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Below-replacement fertility in industrial societies |
Tokyo What happens to a prosperous, peaceful society whose women decide en masse they have better things to do than have babies? Nobody knows. It's never happened. But Japan is about to find out.
This nation's young women are now offered an unprecedented array of personal and professional freedoms, but
the joys of children and family life are still bound by traditional constraints. The result of millions of women's
individual decisions is a collective baby strike. For Sakiko Ono, a 34-year-old graphic designer, a child might ruin
her long love affair with her husband. For Dr. Mio Masuda, a 31-year-old endocrinologist, a second baby would end
any hope for a prestigious career. Piano teacher Sachie Takamori and her husband desperately want a second
child, but their daily struggle with careers, commutes and family obligations leaves them barely enough time and
money to raise one. And so the birthrate falls. Within six years, the population of the world's second-largest
economy and ninth-most-populous country will begin to shrink. Even by the government's rosy forecast, Japan will
have 14% fewer citizens by 2050. A third of the population will be older than 65. More than 15% will be older than
80. And
that assumes that Japanese women will eventually marry and start bearing children.
Many private analysts consider it more realistic that the birthrate will remain low. Barring immigration and assuming
that fertility stays where it is, by 2050 the Japanese population would plunge 31%, from the current 127 million to
88 million. Environmentalists say population decline in an overcrowded, import-dependent nation like Japan will
prove a blessing as world population skyrockets from 6.1 billion to an estimated 9.3 billion in 2050. But economists
warn that the baby bust could keep Japan mired in a semi-permanent recession. The soaring ratio of retirees to
workers will pose dire challenges to the nation's pension, medical and welfare systems, its labor practices, its bond
ratings, even perhaps the viability of its financial system. For more than a decade, spooked politicians have tried
castigating, cajoling and finally bribing women to have babies. But as long as men can't or won't help raise their
children and are penalized if they put family ahead of work, their wives say they can't have both careers and
children. Japan is hardly alone in grappling with these brave new social and economic problems. It's on the cutting
edge of a phenomenon that will affect most of the leading industrialized nations. In the U.S., fertility rates are
expected to hover just below replacement level for the next 50 years, but immigration and a large number of
citizens of childbearing age will keep the population growing steadily.
But never before has a nation like Japan, affluent, peaceful, with the world's longest life expectancy,
experienced a sustained population decline, Hayashi says. And while European nations, notably Italy, Sweden and
Spain, are facing similar demographic trends, the twin phenomena of a fast-aging society and an extreme birth
dearth are putting a particular strain on tradition-minded Japan. Unlike Italy, xenophobic Japan is loath to allow
immigrants to solve the labor shortages expected to begin in 2020. And unlike Sweden, which makes it financially
attractive for single mothers to bear and keep their children, Japanese society is unwilling to tolerate out-of-wedlock
births. Polls find that 84% of Japanese believe that their slumping birthrate and fast-aging population are
serious national problems. In his first speech to parliament, new PM Junichiro Koizumi promised to end the day-
care shortage and expand child-care hours to help mothers keep working and boost Japan's economy.
Still, many Japanese think govt policies will fail without dramatic changes in traditional attitudes about
gender roles, both at home & in the workplace. "The falling birthrate & aging society are terrible for the
future of Japan," says Japanese family planning expert Ryoichi Suzuki. "However, it will be futile for the govt to say
to women, 'Please have children,' if that choice is not made by women themselves." Increasingly, marriage,
esp.child rearing, is a bad deal. Financial, social and personal costs of motherhood, what American author Ann
Crittenden has dubbed "the mommy tax", are far more punishing for Japanese women than for their more vocal
American & European counterparts.
What happens to Japanese society as it becomes one of the most geriatric in the world? Besides the economic
issues, the aging population will require sweeping social changes. Half of all elderly live with their families, and the
burden of nursing them is falling hard on the shoulders of a generation of middle-aged Japanese women. The
burden is likely to get worse as women in their 60s and 70s find themselves caring for parents and in-laws in their
80s and 90s. The widespread phenomenon, known as "nursing hell," is keeping older women out of the
work force and contributing to their daughters' doubts about the institutions of marriage & family.
Why are Japanese staying unmarried in unprecedented numbers? War between the sexes is nothing new. 4
centuries before Christ, a Greek playwright had women stage a sex strike to force their men to end a war. Today,
Japanese young people are reinterpreting that ancient drama. Women are postponing marriage by the millions, and
then sometimes deciding not to tie the knot at all. They complain that they have changed but that Japanese men
have not. Men gripe that women want their freedom but also want their bills paid. Even if Japanese women and
men find a new modus vivendi and begin having more children now, population decline is unavoidable. But is it
bad? Will a less-populous Japan be gloomy or glorious?
Urban couple feels family spoils their fun
Tokyo On a blustery Saturday afternoon, Sakiko and Hiromi Ono are out bikini shopping. Never
mind that Sakiko, a 34-year-old graphic designer, already owns 30 of them. The Onos are about to leave for
another exotic holiday, a snorkeling vacation in the Maldives. This bikini pilgrimage is a ritual they perform before
each trip, just to get into the mood. Inside Seashell Pink, Sakiko's favorite bikini store, the music and flowers are
tropical. After some delicious deliberation, Sakiko plunks down $80 for two bikinis in up-to-the-minute animal prints.
Hiromi, also 34, picks up two new T-shirts. The Onos have been married 10 years and are obviously still in love.
Children do not figure in their plans. Life is good, far better than their parents or grandparents could have imagined.
A baby would mean kissing it all goodbye. When asked whether she wants a child, Sakiko gives the standard,
polite Japanese answer that means "not yet." Surveys find that only about 8% of Japanese feel, or admit to
feeling, they do not want children at all.
But for more and more Japanese couples, especially urbanites, "not yet" is turning into "never." They are marrying
later and spending longer sampling the many delights of one of the world's most affluent consumer lifestyles.
Couples like the Onos don't see a way to have it all with a baby on board. Judged by the traditions of their culture,
the Onos are social revolutionaries, not because they don't want children, but because the goal of their life is
pleasure. "I'm working in order to play," Sakiko declares calmly. "My work suits me, and I want to continue to work
my whole life, but the content of my work isn't really that interesting."
Hiromi does computer-assisted quality control engineering for a plastics manufacturer. Unlike most salarymen, he
usually comes home by 6 p.m., 8 p.m. at the latest. Then he and Sakiko watch TV, hang out in cafes or tend to
their five tanks of tropical fish. She visits a gym, and he plays pachinko, a pinball-like game. They recently traded in
their four-wheel-drive van for a Toyota bB, a boxy, funky new minivan that is one of the hottest-selling vehicles in
Japan. They often spend weekends visiting hot springs or just exploring. But most of their time, money and
attention go into their real passion: trips to tropical islands. They go three times a year, and their destinations are
places most of the planet can only dream about: the Maldives, New Caledonia, Tahiti, Phuket, Bali, the Seychelles,
Jamaica, Cancun, Anguilla, Hawaii, Lang Tengah, Borocay. This summer, the Onos are planning an African safari.
After each trip, Sakiko compiles elaborate albums documenting every glorious aspect: the luxury hotels, the
unspoiled beaches, the gourmet dinners by candlelight and the underwater photos from snorkeling. This winter, the
Onos bought a $1,000 Canon camera, the better to chronicle their adventures. Hiromi says he is certain that he
won't regret not having children.
"I want to keep traveling, even when I get old," he says. "Foreigners always seem to take their kids everywhere,
and I guess that would be OK. But we have freedom and space, and we want to have fun." The Onos' focus on
personal satisfaction and marital love would have seemed incomprehensible or downright immoral to generations
of Japanese whose lives were ruled by duty to family, lord and country, and the struggle for survival. Sakiko hasn't
told her parents that she doesn't think she wants children. They haven't brought up the subject for years. "I think
they think I can't have any," she says. It isn't that Sakiko doesn't like children; it's just that she wonders why she
needs them. And she's worried that the emotional dynamics of her marriage would change forever.
"When Japanese have children, they tend to focus on the child and not on their husbands, and I don't like this,"
Sakiko explains. "For example, if Westerners go on vacation, they will hire a baby-sitter and go out to dinner, but
Japanese do not do this. The husband-wife bond turns into a mama-and-papa relationship, but I want to preserve
my own relationship and time with him." It is an increasingly common complaint of young Japanese women in a
land where hiring a baby-sitter, even if you can afford the standard $15-an-hour fee, is sometimes derided as
"almost like checking your baby like luggage in a coin locker." In the postwar period, Japanese women by the
millions fled hard factory work for the comforts of life as homemakers and devoted themselves to their children.
Children were the purpose of marriage, indeed, the purpose of life. At weddings, it is still customary to exhort the
young couple to "have children quickly, and be happy." Once a baby arrives, Japanese couples are expected to
sleep with the child between them. Cribs are now more common but are still usually kept next to the bed. Many
young couples could not afford a separate room for the baby even if they wanted one.
