Yūbari – the City That Teaches How to Die Slowly – A Vision of the Future for Japan, Poland, and the World?
A Symbol of the Future
Twenty years ago, Japanese offices were filled with relatively young employees in their 30s and 40s. Today, encountering someone under forty at work is almost a miracle. Most workers are over sixty, and retirees increasingly take on temporary roles just to keep essential businesses running. Japan’s birth rate has been below the replacement level for decades, hovering at just 1.26–1.33 children per woman. In 2023, only 758,000 children were born—a 5% decline from the previous year—while deaths exceeded two million. Projections suggest that by 2060, Japan’s population will shrink to 88 million, with four out of ten people being over 65 years old (let that sink in—nearly half of the nation over 65). Over 85% of Japan’s municipalities are experiencing severe depopulation, with some towns on the brink of complete extinction.
In northern Hokkaido, nestled in a valley surrounded by rugged hills, lies Yūbari—a city like no other. Abandoned buildings, rusted remnants of mining structures, and empty streets resemble a scene from a post-apocalyptic film. The coal mines are long gone, and where miners and their families once thrived, wild deer now roam freely. But Yūbari isn’t just another genkai shūraku—a "ghost town" that symbolizes the past. On the contrary, Yūbari is a symbol of the FUTURE, an image of what much of Japan may look like in a few decades. The average age of residents here is over 70, and for every birth, there are twelve deaths. The city is a grim experiment where both citizens and officials learn how to die with dignity—a process that may await hundreds of other Japanese municipalities.
Yūbari is heading toward the inevitable, and with it, perhaps so is all of Japan. The city is depopulating at an alarming rate. Authorities are trying to stabilize the situation by offering housing subsidies to younger residents and investing in improving the quality of life for the elderly. Yet, increasingly empty homes and the absence of young people cast a long shadow over the entire nation. In this quiet corner of Hokkaido, Japan’s future slowly but inexorably emerges from the ruins of its past, asking a haunting question: Is this the fate awaiting the entire country?
Yūbari – Mountains, Scenery, and Silence…
In the northernmost part of Hokkaido, tucked within a valley surrounded by harsh, forested hills, lies Yūbari—a city straight out of a story about the end of the world. Nature here is anything but gentle: winters bring heavy snowfall that can cut the city off from the outside world, and the average annual temperature barely surpasses 6°C. For months on end, the streets are blanketed in snow, and the only sounds are the creaking of frozen sidewalks underfoot and the wind howling through the ruins of old buildings. Yet, in the mid-20th century, Yūbari was a symbol of Japan’s economic power—a mining capital where black gold fueled the dreams of thousands of families.
At its peak in the 1960s, Yūbari had nearly 120,000 residents, all thriving on the coal industry. It was a time of prosperity—miners had well-paying jobs, and the city bustled with life. New schools, shops, theaters, and cinemas were built. Coal from Yūbari powered the factories and power plants across the island, becoming a key element of Japan’s economic miracle. But the city’s fate was inseparably tied to coal. When Japan shifted to imported oil in the 1970s, the mines began closing one by one. The last mine shut down in 1990, and the city lost its lifeblood. People left en masse in search of work, and the population plummeted by over 80%.
In 2007, Yūbari officially declared bankruptcy. This came as a shock, though not to those who knew the reality of the emptying city. Mining settlements, once filled with the laughter of children, were either demolished or reclaimed by forests. Wild deer and foxes now stroll the streets, as if to check whether humans have truly abandoned their territory. Only a few symbols of the city’s former glory remain—the clock tower of the now-decaying Coal History Village theme park and the iconic Yūbari melons, the only product still attracting external attention. These melons, sold at auctions for absurd prices of up to $20,000 a pair, are both a symbol of luxury and a metaphor for the city’s decline.
Today, Yūbari is not just a ghost of the past but a grim vision of the future. It offers a lesson on what happens when a city—or perhaps an entire country—ages and ceases to give birth to new life. Can this scenario still be changed, or is Yūbari already quietly providing the answer by preparing for its final chapter?
Yūbari as an Experiment in Slow Death
Yūbari is likely the world’s oldest city—at least demographically. The average age of its residents exceeds 65, and meeting someone under forty on the streets is a rarity. There are more residents over 85 than under 40, making Yūbari the first city in history where retirees make up the majority. The statistics paint a stark picture: for every child born here, there are twelve deaths. The city is, quite literally, dying—year by year, its population dwindles at a terrifying pace.
