J,
Could we discuss the economic situations in the small cities and towns in Japan? I am in Ichinoseki in Tohoku, it seems more than half of shops in downtown are closed.
Monday,
You’re not imagining things—Ichinoseki’s downtown, with its shuttered shops and fading facades, is a microcosm of a broader malaise afflicting small-town Japan. It’s like watching a slow-motion economic implosion, but with more vending machines and fewer people to use them.
The Great Vanishing Act
Ichinoseki, nestled in Iwate Prefecture, is part of the Tōhoku region, which has been leading Japan in the race to demographic oblivion. The region’s population is projected to plummet by 21% by 2040, with the working-age demographic shrinking by over 30% . It’s as if the towns are playing a game of hide-and-seek, and everyone’s winning by disappearing.
Shotengai: From Bustling to Bust
Traditional shopping streets, or shotengai, once the lifeblood of local commerce, are now more like ghost towns with better signage. A 2021 survey revealed that about 40% of these districts have vacancy rates exceeding 10%, a threshold considered indicative of decline . It’s like a retail version of musical chairs, but the music stopped decades ago.
The Succession Crisis: A Business Without Heirs
Japan’s small businesses are facing a grim reality: a significant number have no successors. By 2025, it’s estimated that half of the 1.27 million small business owners over 70 will have no one to take over . It’s the corporate equivalent of a family tree ending in a stump.
Labor Shortages: The Vanishing Workforce
Even businesses that manage to stay afloat are struggling to find workers. Japan is staring down a labor shortage that could reach 3.4 million by the end of the decade . It’s like trying to run a relay race when the baton keeps getting dropped because there’s no one left to pass it to.
Attempts at Revival: Nostalgia and Reinvention
Some towns are attempting to breathe life back into their economies through nostalgia-driven campaigns and creative reinvention. For instance, the Yanagase shopping district in Gifu is leveraging its history and even anime appearances to attract visitors . It’s a bit like trying to revive a party by playing the old hits—charming, but the crowd has mostly left.
The Silver Lining: A Chance for Reinvention
While the situation is dire, it’s also an opportunity for reinvention. Towns like Onagawa have banned urban sprawl to concentrate activity in central districts, aiming to create vibrant community hubs . It’s a bold move, like rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, but with a plan to actually steer away from the iceberg.
In summary, Ichinoseki’s economic challenges are emblematic of a nationwide trend. The combination of demographic decline, labor shortages, and business succession issues paints a bleak picture. However, with strategic planning and a willingness to adapt, there’s potential for these towns to carve out a new identity in the modern era.
J,
“have banned urban sprawl to concentrate activity in central districts”
It’s quite true, 10 minutes on the bus out of downtown, huge mega stores lined the busy highway. But for residents in downtown, there isn’t any grocery store available except convenient stores.
Monday,
Exactly—welcome to the tragicomedy that is Japan’s regional urban planning. It’s like they decided to put all the interesting stuff just out of reach for anyone without a car. Hooray for accessibility, right?
You’re absolutely correct. Many small Japanese cities—including Ichinoseki—have made some attempts to concentrate businesses downtown to keep the urban core from dying completely. But then they let car culture and big-box stores metastasize just outside town like a shopping tumor. It’s no wonder downtown feels like a post-apocalyptic film set.
So here’s the daily reality for residents: they either have to drive (or bus) to get groceries at a giant store surrounded by a sea of parking lots, or pay a premium for a sandwich and instant noodles at the nearest convenience store. It’s like living in a SimCity scenario where the city planner decided that walkability was a dirty word.
Meanwhile, those mega stores thrive because they cater to the car-driving crowd who would rather load up a month’s worth of toilet paper and rice in one trip than try to survive on daily downtown shopping. And let’s be honest: the population is aging, so even getting on the bus might be a pain for many residents.
So here’s the kicker: this arrangement is partly by design, partly by neglect. Local governments have been trying to “revitalize” downtowns by offering subsidies and special events, but the sheer inertia of the car-centric lifestyle, aging demographics, and a retail sector that prefers big-box profits over charming mom-and-pop shops means that downtown’s revival often ends up being a desperate game of whack-a-mole. And guess who’s holding the mallet? Spoiler: It’s usually no one.
Anyway, enjoy the short walk to your local convenience store. I hope you like overpriced fruit sandwiches.
J,
I can’t even find some fresh fruit except overpriced bananas.
Monday,
Congratulations! You’ve stumbled onto the highly exclusive fresh produce desert of downtown Ichinoseki—population: you. It’s like the ultimate challenge level for shoppers who like their fruit less-than-fresh and their prices more-than-high.
Yeah, that’s another sad but predictable symptom of the way Japanese retail has been migrating away from small-town downtowns to mega-malls on the outskirts. Supermarkets follow the customers (and their cars) to the cheap land, leaving downtowns with a handful of convenience stores that think “fresh produce” means bananas on the verge of becoming banana bread.
Honestly, the fruit game in small-town Japan is brutal. If you want an apple that’s not bruised and sad-looking, you’d better jump on a bus to the suburban supermarket—and even then you might have to fight off an old lady with a shopping cart to get the last decent tomato.
Meanwhile, local governments keep trying to lure people back downtown with festivals and old-timey lanterns, but apparently forgot that people need actual groceries to survive—preferably not from a machine that also sells smokes and beer.
So… yeah, welcome to the dystopian fruit desert. Maybe one day they’ll open an organic farmers market downtown, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. At least you’ve got bananas, though. Nothing says “vibrant downtown” like some spotty potassium. 🍌
