Japan is rapidly becoming a super-aged society, yet the reality I see on my daily commute feels strangely different. One day, I realized that people my age were no longer the majority around me—and that awareness arrived quietly, almost without warning.
By 2030, people aged 65 and older will account for 29.4% of Japan’s population—nearly one-third！
On paper, that sounds like a significant demographic.
But in everyday life, the number of older adults actually out and about is surprisingly small.
On the trains during the morning and evening commute, nearly everyone is younger than I am—workers, students, teenagers. Older commuters are clearly the minority.
I’ve been riding trains since junior high school, which makes it nearly fifty years now.
Only recently did I realize that, somewhere along the way, I had become part of the minority.
The idea that I once belonged to the “volume zone” feels like something from a distant past.
This shift means I have to be a little more mindful of my behavior on trains.
The truth is, I can’t predict how younger people will move or act.
In the old days, someone might listen to music with headphones.
Now, everyone is absorbed in entirely different things on their smartphones.
Their sense of manners varies widely, too. Some act in ways that feel “normal” to me, while others operate according to entirely different standards.
Ethical values have changed as well.
Since around the time phone scams targeting the elderly began spreading, it feels as if the idea that “taking money from older people isn’t so bad” has crept in—and even evolved into the notion that “taking from those who have more is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Trying to understand the mindset of people young enough to be my children—or even younger—is difficult, even when I think back to my own parent–child relationships.
If that’s the case, then trying to understand complete strangers with no blood ties becomes even more challenging.
So when a young commuter beside me, absorbed in a game, presses an elbow into my side, all I can do is shrink a little and endure it.
To be fair, I’m usually hunched over my own smartphone, engrossed in a language-learning app, so perhaps we’re even in that regard.
I still have a few more years of working life ahead of me.
These days, my hope is simply that things pass peacefully and without trouble.
If I find myself feeling increasingly cautious or defensive, it may not be wisdom—it may just be age catching up with me.