In 1960, Yūbari had nearly 120,000 inhabitants, but by 1990, after the last coal mine closed, the population had dropped to 21,000. Today, around 8,600 people remain, and projections suggest that by 2040, that number will fall by another 60–70%. This means that within two decades, fewer than 3,000 people may live here. But this is not just a local issue—Yūbari has become a grim symbol of what awaits many other towns in Japan. A 2021 report revealed that over half of Japan’s municipalities are at risk of extinction due to the dramatic decline in women of childbearing age.
Yūbari is called a "canary in the coal mine" of Japanese demography because its situation serves as a warning for hundreds of other communities. Just as miners once used canaries to detect dangerous gases, Yūbari is an early signal of an impending social disaster—mass aging and depopulation. The city shows the drastic consequences of this process: economic collapse, the loss of younger generations, and the slow death of communities with little hope for rebirth.
In the 20th century, Yūbari flourished as an industrial hub, but now it resembles the portrait of Dorian Gray—a vision of Japan’s future. As the first developed country to face irreversible population decline, Japan is grappling with this harsh reality. Yūbari reached this demographic tipping point over a decade ago, offering a sobering glimpse into what lies ahead for the entire nation.
Tourism – Attempts to Improve the Situation and a History of Failures
Faced with the closure of its last coal mine in 1990, Yūbari's authorities decided to transform the city into a tourist attraction. Thus, the ambitious strategy of "from mines to tourism" (炭鉱から観光へ, tanko kara kankō he) was born, with its centerpiece being the opening of a massive theme park—Coal History Village. The park was meant to honor the city's mining heritage and draw tourists from across the country. In the early 1980s, numerous attractions were launched, including the Adventure Slider Kilimanjaro roller coaster, a giant Ferris wheel, and unique installations like the World Stuffed Animal House. Despite significant financial investments and support from the central government, the park never achieved the expected success. Attractions began closing as early as the 1990s, and in 2006 the park finally went bankrupt, leaving behind ruins and unpaid debts.
The city also attempted to host cultural events, such as the Yūbari International Fantastic Film Festival, inaugurated in 1990. While the festival initially garnered some attention, it soon faced financial difficulties like other tourism ventures. When tourism initiatives failed, Yūbari turned to its most valuable natural product—the Yūbari King melons. Known for their sweetness and exceptional quality, these melons quickly gained a reputation as a luxurious delicacy throughout Japan. Each year, the first pair of the season is sold at auction for staggering sums, reaching up to $20,000 (approximately 2.5 million yen) in record cases. While melon cultivation provides some revenue, it is insufficient to save Yūbari from further decline.
In 2011, the city tried to revitalize tourism through a new, controversial mascot—Melon Bear (Meron Kuma). This character, a fearsome-looking bear with a giant melon-shaped head, was intended to be part of the local marketing campaign inspired by Japan's kawaii mascot phenomenon. However, Melon Bear failed to gain widespread popularity—its terrifying appearance and bulging veins were more off-putting than appealing to tourists. Despite limited success, the mascot gained some notoriety through an appearance on a television show featuring members of the popular boy band SMAP, where a humorous skit involving Melon Bear and his handler, Nacchan, became a topic of mockery. Today, Melon Bear remains more of a local curiosity than an effective promotional tool.
The Return of Nature and a Humanless Revival
In Yūbari, nature is gradually reclaiming what industrialization once took from it. Abandoned buildings, once full of life, now resemble ruins from another world. The roofs of miners’ housing estates have collapsed under the weight of snow, and the rust-colored remnants of structures blend into the surrounding green hills. Where miners and their families once thrived, deer and foxes now roam, while overgrown streets have become pathways for wild animals. Birdsong fills the air, echoing from buildings that have become makeshift shelters. In the river valley where coal heaps once stood, young forests now grow, and the crystal-clear waters attract frogs, dragonflies, and other creatures.
The city has recognized this resurgence of nature and begun to use it as an asset. An abandoned elementary school has been transformed into a Nature Academy, offering programs for children from major cities like Sapporo and even far-off Tokyo. Under the guidance of instructors, these children can explore the world of wild animals, catch stag beetles, and kayak down pristine rivers. The experience aims to reconnect younger generations with nature and foster ecological awareness, which is often lacking in metropolitan areas.
Interestingly, despite the drastic decline in population, Yūbari's public infrastructure remains in excellent condition. The fire department still conducts regular drills, even though small, isolated fires occur only a few times a year. There is no vandalism or graffiti on the streets, and police records show fewer than one minor offense per week. Public telephones—rare elsewhere in Japan—shine with cleanliness, and small government offices continue to operate, though they serve fewer and fewer residents. The shrinking community of Yūbari, though dwindling with each passing year, lives in harmony with its surroundings, as if quietly coming to terms with the fate of a city fading into obscurity alongside the return of nature.