Much as she loves her husband, Sakiko does not think that he would get up at night with a baby. The child's well-
being, behavior and educational attainment are all considered the mother's responsibility. If a woman isn't sure that
she can produce model offspring single-handedly, or if she values herself as much as she cares for her children, it
may be easier for her not to have kids. "I think most people are living for their children," Sakiko says. "I think most
people would think I am selfish." Sometimes, she worries that in her old age, especially if her husband dies first,
she might regret not having had a child. Then she wonders what she would gain in exchange for surrendering her
freedom. "My life now is so happy, and so good, that I'm content. I don't need more," she says. "I don't need to go
through all the difficulty and suffering of having a child to be satisfied. Everyone says if you have a child, you will be
very happy, but I feel very happy now."
A young physician decides one child is enough
Nishifunabashi, Japan Maybe it was the men on the subway who pretended to sleep to avoid
giving up their seats to the woman with the gargantuan belly. Or maybe it was the speeding cars that didn't slow
down as she pushed her stroller along narrow neighborhood streets with no sidewalks. Or was it the undisguised
annoyance of fellow commuters at the woman with child, stroller and parcels who occupied more than her
perceived share of real estate on jampacked trains; the woman who presented a slow-moving obstacle to rush-hour
traffic as she trudged up the steep station stairs? Or maybe it's the $18 an hour that Dr. Mio Masuda pays a baby-
sitter to look after her 2-year-old daughter, Mayu, so she can work while her husband finishes his medical
training?
There are many reasons not to have a baby in Japan, a country once world-famous for its reverence of children.
From a corporate culture that demands marathon hours to its cramped, concrete playgrounds, institutionalized
cram schools and lack of child care, Japan is now distinctly less hospitable to children, and especially to working
mothers. So Masuda, a 31-year-old endocrinologist, and her husband have decided that one is enough. And even
though most Japanese believe that an only child is a lonely child, baby Mayu will have lots of company in the one-
child club.
Today's Japanese women have unprecedented opportunity and earning power. True, for some, the glass ceiling
still feels like it's made of cement. But women who keep working full time in a system that rewards seniority earn
80% to 90% of the average male wage, and Japanese men are among the best paid in the world. But
most Japanese women want or need to stay home while their children are young. And when they try to reenter the
work force, they discover that the only positions offered are menial and part-time, with no job security and no
benefits. Women who work part time earn just 42% of the average male wage, according to the Labor Ministry.
A statistical analysis by Sophia University economist Naohiro Yashiro has proved what Japanese working mothers
already knew: Child-rearing is bad for the career. Women who have more than one child are even more likely to
have to quit their jobs, and they are less likely to recover their lost incomes later. Some married women who have
been hurt by the country's economic downturn are resorting to abortion to keep their family size small, says Dr.
Kenji Hayashi, a demographer and specialist in family planning at the National Institute of Public Health.
Masuda bore her child at the end of her medical training. She left her job at a prestigious university hospital to work
part time with a child-friendly schedule at the private hospital run and owned by her family. She plans to return to a
full-time job once Mayu enters kindergarten. The young doctor's income, education and occupation put her in the
Japanese professional elite. But Masuda is on the wrong side of a huge divide for working mothers, separating
those whose mothers or mothers-in-law will baby-sit and those whose relatives can't or won't. Masuda's mother
works and has never volunteered. Masuda and her husband could put Mayu into public-run day care, but they
demur. Mainly it's out of fear that the child will be exposed to too many illnesses. But there are social concerns as
well.
Surveys find that more than 79% of Japanese believe that children younger than 3 should be looked after at
home, whether by parents or relatives. One reason is the disdain many Japanese still feel for child-care workers.
Traditionally, child care for well-to-do Japanese was provided by uba, or nursemaids, who tended to be
impoverished women. "Caring for other people's children was something that only lower-class women did, so the
attitude is still, 'So, is it really all right to entrust your child to such a person?' " Masuda explains. "I've been told off
by other women: 'So, you leave your kid behind and get all dressed up nicely and go out?' " Masuda adores her
child and plans to try to find a job that will leave her time for Mayu. Still, in this hierarchical society, she can't help
but notice how far her social status plunged when she began walking around with a baby instead of a stethoscope.
Recently, she hailed a cab when it began to rain and was scolded by the driver for failing to check the weather
report before venturing out with her precious tot. "I was accustomed to being the one telling people like taxi
drivers not to drink so much, to quit smoking," she says with a wry smile. "They seem to think that all women who
have children are stupid.
They call it 'postpartum senility,' but what it is, really, is that they assume you are
an idiot."
Masuda now fumes at things she never noticed: the irony that in hyper-polite Japan, men rarely offer to help baby-
laden strangers; the dearth of elevators in public buildings; the number of pedestrian bridges that present major
obstacles to people with children or disabilities. Recently, she thought that she was pregnant again. She
remembered her long term with Mayu, the pain of childbirth and the hard physical labor of child-rearing. Then she
did a quick calculation and realized that she would probably be 40, maybe even 50, before she could return to work full time.
By then, her medical training might be out of date. Her husband, still a student, has no income. Without
hesitation, she made the decision to have an abortion then discovered that she wasn't pregnant after all. Most of
her medical school classmates also have one child and are daunted by the idea of a second.
Still, more young women, themselves pampered by their mothers, are unprepared for the strain of 24-hour-a-day
child care, and they decide not to repeat the experience.
On a recent morning, Masuda's husband, Ayumu, was carefully tending their feverish baby before his wife rushed home to relieve him so he could study for exams. She says Japanese men are changing: Most of the Masudas' male classmates wash dishes and change diapers when they are around. The problem is, they're usually not. |
6.18.02 Mike Steketee The Australian
Those professing no religion jumped to 15% of the population, more than double the figure 3 decades ago. Also
revealed: a nation growing apart. Incomes in Sydney & Melbourne are higher than in the other state capitals,
and are increasing faster, although Adelaide matched their growth over the past 5 years. The same applies to
monthly mortgage payments, an indicator of house values. Perth matches the almost one-third of the population
born overseas in Sydney, and Melbourne is not far behind on 29% . But the proportion is only 21% in
Brisbane & 12% in Hobart.
Sydney is also much more Asian in its make-up, with China the second-largest source of people born overseas,
after Britain. Despite the concerns sometimes expressed about Australia's changing ethnic composition, those born
in all Asian countries still make up only 5.2% of the population and those from the Middle East & North
Africa 1.1% . The Census measures Australia's population on 8.7.01 last year at just below 19 million.
Australian Bureau of Statistics latest official estimate, which includes categories such as Australians temporarily
overseas, was 19.6 million last December. It expects the figure to pass 20 million in 2004.
On the Census measure, Australia's population rose by 6% in the past 5 years, and 13% since
1991, a major contributor to Australia's impressive economic growth rates. One of the largest
increases has been in people who identify themselves as indigenous. The total of 410,003 was
55% higher than in the 1991 Census. Over the past 5 years, the increase was 16% , made up of
12% natural growth and 4% mainly attributable to those newly identifying, or being identified, as
indigenous.
Young voters' disengagement skews politics
The nation's electorate is rapidly graying, with the cadre of older Americans who plan to take part in the Nov. 5
elections outnumbering people younger than 30 by more than 2 to 1, creating a distorted national politics in which
the issues that dominate campaigns and Capitol Hill reflect an ever-smaller slice of the country.
This underrepresentation of young voters is becoming more acute: If current trends continue, the number of people
65 & older who vote in midterm elections is likely to exceed that of young adults by a 4 to 1 ratio by 2022.
These findings emerge from a study conducted by The Washington Post, the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation
and Harvard University, which surveyed political beliefs & behavior of Americans of different ages and created
a forecast of future elections based on population patterns and recent voting habits.
The study shows that young adults hold beliefs quite distinct from those of their parents &
grandparents, more conservative in many of their views of govt, more tolerant in many of their social
values, and yet are not expressing them at the polls.
Disaffected & relatively nonpartisan, the country's 45 million young adults are a constituency-in-
waiting, if candidates could capture their imagination. But in the final weeks before the next elections,
which will determine which party controls Congress, attempts to capitalize on the potential young vote are
rare, while appeals to older people are pervasive.
Those ads reflect a basic political logarithm: Campaign funds are used to target people who are going to
vote. "Are people advertising on 'Buffy, the Vampire Slayer'? Absolutely not," said a GOP consultant
involved in campaign strategy nationwide, and who requested anonymity. "Any political party that
allocated a huge chunk of its resources for a good civic purpose [increasing the participation of young
adults] would be malfeasant in its prime duty, which is to win elections."
Chiola & Orr stand on opposite sides of a divide: the majority of younger Americans don't vote; the majority of
older Americans do. And that gap has been widening. In the 1974 off-year election, voters younger than 30 slightly
outnumbered those 65 & older, based on information from the Census Bureau's Current Population Survey .
