By Millie Muroi, Economics Writer
When my grandpa was little, he didn’t think he would live past 80. His own grandfather was the oldest in his village at that age when he died.
But this month, my grandpa, Tatsuyuki Muroi, quietly turned 99. I say “quietly” because although it’s a milestone, when I visited him in his aged care home in southern Japan this week to ask him about it, he chuckled and admitted he had lost count.
Japan is the epitome of an ageing population. More than one in 10 people living in the country have celebrated an 80th birthday. And this month, it recorded just shy of 100,000 people aged 100 or older.
It’s an intriguing place and far from perfect. But it gives us an insight into what we might expect, and what we should think about, as Australia becomes an older population too.
One thing I noticed almost immediately in many places across Japan was the number of older people not only going about their day, but manning food stalls, cleaning streets, and running their own businesses.
Part of this is out of necessity. Because the pension that Japanese people receive is largely based on the amount they contributed during their working life, those who have worked in unstable or low-wage jobs may not receive enough to live comfortably. Meanwhile, older Australians without enough superannuation or wealth are generally eligible for a pension that ensures they can live relatively comfortably.
But working can also help people to stay connected, feel a sense of purpose, and pass on wisdom and skills to younger generations.
About one in four people aged 65 or older were employed in Japan in 2021 compared with about one in seven in Australia.
Some of the difference might come down to cultural expectations, but also the perverse incentives created by Australia’s pension system. For instance, a pensioner in Australia can end up effectively earning less despite working more because of the clunky way our aged pension payments shrink as people take on a little extra work.
Of course, we shouldn’t force people to work until they drop.
The year after World War II ended, my grandpa said he worked 365 days straight. “We worked from as soon as the sun came up, to when it went down,” he told me. That, of course, is excessive.
But there are big missed opportunities – for our longevity, physical and mental health, and the economy more broadly – in discouraging those who might want to continue working from doing so.
It’s backed by solid research but also makes sense intuitively.
Having built up his own construction business, my grandpa continued working, at least odd jobs here and there, well into his 80s. “I didn’t have a day where I specifically retired,” he told me.
By his 90s – and until he entered an aged care home about a year ago – he was handling just a handful of small requests from family, but it kept his mind and body active.
“Now, I’m bored out of my mind and getting more frail,” he told me. “If I could do even a bit of work, I could be useful. But all I am now is a burden to everyone.”
Of course, that isn’t true, and I made sure to let him know. “I guess there’s not a space available yet in the afterlife,” he laughed.
For many, work can give a sense of purpose, especially for those who haven’t got strong ties to family, friends or the community.
And that work doesn’t have to look like a conventional nine-to-five – or even part-time or casual work.
It could be things like getting more older people involved in mentoring, both through government-funded programs and private businesses or individuals taking initiative.
After all, older people have decades of experience, not just in business, but life more broadly.
With loneliness becoming a widespread and growing trend, especially among young people, there’s a lot to gain from this. Facilitating more opportunities for interaction between generations could be a win-win, particularly for those who may not have relationships with their own grandparents or grandchildren.
Reducing loneliness can lift productivity – our ability to produce things better, faster or using less resources – and take pressure off the healthcare system by preventing the many health problems linked to loneliness.
That brings big economic benefits, but also fulfils one of our greatest human needs: the desire for connection with other people.
Taking the time to talk to my grandpa over three days came with a noticeable boost in his mood, cognition and energy level – that I think could be traced to more than just my Japanese language skills improving over hours of conversation.
It’s a phenomenon that’s been noted in research showing young people can, through social interaction alone, help improve the vascular health, cognitive abilities and life span of the elderly.
But there’s also a lot to gain for young people, who can receive advice and gain an insight into history.
Speaking with my grandpa, for example, gave me an opportunity to hear from one of the diminishing number of people who lived through, and remember, the Second World War.
When I asked him about his time in the Imperial Japanese Army Academy – the army officer training school – he reignited my interest in modern history, telling me stories I wouldn’t get from history books.
“I disliked exercise and absolutely hated running,” he said. “But we were made to do a lot … judo, kendo, running … one time, towards the end of all our training, we had to walk for 24 hours straight and weren’t allowed to sit down. It was beyond exhausting, but this training made me very fit by the end.”
Incredibly, my grandpa was spared from being sent to war because Japan surrendered the month he was supposed to graduate from the army officer training school.
“One day in August, we gathered at 12pm to listen to the emperor’s announcement,” he said. “At first, it was such a bad-quality sound that we didn’t know what had been said, but when we returned to our rooms, someone delivered the message that we had lost the war.”
I asked whether it came as a surprise. “Of course,” he said. “We didn’t think we were winning, but we’d been taught to fight until the last man, so we never thought we would surrender.”
While learning more about World War II is sobering, it feels especially pertinent as wars continue in the Middle East and Ukraine and Russia today. Both my grandparents who are still alive stress the importance of peace. “We should never go to war,” my 92-year-old grandma often tells me.
There’s perhaps no better time to learn from our parents, grandparents and the elderly. And no better time to improve the way we look after them, break down the barriers discouraging them from working, and spend time listening to them.
My grandpa told me I could probably live to 120 years old. I hope in that time, we’ve worked on ways to show older people we value them and want them to stay active in the ways they’d like. But for now, I’m more inspired than ever to keep asking all the questions in the world to my grandpa in the years I have left with him.
