medio Nijinsky is a rarity but does illustrate how well colors other than the dominant red can suit the lines; a Ferrari in white or navy blue can be a revelation.

Verde Medio Nijinsky is a neglected color: 1972 Ferrari 365 GTC/4 (left), a matching Lindsay Lohan (centre), rendered with generative AI (artificial intelligence) as “The Incredible Hulk” by Stable Diffusion (centre) and 1974 Dino 246 GTS (right); Ferrari finished only three Dino 246s in Verde Medio Nijinsky and it's one of those colors greatly affected by the light in which it stands, something photographers must account for although modern digital post-production techniques have now made possible the emulate the outdoors inside and vice versa.

Whatever color she wore, Cinderella was a hard act to follow.  As a design, the still much-neglected GTC/4 really should be compared with the other big 2+2 coupés of the era (exotic and otherwise) rather than the Daytona; whatever the extent of the mechanical similarity, the GTB/4 was a thing of a certain time and place that both allowed and dictated something more uncompromising in what proved an "end-of-an-era" moment.  Still stunning the GTB/4 was the evolutionary apex of its species; it can't be improved upon but the GTC/4 was no ugly sister and when contemplating quello alla banana, one might reflect on the sexiness of the fruit.  The Daytona’s shark-like lines and extreme nature have such an allure it’s the front-engined V12 Ferrari of the era collectors have always sought; despite between 1968-1973 production running to 1406 (1284 coupés & 122 Spyders (roadsters), it typically now sells for several times the price of a 364 GTC/4 in equivalent condition, 505 of which left the line between 1971-1972.  The market is neither right nor wrong, the market is the market and the customer is always right.

Cover of Candy-O (1979) by The Cars (left) and the photograph on which the cover-art was based (right).

Years after production ended, the 365 GTC/4 did earn an unusual place in the history of pop culture when a line-art rendering of one appeared on the cover of Candy-O, the second album by US rock band The Cars (formed 1976).  The artwork was created by Peruvian-American painter of pin-ups Alberto Vargas (1896–1982) who, as well as being acknowledged as the definitive exponent of what came to be called “cheesecake girls”, was between 1956-1958, a judge for the Miss Universe beauty contest.  Mr Vargas came out of retirement for the commission, enticed apparently by a niece who was a fan of the music, something with which he was at the time wholly unacquainted.  The artist’s technique required a photograph on which an image could be based so a photo-shoot was arranged at a nearby Ferrari dealership which, perhaps surprisingly, agreed to have the statuesque, stiletto clad model sprawl over the hood of a 365 GTC/4 then on the lot.  There’s no record of damage to the Rosso Nearco paint so all's well that ends well.  Nearco (1935–1957) was a famous Italian thoroughbred and the factory paint code was 2.664.032; it was a subtly-metallic shade of red rather darker than the classic Rosso Corsa.

Candy Moore adorning Ferrari 365 GTC/4 in Rosso Nearco, Candy-O photo shoot session, Beverly Hills, Los Angeles, 1979.  This was the pre-digital era and photographers used physical film stock although the highly flammable celluloid had by then been replaced by acetate-based “safety film”.

The model in the photo shoot (a substitute after the original had second thoughts upon seeing the scantiness of the outfit) was Candy Moore (who later appeared in the movie Lunch Wagon (1981)) but the name was a coincidence, the album’s title (and sixth track on side one of the original release) locked in long before the shoot.  As is usually the case with photo-shoots, many images were taken and one of the determining factors in the choice was its compositional suitability for use on the 12.375 inch (314.3 mm) square format of album art, the one selected among the last on the roll.  Mr Vargas, being a cheesecake artist, of course used a little licence in his interpretation and (with all due respect to the lovely Ms Moore) few would claim his enhancements don’t add to the appeal.  The other coincidence attached to the model’s name is she’s often confused with the actress Candace Lee Klaasen (b 1947) who worked under the stage name Candy Moore, appearing in well-known television series including Leave It to Beaver, and The Lucy Show.  Surprisingly, even the usually accurate IMDb (Internet Movie Database) once got the two mixed up; the entry has since been corrected.

Tactile

Tactile (pronounced tak-til or tak-tahyl)

(1) Of, pertaining to, endowed with, or affecting the sense of touch.

(2) Perceptible to the touch; tangible.

(3) Capable of being touched; tangible (archaic).

1605–1615: From the Middle French tactile, from the Latin tāctilis (tangible), from tāctus, past participle of tangere (to touch)), from the primitive Indo-European root tag (to touch; to handle).  The construct was tact(us) + ile.  The –ile suffix was from the Latin –īlis (neuter -ile, comparative -ilior, superlative -illimus or -ilissimus; the third-declension two-termination suffix), from the Proto-Italic -elis, from the primitive Indo-European -elis, from -lós.  It was used to form an adjective noun of relation, frequently passive, to the verb or root.  The meaning "of or pertaining to the sense of touch" is attested from the 1650s.  Tactile is an adjective, tactilize is a verb, tactility is a noun and tactilely is an adverb; the noun plural is tactilities.  In specialized use, the word “tactile” is an element in many words:

Audiotactile: (relating to the senses of hearing and touch).

Chemotactile: (the ability of an organism to sense changes to its chemical environment).

