In the Western housing market, centuries-old houses are valued for their history and original features, while new builds are often showhomes designed for mass appeal. In Japan, the reverse couldn't be more true. Here, the desire for new builds is more than just a preference, it is the crux of a housing market in which homes are almost never re-sold and age is always a negative. The fascination with razing and rebuilding is a complex matter — relying on an ancient acceptance of transience paired with a distrust of short-term building techniques and faced with ever-changing safety innovations, the preference for new is understandable.
Responsible for the mantra that a Japanese house is built to last for 30 years, the Japanese government have ensured that land is passed on, but homes are not. Having developed into a somewhat self-perpetuating cycle, this 30-year 'fact' was plucked from a study of houses that were demolished — but focused on their life spans alone, while ignoring the much older houses still standing. Even traditional wooden houses are only supposed to last for around 60 years, but that depends heavily on the care they receive.
Designed to keep the country's building industry in good health, the tactical figure has come to be treated as fact among society, with homes built to meet these criteria, but never to transcend them. You need only watch the concerningly short construction of an average Japanese house with its thin walls, limited insulation and simple design to know it will not be there in 100 years. While the government is responsible for placing an arguably nominal figure on the life expectancy of the average property, the concept of housing as temporary has always been present in Japan due to a history of adaptation and innovation.
The country's co-existence with nature and the disasters that rock the land on a regular basis have been pivotal in the development of the concept of ownership and belonging. With buildings routinely ruined by earthquakes, tsunamis and fires, the concept of a permanent structure was not considered feasible, and thus the focus on development as a positive has been encouraged. While beauty and tradition are celebrated and preserved, the focus is placed on cultural practice and location, rather than the buildings themselves. For example, shrines today are re-built on average every 20 years, allowing for a sense of renewal as well as maintaining the skills of Shrine builders —factors considered far more important than the proverbial bricks and mortar.
Although this transience has always been a part of the housing mentality, it was compounded following the destruction and re-building of residential areas during WWII. A focus on quantity over quality lead to new homes being built in record time, without too much thought for how long they might last. While this was what was needed at the time, it led to a general consensus that houses were poor quality and wouldn't last — an impression that was never truly changed. It would have been feasible to begin building higher-quality homes after recovery, however the market was already set on its course, and the construction industry was happy to keep it that way.
The development of earthquake-resistant engineering techniques has provided further distrust in older homes. It was once the earthquake damage that would demolish houses, though now it is the hope of prevention that results in their replacement. With ever-changing legal requirements for buildings, houses not conforming to the latest standards are understandably unwanted, especially in the face of Tokyo's "overdue" earthquake always looming in the distance. While individual family homes are relatively easy to knock down and re-build, condominium buildings face more complex issues. Since many are owned by the collective tenants — four-fifths of whom must agree to any renovation or reconstruction work — often no agreements are reached. In many cases, demolition of older buildings opens up space for taller buildings with smaller apartments, meaning it is more financially rewarding to demolish than renovate — a no-brainer for companies and agencies.
However, leaving homeowners in a market where negative equity is normal and without any real incentive to make houses resalable does offer a silver lining: freedom. The ability to design a house without worrying about future buyers, and knowing that it will depreciate regardless, allows people to design a home for themselves, and no one else. In 2014, Japan had over 500,000 registered architects compared to America's paltry figure of 105,000, reflecting an industry that is utilized in a different way to the majority of the world. Rather than working on large projects, architects are involved in the design of individual homes, be they unusual or everyday creations — it is the personalization that matters. While designing your own house in the West is unusual, in Japan it is normal, and means that for the most part no two houses are the same.
The so-called 30-year life expectancy imposed on Japanese homes is as much a curse as it is a blessing, offering a sense of freedom in design, but a guarantee of negative equity for homeowners. While a preference for new over old may seem shallow on the face of it, in Japan it makes more sense than you might expect.
By Lily Crossley-Baxter
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