The Power of Fandom: How Fan Psychology Drives Business

Oshi-katsu, literally "oshi activity," isn't only about idols or fictional characters. It covers every way of supporting something that matters to you: athletes, actors, works, companies, even a whole region. You might watch, listen, buy, talk or travel to meet them. The forms differ, but the feeling at the center is the same: "I want to cherish this."

"Fans" and "people who have an oshi" overlap, but they aren't the same. Being a fan usually signals interest in a work or a genre, while an oshi is a more personal attachment. What is ordinary consumption for one person can be an act of support for another. Once you see that difference, you start to notice a passion that numbers alone can't show.

The word oshi, roughly "the one I back," is handy because it doesn't limit its object. It fits a person, a character, a shop or a region, and it tells people what kind of relationship you have before you've explained what you love.

That flexibility is what spread the word, but it can also stretch the meaning until it goes vague. When you use it, stop and check what you actually mean by it, and you'll cause fewer misunderstandings.

The word oshimen, "the member I back," spread on the back of the idol culture of around 2010 and fans' wish to name their favorite in a short phrase. It was a nominee at the 2011 U-CAN New Words and Trendy Words Awards, Japan's annual buzzword prizes, though it would be inaccurate to say it made the top 10. Tracing a word's history carefully is also a way of respecting the culture behind it.

Once a name exists, a personal feeling is easier to share. Telling someone who your oshi is works as a self-introduction and as a signal to people who love the same thing. Words don't sort fans into categories; they help fans find a place to belong.

This field is often discussed in numbers, but what really moves it is each person's feelings. Statistics are results, not reasons.

The spread of the word matters in itself. A feeling that once came out only as "I'm a fan" now has finer names, so people can say whom they support, how much, and in what way.

A word makes it easier to find others in the same situation. The moment something gets a name, it becomes something you can share. Oshi-katsu took hold so quickly partly because everyone had been struggling to explain themselves.

A survey by the Nomura Research Institute (NRI) found a trend. Among people with no oshi, one, two, and three or more, the share who rate their happiness 8 or higher rises from 20.9% to 31.8%, 40.7% and 42.2%. That doesn't prove cause and effect, but it's a clue to how having an oshi relates to life satisfaction.

Support gives you something to talk about with others, a reason to go out, and things to look forward to, such as the next stream or match. It can't be equated with a medical effect, but oshi-katsu can shape the rhythm of a life, not just consumption, we think.

As oshi-katsu has spread over the last few years, so has corporate interest, but not all interest is alike. Do you see a market or a culture? The difference shows up in the details of a plan.

Still, the survey shouldn't be read as "have an oshi and you'll surely be happy." For some people, burden and isolation can grow. Each person should be able to choose a way of supporting that fits their own time and money.

In a project by the professional basketball team Kyoto Hannaryz, fans could buy balloons online and see them become part of the arena's decoration. Instead of just receiving a finished product, your own choice becomes the scenery of the venue, and that sense of having taken part closes the distance to the team.

A company's job is not to use fans' passion to make them buy. It is to provide places where support can be expressed, where people can meet each other, and where you can see it flow back to the object of your support. A design that lets fans feel "my support got through" turns a short-term campaign into a long-term relationship.

From a company's side, this behavior is hard to predict. The people you advertised to don't always move, and sometimes people you never expected become enthusiastic spreaders.

So judging by short-term reactions leads you astray. Count only the people who bought, and people who have not bought but spread the word drop out of view. The effects of oshi-katsu show up outside purchases, too.

Support also has an end. When life changes, people drift away, and the object of support may end its activities. Design as if it lasts forever and you end up counting everyone who leaves as a failure.

Perhaps Kaho Miyake's book The Technique of Putting What You Love into Words struck a chord because so many people want to talk about what they love in their own words. Handing fans things to talk about, not only products and events, is another way to connect with them.

Oshi-katsu isn't built on one person's fervor alone. The person who supports, the friends who talk it over, and the companies and communities who provide the space all overlap, and together they turn support into culture.

Don't see fans only as "people who buy from us." Respect them as people who find an oshi's value, put it into words and pass it on to those around them. That is where a lasting relationship grows, for business and culture alike.

When bringing oshi-katsu into a business, the thing to avoid most is seeing supporters as nothing but "customers who buy a lot." They can tell exactly when they're being treated that way.

Support is an expression of goodwill, not a transaction. Answer someone who is moving out of goodwill with the logic of a deal, and it breaks. If you never lose sight of this one point, you are unlikely to go far wrong.