by Hunter Ferner
"In Japanese, kakehashi means bridge, and there isn't a better word to sum up my visit to Japan."
When I was in high school, I took a human geography class. We discussed a lot of key issues that I would later further disseminate both in my travels and in college; some of these included social organization within the world’s societies, the human-environment relationship, and how urban cities shape the areas around them – or rather how the areas around cities shape the urban districts themselves. Although these concepts seemed inviting to study, they also came with a set of skills us students needed to grasp in order to fully understand them.
One day in that classroom, we went over population pyramids; they’re called “pyramids” because, as both male and female populations get older in a region, they’re supposed to dwindle in age, leaving us with a graph that has a fat base at the bottom of the age range and a narrow point at the top – like a triangle. What left an impression on me that day was, when we looked at Japan’s pyramid, the triangle was practically upside-down.
The Upside-Down Pyramid
In March, I had the opportunity to visit the upside-down pyramid myself, and among making courtesy calls to the local government and indulging myself in the most delicious udon I’ve ever tasted, I also got to talk with many of Japan’s locals about the population pyramid crisis and how it affects their day-to-day living.
In October of 2022 and after two years of lockdown restrictions, Japan became one of the last countries in the world to lift its border restrictions after the COVID-19 pandemic. During this time, Japan changed in both its technology and tourism industries. In urban areas like Tokyo and Kyoto, services are now a lot more efficient and health-conscious with the implementation of online reservation systems and what I’m dubbing “kiosk shopping.” Yes, in addition to Japan’s remarkable vending machine population – with about one machine for every 23 people – there are also self-service kiosks in urban areas and inside restaurants where browsing, ordering, and paying for a bowl of ramen all happens in the same place at the same time.
Japan recognizes this post-COVID era as a new age for the country, and a lot of my conversations surrounding how Japan is ushering in this new age started in Tokyo – a city that has a history for reinventing itself. My travelmates and I made a stop at the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building during one of our first days in the city. Here, we asked our guides questions about the political structure in Japan and who’s influencing the legislature.
Unlike the United States – where I’m from – Japan has a constitutional monarchy government system, but like the U.S., representatives are selected based on popular sovereignty. And while the political system makes space for many voices to be heard from the different perspectives and opinions of over twenty political parties, there’s one looming issue that casts a broad shadow on the political arena: the upside-down population pyramid.
My guide at the National Assembly told me that it’s very difficult to get young people involved in politics these days, and there’s a good reason why: With Japan’s older population far outnumbering its younger population, it is much more difficult for younger people to vote out incumbents and enact the changes they want to see happen in their country. This presents a significant problem for the Japanese political system whose aftershocks will be felt at much higher amplitudes in the next decade or so as Gen Z begins to replace today’s legislators.
TOKYO: Old Meets New
In the midst of the pandemic, Tokyo announced its “Old Meets New” campaign – a mission with a message that aims to bridge Tokyo’s past with the future of Japan. Essentially, the megacity is painting itself as a city of contrasts – a place where veneration for ancient Japan can coexist with technological innovation, sustainability, and – of course – anime. During my visit to Tokyo while this campaign was in full-swing, I noticed gestures to Japanese culture and history both in the thousands of temples that dot the landscape and in the smaller details, such as bowing when greeting someone or the overwhelming air of politeness to the city.
There are significant culture norms that are much different in Japan than in the U.S. This stuck out to me the most when walking around the city and how my friends and I were easily the loudest pedestrians on the street from simply having what would be a normal conversation in the U.S. The work culture was especially prominent in Tokyo, too, where most people dress quite conservatively around town, and subway goers somehow follow a subconscious commute rhythm and wake up from their naps exactly when their stop is approaching.
KYOTO: University life in Japan
But these signs of how Japanese value their traditions didn’t stop in Tokyo. After having the chance of riding a bullet train myself to Japan’s eighth-largest city, Kyoto, I met up with some Japanese students my age at Ritsumeikan University. All of the students I met were studying something related to the sciences – for some, their interests were in biochemistry, and for others it was artificial intelligence. Meanwhile, I was a liberal arts major from a small school in Hawaii, and I immediately felt intimidated by the level of intellect in the room that I just walked into.
The students were incredibly polite, though, and we had lots of laughs about the differences in college life between our home countries and all the language nuances that got in the way. I found out during my visit to Ritsumeikan that so many students study science and technology because Japan’s economy is largely based in these industries. In other words, Japanese university graduates gain a significant competitive edge in the labor market when they graduate with degrees related to these fields.
This also revealed to me the different ways that younger people in Japan and the United States approach higher education; in Japan, a lot of societal pressure sits on young people to get a good education and work a respectable career, and while the same can be said about those in the U.S., higher education seems more transactional in America and has grown into more of a business model. It seems that, in the U.S., college applicants are given a wide range of degree programs and areas of study that come at a significant cost but also allow people to experiment with alternative pathways. While alternative pathways may still exist in Japan’s universities, a lot of students’ futures can be traced back to the application process itself.
Instead of measuring an applicant’s eligibility for university based on GPA or their involvement in school, Japanese applicants are typically assessed on one score from a test that they can only take once per year. So, some of these societal traditions that Japan wants to keep alive in the modern era have a track record of generating success in the country, but it also adds an immense pressure on young people in Japan – a population that has sort of become voiceless in an unbalanced political climate and post-COVID world.
I spoke more about this with one student at Ritsumeikan. When I asked him his thoughts on Japan, he said that he didn’t really care for his country, and instead he has aspirations to move to the Philippines one day. When I asked him why, he mentioned feeling underrepresented by the government in Japan and how people in the Philippines felt more bright and approachable to him.
Kakehashi – Building bridges and making pathways
I spent a good day or two after talking with the students at Ritsumeikan digesting what it means to be a young person in Japan right now. While the ultra-modernity of Tokyo and the tranquil architecture of Kyoto fully encapsulated my love for Japan, I felt more drawn to the natural areas that still echoed signs of its ancient past. I spent a lot of time at Fushimi Inari Shrine, where the iconic torii gate tunnels mesmerized thousands of tourists and the surrounding bamboo forests gave a much-needed sense of stillness away from the crowds.
In Japanese, the term kakehashi means bridge, and there isn't a better word to sum up my visit to Japan as it was also the name of the program that made this journey possible. The program was spearheaded by Tomodachi, an organization born out of helping those affected by the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake and now investing in the next generation of Japanese and American leaders. It was illuminating to see how Japan is building its own kakehashi between the traditional and modern, where in cities like Tokyo guests can stay in ultra-luxe hotels just across the street from a temple that’s hundreds of years old, but I’m not so sure how sustainable the plan is for Japan’s future while the upside-down pyramid persists.
To truly welcome in the new age, Japan must begin by honoring the symbol of the future: its youth. While it’s crucial to make space for the sacred areas, customs, and traditions that keep Japanese culture as boundlessly beautiful as it is, it’s also important for Japan to embrace its younger population if they want to maintain their investment in themselves and in their global relations, because by the time today’s young people have a seat in Japanese affairs, the rest of the world will have already crossed the other side of that bridge.
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