Cheater

Cheater (pronounced chee-ter)

(1) A person who cheats.

(2) Specifically, an adulterer (although used in the same sense of infidelity generally, even when neither party is married). 

(3) A device or component used to evade detection of non-compliance with rules or regulations (such as the (Dieselgate) mechanical and electronic devices used by Volkswagen and others to cheat emissions testing programmes).  As a mechanical device a cheater is thus "a modifier" and the word is also often used as one.

(4) Slang (in the plural) for eyeglasses or spectacles (archaic).

(5) In mechanical repair, an improvised breaker bar made from a length of pipe and a wrench (spanner), used typically to free screws, bolts etc proving difficult to remove with a ratchet or wrench alone; any device created ad-hoc to perform a task not using the approved or designated tools.

1300-1350: From the Middle English cheater from cheat, from cheten, an aphetic variant of acheten & escheten, from the Old French eschetour, escheteur & escheoiter, from the noun; it displaced native Old English beswican.  The -er suffix was from the Middle English –er & -ere, from the Old English -ere, from the Proto-Germanic -ārijaz, probably borrowed from the Latin -ārius.  The adoption was reinforced by the synonymous but unrelated Old French –or & -eor (the Anglo-Norman variant was -our), from the Latin -(ā)tor, from the primitive Indo-European -tōr.  The suffix was added to a person or thing that does an action indicated by the root verb, thereby forming the agent noun.  The noun cheatery is now rare, existing only in old texts.  Escheat refers to the right of a government to take ownership of estate assets or unclaimed property, most often when an individual dies without making a will and with no heirs.  In common law, the theoretical basis of escheat was that (1) all property has a recognized owner and (2) if no claimants to ownership exists or can be identified, ownership reverts to the King (in modern terms the state).  However, in some circumstances escheat rights can also be granted when assets are held to be bona vacantia (unclaimed or lost property).  The original sense was of the "royal officer in charge of the king's escheats," and was a shortened form of escheater, agent noun from escheat.  The meaning “someone dishonest; a dishonest player at a game” emerged in the 1530s as the Middle English chetour, a variant of eschetour following the example of escheat +‎ -er which evolved in English in the modern form cheater (cheat + -er).  Cheater & cheatery are nouns; the noun plural is cheaters.

Cheater cars are a frequent sight on several social media platforms, posted presumably by impressed spectators rather than victims or perpetrators.  Techniques and artistry vary but there does seem to be a trend whereby the more expensive the car, the larger and more lurid will be the lettering.  Red, pink and fuchsia appear the colors of choice (the connotation perhaps "scarlet") except where the automotive canvas is some hue of red; those artists adorn mostly in black or white; the use of upper and lower case characters seems to vary.  Like many trends on social media, all may not be what it appears and it's believed some of the "cheater cars" posted are "fake", daubed just as click-bait.

Although the consequence of having violated the the Seventh Commandant, those suffering a "cheatered" care are in a sense "victims" so the following notes are provided as a courtesy to cheaters: If the philandering cheater is (obviously undeservingly) lucky, they’ll find the attack on their car has been symbolic rather than destructive in that the paint is water-based.  If so, if discovered soon after application, it may be possible for it to be dissolved and washed away without having to resort to strong chemicals.  Specialists recommend cleaning the car with just mild, soapy water (thereby removing anything abrasive) and then soaking microfiber towels in the same mix.  Place a wet towel over the affected area for 5-10 minutes (obviously more difficult with vertical surfaces so some improvisation may be demanded) and then gently wipe away the softened paint (do not scrub aggressively because some grit may be embedded; if possible use water spray from domestic garden hose).  If some time has elapsed and the paint fully has dried, usually it's safe to use a rubbing alcohol (such as Isopropyl); this should break down the latex or acrylic binder without harming the paint beneath.  Pour a small quantity of rubbing alcohol onto a clean microfiber cloth, hold on the paint for a few seconds and then gently rub with a circular motion.  Also potentially effective are the citrus-based solvents but these must be used with caution because they’re remarkably strong (left on some plastics, they can melt the surface!) so fluid should be tested on some small, hidden part of the vehicle (such under the hood (bonnet) or beneath carpets).  There are also dedicated clay-based lubricants (they come as conveniently sized bars) that can be “glided” across dampened paint to lift what’s atop without damaging the paint below.  The clay works on as similar basis to rubbing compounds and these may be necessary for any “stubborn spots”.  If the paint used is oil-based or something just as “sticky”, an expert should be consulted because aggressive solvents (industrial paint strippers, acetone, lacquer thinner etc) quickly can eat through to bare metal or whatever material was used for the bodywork.