By 1998, older voters outnumbered the young by more than 2 to 1, a chasm that is expected to expand in next
month's election. 20 years from now, fully one-third of all voters will be 65 or older, while only 8% will be
younger than 30, according to projections based on recent voting trends.
The gap is growing partly because more people are voting into old age. 3 decades ago, federal surveys
show, participation in elections peaked among Americans in their mid-fifties, compared with those in their
early seventies this year and, probably, in their late seventies within the next 2 decades, according to the
Post/Kaiser/Harvard analysis.
Instead, younger voters are vanishing because each generation is going to the polls less than its predecessors. In
1974, about 30% of all 25-year-olds voted. Next month, 23% are expected to vote. If those trends continue,
only about 19% will vote in 2022. And although it is customary for some people to pick up the habit of voting as
they grow older, no generation born after World War I has caught up with the ones that came before, a series of
federal post-election surveys shows.
Young voters are increasingly absent on Election Day for many reasons. They are moving more frequently, and
they are marrying and buying their first homes later, all factors that dampen civic involvement, according to
Pennsylvania State Univ. political scientist Eric Plutzer. Fewer people strongly identify with either political party, and
that, too, has eroded the voting habit, Plutzer has found. 2 of every 5 people younger than 30 described
themselves as neither a Democrat nor a Republican, the Post/Kaiser/Harvard survey showed, compared with about
1 elderly person in 5.
Political cynicism is playing a part, too, but younger people are no more disdainful of govt. The survey found that
young, middle-aged and older people were similar in their mistrust of the govt, with roughly equal percentages of
each group believing that most politicians were crooks and that people like themselves had little say in govt. But
young people who held such cynical views were 30 to 40 percentage points less likely than older cynics to be
planning to vote next month, or to be registered to vote.
Even some young people who have voted wonder whether it was worthwhile. "Every year I'm less inclined to vote,"
said Amarillo College (TX) criminal justice student Sam M'Laker, 23. "I'm not going to vote this year, most likely. It
doesn't make me very happy. I wish it was like when my grandfather was alive. They took pride in voting. It was
almost like a holiday. It wasn't all about [candidates] slamming their opponents."
The most striking generation gap in ideas about the govt's role, the survey found, involves the future of the nation's
retirement system. 3 out of 5 people in their twenties said Social Security should be redesigned so that workers
could invest some of their payroll taxes in the stock market, a change favored by less than half the baby boomers
and only one-fourth of people 65 and older.
Those same young adults, however, hold other attitudes that traditionally have been regarded as liberal. They are
more tolerant of diversity than previous generations and more resistant to govt interference with personal choices.
People younger than 30 are the most likely to believe that gay people should be allowed to marry. They are more
sympathetic to affirmative action programs that aid minorities. When asked whether it is more important for the
country to work for family values or for the rights of women, young adults are more than twice as likely as the
elderly to put the emphasis on women.
Such a mingling of views could tilt the policies of the major parties if young people participated more in politics,
analysts and consultants believe. Whether Democrats or Republicans stand to gain the most, however, remains
uncertain. Even as this year's candidates confront an electorate that is virtually evenly divided between
Republicans & Democrats, few of either party are reaching for the large pocket of would-be voters. "I think it's
completely rational for your typical 18-year-old not to vote, because campaigns don't make a particular effort to
contact them," said Anna Greenberg, a Democratic consultant who has studied young voters and is in her thirties
herself.
A few House Democrats, led by Rep. Rosa L. DeLauro D-CT, have just produced a "tool kit" for colleagues with tips
on how to try to attract young people's support. The Young Republicans have sent 33 field directors into the states
in recent months to try to heighten turnout. Rep. Tammy Baldwin D-WI, who helped create the Democrats' kit, is
one of a few members of Congress for whom a focus on young voters is virtually essential. After winning her first
two races by margins of less than 2 & 3 points, she concluded that she owed her victories to the fact that her
district includes Madison, home to the University of Wisconsin's largest branch. Now seeking a third term, Baldwin
has been meeting with editors of campus newspapers, has printed campaign signs small enough to fit in dormitory
windows and plans to help student volunteers emblazon campus sidewalks with her name in colored chalk.
Since 2000, the Pew Charitable Trusts has sponsored the Campaign for Young Voters, which this year
has chosen 5 cities for experiments aimed at countering "the entrenched cynicism among campaign
consultants
that you don't bother with young adults," as the project's director, Adam Anthony, put
it. In 3 of those cities, Des Moines, El Paso and Little Rock, the project has asked candidates to sign a
pledge that they will devote some resources to targeting young voters.
Politicians steer their time & money toward older voters because the strategy is efficient. After studying
congressional & other campaigns, Yale political scientist David Nickerson estimated that it costs at least 3
times more to get people in their twenties to vote than people in their sixties. At the Univ.Indiana Bloomington,
student leaders sensed that their "Vote Hard" registration drive would require a dramatic inducement, so they
added one: a red Corvette, to be given away in a lottery after the election. "Had this just been the regular student
registration campaign," said Bill Gray, the student body president, "maybe there would be 200 people voting." But
nearly 18,000 registration forms have flown out of the Student Govt Association's office.
Youthful indifference is familiar to R. Stuart Jones Jr., 23, who graduated from American University in the
District last spring and went home to his native Arkansas, one of the Pew project sites, to try to stir up
youth support for Sen. Tim Hutchinson R-AR. "It's a chicken-
and-the-egg syndrome," Jones said. "The young people don't feel connected to the candidates, because
they don't campaign to them. And the candidates don't feel connected to the young people, because they
think they don't vote."
The tragedy of the commons excerpt
To couple the concept of freedom to breed with the belief that everyone born has an equal right to the commons is to lock the world into a tragic course of action.
At the present time, in liberal quarters, something like a taboo acts to inhibit criticism of the United Nations. There is a feeling that the United Nations is "our last and best hope,'' that we shouldn't find fault with it; we shouldn't play into the hands of the archconservatives.
However, let us not forget what Robert Louis Stevenson said: "The truth that is suppressed by friends is the readiest weapon of the enemy". If we love the truth we must openly deny the validity of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, even though it is promoted by the United Nations.
It is a mistake to think that we can control the breeding of mankind in the long run by an appeal to conscience. Charles Galton Darwin made this point when he spoke on the centennial of the publication of his grandfather's great book. The argument is straightforward and Darwinian.
In C. G. Darwin's words: "It may well be that it would take hundreds of generations for the progenitive instinct to develop in this way, but if it should do so, nature would have taken her revenge, and the variety Homo contracipiens would become extinct and would be replaced by the variety Homo progenitivus". |
Stress dims dreams of a second child 6.24.01 Sonni Efron L.A.Times
Nadasaki, Japan Spend a day with Sachie and Shoji Takamori and it's easy to see why they have
not had the second child they yearn for. When Sachie, a 29-year-old piano teacher, scrambles out of bed at 7:30
a.m., steam is already rising from their preprogrammed rice cooker. She runs for the kitchen to fry up fish and
vegetables for her husband's lunch box. |
It's not only finances that discourage young people from having children, but also the daunting logistics of life: small houses, long commutes, a Darwinian education system and the distinctly family-unfriendly culture of the Japanese workplace. Shoji has Wednesdays off; Sachie has Sundays. They rarely share a meal, and their last date without Ryo was one afternoon on their anniversary a year ago.
Sachie complains that the only time they can talk is during the family bath if Ryo isn't being cranky.
Japan's economic frailty means that Shoji no longer has lifelong job security. The couple need Sachie's income.
But in their rural town in western Japan, there isn't any child care in the evenings, when piano teachers are in
demand. The Japanese birthrate dropped below the replacement level of 2.1 children per woman in 1974. For more
than two decades, the govt has been predicting a turnaround. Instead, fertility keeps plunging. The
economic slump has depressed births further. In trend-setting Tokyo in 1999, the birthrate fell to a record low of just
1.06 babies per woman. Last year, there was a small uptick in births & marriages, which was attributed to
millennium fever. The extra 12,891 babies nudged the national birth rate up to 1.35 from a record-low 1.34 in 1999,
according to statistics released last week by the Health Ministry. But officials said the increase was probably a one-
year fluke and predicted that births will continue to decline. Still, Japanese are hopeful that public excitement over
the long-awaited pregnancy of Crown Princess Masako will inspire other young couples.
The chronically low birthrate is usually blamed on young people postponing marriage. But married couples also are
delaying, then deciding that they're too old or finding that they're unable to conceive. Sachie believes in having
children before age 30 or calling it quits. Shoji would be happy to take on more child-care duties, but his long hours
make that impossible. After he leaves, Sachie finishes making Ryo's breakfast, feeds him and patiently stuffs the
octopus-like limbs that keep poking out from his clothing back into the appropriate holes. To save money, Sachie
hauled warm water from the tub last night to fill the washing machine. Now she hangs the laundry to dry. The
Takamoris have two cars, two mobile phones and a new home big enough for her parents to move into when they
can no longer take care of themselves. But electricity is so expensive that, like most Japanese, they don't own a
clothes dryer.