Yūbari as a Warning for Japan and the World
Yūbari stands as a stark warning, etched into its deserted streets and crumbling buildings—not only for Japan but for the entire developed world. Population aging and drastic decline are processes that the city has faced for decades, and now these trends are spreading to other regions of Japan. Over half of Japan’s municipalities are at risk of demographic extinction, and depopulation is affecting not only remote villages but also towns located far from major metropolitan areas. Without new births or an influx of young people, Yūbari and similar places are becoming desolate islands dominated by retirees—people left without the support of younger generations.
Yūbari’s case evokes comparisons to other parts of the world that have experienced collapse—such as Detroit in the United States, which declared bankruptcy in 2013 and has since struggled with a slow recovery. There, as in Yūbari, depopulation and economic decline have left scars in the form of abandoned neighborhoods and decaying infrastructure. The similarities to Detroit indicate that this is a global issue. In Germany, many former industrial towns in the Ruhr region are grappling with similar challenges, and in China, despite the recent lifting of the one-child policy, the problem of an aging society is beginning to emerge.
Depopulation is becoming a significant challenge for an increasing number of countries that have historically depended on continuous population growth. Currently, over 60 countries, including major economies like Japan, Germany, and Italy, are experiencing population decline. Experts warn that in the coming decades, many of these nations will face a demographic crisis that will strain pension systems, distort labor markets, and erode local communities.
Will Japan find a way to manage the "slow death" of its cities? So far, efforts to combat depopulation—through family-friendly policies, financial incentives, and investments in tourism—have yielded only limited results. Yūbari demonstrates that traditional growth-driven strategies fail in a world where populations are inevitably shrinking. Perhaps the future lies in redefining success—shifting the focus from competition for growth to stabilizing and improving the quality of life for those who remain. Japan faces the difficult but necessary challenge of embracing this new reality to prevent Yūbari from becoming the norm rather than the exception.
A Lesson for the Future
Yūbari’s case poses a difficult question: can a strategy of "maintenance" instead of "growth" be a viable response to demographic challenges? Traditional urban development philosophies have assumed continuous expansion—larger populations, new investments, and economic growth. However, Yūbari and other small towns in Japan show that when growth is no longer possible, priorities must be redefined. Cities like Suzu (Ishikawa Prefecture) and Manazuru (Kanagawa Prefecture) are shifting their focus to quality of life rather than numbers. Suzu emphasizes sustainable development through traditional agriculture and cultural heritage, while Manazuru, close to Tokyo, offers unique "workation" opportunities—extended stays combined with remote work.
Family policies, though important, have limited impact on birth rates. Even in places offering generous support programs, such as Nagi (Okayama Prefecture), increases in birth rates have been modest and temporary. Japan, like many other countries, faces profound social changes—rising marriage ages, declining interest in starting families, and reluctance to settle in small towns.
These problems are not unfamiliar to Poland either. Many smaller Polish towns are struggling with population outflows to major cities like Warsaw, Kraków, and Wrocław. In regions such as eastern Poland, depopulation is progressing faster than anticipated. According to projections from Poland’s Central Statistical Office, the country’s population could drop below 33 million by 2050, with a demographic structure resembling today’s challenges in Japan. Will Poland find a way to keep young people in smaller towns by offering better living and working conditions? Or, like Japan, will it have to prepare for a new reality—one of stabilization rather than relentless growth?
Yūbari serves as both a warning and a lesson—about the difficult but necessary decisions that must be made regarding the future of cities in a world that no longer grows at the pace it once did. Perhaps within this lesson lies the key to our own future as well.
>> SEE ALSO SIMILAR ARTICLES:
Rent-a-Sister: A Japanese Method for Handling Extreme Isolation
The Aokigahara Suicide Forest: What Secrets Do the Silent Trees Guard?
Stay Active and Thriving Even in Your 80s – The Japanese Phenomenon of Radio Taiso
"Strong Japanese Women"
see book by the author
of the page
未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
Personal motto:
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
Mike Soray
(aka Michał Sobieraj)
未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
Personal motto:
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
Mike Soray
(aka Michał Sobieraj)
Write us...
Ciechanów, Polska
dr.imyon@gmail.com
___________________
inari.smart
Would you like to share your thoughts or feedback about our website or app? Leave us a message, and we’ll get back to you quickly. We value your perspective!