An sinner's Audi: A Trotskyesque death by pick-axe, Burgas, Bulgaria, September 2005.  Press reports suggested this attack was a "business matter" but it could have been the work of a S5C-APC.

So that’s of paint which is bad enough.  However if one had cheated on a S5C (stage-five clinger, a breed always prone to using paint) who is also APC (actual psycho-chick), the consequences may be worse and S5C-APC may resort to fire-bombing car, attacking it with a baseball bat, slashing tyres or leaving a half-dozen pick-axes buried in the bodywork.  That may sound extreme but the S5C-APC can be exactly that and, after all, cheaters have only themselves to blame and all that can be recommended is following either (1) the Seventh Commandant (Thou shall not commit adultery) or (2) the unwritten eleventh (Thou shall not get caught).  As a technical point, it's acknowledged that suggesting all cheaters are men and all painters (or axe-wielders) are women is sexual stereotyping may be wrong but probably only to the extent almost all cheaters are men and almost all painters (or axe-wielders) are women.

Hell also hath no fury like a woman cheated upon.   

Because it sounds Shakespearian (a construct in literature), the (anyway incorrectly quoted) phrase “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” often is attributed to William Shakespeare (1564–1616).  That's thought plausible because it seems to be in "his voice" and in modern use, often about the only time the Middle English “hath” is seen is in some Shakespearian quote so the association sticks.  The real author however was Restoration playwright William Congreve (1670–1729) who coined the phrase for his 1697 play The Mourning Bride, the protagonist of which, although becoming a bit unhinged by the cruel path of doomed love, doesn’t resort to leporidaecide (bunny boiling).  Congreve’s line, “Heav'n has no rage, like love to hatred turn'd, nor Hell a fury like a woman scorn'd.” was good but actually was a more poetic rendition of a similar but less elegantly expressed version another playwright had used a year earlier.  The Mourning Bride is the source also of another fragment for which the bard is often given undeserved credit: “Music has charms to soothe a savage breast” although that’s often bowdlerized as “Music has charms to soothe a savage beast”.  Politicians notoriously are liars and cheaters, some even cheerfully admitting it (usually when safely in their well-provided for retirement) but in the privacy of their diaries, they're fond of happily (and usually waspishly) admitting it of others.  Although he has a deserved reputation for telling not only lies but big lies, no one has ever disputed Joseph Goebbels’ (1897–1945; Reich Minister of Propaganda 1933 to 1945) assessment of a fellow cabinet member, foreign minister Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Minister of Foreign Affairs 1938-1945) of whom he said “He bought his name, married his money and cheated his way into power”.  Goebbels was a serial adulterer and in his home town was known as "Die Ziege von Berlin" (the goat of Berlin). 

Volkswagen: Cheating as a science 

Guilty as sin.

Oliver Schmidt (b 1969; inmate number 09786-104 in US Federal, York Township, Michigan. right) received a seven year sentence for his involvement in the Volkswagen diesengate scandal.  Herr Schmidt (right) is pictured here receiving a Ward’s “Best Engine” award in 2015.  In US$ terms, dieselgate is thus far the most expensive of the many "gates".  In falsifying things so its diesel engines appeared to be less polluting than they were (certain particulates emitted at up to 40 times the volumes claimed with some 11 million "cheating" vehicles built) Volkswagen certainly gave cheating a bad name and, in addition to the hefty fines imposed in the US and EU (European Union (1993)), the multi-national aggregation which evolved from the EEC (European Economic Community), the Zollverein formed in 1957), in May 2022 the company announced an out-of-court settlement of Stg£193 million (US$242 million) with UK regulators, following the Aus$125 million (US$87 million) imposed by the PVA (Federal Court of Australia).  To date, Dieselgate has cost the company some US$34 billion with guilty verdicts handed down in criminal cases including two former Audi executives: head of engine development Wolfgang Hatz (b 1959) and lead diesel engineer Giovanni Pamio (b 1963) who were handed suspended jail sentences of 24 months and 21 months, respectively.  Hatz was fined €400,000 (US$437,000) and Pamio €50,000 (US$55,000).  All three were guilty as sin so the verdicts were unsurprising.  Volkswagen suffered greater consequences for having be "caught cheating" than did Pontiac in 1973 but that was a single vehicle submitted for testing so really was a case of "attempted cheating".