Japan's Shinto tradition stresses purification, and standards of cleanliness have not dropped since women entered
the work force. Many women wash every family member's bath towel and pajamas every day. At 9 a.m., sighing
that she still hasn't done any cleaning, Sachie straps Ryo into their Mitsubishi minivan for the 20-minute drive to her
childhood home, where her paternal grandmother, parents and unmarried younger sister live. It was mainly thanks
to her grandfather that Sachie was able to return to her music career after Ryo's birth. Yoshio Yazaki died last
winter at the age of 85, but until he fell ill a year ago, he did most of the family shopping and folded the laundry. His
wife, Fumie, 83, has trouble with her legs, so it was Yoshio who mainly baby-sat and doted on his great-grandson.
Sachie now depends on her mother, 52-year-old Chizuko, for child care. In return, she tries to lessen her hard-
working mother's load. She arrives at her parents' home, cleans, gives Ryo lunch, starts dinner, and folds the
laundry that her mother hung out to dry before leaving for work.
The Japanese govt, spooked about the plunging birthrate, is frantically building more child-care centers. But for
now, the only place that could keep Ryo until 9 p.m., when Sachie finishes teaching, is an unlicensed, unregulated
nursery a 25-minute drive away. So Chizuko rises at 5 a.m. in order to start work early so she can get home in time
to baby-sit. It is this intense intimacy and interdependence that make it so difficult for Sachie to decide whether to
burden her mother with another grandchild. In a society that shuns confrontation and so avoids potentially hurtful
conversations, it's difficult for mother and daughter to discuss their dilemma. "My mother says: 'Have another one.
It will be harder for you and the children if there's a big age gap,' " Sachie says. "She says she would rather baby-
sit the child now, while she's still young. But we both know how difficult that is. I am so divided."
Chizuko has worked all her life in low-wage jobs. It's not just for the money; Sachie's father has a steady job at the
local Mitsubishi plant. But Chizuko came as a bride into her husband's home, living meekly alongside his parents
and his grandmother. She preferred working to staying home with the two women. Now, Chizuko stitches dish
towels 35 hours a week. The pay is low, but she does have benefits, including a pension. Middle-aged Japanese
worry that the aging of society will force their debt-ridden govt to scale back retirement benefits. Poorly paid
women like Chizuko feel especially vulnerable. She has just three years of work left to qualify for a 25-year
pension. "If I put more burden on her [by having another baby], she would have to quit," Sachie says. "She doesn't
want to quit, and she doesn't want to spend 24 hours a day with her mother-in-law.
I feel sorry for her, and
I don't want to be a burden."
Chizuko comes home at 3:30 p.m., and Ryo, sensing that his mother is about to leave, begins to howl. "No! NO!
Nonononooooooo!" "Mama has to work, Mama has to work," whispers Chizuko, prying the child away so her
daughter can trade her apron for a prim plaid dress. As Sachie backs the minivan out of the driveway to the first of
five lessons, Ryo is still wailing. "The radishes aren't cooked all the way through yet!" Sachie hollers out the car
window. "But I made dumplings; they're in the fridge." After Sachie drives off, Chizuko confides that she wishes
Sachie would have another baby, but put the children in day care, or quit working and stay home. "But I can't bring
myself to say so," she says. "She would get so angry." Chizuko recounts how older women at her factory complain
about their daughters-in-law, who enjoy "freedom" to have careers, children and material wealth. To their elders,
they appear selfish and ungrateful. With characteristic Japanese indirectness, Chizuko's story leaves her criticism
of her own daughter unstated.
Chizuko misses Ryo when he's not around, yet after 30 years of marriage, she'd like some freedom herself. "There
are times when I wonder whether my life will end this way," she says. "I would like to go places and see things. I
don't have any particular place in mind. But when my friends say, 'Let's go to a hot springs resort,' I wish I could go,
for even one night." Then, as conflicted as her daughter, she adds: "But from the point of view of this child, it would
be better for him to have a sibling.
If I'm going to have to baby-sit, then sooner is better. I don't want to quit
my job, but if I have to quit, I will." Sachie, however, won't quit. With the number of children declining, she wonders
whether she could find new students after a maternity leave. And without her income, she and Shoji would be hard
pressed to pay their mortgage.
Decisions on birth and child care also have long-term implications for Sachie and her son. If Ryo ends up an only
child, he might one day be working to help support four elderly parents and grandparents, the kind of scenario that
makes pension planners shudder. But a new baby could make Sachie the main caretaker for up to five dependents,
a responsibility that could strain a young couple to the breaking point. Sachie and Shoji reel off many other reasons
not to have a child. The high cost of pregnancy and delivery. The agony of childbirth in a country where painkillers
are rarely given. And the problem most often cited: the huge expense of raising a child in a society where first-
graders have personal computers and cram schools, and where music lessons and a private college are
considered essential.
In Japan's boom years, Shoji could have expected a bigger bonus every year, but those days are over. Mitsubishi's sales have plummeted, and Shoji has seen his bosses get rid of excess workers by giving them mandatory transfers that require them to commute two hours or more each way. In contrast to previous generations, the Takamoris are not confident that the future will be better. "Even if it's really impossible for us, I want to have at least two children," says Shoji, who grew up with three brothers. "But to tell you the truth, we have our hands full now, and we're barely making it with one." And economic questions aside, their daily schedule requires samurai endurance. Sachie will give piano lessons until 9 tonight. She will pick up Ryo by 9:30 and bring leftovers from her parents' dinner to eat at home. If Shoji manages to get home by 10 p.m., the three can enjoy a bath together. Sachie will do the laundry, fill the rice cooker and clean up. They go to sleep by 1 a.m., so they can do it all again tomorrow. |
1 out of 10 marriages is infertile: seeking solutions 4.27.04 Tatyana Bateneva Pravda
Concerns over mounting male health problems and revolutionary approaches triggered by introduction of birth
control pills for women and drugs against impotence for men have become catalysts for open discussions.
A world forum on male health was held last week in Buenos Aires. In recent years, conferences devoted to male
sexual & reproductive health are taking place now & then.
It was the "blue pill" [ presumably Viagra ]
rectified weakness of nature. The pharmaceuticals market offers a
variety of drugs allowing additional convenience for men. There are pills that can be taken before a sexual
intercourse, or those with sustained action. Most likely that pills for radical treatment of erectile dysfunction may
emerge soon.
According to Academician of the Russian Academy of Sciences sociologist Igor Kon, countries with low sexual culture show low economic performance since their population is too inhibited to realize their ambitions in full. A good opposite example is Japan with its high rates of economic development with over 44% of men remaining sexually active after 70, not to mention younger ages. Andrologists say that over 70% of men think about sex "often or very often". Science does its best to make them not just think.
Japan's centenarians at record 28,395
Tokyo The number of Japanese living beyond 100 has almost quadrupled in the past 10 years, with the once-exclusive centenarian club expected to surpass 28,000 this year, the govt said Friday.
The Health Ministry said Japan was likely to have 28,395 citizens aged 100 years or older at the end of September, a jump from last year's record 25,554 of which women comprised 85 percent. The ministry conducted a nationwide survey and the figure is a projection of centenarians by the end of the month.
The number of people living older than 100 has been on the rise since 1971, and has accelerated since 1996 when Japan had 7,373 people who had reached three figures, according to the ministry. The rapid increase underscores both positive and negative sides of the country's aging population.
Yone Minagawa is the oldest woman at 113 in the southern Japanese prefecture of Fukuoka, while the oldest man at 110 is Tomoji Tanabe in another southern prefecture, Miyazaki, the ministry said. Tanabe drinks milk and keeps a diary every day, saying that the key to long life is not to drink alcohol, the ministry said. The ratio for the United States was about 18 in 100,000, according to the 2000 census. The announcement was made prior to Respect for the Aged Day on Sept. 18, a national holiday honoring the country's elderly, when the government gives each new centenarian a letter from the prime minister and a silver cup. |
Japan's aging population creates 'nursing hell' for many women
Compelled to care for elderly relatives and baby-sit grand-children, eldest sons' wives are feeling exploited
& anxious 6.25.01 Sonni Efron L.A.Times
Higashimatsuyama, Japan For more than 3 decades, Masako Shimano has been the perfect
wife, dutiful daughter-in-law, self-sacrificing mother and tireless nurse. Now she works to spare other Japanese
women the same fate. In this farming exurb about an hour's train ride northwest of Tokyo, women like Shimano, a 58-year-old grandmother, are still referred to as yome, or brides. But these brides are not wrinkled women in wedding kimonos. In rural Japan, "bride" is a job description for the wife of the eldest son. It might better be translated as "drudge."
As Japan's population ages, the form of the drudgery is evolving from child care to elder care. And the burden of
caring for this senior population, whose numbers & longevity have never before been seen, has landed hard
on the shoulders of millions of aging yome like Shimano. Japanese live longer than anyone in the world: currently
77 years on average for men, 84 years for women.
