From the Japan Times comes the news that Japanese mental-health professionals are growing intensely concerned about gomi yashiki, meaning "garbage mansions" -- that is, the homes of seniors who "collect junk until it becomes a public nuisance," overflowing the house or apartment itself and spreading onto alleyways, sidewalks, streets, and parking areas.
"These apparent pack rats are trying to offset their loneliness, and their lack of communication with the community may be aggravating the problem," we read alongside a photograph showing a veritable reef of plastic buckets, boxes, rolled-up plastic sheeting, cinderblocks, what looks like clothing, and bags stuffed with unknown contents. Blocking the sidewalk for the entire length of the house against which it leans, the pile rises so high as to nearly obscure the house's first-floor windows.
"The owner of the house, an elderly man who lives alone, was arrested for violating the Road Traffic Law," reads the article. "After being fined in January, however, he did not stop the practice and still keeps collecting junk. ... Gyoda Deputy Police Chief Mitsuo Kaneta confessed that there is little public authorities can do because the reams of trash are essentially private property and thus the owners must resolve the problem. ... It is difficult to invoke a law to get the junk removed. Even if collectors are fined, they only briefly desist. ...
"Dr. Shigeru Masuko, an expert on mental care for the elderly, pointed out that forcible removal is not the solution. 'Some elderly people start collecting garbage after they suffer a recognition disorder,' Masuko said."
I've noticed that, among seniors I know, some feel a strong desire to keep and hoard and stockpile stuff. As they can feel themselves growing more and more vulnerable in many ways, this hoarding makes them feel safer. They build bulwarks of canned food and "extra" sweaters, "just in case." These same seniors also fear that they will be forced -- by health problems or pushy relatives -- to move out of their homes. Stockpiling stuff is a way of digging in, almost turning the home into a fort.
Then again, I know other seniors who feel the exact opposite urge, wanting to divest themselves of clutter and saying that at this point in life they realize what's worth keeping and what's not. These seniors pack up big bags with belongings that they donate to thrift stores and rummage sales, and beam with relief as they do so.
In my experience, those in the second group are happier, more optimistic in general, less driven by fear. Those in the first group are traumatized by their terror of dwindling independence, of removal and marginalization and death.
For much of Japan's history, multigenerational households were typical. It went without saying that the elderly lived out their final years with their children and grandchildren. But within the last few decades, with the rise of housing costs and the weakening of family cohesiveness, more seniors than ever before are now living out their final years alone. I suspect that this gomi yashiki phenomenon reflects a brand of insecurity and fear now emerging in a new Japan.