1971 Volkswagen Karmann Cheetah prototype.

Before they became the industry’s most notorious (although not only) cheats, Volkswagen flirted with the idea of producing a “Cheetah”; designed by Italy’s Italdesign and built by German coachbuilder Karmann, the Volkswagen Karmann Cheetah first appeared in March 1971 at the Geneva Motor Show.  Reflecting the view there were still developmental possibilities in the company’s long-running and highly successful platform used first for the Type 1 (Beetle, 1938-2003), the Cheetah was thought a way to wring one last drop from what had begun life in 1938 as an attempt by the Third Reich (1933-1945) to produce a "people's car".  Over the decades, the approach had yielded much success with the Beetle’s underpinnings yielding military applications and utility vehicles as well as the famous Type 2 (1949-1979, as Microbus, Kombi etc in a wide range of configurations and the lovely Karmann Ghia (in two series, Type 14: 1955–1974 & Type 34: 1961–1969) coupé and cabriolet.  Additionally, conventional (in the then current European style) coachwork had been used for the Type 3 models (1961-1973), built as two door sedans, (including a fastback) and station wagons, the market responding well to more spacious and modern bodies being placed atop the Beetle’s famously reliable and durable drive-train.

1980 Triumph TR8 (left) and Triumph Bullet design study (circa 1970, right).  The "wedge" design language is evident but the lines of the earlier Bullet design study  are even closer to those of the Cheetah; the Volkswagen didn't enter production but many wedges appeared in the 1970s & 1980s.  Like not a few ventures from the doomed British Leyland (1968-1986), as a successor to the highly regarded TR6 (1968-1976), the Triumph TR7 (1974-1972) should have been a success but corporate and governmental ineptitude saw it added to Leyland's large scrapheap.  The TR8 (1977-1982) transformed the TR7's dynamics by use of Rover's 3.5 litre (215 cubic inch) V8 but, as was emblematic of the corporation, just as the concept had been perfected, production ended.  There has been much analysis of the UK's motor industry in the 1970s and 1980s and while conditions (internal and external) often were "difficult", most published accounts conclude Leyland "deserved to fail".  

The idea of the Cheetah was a variation on the theme that had produced the Kombi, Karmann Ghia and such: a low-cost roadster suitable for mass production on existing assembly lines using a 1.6 litre version of the Beetle’s familiar flat-four engine, the power output of 50 HP judged “adequate” because of the light weight and slippery aerodynamics.  In a sign of the times, anticipating US regulations, not only were the front and rear sections designed to accommodate large bumpers but rather than a classic roadster, from Giorgetto Giugiaro's (b 1938) drawing board came a targa, the modernist wedge-shape then highly fashionable.  Because it was then anticipated the traditional convertible would in the US be outlawed, the there was a built-in roll-over bar, integrated into pillars designed to resemble a roadster’s detachable hardtop and the clever targa mechanism was the work of Karmann, the soft-top featuring a translucent sunroof panel above cockpit; it slid down the length of the top's sidebows, tucking neatly between the seats.  However, Volkswagen’s management were by the late 1960s not disconnected from reality and understood the days of mass-market machines with air-cooled rear-engines were coming to an end.  Although still a success, the writing was on the wall for the Beetle and the attempt to translate the concept into larger, four-door form had failed, the 411 (1968–1972) & 412 (1972–1974) ranges never coming close to meeting expectations.  By 1971, work was already advanced on what would be the template to carry the company into the next century (FWD (front wheel drive) with water cooled front-mounted engines) and that program would by 1974 begin to yield the new generations (Sirocco, Passat, Golf, Polo etc).