More than 13,000 Japanese are older than 100. With the birthrate stubbornly remaining below replacement level, those older than 65 already make up 17.2% of the population, outnumbering the 14.7% who are younger than 15. The percentage of those older than 60 will nearly double to 42.3% by 2050. Demographers predict that the population will peak by 2007 and then fall continuously for the next 100 years.
Nowhere in the world are the strains of the swiftly aging population so acute. Wage structures, pension policies and retirement ages, as well as the definition of aging, the role of women and the meaning of filial devotion, are all in play.
For many modern women, the sacrifice is too severe. Some cite this "nursing hell" as one reason for not marrying or not having as many children as they might like. Shimano and many scholars believe that Japan's
success in managing its rapid aging comes down to whether it supports or exploits middle-aged women like her.
"In Japan, the birth dearth and the aging society are inexorably linked. Both are women's problems," says Keiko
Higuchi, a specialist in gender studies and aging society at Tokyo Kasei University.
Shimano had to quit her job as a teacher when she got married. She raised 3 children while helping in her husband's family fields. Then she nursed her father-in-law, who was bedridden for more than a year, changing his diapers until the day he died. "I don't know exactly what his disease was," she says. "As the bride, I was not informed." Now Shimano looks after her 92-year-old mother-in-law while baby-sitting her 6-year-old grandson and keeping house for her husband, a widowed daughter and a son who is still in graduate school. In her spare time, she has become a grass-roots activist who champions the needs of the elderly, the disabled and their beleaguered caregivers. |
The controversy over the nursing law goes to the heart of the evolving debate over Japanese family values.
Conservatives worry that the trend toward public involvement will undermine the moral duty most Japanese feel to take proper care of their elders. Liberals believe that the govt hasn't done nearly enough.
Political scientist Yoichi Masuzoe spent 5 years commuting between his home in Tokyo and his hometown on the distant island of Kyushu, where he built a special house for his ailing mother. He chronicled his family's ordeal, a struggle that many Americans would find familiar, in a much-discussed new book, "When It Comes Time to Put Mother in Diapers."
When his mother was dying and the family could no longer cope, Masuzoe tried to find a good nursing
home but was told the wait would be 3 years. He compares this to calling 911 after failing to put out a kitchen fire
with a fire extinguisher and being told to wait 3 years. "It is the family and the 'bride' doing the nursing who will
collapse," he concludes.
The govt is trying to double the number of nursing home beds by 2009. Meanwhile, families struggle on. There are frequent reports of caregivers committing suicide under the strain, or confessing to physically or mentally abusing their charges. The pressure to care for the elderly also contributes to Japan's birth dearth. Higuchi says she knows of women who have had abortions because they could not handle a new baby along with a seriously ill parent.
Older women have told their working daughters not to have another baby because they could not help care for a new grandchild on top of nursing duty. One woman was told by her husband's relatives: "It doesn't matter if you collapse and die. You must nurse," Higuchi says. Tomonari Inomata, a social worker at the Kagayaki nursing home in Saitama, says family counseling must address the plight of such women. When it comes time to discharge a patient and Inomata asks the family who will take care of the person, the eldest son usually says, "I will."
"So I say, 'Oh, are you going to quit your job to stay home and look after [your parent]?' And he looks stunned
& falls silent," Inomata says. "Of course, what he means is that his wife is going to do it. But he doesn't consult her."
Haruko Kadono, 63, spent 24 years nursing her parents and her in-laws. Her book about her experience has been turned into a movie titled "Elderly Parent." In one true and painful scene, she asks her husband for a divorce to escape the hell of nursing her demanding father-in-law. "What did I do?" asks her husband. "You didn't do anything," comes her literal reply. She adds, "I want a divorce from your father."
"The [public] nursing system is a big scam," Kadono fumes. "In fact, women are forced to quit their jobs to take care of their relatives for free.
The policymakers are almost all men
and they haven't got a clue."
The Prime Minister's Council for Gender Equality found that nearly 11% of women ages 40 to 49 who quit their jobs cited nursing duties as the reason. That rose to 14% for women in their 50s. By now, the stunning statistics of Japan's aging population are well known to everyone here. Yet society is only starting to come to grips with the implications and beginning to formulate policies to respond to the coming crisis.
There is broad consensus that Japan will have to keep raising its retirement age, scale back public retirement benefits and redefine its seniority-based wage structure to avoid national bankruptcy.
"Everyone understands that the current pension system will not survive," says Shinji Fukukawa, who heads the
Dentsu Institute for Human Studies, a respected think tank. But policy details raise emotional questions about
financial fairness, employment traditions and family values:
But many question whether Japan will be able to control illegal immigration or tolerate large numbers of foreigners.
Higuchi, the specialist on the aging who opposes importing workers, instead proposes a "nursing draft." Since
pacifist Japan has no mandatory military service, she would require all young people to spend a year at age 20
caring for seniors.
Today's problems are the legacy of Japan's extraordinary success in boosting life expectancy. In 1935, a Japanese man could expect to live only 47 years and a woman 50 years. Most parents died before they
became bedridden. If elder care became too burdensome, there was a folk tradition in some rural areas of
leaving the aged to die on a high mountain, as depicted in a famous short-story-turned-film titled "Throw Away
Grandma Mountain."
Japanese attribute their longevity to their diet, the habit of walking instead of driving, extremely low infant mortality,
a generous universal health-care system and, of course, the care that many children lavish on aging parents. Yet in recent years, when the nation's longevity statistics are released each Sept. 15 on Respect for the Aging Day, the tenor of the media coverage has changed from celebratory to "Oh no, it's increased again," complains Inomata, the social worker.
Longevity does not always translate into good health. In 1987, the average time that families nursed an aging relative was 4 years. But by 1997, it had become 7.4 years, according to a survey by Higuchi.
Nearly 49% of bedridden elderly have been that way for more than 3 years, Health & Welfare Ministry
statistics show. The ministry estimates that by 2025, barring major progress in gerontology, Japan will have 5.2
million elderly requiring full-time care, about 2.3 million of them bedridden. If current projections hold, that would
mean 2% of the entire population would be confined to bed.
Japan is already "the empire of the bedridden," says welfare policy specialist Nobuo Maeda. A professor at
Seigakuin University, Maeda is sharply critical of the quality of care for elders. He says the govt-run
geriatric-care system has emphasized warehousing rather than rehabilitation.
Patients whose problems could have been treated with early intervention are left incontinent or bedridden because of ignorance and financial considerations at geriatric hospitals and nursing homes, he argues. Geriatric psychiatrist Hideki Wada says doctors also tend to overprescribe tranquilizers for the elderly and underuse antidepressants. Japan does not train enough gerontologists and does not even have good gerontology textbooks, Wada says.
But with few other options, self-help is starting to flourish. A generation of vigorous seniors who were forced to
retire at 60 is looking for jobs, volunteering and becoming a political force. The percentage of Japanese elderly
living with their children is declining, from 69% in 1980 to 52% in 1997, the govt says. According
to a Mainichi newspaper survey, the percentage of Japanese who say it's undesirable for parents to live with their
adult children has more than doubled.
Many middle-aged Japanese are planning for a retirement that will ensure independence. In one telling trend, healthy midlife Japanese who remodel their homes are adopting senior-friendly features such as shallower bathtubs or hallways wide enough for wheelchairs. The old notion that physical care by non-family members is humiliating is also starting to fade.
Shimano is determined not to be nursed by her children, and plenty of Inomata's clients also express relief not to be a burden on or at the mercy of their family "brides." "People used to have the prejudice that nursing homes were all 'Throw Away Grandma Mountains,' " Inomata says. "And the elderly used to think they were being dumped here. But now they say, 'Finally, they've let me in!' "
Broker's arrest offers peep into sex slave trade 2.28.03 Ryann Connell Wai Wai
Arrest of Japan's most notorious white slavers sparked massive raids of strip clubs across the country, rescuing
scores of women whose dreams of getting the hands on some "Japan money" turned into tales of woe &
misery, according to Asahi Geino (3/6). Koichi Hagiwara is accused of being one of the most powerful "brokers" of
Colombian strippers in Japan. A reporter from a national daily outlines the details of his December arrest.
"A Colombian woman who contacted her embassy in May last year led the cops to him. She only complained about
the atrocious conditions she had been forced to live under, but Hagiwara's name came up in the discussions.
Hagiwara was known as a top white slaver, with about 80 women under his control," the hack tells Asahi Geino.
"On Dec. 17, cops from 18 prefectures conducted simultaneous raids on 24 strip clubs Hagiwara was sending girls
to across the country. They also arrested 68 Colombian women."
It's rare for Colombian sex industry workers to be arrested, as another white slaver points out.