Electrotactile: (composed of an array of small electrodes that provide stimulation to the skin).

Entactogen: (the quality of combining mechanosensory (of or pertaining to the sensing of mechanical stimuli) with tactility).

Mechanotactile: (mechanosensory (of or pertaining to the sensing of mechanical stimuli) and tactile).

Orotactile: (of or pertaining to the sense of touch in mouth).

Pedotactile: (that can be felt by the feet).

Pneumotactile: (relating to the skin's ability to feel a pneumatic pulse).

Protactile: (a dialect of ALS (American Sign Language) that communicates with touch).

Tactilometry: (The measurement of touch or of vibration (change in dimension) (tactilometric the adjective).

Teletactile: (relating to the transmission of physical touch over a telecommunication network (teletactility the noun).

Thermotactile: (Sensitive to heat and to touch (but distinct from thermomreactive)).

Visuotactile: (relating to perception by vision and touch).

Vibrotactile: (of, pertaining to, or using vibrotaction (the dynamic response of tactile nerve endings in the skin to vibration)).

Tactile Paving

Examples of tactile pavers.

Tactile graphics (the singular form does exist but is rare and restricted to technical use (software manuals and such)) are raised-surface representations of images, maps, graphs and diagrams designed for individuals who are blind or visually impaired, enabling them to explore (using touch) anything able to be represented thus (physical topography, complex STEM (science, technology, engineering, math) content (cabling diagrams the classic example) spatial layouts, art etc).  Tactile paving was a practical application of tactile graphics, describing a system of textured ground surface indicators (constructed typically using a brightly colored rubberized plastic) permanently affixed to stairs, railway station platforms, the point at which a sidewalk (footpath) ends (the so-called “curb-cut”) and access to a pedestrian road-crossing begins etc.  The concept first appeared in Japan in the mid-1960s and was based on 点字ブロック (tenji (the name for Japanese braille, a system of writing in which letters and some combinations of letters are represented by raised dots arranged in three or four rows of two dots each and are read by the blind and partially sighted using the fingertips; the system was named after French educator Louis Braille (1809–1852))).  Something like “braille writ large” the “tactile paving tiles” are there as a kind of “signage” for the blind or visually-impaired, designed specifically easily to be detectable by shod-feet or a hand-held cane; the system was a major contribution to making the built environment more easily negotiable.  Although the shapes (“blister”, “lozenge”, “ribbed”, “cycleway”, “directional”, “stair” etc) are not quite internationally standardized, within jurisdictions, there is one for railway platforms, one for stairs, one for curb-cuts etc, the latter of importance because there’s sometimes no grade-change between a sidewalk and roadway along which motorized vehicles pass.

Tactile Necrophilia

Forensic and Medico-legal Aspects of Sexual Crimes and Unusual Sexual Practices (2008) by Professor Anil Aggrawal.

In psychiatry, “tactile necrophilia” (a condition in which subjects sexually are aroused by touching or stroking a corpse, without engaging in intercourse) is one of the ten classifications of necrophilia defined by Indian forensic psychologist Professor Anil Aggrawal (b 1956), author of the 438 page Forensic and Medico-legal Aspects of Sexual Crimes and Unusual Sexual Practices (2008), described in a review published in the AAJFC (American Academy Journal of Forensic Sciences) as a “quite remarkable book” and an “authoritative text” in which “Dr Aggrawal deftly brings to bear his 25 years of interest and knowledge of sexual deviancy”.  Within the profession, Dr Aggrawal is considered the leading authority on necrophilia and, as well as being a text book for the profession, Forensic and Medico-legal Aspects of Sexual Crimes and Unusual Sexual Practices is also a valuable contribution to the evolution of the history of how “normal” & “abnormal” have at various times been constructed, one reviewer noting “a enjoyable aspect of this book is Dr Aggrawal’s grasp of ancient references concerning the paraphilias in both religious and historical texts” while another was pleased by the inclusion of “minor aberrant behavior such as coprolalia and troilism.”

The ten classifications are not listed in either the APA’s (American Psychiatric Association) DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) nor the WHO’s (World Health Organization) ICD (International Classification of Diseases), and in the latest edition of the DSM (DSM-5-TR, 2022), a recurrent, intense sexual interest in corpses is classified as diagnosable under “Other Specified Paraphilic Disorder (necrophilia)” when “the cause of marked distress or impairment in important areas of functioning.”  Intriguingly, Professor Aggrawal list his ten headings in order of “increasing severity” meaning an “Exclusive Necrophiliac” (Class X; Those for whom sex with a corpse is an exclusive interest (ie they do not respond to a living partner)) is defined as a more severe condition than that of the “Homicidal Necrophiliac” (Class IX; Necrosadists, those who commit murder in order to have sex with the victim).  Presumably the notion of “severity” explored by Professor Aggrawal is based on a scale where the “total exclusion” of sex with a living human is the “terminal state” and one can see his point but it’s suspected most non-clinicians would regard (certainly on public policy grounds) someone who murders their sexual partners to be a “more severe” state of mental disorder than one who enjoys partners who met their end by other means (acts of God, trauma, murdered by the Freemasons, fatal illness etc).  Still, Professor Aggrawal is thought the world’s “leading authority on necrophilia” so we should defer to his expertise; it should be added his ten categories are to be digested while remembering he is a practicing forensic psychologist, his findings empirical and not theoretical:

Class I: Role players (Those aroused when pretending their partner is dead during sexual activity).