1972 publicity still for Fiat X1/9.  Because of the juxtaposition of (1) lime green paint and (2) a model in orange hot-pants, no knowledge of automotive history is required to date this photograph from the 1970s.

But the Cheetah seemed compelling because there was rear-engined, air-cooled hay to be made while the sun still shone and the formula (a small, economical, sports car able to be mass-produced at low cost by using components from high volume models) had long been a staple of the UK’s industry (MG, Triumph and Austin Healy all booking good profits through big export sales, especially to the lucrative US market.  On paper, the Cheetah thus made sense and although, (given the 50 HP) the name might have been at least optimistic, the Karmann Ghia sold well despite never having been a high performance car despite the glamorous lines (indeed, slightly heavier than a Beetle, acceleration suffered although the shape added a little to the modest top speed).  Anyway, the Triumph Spitfire’s pace hardly lived up to its illustrious name and the Cheetah was envisaged as something that would sell to those who valued the Beetle’s virtues (economy of operation, reliability, resale value) but would be drawn to its avant-garde looks; at a time when the phrase still could be used, it was a “lady’s car”.  As it was, the decision was taken not to proceed and not long after the debut in Geneva, the Cheetah faded into obscurity although Fiat would in 1972 release the similar-looking X1/9 using the same concept of parts-sharing although with contemporary engineering (water cooled, mid-engined, no swing axles) and it was a success, needing only minimal updates until production ended in 1989.  Volkswagen doubtlessly was right not to proceed with the Cheetah; the historic moment had passed.

Smokey Yunick: Cheating as an art  

Smokey Yunick’s 1966 Chevrolet Chevelle (1963-1977) #13 that some alleged was a 7:8 or 15:16 rendition, here aligned against a grid with a stock body.

In simpler, happier times, cheating could be an accepted part of the process and just something of a contest between poacher and gamekeeper.  In the 1960s, NASCAR (National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) racing in the US was a battle between scrutineers amending their rule-book as cheating was detected and teams scanning the same regulations looking for loopholes and anomalies.  The past master at this cheating was Henry "Smokey" Yunick (1923–2001), a World War II (1939-1945) bomber pilot whose ever-fertile imagination seemed never to lack an imaginative venture aimed at securing some advantage while remaining compliant with the letter of the law (at least according to his interpretation).  His cheats were legion but probably the most celebrated (and there were some who thought this one legitimate) concerned his interpretation of the term “fuel tank capacity”.  NASCAR's rulebook specified the maximum quantity of fuel a tank could hold but said nothing about the steel fuel line running from tank to engine so Mr Yunick replaced the modest ½ inch (12.5 mm) tube with one 11 feet (3.6 m) long and two inches (50 mm) wide, holding a reputed 5 (US) gallons (19 litres) of gas (petrol).  That was his high-tech approach.  Earlier he’d put an inflated basketball into an oversized tank before the car was inspected by scrutineers: when they filled the tank, it would appear to conform to regulations; these days it’d be called “inflategate”.  After passing inspection, Mr Ynuick would deflate the ball, pull it out and top-up his oversized tank for the race.  Pointing out there was nothing in the rules about basketballs didn’t help him but did lead to the rule about a maximum “fuel tank capacity”, hence the later 11 foot-long fuel line.

NASCAR's letter of approval.

Mr Yunick’s 1966 Chevrolet Chevelle was different from the stock models but by the mid 1960s, all NASCAR’s "stock" cars were, the days long gone when what were raced were essentially "stripped-out versions of showroom-stock cars".  The difference certainly was perceptible to the naked eye and an urban legend arose it was a 7:8 (some said 15:16) scale version.  The body’s external dimensions were however those of a stock Chevelle although the body was moved back three inches for better weight distribution, the floor was raised with the underside smoothed to improve the aerodynamics, the same reason the bumpers were flush-fitted to the fenders.  The first car passed inspection (after making the modifications decreed by NASCAR) and took pole position at the 1967 Daytona 500.  He built another imaginative Chevelle for the 1968 race but it never made it past inspection.  In 1990, Smokey Yunick was inducted into the International Motorsports Hall of Fame, a recognition as richly deserved as it was overdue.