"To make sure the woman can't run away from her employer, her passport is confiscated. They don't pay her until
her work is finished, either. When they do pay, they always call it a prize for perfect attendance or congratulatory
tip. Most of the girls send the money back to their homes. They can't live on that money so, in my case at least, I
give them 5,000 yen to live on every couple of weeks. They live together in groups of five or six," the "broker" says.
"Somehow, they seem to be able to get by on that money. But whenever they find themselves a Japanese lover,
instead of asking for designer label good presents (like a Japanese woman usually would), they're usually much
happier getting household appliances."
Nearly all the women are also forced into selling themselves. "It's accepted that women working as strippers are
also there for customers who want to go all the way. A 16-year-old Colombian girl was also picked up at the same
time as (white slaver) Hagiwara was arrested. She had been having sex with customers who won the right to have
sex with her by defeating her in a public game of scissors, paper and rock," the national daily reporter tells Asahi
Geino. |
Me, find a husband? Later, maybe Japan's successful, career-minded women are savoring single life and waiting longer than ever for Mr. Right. 6.26.01 Sonni Efron L.A.Times Sakuragicho, Japan Only a decade ago, Japanese women who failed to marry by age 25 were warned not to become "Christmas cakes" left unsold on the shelf past their expiration date. But millions of them are now flouting their elders' advice--and getting away with it. Japan today is a paradise for singles. Nearly half of Japanese women are still single at age 29. Growing numbers are postponing marriage until 35 or beyond. A country that until recently considered its few "spinsters" to be pathetic or defective, Japan now has a far higher percentage of single women ages 20 to 40 than does the United States, higher than almost anywhere in the world except Scandinavia. The better-educated and better-paid a Japanese man, the more likely he is to marry. But the better-educated and more successful a Japanese woman, the more likely she is to decide that marriage and child rearing are bad deals. Consider:
"When today's young women look at their own parents, they find it hard to dream of marital bliss for themselves," she notes. For their part, Japanese men are no longer required to marry in order to be respected. Plenty do not want to follow their fathers' example. |
"Not all Japanese women have changed in the past decade, but the women of marriage & childbearing age
have changed dramatically," says Yoko Haruka, a thirtysomething television personality and author of the book "I
Shall Not Marry." Women say that most Japanese men still want a young bride who will defer to them, have dinner
and a hot bath waiting when they get home, and do all of the household chores even if she works. Men complain
that women want the freedom to work in lower-paying jobs that interest them but then expect their mates to earn
the big bucks, come home at a reasonable hour and do half the housework, impossible demands when companies
are asking more of a downsized work force. "Young women now have economic power, and they are doubting
things they never doubted before," says Haruka. She revolted against marriage after seeing the subservience of
her brothers' wives. "They are asking, 'What is happiness?' "
Homemaking it is not. The statistic most often quoted by women is the amount of time the average Japanese man
spends on housework and child care per day: 23 minutes. Women spend 41/2 hours. Nor do most men do the dirty
work of child care. In a 1998 govt survey, 34% of Japanese men said they had never changed a diaper.
Concerned that the housework gap is contributing to the baby bust, the Japanese Ministry of Health put out a
subway poster in 1999 featuring the husband of a hot young pop singer cuddling the couple's infant son. "We can't
call a man a father who doesn't take care of his children," read the caption. "Japanese fathers spend an average of
just 17 minutes a day on child care." But several conservative male parliamentarians, outraged by what they
considered an affront to Japanese manhood, summoned the bureaucrats for an explanation, according to Sumiko
Iwao, who chairs the Prime Minister's Council for Gender Equality.
In postwar Japan, a good husband was one who brought his salary home but spent his time working, Iwao says.
During the "bubble" economy of the 1980s, women got choosier but remained more pragmatic than romantic in
picking a mate. They still defined a good catch as a man with "three highs": higher education, high income and
height. Now young women who can support themselves have added even tougher criteria for Mr. Right. Chikako
Ogura of Aichi Shukutoku University says the new standard is the "three Cs": financially comfortable, emotionally
communicative and cooperative in housework & child care. That is a daunting list for many men. Eiji Handa,
31, a copy machine salesman, didn't pop the question to his girlfriend for 8 years because he didn't want to give up
deep-sea fishing every weekend, a hobby that cost him $1,500 a month. "I wanted to spend the money I earned on
myself," Handa says unapologetically. "If you get married, you have to hand over your paycheck to your wife and
live on an allowance." They tied the knot in November but only after she agreed to keep working and split
expenses. They never discussed housework or children. Handa hopes his wife doesn't want children, because he
doesn't.
"I wonder what we'd do if we had one," Handa muses. "I'd have to go onto an allowance, and if you have a child,
your wife can't work.
" Matsuura is equally unenthusiastic about children. She has a great job designing
store interiors. She lives with her parents. She's visited Singapore, Thailand and Spain. She isn't joking when she
says her work is so engrossing that she's forgotten about marriage. "It used to be that women went out to work in
order to find husbands," Matsuura says over drinks with her buddies near the fashionable waterfront of
Sakuragicho. "I'm not looking for a man at work. I want to test my skills at work." Matsuura gives her parents $500
per month. Most working singles living at home contribute far less. But it is common for their notoriously indulgent
mothers to stash away such contributions for their children. Many mothers urge their adult children, especially
daughters, to live at home, and the mothers continue to cook their children's meals, do their laundry and even pack
their lunch boxes.
Keiko Higuchi, a specialist on aging society, argues that many Japanese who choose not to marry take loving care of their elderly or infirm parents. Sociologist Masahiro Yamada of Tokyo Gakugei University, who coined the term "parasite singles," has found that singles ages 20 to 29 are the happiest and biggest-spending segment of society. Celibacy is no longer required of Japanese singles, even those living at home. The traditional premium placed on female virginity at marriage has quickly eroded, and the Mainichi survey found that two-thirds of unmarried women ages 25 to 29 have had sex. Sociologists are increasingly dubious about whether the current crop of young men and women will ever "settle" for mates they find wanting, especially while their mothers are still coddling them. But if anything shows how much Japanese women have changed, it is their lack of regrets. "The more I worked, the more I wanted to work, and I just didn't meet a man I respected," says Kumiko Takahashi, 40. She has a boyfriend and has risen to head of a department in a publishing company in Sapporo. Now she's moving her parents into a condominium near hers so she can help them. Life is good, she said, adding, "I can't think of a single merit to marrying."
Namwon, South Korea It was the constellation of acne across her cheeks that made No. 242 stand out from the other young women who were paraded before him in a hotel in Ho Chi Minh City. Jeong Ha-gi, 46, flew to Vietnam on a tour organized for South Korean bachelors. He was looking for a wife who would be tough enough to withstand the rigors of life on a rice farm. Trying to distinguish among all the women with the numbers pinned to their shirts, he decided the one with a bad complexion might be made of sturdy stuff. They were married 3 days later.
Today, they live together in sullen silence, a chasm of cultural differences between them. She speaks no Korean, he no Vietnamese. They communicate, barely, with a well-thumbed phrase book. Nguyen Thu Dong, who turned out to be only 20, doesn't like getting up at 5 a.m. to do the farm chores. She turns up her nose at kimchi.
"We have a lot of issues between us," said the burly Jeong, who in his undershirt resembles a Korean version of the young Marlon Brando. "Our age difference, our culture, our food. But I wanted a wife and she is who I got."
Despite the obvious pitfalls, South Korean men increasingly are going abroad to find wives. They have little choice in the matter unless they want to remain bachelors for life.
The marriage market in Asia is becoming rapidly globalized, and just in time for tens of thousands of single-but-looking South Korean men, most of them in the countryside where marriageable women are in scant supply. With little hope of finding wives of their own nationality and producing children to take over the farm, the men are pooling their family's resources to raise up to $20,000 to find a spouse abroad.
The phenomenon has become so widespread that last year 13% of South Korean marriages were to foreigners. More than a third of the rural men who married last year have foreign wives, most of them Vietnamese, Chinese and Philippine. That's a huge change in a country once among the most homogenous in the world.
To some extent, the globalized marriage market is having a trickle-down effect, exacerbating the shortage of marriage-age women elsewhere, particularly China.
"There is a long-standing son preference throughout Asia, but now it is happening in the context of this 21st century marriage market," said Valerie M. Hudson, a political scientist and author of "Bare Branches: The Security Implications of Asia's Surplus Male Population."
The preference for sons has translated in South Korea into 113 male births for every 100 females. Ultrasound became widely available here in the 1980s, and the first generation screened for gender before birth is now coming of marriageable age.
But perhaps an even larger factor in the disappearance of young women from the countryside is their tendency to move to the cities in search of careers or urban husbands or both.
"South Korean women don't want to live in the countryside. They don't want to do hard labor, getting their skin brown in the sun. The cities are less traditional, less patriarchal," said Yang Soon-mi, a social worker with the Ministry of Agriculture.