Class II: Romantic necrophiliacs (The bereaved people who remain attached to their dead lover's body).

Class III: Necrophiliac fantasizers (Those who fantasize about necrophilia, but do not physically interact with corpses).

Class IV: Tactile necrophiliacs (Those aroused by touching or stroking a corpse, without engaging in intercourse.

Class V: Fetishistic necrophiliacs (Those who remove objects or body parts from a corpse for sexual fetishes, without engaging in intercourse).

Class VI: Necromutilomaniacs (Those who derive pleasure from mutilating a corpse while masturbating, without engaging in intercourse).

Class VII: Opportunistic necrophiliacs (Those who usually have no interest in necrophilia but avail themselves of the opportunity when presented).

Class VIII: Regular necrophiliacs (Those who preferentially (but not exclusively) have intercourse with the dead).

Class IX: Homicidal necrophiliacs (Necrosadists; those who murder someone to have sex with the victim).

Class X: Exclusive necrophiliacs (Those for whom sex with a corpse is an exclusive interest (ie they do not respond to a living partner)).

Tactility's finest hour: The IBM Model M keyboard.

A triumph of modern industrial design but, in a way, a work of art: 1992 IBM (Blue Label) Model M keyboard.

In the few decades computing has been a mainstream activity, in the layers, at various points, such as been the variety of hardware, operating systems, languages and software, often there's been no general agreement about what’s best in any particular field but most with any exposure to the IBM Model M keyboard agree it’s probably the finest keyboard ever.  Even those not attracted to the tactility that is its most obvious characteristic (and there are those gentle souls who prefer a “squishy” to a “clicky” keyboard) will usually concede the build quality is exceptional, compared especially to some of the flimsy devices in recent years bundled with systems.  It shouldn’t be surprising IBM was able at scale to build something like the Model M keyboard given the company’s decades of experience in engineering such constructions and there are Model M nerds prepared to believe all those years were but preparation for what was required to make the Model M a landmark in tactility.

1973 IBM Selectric with three elements (golfballs).  The striking red was quite rare, staid corporations preferring blue, green and beige. 

IBM (International Business Machines) began in New York in 1888 (adopting the initialism in 1924), its early core-business mechanical “tabulating systems” for accounting and time-keeping and, by the 1930s, some of the mechanical engineering used in these systems was applied to typewriter technology after it acquired the tools, patents and production facilities of Electromatic Typewriters of Rochester.  The first result of an intense R&D (research & development) effort was released in 1935 as the Model 01 IBM Electric Typewriter, the machine that became the first really successful electric typewriter in the US and the beginning of a line which, by 1961, had evolved into the IBM Selectric, famous for its “element” that the rest of the world came to call the “golfball”.  The almost spherical “golfball” (it appears also in some IBM documents as “typeball”) contained the impressions of the letters that struck the ribbon and was interchangeable with others using different font sets.  That was not a new idea, other manufacturers using the principle of interchangeability in the late nineteenth century but with “type wheels” that were larger and tended to be fragile; the three-dimensional “golfball” was both more robust and, having to travel a smaller distance per key stroke, permitting a faster typing rate.  It was with the Selectric the evolution of what became the Model M keyboard really began.

1984 IBM Model F keyboard; the IBM mouse of the era was as ghastly to use as the look suggests.

Though the unit on the 1935 Model 01 Typewriter may be thought the Model M's LCA (last common ancestor), it's the Model F that deserves the honor of parenthood.  The first version of the definitively tactile, stand-alone IBM keyboard was the Model 14 which, although most associated with the original IBM PC-1 released in August 1981, had actually debuted with the System/23 Datamaster (1981-1985), a short-lived corporate workstation that proved a dinosaur, unable to adapt to the strange new world created by the unexpected success of the PC-1 (those in the IBM boardroom as surprised as any).  The adoption by corporations and SMBs (small & medium business) of the PC-1 and its successors was also ultimately the death knell for the earlier 6580 Displaywriter (1980-1986), a hefty and expensive dedicated word-processor (the impact printer usually bundled with the thing so loud most put it in an insulated shroud or a separate room); like the System/23 in the battle of "survival of the fittest", it proved unable to adapt, crowded out of the ecosystem by the rapidly expanding niche created by the PC-1.  In an era when "to be first" was often a great marketplace advantage (enabling critical mass to be gained), the Datamaster's introduction five weeks ahead of the PC-1 wasn't enough for the species to survive although it's Model 14 keyboard was shared with the upstart from which not much had been expected.  The Model 14 debuted with an 83 key layout and the nerdiest of nerds still extol its technical superiority over the Model M in that it uses a buckling spring over a capacitive PCB (printed circuit board) rather than the later membrane.  The Model F remained in production until 1985 (although volumes (by both IBM and Lexmark) had slowed) but it was the platform for innovations such as the revised layout to accommodate the PC-AT's protocols and the availability of specialized models with provision for magnetic stripe readers & inbuilt LCD readouts (both with cable-interfaces to external devices) and as few as 50 or as many as 127 keys (the latter industry-specific).