The speedy cheetah

Singer and dancer Josephine Baker (1906–1975) with Chiquita, her pet cheetah.

A true homophone of cheater, cheetah (the plural cheetahs) wholly is unrelated.  Cheetahs are large cats (Acinonyx jubatus) of south-western Asia and Africa, resembling a leopard but noted for certain dog-like characteristics which is why they’re sometimes been trained for hunting game (deer, antelope etc) and they have even occasionally been fully domesticated as pets; they're said to be "affectionate and protective but never fully house trained".  Dating from the early eighteenth century, cheetah was from the Hindi चीता (cītā (leopard, panther), from the Sanskrit citraka (leopard) & citrakāya (tiger) the construct being चित्र (citra) (multicoloured; speckled) + काय (kāya) (body, thus “beast with a spotted body”).  The Sanskrit citra was akin to the Old High German haitar (bright), the German heiter and the Old Norse heiðr (bright) and ultimately was from the primitive Indo-European kit-ro-, from the root skai- (to shine, gleam, be bright).  Kāya ultimately was from the primitive Indo-European kwei- (to build, make).  The now archaic alternative spellings were cheetah & cheetah and historically, the creatures were known also as the guepard, hunting cat or hunting leopard.  Understandably, given their size and predatory nature, it’s not uncommon for cheetahs to be referred to as “big cats” but in zoological taxonomy, felinologists restrict the “big cat” classification to the genus Panthera (lions, tigers, leopards, snow leopards & jaguars) and one defining feature of the Panthera cats is their ability to roar, made possible by a specific structure in their larynx.  Lacking the anatomical feature, cheetahs can purr, chirp & hiss but not roar.

A female cheetah at speed.

According to Dr Anne Marie Helmenstine, computer modelling suggests a cheetah should be able (briefly) to attain a speed of 75 mph (120 km/h) although its hunting technique is to maintain an average of 40 mph (65 km/h), sprinting to the maximum only when making a kill.  Cheetahs have been verified as attaining 60 mph (96.5 km/h) and if required, the quick cats can go from 0-60 mph in 3 seconds (three strides), putting them in the class of the quickest Lamborghinis, Ferraris and such but they're sprinters with little endurance, able to sustain top speed for little more than a quarter-mile (400 metres).  Like engineering, nature imposes trade-offs and although pronghorn antelopes have been recorded running at a slightly slower 55 mph (88 km/h), they're able to sustain that for around a half-mile (800 metres) although 40 mph (70 km/h) can be maintained for several miles and their "natural cruising speed" of 30 mph is possible for as much as 20 miles (32 km) depending on the terrain and weather conditions.  The speed and endurance differentials between cheetahs and antelopes explains why the cat's tactic is to get as close as possible before closing for a kill; if the prey is not caught within 300-400 metres, it'll likely escape although, in the wild, not every encounter is one-on-one; a antelope seeking to outrun one cheetah runs the risk of running into the path of another.

Easily, cheetahs can out-sprint humans, the men’s world record for the 100 metre dash standing a 9.58 seconds, compared with an eleven year-old cheetah (in captivity) clocked at 5.95 and her top speed of 61 mph (98 km/h) remaining the highest verified.  For now, the cats remain quicker than even robots, the record at the 2026 World Humanoid Robot Games in Beijing set at 9.39 seconds but while the cheetah probably has reached its evolutionary peak, humanoid robots are still (in evolutionary terms) in an early stage of development so one going quicker then 5.95 may be just a question of whether resources are devoted to the quest; it does seem more likely the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) will direct companies to focus instead on making humanoid robots more "useful" such as for military purposes (neutralizing other machines or killing people).  So for now the pace of the cheetah remains impressive but it's still not the fastest creature on the planet.  In the ocean, Black Marlin have been clocked at 82 mph (132 km/h) while sailfish can for periods swim at 70 mph 110 km/h.  Land and sea creatures are how ever slow compared with birds, the “calculated maximum theoretical speed” of the “ideal Peregrine Falcon” being between 250-388 mph (400-625 km/h) depending on altitude (and thus air density) and while many are sceptical about that, Guinness World Records has accepted the bird’s speed being recorded at 242 mph (389 km/h) in a dive.  Despite that, there are ornithologists who doubt such a velocity has been reached and claim a top speed around 150 mph (240 km/h) is likely more realistic.  Still, that makes them the fastest known animal in the universe.