The wife shortage is most severe here in the southwestern region of Jeolla, the traditional heartland of Korea. This is one of the few swaths of South Korea where the rice paddies have not yet been cemented over for gray slabs of high-rise apartments. On a hot August day, the air is thick with the chirping of the cicadas, and red peppers are drying in the sun on the pavement.
On roads cutting through the fields, marriage brokers advertise their services on billboards. "Vietnamese marriage," reads a billboard in shocking pink on an otherwise quiet country lane.
The wife shortage is having a devastating effect on the agricultural communities, already threatened by urbanization and free trade. Without wives, young men won't want to stay on the farm. Without wives, there are no babies to replenish the stock of farmers.
South Korea and Taiwan are tied for the lowest birthrates in the world, 1.1 per woman, according to a study released last month by the Washington-based Population Reference Bureau. Unlike China, South Korea does not limit births, and is in fact offering tax incentives to encourage more children.
Many of the villages around Jeolla are virtual ghost towns, with a sparse population of elderly residents and hardly a child in sight.
"There are only old people around here," said Le Pho, a 22-year-old Vietnamese woman who married a South Korean a year ago and is now pregnant. Her child will be the first born in the village, Seogok-ri, in more than 20 years. Despite a regulation, widely ignored, prohibiting doctors from divulging the sex of the fetus, Le knows already that she is having a boy.
"My husband and mother-in-law are very happy. They've treated me very well since they found out the baby is a boy," Le said. "The neighbors too. When they see my belly, they are amazed."
Foreign wives are key to rescuing some of these farm villages from extinction. In a nearby village, Oaktae-ri, there are five young children, four of them born to foreign women. Park Jeong-su, 46, whose Chinese-born wife recently gave birth to a daughter, said that all the Korean women in his village moved to Seoul and other cities because they didn't like the farming life.
"When I was a young man, I could find women to date, women who would sleep with me. But nobody who would go to the countryside," said Park, a powerfully built and handsome man with a roguish sense of humor. "Whenever I met a woman I liked, the first question she would ask was, 'Where is your apartment?' "
After more than a decade of looking for a Korean wife, Park went to the Philippines. He didn't meet anyone he liked. He then tried the Unification Church, which has often matched up international couples for group weddings. That didn't work either. He then accepted a friend's invitation to go to Harbin in northeastern China, where he was introduced by a friend's cousin to Yi Ok-ran.
Yi is ethnic Korean and already spoke the language.
"All the women in my village wanted to go to South Korea. We heard that life is good, that people are wealthy," said Yi, cuddling her infant daughter. As a result, she said, in her village in Tonghe County there are also only old people and few children. "There are so many old bachelors."
Many of the brides in South Korea come from the Mekong Delta region south of Ho Chi Minh City. The region is poor, and provincial authorities have been fairly liberal about licensing marriages between Vietnamese women and foreigners.
Newlywed Nguyen Thu Dong said she agreed to marry Jeong Ha-gi only to escape a life of certain poverty.
"A lot of the girls I know are getting married to foreigners. Men from Hong Kong, men from South Korea. Even if they have a Vietnamese boyfriend they like, they want to marry a foreigner to get away," said Nguyen, who is from Can Tho, a town about 80 miles southwest of Ho Chi Minh City.
Nguyen said that her parents told her on her 19th birthday they had been approached by the village matchmaker about setting her up with a foreigner.
"At first I said no," she said. "I was working at the time as a housemaid. But then I came back to my parents' home. I saw how badly they were doing financially, so I agreed."
She said she had no idea how much her family received. Another Vietnamese bride married to a South Korean said that the standard amount was $300. The men, on the other hand, pay about $15,000 for a complete package that is supposed to include everything from the interpreter to the wedding gown.
Jeong, who had been married once before briefly, said he was talked into going to Vietnam in March by a younger brother. He joined a group of 12 men, from their mid-30s to their 50s. The women were all younger than 25. They were paraded in small groups in front of the men, who were told to jot down the numbers of those they liked.
"It was like a Miss Korea pageant," Jeong recalled with faint distaste.
Nguyen said she was appalled to be wearing a number and almost ran away before it was her turn to appear in front of the men.
Both have the same complaint, that the interpretation was inadequate. Jeong said that when they met, he told his prospective wife immediately that he was a farmer and that she replied that she grew up on a farm and liked rural living. Nguyen said she was told that her suitor was an office worker in the city.
"He is very kind to me and I am grateful for that. But if I knew we were to live in the countryside, I wouldn't have come," Nguyen confided later.
Unable to communicate on their own, the couple quickly seized upon the opportunity to exchange a few thoughts through an interpreter who was accompanying a reporter.
"When will you let me visit my family in Vietnam?" she asked plaintively.
The reply came back: "When you give me a baby."
Arousing debate in Egypt
Move to lift ban on Viagra causes discussion of difficult subjects, incl sex education, population growth and
corruption
6.17.02 Michael Slackman L.A.Times
"Egyptian Men Soon to Be Virile in Bed," announced a recent front-page headline in the English-language Egyptian
Mail, in a story hailing the minister's decision. "My fellow men, it's time to rejoice," the article concluded. But it is not
just Viagra's medical effectiveness that has made it such a hot topic. To talk about Viagra is to confront many of
Egypt's most pressing issues, from an unmanageable population explosion, to govt corruption, to the anxieties of a
conservative religious society where neither men nor women are taught much about their own bodies. This is still a
country where most women undergo genital excision and where discussing sex between a husband and a wife
remains taboo, facts that have also fueled the Viagra dialogues.
"There is lack of early marriage, economic troubles, lack of apartments for the ordinary middle class, a lack of
economic means, and the population is suffering," said Dr. Aziz Khattab, 77, a pioneer in sex education in Egypt. "If
you propagate love in Egypt, it will be the solution to lots of Arab problems."
Egyptians are good at making jokes and poking fun at themselves, and Viagra has spawned its share of quips, like
the one told by a religious scholar involving the man who took five Viagra tablets and died. "There was only one
thing standing up when guests came to pay their condolences," joked Abdel Sabur Shaheen, a linguistics professor
and widely respected religious thinker in Egypt. But these are serious issues, issues that Shaheen and his
community are struggling to come to terms with, issues that cut to the core of this tradition-bound developing
country. Take the case of young men: They are terrified of their wedding nights. Not all of them, of course, but enough that Khattab said he put a whole chapter titled "Wedding Night Syndrome" in his textbook on human sexuality. It's true, said Tarek Shabrawy, a 25-year-old pharmacist in Cairo. He said young men often buy Viagra and a sensation- killing "delay spray" to help consummate their marriage. "Here in Egypt, we have no experience before marriage," Shabrawy said. "We have something inside us that frightens us. So some guys take drugs to help." Shabrawy explained, however, that this is a more complex issue than the common psychological stress of performance anxiety. It has its roots in social conventions that demand that men buy a home and pay a bride price before they can get married. But the economy is so bad, unemployment is so rife and housing is so limited that few young men can meet the requirements, esp. in the big cities, and so they must wait. "In the states, they condone sex before marriage, but here that is a problem," he said.
Then there are matters of religion. Under Islamic law, a woman may initiate a divorce if her husband doesn't gratify
her sexually. (Of course, it's difficult for a woman to prove that to the satisfaction of the male-dominated system.) "If
a man can't satisfy his wife, she may commit adultery and that may open the door to prostitution," said Shaheen,
the religious scholar. "To protect against sin if he can't satisfy her, she has the right to divorce." |
4.9.02 Kathimerini
By the time this year's babies are going through their midlife crisis, a quarter of Greece's population will be aged
over 65, if the birthrate maintains its downhill course, gynecologists warned yesterday. "Greece has the lowest
birth rate in the European Union," Professor Ioannis Bondis of Thessaloniki University's medical school told a
press conference, ahead of a 3 day medical conference that starts in Thessaloniki on Thursday. According to statistical surveys, if the trend continues at more or less the same rate, by 2040 25% of population will be over 65. Bondis said that the average Greek family now has between one & two children. The European Union mean is 2 to 4, while the corresponding figure for Turkey is four children. Fertility problems partly account for this state of affairs. Doctors told yesterday's press conference that, on average, the problem is equally acute in Greek men & women. Furthermore, a very relaxed attitude to contraception among Greek couples results in an est. 250,000 abortions a year. No more than 2.5% of Greek women of child- bearing age use contraceptive pills, when the EU average is 60%.
9.12.01 IHT
5.25.02 IHT |
"Everybody is using it," said Ahmed Tantawy, 25, another pharmacist. "They think they will be stronger if they take
it." This interest in performance enhancers is hardly new. For centuries, Egyptians have turned to herbal remedies,
like the mixture of more than 16 herbs called "Happy Life" sold in a renowned herb shop here. "Maybe all the men are afraid women will go with strangers," said Abdullah Salah, the manager of a nearby spice shop. "So they take this stuff to make them stronger and more satisfied." |
In modern Egypt, the complex issues associated with human sexuality have had such a ripple effect across society
that a prominent filmmaker, the late Salah abu Seif, tried for 30 years to address them in a film he wanted to call
"The Sex School." The plot revolved around a husband & wife who were unable to satisfy each other. The
couple went to a therapist and discovered that the woman had problems because she always recalled the day she
underwent excision, and the man was troubled because of a bad experience he had with a prostitute. The therapist
helped them get past their problems. But state censors stopped Abu Seif from ever making the movie.