Custom IBM Model F keyboard with LED module.

Model F aficionados can be a snobby crowd, proud of pointing out even IBM admitted one of the design objectives with the Model M was to reduce manufacturing costs but the attraction is real, the intricacies of the Model F intriguing and their labour-intensive production process does mean nothing like them is likely again to be made.  The internal assembly uses two curved metal back-plates and the PCB is flexible, thus also curved when attached to the back-plate and while just about every other keyboard's curves are simulated by the molding of the keycap profiles, the Model F's curves were integral to the frame, thus allowing all keycaps to be the same shape and size, a great advantage for those who like to tinker and customize.  While freaks customizing keyboards are less frequently found than once they were, they exist still in dark rooms living on pizza and Coca-Cola.  Snobbery or not, the freaks do (up to a point) have a point because the mechanical advantages are real.  The capacitive design is superior, requiring a lighter actuation force, delivering a crisper feel and slightly sharper feedback; it’s also more robust, IBM guaranteeing each key with a MTBF (mean time between failure) of over 100 million key-presses, a reasonable life even for the most productive trolls.  The switch from PCBs to membranes meant these characteristics were to some degree toned down in order to lower manufacturing costs although the MTBF was still rated an impressive 80 million, even a Marcel Proust (1871-1922) unlikely to have worn one out in his lifetime.

IBM user Lindsay Lohan in Life-Size (2000, Walt Disney Television).

Pace the freaks but the Model M is preferable, if for no other reason than simply because it (more-or-less) standardized the core keyboard layout (most others have long conformed) and in use, the tactility is little different from its predecessor.  Regarding the layout, the case can be made that the Model F’s location of the function keys to the left may have made sense but the planet has settled on the Model M's layout and humans adapted.  Introduced in 1985 with the 3161 terminal, the PC-compatible version appeared in 1987 when it was included with the PS/2 range introduced with the OS/2 operating system and MCA (Micro Channel Architecture) bus.  The Model M is a solid (9 lb (4 kg)) tactile experience that feels as solid (and "clicky") as the Model F and users typically have a long time to become accustomed to that feel; the keyboards, some now over 40 years old, appearing not to have a life expectancy, many in continuous use for decades and a servicing ecosystem exists should any parts need to be replaced although it’s said rectifying the consequences of spills (of coffee, red wine, G&Ts etc) is a more common request and, as a general principle, the higher a liquid's sugar content, the more difficult the task.  Black tea or coffee with no sugar is, for many reasons, recommended, keyboard hygiene included.  The best source for the tactile status symbols is ClickyKeyboards.

United States Patent # 4,118,611 Buckling Spring torsional snap actuator. Harris, 1978:

It will be appreciated with regard to the figures that depression of the key button 1 moves the key button and its stem 6 into the housing 3, creating longitudinal compression and lateral deflection of the helical compression spring 2. An initial counter-clockwise moment is exerted on the rocker member 4 which is approximately equal to the force F times the distance between the pivot point 8 of the rocking member 4 and the center line of the spring. The upper end of the helical spring 2 is held squarely against the key button 1 by a clockwise moment created by a force equal to approximately F times the diameter of the spring divided by two. The rocker member 4 will initially be held firmly over the contacts 5A and 5B. As the lateral motion of the center of the helical compression spring 2 increases, both the top and bottom reaction moments in spring 2 are decreased because F is transmitted through the center section of spring 2. Shortly after these moments approach 0, the rocker member rocks to a position squarely over contacts 5A and 5C and the top of spring 2 rocks about the right hand edge of its topmost coil. The constraints upon the depression column spring have changed from an initial end clamped condition to an end clamped-pinned condition. This sudden change provides the tactile response of the key and is accompanied by a sudden rocking action of the rocker member 4 which creates an acoustic feedback as well.

Evolution of the IBM Keyboard layout: Model M, 3161 Terminal (1985) & PS/2 (1987) (top), Model F, PC-AT (1984) (centre) and Model F, PC & XT, (1981) (bottom).

The "buckling spring torsional snap actuator" is the core of the Model M’s charm.  Unlike mechanical switches that are depressed straight down like plungers, the Model M has springs under each key that contract, snap flat, or "buckle," and then spring back into place when released.  This provides the audible “click” so associated with the model and which some don’t like but for those who become accustomed to typing on one, it’s hard to go back to anything else; they have the feel of a pre-modern (circa 1980 and earlier) Mercedes-Benz.  Because of the physicality, typing on a Model M is a tangible experience; like a typewriter, the tactility and the feedback of the click gives every letter a physical presence.

NASA's (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) LSLF (Lunar Sample Laboratory Facility).

The LSLF is NASA's repository and laboratory facility at the Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center in Houston (named after Lyndon Johnson (LBJ, 1908–1973; VPOTUS 1961-1963 and POTUS 1963-1969 who, as VPOTUS was made titular head of the US space programme, the centrepiece of which was the Apollo project that produced the manned landing on the Moon in July 1969).  Since 1979, the LSLF has housed geologic samples collected from the lunar surface during the Apollo missions (1969-1972).  The facility preserves in a secure vault much of the 842 lb (382 kg) of rocks, dust and such returned to Earth as well as some other material and the associated data records.  The facility also contains "clean-room" laboratories so samples can be processed and studied in a contamination-free environment.