The Bill Thomas Cheetah

Cheetah cutaway, published in Sports Car Graphics, November, 1963.  Not many front-engined cars had space sufficient to for a usefully-sized frunk.

A contemporary of the Shelby American AC Cobra (1962-1967) and very much in the same vein, the Cheetah (1963-1966) was designed and constructed by California-based race car builder Bill Thomas (1921-2009).  As part of his work as an engineering consultant, Mr Thomas undertook projects for GM (General Motors), his focus on the somewhat clandestine motorsport activities of its Chevrolet division and he parlayed this influence into securing corporate support for the concept that became the Cheetah.  The support was practical in that it yielded most of the mechanical components needed for a prototype including a Chevrolet Corvette's 327 cubic inch (5.3 litre) V8 engine, Muncie four-speed gearbox, independent rear suspension and a miscellany of stuff from the GM parts bin.  It was obviously the pre-CAD (computer-aided-design) era but Mr Thomas didn’t trouble himself with drawing boards or blueprints, instead laying out the drive-train components on the floor of his workshop in what seemed to his practiced eye an ideal arrangement and, with white chalk, he then sketched on the concrete the outline of the chassis frame members.  At that point, a draftsman (with tape measure) was brought in and blueprints were rendered; remarkably, Mr Thomas with great success for decades used this novel design technique (don't try this at home, it needs a gifted engineer).  Once the chassis dimensions were finalized, a body was designed and it’s important to note the project was initially envisaged only as a “concept car”, built for the purpose of impressing GM and thus securing further contracts.  So, conceived as something to be admired rather than used for any serious purpose, it was only as construction continued Mr Thomas sort of “fell in love” with his creation and decided to use it in competition, something to which its low weight and prodigious power should have made it well-suited.  However, the compromises in chassis design which mattered not at all for a concept car meant some structural rigidity had been sacrificed and that was a quality essential in race cars; later rectification work would be required.  The first two Cheetahs were fabricated in aluminum (later models used GRP (glass reinforced plastic, better known as fibreglass) and one was sent to the Chevrolet Engineering Center for testing and evaluation.

1964 Cheetah with clamshell hood open.

The layout was not so much radical as extreme, the conventional F/R (front engine-rear drive) approach taken to a kind of logical conclusion with the engine located so far back the driver’s legs were alongside the block.  In the same way the “mid-engine” configuration was being defined as “engine behind the driver and in front of the rear axle line”, the Cheetah’s variation was “engine in front of driver and behind the front axle line”, already familiar in race cars and in a handful of exotic machines but in the early 1960s still.  As well as offering most of the weight-distribution and handling advantages offered by a mid-engine, the Cheetah’s layout avoided the complication of a transaxle but the drawbacks included inefficiencies in packaging (ie a cramped cockpit) and extraordinary heat-soak, the latter a familiar issue in an era when small, low volume coupés were fitted with large displacement US V8 engines, the elegant AC 428 “Fura” (1965-1973) an exemplar of the phenomenon.  When the Cheetah was tested prior to being used on the track, it was found to be prone to over-heating, largely because the body had been designed to look decorative and no vents had been installed to extract hot air from under the long hood.  That was addressed by the use of a larger radiator and the addition of various vents & ducts, along with a full-length belly pan, meaning subsequent versions lacked the visual purity of the original, the effect not dissimilar to the way the addition of this and that to provide for heat management meant the production versions of the Lamborghini Countach (1974-1978) lacked the sleek starkness of the original prototype, first shown at the 1971 Geneva Motor Show (attracting rather more attention that that other prototype wedge, the Volkswagen Karmann Cheetah).  Still, compared with how subsequent versions of the Countach (1978-1990) would be adorned, the elegance of the early run 160-odd of the LP400 Periscopios remains compelling.