This year, his son Mohammed, also a filmmaker, changed the name to "The Peacock and the Ostrich," and it was
finally shown to the public in March. "Viewers may not imagine that the film addresses a problem that existed 30
years ago and still does," wrote a reviewer on an Arab-language Web site. "The film demonstrates that society
views sex as a taboo, even between husband & wife."
Many of these issues, not just personal, but also institutional, are being discussed in the context of Viagra.
Originally designed as a vascular dilator to lower blood pressure, the drug, the Pfizer pharmaceutical company
noticed, improved blood circulation, helping men with erectile dysfunction. It has become one of the most
prescribed medicines worldwide, incl in the Muslim world, since first entering the market in April 1998.
But not in Egypt. In addition to being destructive to the family, health officials charged, it could undermine
Egypt's efforts to control the growth of a population that has surged from 20 million in 1952 to about 67 million
today.
Many people here believe the ban had little to do with health concerns and everything to do with a govt
bureaucracy that is either incompetent or corrupt. Keeping the drug illegal did make a lot of people rich. Viagra is
reportedly the No. 1 smuggled item in Egypt, and in the last 2 years, customs police have seized at least 765,000
pills. But many more pills make it into Egypt. Traders travel to Syria, China, Jordan or India, where they buy huge
quantities of Viagra, or a locally produced generic equivalent. In Syria, for example, it's called Viga. The drugs are
then carried in ordinary suitcases through the airport to Mosky Street in central Cairo, known for wholesaling
smuggled pharmaceuticals.
"Sales associates" distribute the goods to pharmacies around the country. Two pharmacists estimated that
85% of all pharmacies in Egypt carry Viagra. It's sold under the counter to anyone who asks, they said. Prices
vary depending on where the drug was manufactured. Although many Egyptians are boycotting U.S. products
because of Washington's support for Israel, when it comes to Viagra, people want American. In some cases,
Egyptians have offered to pay up to 100 pounds ($22) per tablet.
Just this month, Pfizer said it received permission from Egypt's govt to begin producing and selling its profitable
drug here, and a company spokesman said Viagra should be on the market, legally, within a month. Pfizer expects
more than $10 million in annual sales in Egypt. Though there was no formal declaration as to why Viagra is being
approved now, the govt decision recognizes that, even with the ban, it is on the market and that, by lifting the
prohibition, Egypt stands to benefit economically through increased tax revenue & jobs for pharmaceutical
workers. Egyptian drug companies are pressing for the right to make a generic version; if they do, the price could
be as low as $1.50 a tablet.
But legal Viagra still has many people worried on many different levels. To begin with, Egyptians have the
impression that Viagra is an aphrodisiac. Its reputation has become so widespread that physicians report men
slipping Viagra into women's drinks. One man said he was paying his lawyer in Viagra tablets. Another said he
managed to get permission to add 3 stories to his apt bldg by bribing a state official with a few Viagra tablets.
"Viagra became famous," said spice shop manager Salah. "It is something new to Egyptians, and that is why all
Egyptians want to try it."
Another problem is that Egypt's pharmacies sell almost anything to anyone. The law, for example, doesn't
require prescriptions for strong antibiotics; therefore, many people self-medicate. It does require a prescription for
sedatives, but those also are sold to almost anyone who asks. Although officials said they expect that the govt will
restrict Viagra use to prescriptions, drug companies say there is no reason to believe that the system will suddenly
work.
Religious scholar Shaheen believes that as soon as Viagra is widely available, the population will explode.
"If you bring Viagra to Egypt, after 20 years, the population will increase by 100 million," he said. "When Viagra
comes, it will be like hashish. Anyone will take it, not only people with medical problems."
7.12.03 Worldnet Daily
While intl mediators press for the full implementation of the "road map" to peace in MidEast, hundreds of North
American Jews are blazing a trail to boost Israel's right to exist. More than 300 secular & religious Jews,
single individuals, married couples and families, boarded El Al jets in NYC this week to emigrate to Israel.
They're part of an exodus organized by Nefesh B'Nefesh, or Jewish Souls United, an organization that offers grants
of up to $25,000 to immigrants who stay for at least 3 years.
"The Palestinians still dream of overcoming Israel demographically. They are wrong," Gelbart told NY Post. "No
amount of terror or economic hardship will prevent Jewish people from coming to Israel." The paper reports the 46
year old Florida businessman put up $2 million of his own money toward the effort. New arrivals were welcomed at Ben-Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv by PM Sharon & Finance Minister Netanyahu. "This is the right answer to Palestinian threats," Netanyahu told the NY Post. "The govt that I lead decided that aliya [making Israel home] is the first priority, and it's the most important thing," the Jerusalem Post quotes Sharon as telling the immigrants. "I know it's not an easy thing, to move from one country to another country, but here you are coming home." |
Hundreds of American jews move to Israel 7.10.03 Amy Westfeldt AP
NYC Tali Berman was born in America, but surrounded by her baby & belongings at Kennedy
Airport, she said she was flying home to Israel. "We're Jewish, and it feels like home," said Berman, 27, who was
"making aliyah", making Israel her new home, with husband Joshua & 15 month old daughter, Anava.
Berman & her family joined about 330 Jews from U.S. & Canada who flew to Tel Aviv on Tuesday.
Another chartered jet of about 300 people is leaving later this month.
He said others with bills to pay are taking advantage of loans of $7,000 to $18,000 offered by a privately funded
organization called Nefesh B'Nefesh. The loans
become grants if the immigrants remain in Israel for at least 3 years. "I know that there are many Jews who would
consider aliyah if they could escape from their loans & mortgages," Landsberg said.
Nevertheless, Israel's Central Bureau of Statistics said this year that worldwide immigration to Israel in 2002 had
fallen to its lowest level in 13 years. About 33,000 people immigrated in 2002, about 10,000 fewer than in 2001.
As the travelers on Tuesday waited for their flight, many families danced to traditional Jewish melodies played by a
band. Luggage carts were stacked high with belongings. Some immigrants wore signs reading, "I'm making aliyah."
Jewish Agency officials said about 30% of the immigrants who arrived this week will live in the occupied West
Bank, with most of the others headed for large cities.
Hazan & Berman said they weren't fearful of increased violence in the region, although Hazan said she
worried about finding work in an economy battered by the conflict. "Now, as things are becoming more intense, it's
an important time to make a claim that the Jewish state has a right to exist," said Berman, who plans to work with
autistic children and reunite with family members already there. |
re 2002 Pogrom This statistic, seen in the Israeli press, incl children of the country's Arab citizens, non-Jewish immigrants, and foreign workers, many who settle in Israel. In coming years Jewish majority will still be preserved owing only to elderly and in part to the middle-aged. After that, Jews will become a minority, diminishing with each coming year. Policy of importing many thousands of non-Jews in the semblance of repatriation vastly accelerates the process. No more than one quarter of repatriates from CIS period 2000 to 2002 were Jewish. "Dmir- Absorption Assistance" movement has consistently opposed this policy and has created the Information & Support Ctr for Victims of Anti-Semitism. |
8.5.02 a ship named 'Jasmine,' with 380 'repatriates' from the CIS arrived at the port of Haifa. It was a record day in
the number of new arrivals for the whole of 2002. According to reports from the Israeli press, however, only about
10% of those people were Jewish. This voyage was organized and subsidized by the Christian organization
'Iben Ezer.' This organization was credited with bringing about 90,000 repatriates to Israel from Russia since
1991.
Christian organizations have started to duplicate activities of the Jewish Agency. If the Jewish Agency operates by
at least glimpsing at the Law of Return, then these organizations heed no limitations whatsoever. For some reason,
they have set themselves the aim of bringing as many people to Israel as possible. Perhaps this is connected with
their understanding of the biblical prophecies.
"In front of me is the text of the Law of Return," said Yuli Edelstein, ex-Deputy Minister of Absorption, to the
Jewish Agency's Repatriation Dt Chief Nov. 2002 Politics TV broadcast. "However, it does not say in any section
that you, as Jewish Agency representatives abroad, must actively search for persons entitled to repatriation."
Within the last decade, the Jewish Agency has become an extremely powerful organization with a huge staff and
colossal resources.
[ incl extensive foreign branch recruitment offices, main subject of
this article. ]
guided purely by economic considerations, role of the Jewish Agency is reduced to 2 actions, filling out
questionnaires and putting the person on a plane.
After returning to Israel a year ago, I contacted the
repatriates who had come through our Jewish Agency's branch. Half of them wanted to go back to Russia. The
other half was dreaming of Canada, and some had already gone there.
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