A "NASA office", circa 1989 (given the likely spec of the PC, probably a secretary's desk, left) and the "moon rocks" available for "public touch".  

The LSLF also includes (as a "static exhibit", left), a replica of a room in the Space Center as it was in the late 1980s.  On the desk is Model M keyboard connected to a IBM PS/2 PC that, on the basis of the cropped image, appears to be a Model 30, a "low end" version that would have included either an 8086 (8/16 bit) or 20286 (16/16 bit) Intel CPU (central processing unit) and in either case would have been built on the AT (Advanced Technology) bus, later known as ISA (Industry Standard Architecture).  Higher end models included the 80386 (32/32 bit) CPU and MCA, some even with the new OS/2 operating system.  For a number of reasons (technological and economic), MCA and OS/2 proved to be chimeras although OS/2 did become a fabulous beast, lasting in its niche into the twenty-first century and hobbyists still support development on the platform.  The LSLF's PS/2 may be running IBM PC-DOS 4.01, a "bug-fix" of the prematurely-released v4.0 that shipped with "bugs" in the handling of the then novel EMS (Expanded Memory Specification) on non-IBM expansion boards; memory was in the 1980s of great interest as users needed ways to "work-around" DOS's by the infamous 640 kb "addressable limit".  Microsoft "bug-fixed" v4.0 and this was released by IBM as PC-DOS 4.01; while MS-DOS 4.0 was always the "debugged" version, very few copies were shipped so numbered, a "cosmetic release" as 4.01 soon in the channel because of the reputation of v4.0 as "flawed".  Despite that, there's nothing to suggest pristine copies (ie still in shrink-wrap) of MS-DOS 4.0 have become even a minor collector's item.  Also in the LSLF is a display of (right) the world's only eight lunar rocks (some nearly four billion years old) available to be touched by the general public.

Hikikomori

Hikikomori (pronounced hic-hee-kee-koh-moh-ree)

(1) A mode of behaviour in which an individual becomes a recluse from society, typically remaining isolated, sometimes for decades, in a single room at home.

(2) An individual exhibiting this behaviour for a sustained period.

1990s: From the Japanese noun 引きこもり or 引き籠もり (hikikomori), (literally “pulling inward; being confined”), from the verb hikikomoru (引きこもる).  The construct was 引く (hiku) (to pull, to draw back, to withdraw) + 籠る or こもる (komoru) (to shut oneself away; to remain secluded; to stay inside).  So, the literal translation is something like “to withdraw and remain shut in” but, used to mean “one who has withdrawn into seclusion”, the more common verbal shorthand is “shut in” (in the sense of “acute social withdrawal” or something in that vein).  Although once regarded as a uniquely Japanese phenomenon, it’s not now thought culturally specific, that perception a product of the condition and its extent first being widely documented in Japanese publications.  In Japan, the usual clipping is hikki.  Hikikomori is a noun; the noun plural is plural hikikomori or hikikomoris.

The element komoru is not recent; historically it referred not only to people but also generally to the concept of “being shut away or enclosed” or natural features such as a mountain at times when it was encircled by clouds or a land mass visible only at low tide (a tidal island or tombolo (a sand bar or path of dirt that connects this land to the coastline when the tide falls)).  More typically however it was use of individuals opting for whatever reason to “remain indoors” (such as those who, for religious reasons, might retreat to a mountain hermitage, either for a period of contemplation (that might last a lifetime) or to escape a society they had come to view as in some way “unsatisfactory”.  The concept of hikikomori is different in that those “afflicted” are not deemed to be motivated by a religious calling or philosophical position but instead “suffering” a visceral reaction to the condition of society or their life, manifesting as an urge to retreat from the outside world to a “safe” enclosed space.  This aligns with the modern use in psychiatry.

Hikikomori in a hoodie by @do-triph.

So use of the verb hikikomoru goes back generations but the noun hikikomori came into use only in the 1990s when the psychiatric sense was popularized in the book Shakaiteki Hikikomori: Owaranai Shishunki (Social Withdrawal: Adolescence Without End, 1998) by Japanese psychiatrist Dr Tamaki Saitō san (b 1961).  For reasons both structural and historic, it’s rare for concepts in psychiatry to have origins in Japan so hikikomori enjoys an unusual place in modern nosology (the characteristics or scientific understanding of a specific disease).  Internationally however, hikikomori “caught on” and became part of the standard jargon; that was not because there was any particular interest in categorizing uniquely Japanese phenomena but because clinicians in other places had for some time been aware the behaviour was not uncommon in their countries.  The Western media soon took an interest in hikikomoru because editors knew stories about “disaffected adolescents locking themselves in their bedrooms for years” would be good productive clickbait, readers likely to be attracted by tales of troubled geniuses or depressed emos.

