Demography tips the balance of power
BY 2020, FOR THE first time in history, there will be more people on the planet over 65 than under 5.1 More grandparents than grandchildren.
Two trends are driving this ageing of the world. First, we are living longer. In the twentieth century, average life expectancy increased by 30 years in most developed countries, because of better nutrition and sanitation, and medical advances. Men currently live longest in Switzerland, with an average life expectancy at birth of 82; women live longest in Japan, to about 87. Australia, Israel, Canada, South Korea and most Western European countries are close behind. The gap between men and women is narrowing, because men who once led rackety lives (drinking and smoking) are cleaning up their act.
The second reason is that the world’s women are turning away from motherhood. In 1964 the average woman had just over 5 children; in 2015 she had only 2.5.2
There are now 83 countries, home to nearly half the world’s population, with fertility rates below the ‘replacement rate’ – roughly 2.1 births per woman – needed to maintain the population. Australia, New Zealand, Brazil, Chile and almost every country in Europe now has fertility below that level. South Africa and India are moving rapidly towards replacement rate, with birth rates of 2.5 and 2.3 respectively.3
The changes will alter the shape of countries. Japan’s population is already shrinking. By the middle of this century Italy, Poland, South Korea and Russia will be dwindling too.4 And these shifts could redraw the geopolitical balance of power: between countries on an ageing, shrinking trajectory – notably China – and countries which are sustained by younger, immigrant populations – currently the US.
Africa will provide the young of the future. The populations of 26 African countries are expected to double between 2017 and 2050, adding another 1.3 billion people to that continent.5
Fewer humans should be good news for the environment, once global population peaks (some time after 2070, though estimates range from 9 to 11 billion).6 But the impact on humans can already be glimpsed. Visit Japan’s Akita Prefecture, where over a third of residents are over 65 and the main growth industry is funeral parlours.7 Or go to Rudong in eastern China, where half the schools have closed in the past 15 years as the younger generation moves away.
Demography is changing not only the landscape, but the very meaning of family. What networks will we rely on, as children become scarce?
The Chinese government has passed an ‘Elderly Rights Law’, threatening to fine children who don’t visit parents often enough.8 But the children are fighting back. ‘What is considered “often”?’ complained one poster on Weibo, the Chinese Twitter.9 ‘It’s fine that no one is paying for us to visit our parents, but is there someone who can give us time off to do it?’ asked another, refusing to buy into traditional notions of family.
The best way to visualise what is happening is through the population pyramids used by demographers. In 1950, if you laid out the population of any nation with each age group represented by a bar, the youngest at the bottom and the oldest at the top, it looked like a pyramid, with the young outnumbering the old. That has been the shape throughout recorded history, as this chart for Japan shows:
Since then, falling birth rates and longer lifespans have changed the picture dramatically. Japan, the world’s oldest society, has one of the lowest birth rates in the world: 1.4 births per woman. Fifty years ago, life expectancy in Japan was about 72 years. Now it is 84. In 2015, over a quarter of the population was over 65, turning the pyramid into a barrel:
Between now and 2050, longer lifespans will continue to alter the pyramids’ shape. The fastest growing group in the world population will be those aged over 80. In Japan, the pyramid will stretch up and outwards, to look more like a flowerpot:
One former health minister has predicted that ‘the Japanese race will become extinct’. The first question is why? Why have millions of individuals simultaneously changed their minds about having children?
Japan: ‘Herbivore Men’ and Career Women
‘Men here don’t want a woman who’s cleverer than them,’ says Keiko, a Japanese executive in her early forties, who is wearing a smart suit and demure heels when we meet in the lobby of the Tokyo Hilton. ‘They worry you might be demanding, that you might be demanding in bed too. And I just think, why bother? Why bother with a guy who’s more interested in his Xbox?’
Something strange is going on in Japan, which now has the world’s highest proportion of old people. In 2013, it was claimed, more nappies were sold for elderly, incontinent people than for babies.10 That ugly benchmark proclaims the raw truth: babies have gone out of fashion.
The roots of this shift, in a society which has traditionally prized family above everything, lie in a feminist revolution: women are shaking off the traditions of dutiful service to husband and household, and challenging men to adapt. ‘I wouldn’t mind a child, if I’m honest,’ said a Japanese student I met in London. ‘But I’m not sure I’d want to put up with a husband.’
‘It’s hard,’ says one Japanese woman in her late thirties, who speaks perfect English and has married a New Zealander. ‘Many of my friends are really serious about their careers. It’s their chance and they’re not going to bother with a man who can’t bring home the bacon.’
As women become more ambitious for themselves, they talk disparagingly about what they call ‘herbivore men’ (soˉshoku-kei danshi), a term coined in 2006 by the Nikkei columnist Maki Fukasawa. The herbivore man doesn’t know how to ask a woman out on a date. He’s intimidated by women. And, the implication is, he’s not even that interested. A survey in the Japan Times found 20 per cent of men in their late twenties reported having little or no interest in sex – some citing crippling long working hours.11
It’s not clear to what extent the stereotype is true. There are still plenty of Love Hotels, the Japanese hotels which were created for salarymen to grab some respite. And the number of children produced by married couples is still hovering around replacement rate. But far more people are staying single. As arranged marriages disappear, hundreds of thousands of men whose mothers would once have found them a bride are struggling to adapt. One in four 50-year-old Japanese men has never been married.12 Since this is a country which still feels uncomfortable having children out of wedlock, that’s bad for birth.
Having children is also a costly business. In surveys, 20- and thirty-something men and women13 say lack of money is a serious obstacle to getting married. Couples increasingly need two incomes. But it’s hard to combine a career with motherhood in a culture where people stay at their desks late.
Cost is not the whole story. Many women have been liberated from the need to find a husband to support them, as employers have become more open-minded about hiring. This partly stems, ironically, from the realisation that Japan must utilise all its talents if its economy is to prosper as the population shrinks. As all the curves on the graph turn downwards, experts are now looking desperately for solutions.
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