1964 Cheetah, note the cut-outs and vents, subsequent additions to handle the heat generation.  As might be guessed, AC (air conditioning) was not on the option list.

The Cheetah’s dubious structural rigidity was a result of the original chassis being merely a quickly-assembled platform on which the striking body could be mounted to be admired but it was marginal for use even as a road car, let alone one subjected to the stresses of competition; even before testing it was anticipated substantial changes would have to be made.  Because so little triangulation had been incorporated in the original build, the chassis was susceptible flex as the loads imposed by lateral forces increased as high-speed curves were negotiated, meaning the suspension geometry changed, challenging even skilled drivers accustomed to rigid frames that guaranteed the point at which characteristics became frightening was at least predictable.  Additionally, for the testing, the Cheetah was provided with more power (perhaps not the car's most most obvious need) which exacerbated the alarming tendencies, including the rear suspension’s trailing arms bending, slighting altering (sometimes while at high speed!) the location of the wheels.  Adding gusseting and triangulation to the frame and redesigning the trailing arms ameliorated the worst of the characteristics but some vices were inherent in DNA so subsequently, some owners of Cheetahs, seduced by its many virtues, undertook what was essentially a re-engineering of the underpinnings; most of the many replicas and "continuation" editions differ significantly from the originals.  So it was flawed but it was an age of charismatic, imperfect machines and whatever the quirks, the Cheetah was powerful, light and clearly aerodynamic for in a straight line, few could match its pace; the name was chosen for a reason.

Unfortunately, the early 1960s were the end of an era in sports car racing because in addition to the regulatory body (the FIA (Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile (the International Automobile Federation) already on its descent to becoming world sport's dopiest regulatory body) changing the rules for the class for which the Cheetah was intended so that 1,000 rather than 100 would be required for homologation, in the top flight, the days of the classic front-engined roadsters and coupes in top-line competition were nearly done and the future lay with the rear-mid configuration.  Given all that, Chevrolet withdrew its support although small-scale production continued and some two-dozen were constructed before the last was built in 1965.  The survivors are now high-priced collectables and there have been dozens of replicas although in the twenty-first century, this cottage industry was stalled by a dispute over ownership to the intellectual property associated with the design.  Predictably, although the Cheetah wasn’t obviously a car in need of more power, some owners of the replicas have (commendably) concluded exactly that and fitted a variety of engines including big-block V8s while others have added forced aspiration (turbochargers or superchargers).  Fundamentally, what this approach meant was the “handle with care” injunction wisely applied to the original remained; just more so.

1929 Mercedes-Benz SSK (left) and 1964 Cheetah (right)

The distinctive lines of the Cheetah, its driver sitting over the rear wheels behind a long nose, recalled the pre-war roadsters that provided the model for most of the era’s grand prix cars, the motif lasting into 1960 when (in the unusual circumstances prevailing for Italian Grand Prix at Monza), a Ferrari secured one last win for the front-engined anachronisms.  The Mercedes-Benz SSKs (W06, 1928-1932) & SSKLs (WS06RS, 1931) were classic examples and among the last of the road cars able to win top-flight grand prix events.  The red example (above left) is a 1929 model SSK (one of 33 built) and although the hue is untypical of the breed, in fashion and on the highways, the interwar (1919-1939) years were more colourful that the impression left by the volume of monochrome and sepia images making up so much of the photographic record.  Interestingly, although Mercedes-Benz race cars are much associated with white (the racing color originally allocated to Germany) and silver (adopted by the factory racing team in the 1930s although in not quite the circumstances once claimed) there was a precedent for the use of red because that was the paint applied to the Mercedes Tipo Indy 2.0 used to win the 1924 Targa Florio (setting a race-record time which would stand for a decade), chosen because of the habit of the Sicilian crowds to pelt with rocks any car not painted in Italian Racing Red.  Not since 1920 had a non-Italian car won so it was a wise precaution.

