KITAKYUSHU, Japan — In a thin notebook discovered along with a man's partly mummified corpse this summer was a detailed account of his last days, recording his hunger pangs, his drop in weight and, above all, his dream of eating a rice ball, a snack sold for about $1 in convenience stores across the country.
('3 a.m. This human being hasn't eaten in 10 days but is still alive,' he wrote. 'I want to eat rice. I want to eat a rice ball.'
These were not the last words of a hiker lost in the wilderness, but those of a 52-year-old urban welfare recipient whose benefits had been cut off. And his case was not the first here.
One man has died in each of the last three years in this city in western Japan, apparently of starvation, after his welfare application was refused or his benefits cut off. Unable to buy food, all three men wasted away for months inside their homes, where their bodies were eventually found.
Only the most recent death drew nationwide attention, however, because of the diary, which has embarrassed city officials who initially defended their handling of the case and even described it as 'model.'
In a way that the words of no living person could, the diary has shown the human costs of the economic transformation in Japan. As a widening income gap has pushed up welfare rolls in recent years, struggling cities like Kitakyushu have been under intense pressure to tighten eligibility.
The fallout from the most recent death has shown just how far the authorities in Kitakyushu went to achieve a flat welfare rate.
Japan has traditionally been hard on welfare recipients, and experts say this city's practices are common to many other local governments. Applicants are expected to turn to their relatives or use up their savings before getting benefits. Welfare is considered less of an entitlement than a shameful handout.
'Local governments tend to believe that using taxpayer money to help people in need is doing a disservice to citizens,' said Hiroshi Sugimura, a professor specializing in welfare at Hosei University in Tokyo. 'To them, those in need are not citizens. Only those who pay taxes are citizens.'
Toshihiko Misaki, head of the city's welfare section, did not refer to the three deaths as from starvation, but called them 'solitary.' He defended the system.
'On the one hand, there are people who've done their utmost to remain standing on their own feet,' Mr. Misaki said. 'On the other hand, there are those who've gotten into trouble because they've led idle lives and are now receiving welfare. That's taxpayers' money. We get criticized by people who are trying their best, so we have to find the right balance.'
With no religious tradition of charity, Japan has few soup kitchens or other places for the indigent. Those that exist — run frequently by Christian missionaries from South Korea or Japan's tiny Christian population — cater mostly to the homeless.
Like the diarist, the other two men were sickly, and they seemingly starved after their applications for welfare were rejected. One, 68, was found lying face down in his apartment, where the gas and electricity had been cut off half a year earlier.
The man reportedly told neighbors that he had been denied benefits even though he had prostrated himself before a city official. At his death, he had lost about a third of his weight and had only a few dollars.
The application of the third man, 56, was rejected twice even though a city worker trying to collect an unpaid water bill reported seeing him weak and crawling on his apartment floor. Neighbors who last saw him said his legs had withered to the size of bamboo poles. His mummified corpse was discovered four months after his death.
Between 2000 and 2006, as Japan's welfare rate grew to 1.18 percent from 0.84 percent, Kitakyusha's rate grew microscopically — to 1.28 percent from 1.26 percent. That ranked it toward the bottom among major cities even though its economy was doing poorly.
To the central government — which bears 75 percent of welfare costs, began cutting benefits in 2003 and plans to rein in more — that made the city a model.
'We were the so-called honor student,' Mr. Misaki said in an interview.
He added: 'Other cities came here to learn from us — how we did things. And the Welfare Ministry also showcased Kitakyushu's methods.'
