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TOKYO -- On a wintry December night in Tokyo, some people still find time to slip into a "snack," a unique type of bar where conversation among strangers is part of the charm. Unlike izakaya pubs or Western-style bars, snack bars revolve around spontaneous conversation across the counter, with a female proprietor, affectionately called "Mama."
At the counter, the mama serves the drinks and guides the conversation. But the chatter is often more than just small talk: Sometimes it includes vital neighborhood updates such as vacancies at nearby shops, word about people who have died and other information that forms the fabric of everyday life.
But many of Japan's snack bars are closing. "Previously there were about seven. Now, including mine, only two remain," says the mama of Snack Miyo on "Post Office Street," about a 10-minute walk from JR Sugamo Station along Tokyo's Yamanote Line.
Despite being within the 23 wards that comprise central Tokyo, Sugamo is a rather out-of-the-way place. It is neither a youth-driven district like Shibuya or Shinjuku, nor a fashion-forward hub like Harajuku or Omotesando. It lacks Ginza-style shopping complexes and ultra-luxe bars or clubs. Nor is it part of the city's throbbing business district, like Marunouchi. It is rather a throwback to Tokyo's past -- with many venerable mom-and-pop stores selling household goods, health care products and traditional sweets. Snack Miyo's proprietor, who opened her establishment in 1990, looks a touch forlorn when speaking of the neighborhood's long, slow decline.
According to Koichi Taniguchi, a professor at Tokyo Metropolitan University and a founding member of the Snack Research Association, Japan had around 100,000 snack bars when statistics began in 2013. In the 12 years since, the total has fallen by 55%. Taniguchi forecasts the number will hit 45,000 in 2025. If the rate of decline persists, there will be 60% fewer snack bars by 2050, less than 20,000 in all. The aging of mamas and a shortage of successors is responsible for their disappearance.
Snack bars are widely believed to have originated around the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. In the run-up, to the event, stricter enforcement of the Entertainment Business Act prohibited places that served only alcohol from staying open past midnight. Some bars began offering light meals or snacks to get around the rule, hence the name "snack bars."
Over time, these became gathering places for nearby residents and office workers. Regulars would share local news and gossip, with the mama acting as a conduit for strangers to meet. Snack bars were a sort of safe harbor where people could ward off feelings of loneliness.
But Japan's demographic tide has thrown the future of snack bars into doubt. Many mamas are now in their 70s and reaching their physical limits. As the population falls, it is hard to find a new generation of proprietors. Another challenge is declining alcohol consumption among younger people.
Snack bars face unique hurdles, too. A survey by the Ministry of Health, Labor and Welfare found that people who have never visited snacks are often reluctant to try one. Many shops are designed to be inconspicuous. And the billing can be opaque, putting off newcomers.
Despite the gloomy trends, some people are taking a fresh look at these traditional neighborhood watering holes.
Post-pandemic, social media and online gatherings make it easy to gather information. But for many people, opportunities for small talk and chance meetings are rare. "For younger generations, who avoid aggressive language and speak while taking note of the emotional cues of others, places like snack bars, where you can converse without fear, have become scarce," says Taniguchi.
Some younger people are seeking out such in-person contact. A 25-year-old man who visits a snack bar twice a month says, "I started [coming] three years ago. There are very few places where you can casually talk to the person next to you."
Snack bars can also serve as lifelines for the children of Japan's postwar baby boomers. "I live alone, so I registered Mama as my emergency contact. If I don't come in for a long time, she checks to see if I'm OK," laughs a 53-year-old woman who frequents Snack Fureai near Hiroo, an upscale Tokyo neighborhood popular with expats.
The renewed interest has spurred a wave of revival efforts.
In Kunitachi, a leafy residential city in western Tokyo, Snack Suichu is run by Chisato Sakane, who, at 27, is a rather youthful member of the snack bar proprietors club. She took over the shop, where she previously worked part time as a college student.
The glass‑front entrance of Snack Suichu in Kunitachi, western Tokyo, is inviting to new customers. (Photo by Kiko Inafuku) In May, the shop was selected for a program sponsored by architectural firm Nikken Sekkei that aims to support "zebra" companies -- businesses that seek to balance profit and social impact. Over two years, Snack Suichu will receive 10 million yen in research funding plus management support. It has plans to open a second shop in Tokyo in June 2026.
Conversation among strangers is the norm at Snack Suichu. (Photo by Kiko Inafuku) Digital tools are another way to help keep snack bars open. Snack Technology, a startup that supports digital transformation initiatives, offers Sunateku, an app that centralizes payments and customer management for snack bars. Using the app, shops can display the customer's name, process automatic payments and issue receipts.
Mogura uses Sunateku, an app that helps snack bar owners handle customer billing and payments. (Photo by Yutaka Miyaguchi) Snack Technology aims to expand its network from six affiliated shops at present to 300 by 2026. "Cafes were once mostly individually run, but the emergence of chains like Starbucks changed the industry. Snack bars, too, will become more transparent and more chain-like," says the company's president, Yuzo Sekiya.
The rising interest in snack bars, in part, reflects a deepening problem in Japan: social isolation.
The National Institute of Population and Social Security Research predicts single-person households will reach 44.3% by 2050. According to the National Police Agency, 76,020 people living alone died at home in 2024, 58,044 of whom were 65 or older, or just over three quarters of the total.
For older people living apart from family or friends, having someone to rely on in emergencies will only grow more important. Social media is an easy, convenient way to stay in touch with distant friends or to find people with common interests. But people still need human contact. For those who are ill or disabled, having someone nearby who can help is essential.
Tokyo Metropolitan University's Taniguchi defines snack bars as a "nocturnal public sphere."
"Just as German philosopher Jurgen Habermas argued that pubs and coffeehouses formed the foundation of civil society in the West, snack bars have carried that role in Japan," he says. "It is not about abstract ideals but a practical 'publicness' that moves the community."
Once a source of social ties, snack bars are now dwindling in number. In 25 years, in Tokyo, a city where personal connections are becoming increasingly thin, can the humble snack bar once again fulfill people's longing for genuine relationships?