1969 Pontiac Grand Prix Model J.  The name was opportunistic, the big Pontiac having as much in common with a grand prix as the Volkswagen Karmann Cheetah had with speed.

Such is the appeal to stylists of the “long nose” that over the years many have ignored the packaging inefficiencies its use imposes.  It was one of the most commented-upon aspects of the Jaguar E-type (1961-1974) and probably it’s rare for an analysis of that shape to have been written without the word “phallic” appearing at least once.  Even when the effect is not so exaggerated it can be effective, the third generation Pontiac Grand Prix (1969-1972) the last of the memorable designs to emerge from the golden years of GM’s PMD (Pontiac Motor Division) during the 1960s.  Intended to be evocative of the aspect ratios of machines such as the big Duesenbergs of inter-war years, PMD even purloined the “J” & “SJ” designations although with its apple-green straight-8 engines a Duesenberg really did need a long nose; under the hood of the exclusively V8-powered Grand Prix, there was much empty space.

Sublime to ridiculous 

Modified 1973 Volkswagen 1303 Super Beetle.

Nor was it just manufacturers with a fondness for the style.  In Canada, somebody with the requisite skills decided the “Cheetah look” was what a 1973 Volkswagen Super Beetle really needed and while it’s obvious the body extensively has been modified, the distorted dimensions are deceptive because the (presumably unique) project sits on an unmodified chassis, the wheelbase unchanged.  Unfortunately or not, the opportunity was not taken to install up front a straight-8 or V16, the car still running the modest, rear-mounted, 1.6 litre (97 cubic inch) flat-4 fitted by the factory (ie underneath, it's the same specification as the abortive Karmann Cheetah prototype).  As well as the curved windscreen, the 1303 featured the 1302’s improved front suspension (an enhancement one tester claimed made it faster point-to-point than a 1963 Porsche 356), the design of which allowed the capacity of the frunk to be increased and this one will be more capacious still; given it’s now a two seater, luggage capacity should be adequate although the front bucket seats have been replaced with a full-width bench so three adults could be accommodated, BMIs (body mass index) and a willingness to rub shoulders permitting.  Because it’s on the same wheelbase, any increase in weight should be minimal and the handling (anyway improved by the revised suspension) presumably will be affected (for better or worse) only by the change in weight distribution.  That said, given the thing is now more tail-heavy, the Beetle's inherent tendency to oversteer (somewhat tamed by 1973) might be more apparent but with the power available, even if it behaves something like an early Porsche 930, should a situation drama occur, probably it'll be at a lower speed.

Ridiculous to absurd     

1980 Cadillac Eldorado “Valentino” by the unimaginatively named Conversions Incorporated, a Michigan-based customizing house (left) and 1981 Cadillac Eldorado "Regal Coach" by Florida's International Coach Works Company, a selling point the Rolls-Royceish “flying lady” hood ornament, said to make it a “real head turner” (right).  Heads can of course turn for reasons good and bad.

In the sometimes weird world that was the ecosystem of modified PLCs (personal luxury coupe) in the US of the 1970s and 1980s, the “long nose” style didn't exist in isolation.  It was one of a number of design elements part of the “neo-classical” movement that included also side-exit, flexible exhaust pipes (referencing the often supercharged pre-war machines (a la the Mercedes-Benz SSK but by the 1970s almost always fake), upright chrome-plated grills (Rolls-Royce the preferred inspiration), T-roof assemblies (a modern take on the old sedanca de ville coach-work), fake wire wheels and external spare tyres, the rear one in a "Continental kit" (a look that to this day refuses to die), the fender-mounted pair taking advantage of the eighteen-odd inches (460 mm) spliced between A-pillar and front wheel.  The spares used the space where sometimes sat the external exhaust pipes so it was a choice to be made by customers although some builders just left the expanse of sheet metal, emphasizing the elongation.  For all its foibles, the US is one of the most remarkable nations ever created and, having the the previous quarter century mastered nuclear fission & fusion, produced the Bill Thomas Cheetah and sent a dozen men to walk on the Moon, other Americans turned to doing this to Cadillac Eldorados.  It's a cliché to say "American has the best of everything and the worst of everything" but the phrase endures for good reason. 

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.