The companion terms are the English language acronym NEET (Not in Employment, Education or Training) and the Japanese オタク (Otaku).  Otaku (best translated as “geek” or “nerd”, reflecting the bias in use towards computers or other tech) emerged from fandom community associated with Macross (a Japanese science fiction mecha anime media franchise), the use derived from お宅 (otaku) (you), from the honorific form 宅 (taku) (home), thus the notion of Macross being “your home” (ie one’s natural environment”).  From the Macross obsessives, use extended to “obsessive interest in something” (especially (and often exclusively) Japanese anime or manga).  While originally a derogatory term, fandom communities “reclaimed” otaku as a self-descriptor although it does continue to be applied disparagingly.  In the West, it tends to be neutral, used to refer to anyone with a strong interest (obsessive or not) in anime or manga.  NEET is applied not to all those “unemployed” but only those thought apathetic or who exhibit the characteristics of a hikikomori but in sub-groups, the play on words with the English “neat” (in the sense “excellent, desirable; interesting; cool”) prevails.

Mental Health Daily's choice of an image capturing the hikikomori experience.

The hikikomori came to be known as “the lost generation” and that it was a thing identified in the 1990s and celebrated (in a sense, that can be the right word) in Dr Saitō san’s 1998 book is interesting because it was the 1990s that came to be known as “the lost decade”).  Although there were of course the inevitable fluctuations in the growth curve, over the 40 years between 1949-1989, the trend for the Japanese economy in most indicative measures (GDP (gross domestic product), GNP (gross national product), RPP (relative purchasing power), AMWE (average male weekly earning), corporate profits, exports, trade surplus etc) tended upwards and while, given the country’s paucity of natural resources, that was an achievement in some ways even more remarkable than the Wirtschaftswunder (“economic miracle”) witnessed in the FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany, 1949-1990) over the same period, the stellar performance was not without consequences and some of those consequences triggered reactions.  The strength of Japanese economy was by the 1980s producing notable distortions in the world’s production and trading systems and that of course affected currencies, as aspect of the international system distorted still further by this happening at a time when currencies weren’t allowed to “float” to the extent now familiar, governments and central banks (in some places, for this purpose, the distinction between the two institutions not significant) sometimes literally “setting the rate” by fiat.  All this required trips to Tokyo by the US Treasury Secretary to negotiate the devaluation of the US dollar and it was in the 1970s & 1980s the deindustrialization of the US economy really began, later forces such as automation, computing, the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) proving most adept at capitalism and AI (artificial intelligence) being building blocks in what continues to evolve as the “new model”.  US politicians of course responded to this by inducing Japan, the FRG and others running substantial trade surpluses with the US to shift some production to the US and that to some extent reduced the imbalances but, factories and assembly lines in the 1980s not being what they were a generation earlier, US employment levels or incomes certainly weren't restored.

The Japanese economy continued to flourish and the fear in the US was often expressed as “Japan taking over the world”.  That this might be done by the use of Japanese money was a thought bad enough but to add insult to injury, much of the money was in US dollars gained by Americans paying Japanese companies for the sort of stuff once manufactured in their now shuttered factories.  Against that threat, the world’s most potent military (a chunk of which was allocated to the defense of Japan) and an impressive arsenal of thermo-nuclear weapons able to be delivered anywhere on the planet was not a great deal of help.  What was a help was economic reality because by 1989 one part of the Japanese economy had developed into a disproportionately large bubble; at this bubble’s peak, the notional value of Tokyo real estate market was greater than the entire continental US.  Although obviously not something that could have been realized in the “real world” (ie had every piece of real estate in Tokyo been offered for sale at its nominal valuation), the numbers were indicative of one of economic history’s most notable imbalances.  In a kind of national hubris (an exuberance as “irrational” as anything seen since the Dutch “tulip bubble”), the combination of extreme over-confidence by speculators and ultra-loose credit policies by lenders had resulted in land values in Japanese cities (Tokyo the most extreme example) coming to be decoupled from economic reality (and, because of the “extrapolation effect” by which especially the value of commercial floor-space was calculated within markets), ultimately, basic mathematical reality too.

Hikikomore by 1gorman on Deviant Art.

An (extreme) example of a similar disconnection from reality would be Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) applying the metrics and methods of valuation (that for decades have served him well) to news cosmologists had used their new “big telescopes” to discover a “perfect Earth-like” planet (one of the so-called exoplanets (any planet located outside of our solar system)) a “mere” hundred light-years distant.  Obviously, this planet (or at least what it was a century ago). with an ideal climate, ample resources, stable geology etc, would contain much desirable real estate so the valuations attached to this unspoiled paradise would’ in other circumstances, be high.  There might be some uncertainly if it couldn’t be determined if the place had inhabitants (on Earth such folk have proved troublesome in land-grabs) but that’s just something speculators have to “factor in”.  The problem however is that however desirable might be the exoplanet’s lands and seas, they’re a “stranded asset” because of the distance from Earth; we cannot contemplate travelling a single light-year, let alone a hundred.

Safely tucked up: Lindsay Lohan in Hikikomori mode.

So distance can be an intrusive reality, “stranding an asset”.  That’s what the math in 1989 did to Japanese real estate values, the extrapolated numbers meaning floor space in office buildings became at once “the most expensive on the planet” and unrealizable as convertible into cash; the asset became stranded in its bubble.  Still, the frothy days of 1989 must trigger a warm glow of nostalgia among the few able to take their profits and “exit” before the crash of 1990.  When the “bubble burst”, the effects were profound because, unlike the Dutch “tulip bubble” now understood to have had relatively little long-term effect on the wider economy of the Netherlands, in Japan, the crash in the real estate market trigged a cascade of consequences affecting the stock market, over-exposed banks and the wider economy.  In retrospect, that it was a bubble seems so obvious but then, in retrospect, much often does: In 1989, the cumulative value of the Japanese property market was four times that of the US (the latter with more than twice the population and 25 times the land mass); metropolitan Tokyo alone was worth more than the entire continental US and the 1.15 km² grounds of the Imperial Palace were valued at up to US$5.1 trillion (greater than the entire state of California).  So assets can become “stranded” in a number of ways but the concept is much the same: Whatever may appear the “book value”, if this number can never be translated to “real” economic value (not necessarily cash), that asset is stranded.  The Gaza strip is less distant from New York’s Trump Tower than the desirable real estate on an exoplanet a hundred light away but, with a population tiresomely showing no wish to go somewhere else so sea-front resorts can be built, it may as well be as distant.

Four episodes of Welcome to the N.H.K. (note the “Parental Warning” advisor stickers).

Among the most intriguing of the anime projects was Welcome to the N.H.K., based on a series of novellas by Tatsuhiko Takimoto san (b 1978).  Featuring a very anime-friendly cast of characters (with all that implies), as might be expected in a work about hikikomori, the text explored issues such as social isolation, depression, anxiety and existential dread but the novelty was the appearance of the mysterious N.H.K. (Nihon Hikikomori Kyoukai (Japan Hikikomori Association), a Masonic-like institution responsible for the increasing number of recluses “shut up” in their bedrooms.  The hook is the tale is that the N.H.K. is the shadowy creation of NHK (Nippon Hōsō Kyōkai (Japan Broadcasting Corporation)), the national public broadcaster.

What came to be called “Japan's Lost Decade” of the 1990s was marked severe economic stagnation, a “banking crisis” (bad loans left sitting on the books as if there was a prospect of repayment), a stock market collapse and deflation.  Between 1989-1991 the Nikkei 225 prime index would slump from near 39,000 to around 6,600 and in an era when many governments were fretting about apparently “entrenched” inflation, in Tokyo, what was being observed was deflation.  Central bankers at least know how to “fix” inflation (they engineer a recession), but deflation is a fabulous beast that convinces people not to spend because they know the same commodity will next week likely be cheaper; like the inverse process in an inflation-ridden state, deflation “feeds on itself” in a spiralling “feedback loop”.  Solutions proved elusive.  While central banks fighting inflation could continue raising interest rates until the pain of spending became too much for consumers, the concept of “negative interest rates” (ie one has to pay the bank to store one’s money) was of limited utility because savers’ “work arounds” to evade this would likely make the situation worse before it induced them to open the purse-strings.  Pulling the textbook off the shelf, after blowing off the dust, Japanese governments embarked on “fiscal stimulus programmes” that (with borrowed money) sustained banks continuing to loan to anyway insolvent borrowers, this creating both “zombie banks and “zombie companies”; institutions “not alive yet not quite dead”.  If anything is likely to stifle efficient resource reallocation in an economy, it’s having “zombies at scale”.  In a quirk of the uniqueness of the Japanese economy however, although government debt is now somewhere between 210-240% of GDP (the methods of calculation can vary) this is said “not to be a problem” because so much of the debt is in Yen and locally held (a benefit of all that saving induced by living in deflationary times).  Like the US government debt of US$40 trillion odd (120-135% of GDP), it may take some time before it’s confirmed whether or not these numbers are “a problem”.

Why I Became a Hikikomori (Shut-In), SillyPau explains.  Now we know.

All this happened in conjunction with GDP consistently under 1% and an aging population (a demographic trend that had become structural and continues to this day) and while those “salary men” in employment tended to remain so (although suffering “career stagnation”), the young, despite graduates being the most educated in history, faced what was dubbed the shūshoku hyōgaki (employment ice age), the jobs available for most being low paid, unstable and often non-permanent.  For a generation brought up with high expectations and a sense of unlimited possibilities, it was an unpleasant welcome to the new decade that would come to be called “the lost decade” and even that proved optimistic; by early in the twenty-first century the use had been updated to “lost decades” as the sluggishness persisted.  While it had come to be understood things were not going back to what they were in the happy days of 1989 (because what then was “was not real”), the young in particular still longed for something better.

Some continued their longing and some “just gave up”.  It was in the 1990s the “lost decade” produced the “lost generation” that came to be called the hikikomori, withdrawing from a society that seemed to offer little other than a dreary, meaningless existence.  By becoming recluses hardly ever leaving their bedrooms, maybe that was just another form of meaningless dreariness but at least it was on their terms and lent life some sense of “control”, illusory though that may have been.  According to Japanese researchers, the number of hikikomori had by 2024 grown to over a million and the phenomenon has, on a smaller scale, been noticed in other countries.  In Japan, having a million-odd modern-day hermits sitting in their bedrooms refusing to face the outside world remains unlikely to do much to stimulate the economy or the rapidly declining birth-rate.  Indeed, in mid-2026, the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications disclosed the population of domestic citizens had for the first time fallen below 120 million, a 0.76% decrease from the previous year; with 670,467 births against 1,593,475 deaths, deaths are outpacing births by more than two to one.

If something is happening in Japan, there will be anime documenting it in every aspect.  Titles include ReLIFE (2016), Recovery of an MMO Junkie (2017) and the ominous sounding Forbidden Deductions (2023).

Some have argued there is an element of technological determinism is all this.  Whether or not one chooses to label it “internet addiction”, there’s no doubt the ecosystem of the web and apps (especially hyper-realistic gaming) had made it possible as never before to lead a kind of fulfilling life without ever leaving one's bedroom.  With accommodating parents (an ample supply found in Japan) and a good internet connection, the bedroom can become one’s universe, a place without the awfulness one know lies beyond one’s four walls.  There is nothing new about those who either cannot cope with or have no wish to deal with the demands of modern society retreating to the margins but, for the first time in history, it has become possible for these recluses to exist in a rich, diverse, entertaining world that is wholly virtualized; relationships and even love affairs able to be conducted with AI (artificial intelligence) bots.  Because of the dynamics of the ways these bots can be constructed, many users (and by, implication, many hikikomori) probably find these relationships more satisfactory than anything experienced with one with a creature of flesh and blood; in many ways, for the tech industry, the COVID-19 pandemic was a “perfect storm”, contributing to some finding social isolation as “normalized”. The Japanese Government acknowledges hikikomori exists and defines it as something affecting people who have stayed at home for at least six months.

Hikikomori is discussed in the APA’s (American Psychiatric Association) DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) but not as a distinct mental disorder. Instead, it’s listed as a behavioral or psychosocial phenomenon that may occur in association with a variety of psychiatric conditions (and even, in some cases, without any diagnosable mental disorder).  In other words, the DSM treats hikikomori as a symptom rather than a pathology.  That would make sense to clinicians (if not all behavioural sociologists) and in DSM-5-TR (2022), hikikomori is mentioned in the section dealing with “Cultural Concepts of Distress”, the characteristics including (1) marked social withdrawal, (2) remaining at home (often confined to one room) for at least six months and (3) an association with significant functional impairment.  So, in the DSM, hikikomori is not classified as a separate diagnosis and clinicians are encouraged to consider whether the withdrawal is better explained by disorders such as: (1) autism spectrum disorder, (2) major depressive disorder, (3) schizophrenia spectrum disorders, (4) social anxiety disorder, (5) avoidant personality disorder or (6) OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder).  If a patient seems not a good fit for any of those, helpfully, the DSM includes (7) other psychiatric illnesses and presumably, that cohort will be thought diagnostically the most interesting.  It would not be surprising if the profession settles on an acceptance of hikikomori as something transdiagnostic, a behavioral endpoint that can arise from various causes.

The Hikikomori: The Girl Who Couldn't Go Outside (2022) by Mark Vrankovich.

There is much thematic variation in hikikomori literature, ranging from the hopeful to the nihilistic.  There are also redemption tales.  In The Hikikomori: The Girl Who Couldn't Go Outside, Miko Nishimura san is a hikikomori who has become convinced she is the most insignificant person in Japan.  Crippled by anxiety, she never leaves her bedroom, occupying just about every waking moment playing racing games (she’s a most modern girl) on her computer.  However, a crisis ensues when the batteries in her wireless mouse die during a time when her parents are absent.  It’s made clear not many things could induce Miko san to leave the house but not being able to continue her gaming was such a rare  circumstance.  Miko san should of course have had spare batteries to hand (or, better still, used a wired mouse needing no batteries) but what’s done is done and can’t be undone and she knew she was compelled to make the terrifying trip to the shop to buy new batteries. As courageously she ventures forth, what unfolds is a tale intertwining contemporary Japanese culture, ancient magic powers and the finding of love.

Although in the west there’s a long tradition of “the recluse” (from the briefly installed Celestine V (circa 1212-1296; pope Jul-Dec 1294) to the film star Greta Garbo (1905–1990) and the multi-faceted Howard Hughes (1905–1976)) when in 1998 Dr Saitō san published his book, it seemed in the West fashionable to see hikikomori as something culturally specific, an example of one of the tradition-bound syndromes that delight writers who regard “Japanese weirdness” as the last acceptable form of the “orientalism” that was for decades a standard paradigm of academic and popular analysis of stuff east of Suez.  It’s still claimed (though increasingly unconvincingly) there are many of these “Japanese” syndromes relating to fields such as education, employment the family and attitude to psychiatric treatment but the modern view is that in these matters, between Japan and other cultures (certainly in East Asia), there are as many similarities as differences.  It has also become clear hikikomori–like behaviour exists in clinically significant numbers in a number of countries including South Korea, China, Hong Kong, Singapore, Spain, Italy, France, New Zealand, Canada, the US, Australia, the UK, Brazil and India.  Despite that, it is still most associated with Japan because it was there first identified (a la the “Spanish flu” process of 1919) but there’s no doubt the conjunction of the nation’s “lost decades” and the subsequent overlays of (1) the internet, (2) social media, (3) the COVID-19 pandemic and (4) consumer-packaged AI algorithms that made possible “life-like virtual relationships” created economic and social conditions that made the phenomenon both more prevalent and visible.