Life Course, Happiness and Well-being in Japan

Barbara Holthus, Wolfram Manzenreiter, Barbara Holthus, Wolfram Manzenreiter

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• eBook ISBN: 9781351969178
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Politics & International Relations
• Subtopic: Politics
• Index: Politics & International Relations

Much of the existing literature on happiness in Japan has been produced in the field of economics and psychology and is quantitative in nature. Here, for the first time, a group of anthropologists and sociologists jointly analyze the state of happiness and unhappiness in Japan among varying social groups in its physical, interpersonal, existential and structural dimensions, offering new insights into fundamental issues.

This book investigates the connections between sociostructural aspects, individual agency and happiness in contemporary Japan from a life course perspective. The contributors examine quantitative and qualitative empirical data on the processes that impact how happiness and well-being are envisioned, crafted, and debated in Japan across the life-cycle. Therefore, the book discusses the shifting notions of happiness during people's lives from birth to death, analyzing the age group-specific experiences while taking into consideration people's life trajectories and historical changes. It points out recent developments in regards to demographic change, late marriage, and the changing labor market and focuses on their significant impact on the well-being of Japanese people. In particular it highlights the interdependencies of lives within the family and how families are collaborating for the purpose of maintaining or enhancing the happiness of its members.

Broadening our understanding of the multidimensionality of happiness in Japan, this book will be of interest to students and scholars of Japanese Studies, Anthropology, and Sociology.

PART I
Childhood and youth

1
TANOSHIKATTA NE? LEARNING TO BE HAPPY IN JAPANESE PRESCHOOLS

Ben-Ari Eyal

Introduction

Reflecting back on two in-depth studies of daycare centers in Kyoto (four months in 1988 and six months in 2005) and on visits to tens of other such institutions, my unqualified impression—bolstered by observations of other scholars such as Tobin (2005)—was that Japanese children, like children around the world, seem to love attending their preschools. Not only did children tell me that they enjoyed their experiences there, but the smiling faces, cheerful demeanors, and contented body stances that I repeatedly observed reinforced my impressions. Given the questions posed by the editors of this volume, I began to ask additional questions: what is it that makes the children happy? How do children learn or better acquire the ability to take pleasure in certain activities? What does socialization to happiness entail? And indeed, what is specifically Japanese about happiness in preschools?

A turn to the scholarly literature on happiness does not seem to help. Most research on “happiness” and “well-being” focuses—like much of the social sciences—on adults. Even when children’s well-being is investigated, youngsters are habitually seen as objects of adult views, care, or normative prescriptions. In fact, one such example is the international project on indicators of the well-being and development of children (Ben-Arieh 2008). Another instance is a long line of research that asks if adults with children are happier than childless couples are (Demo and Cox 2000; Hansen 2011). Similarly, a sustained attempt has been made to consider the effect of marital discord on the happiness of children (Cummings and Davies 2002). Such worthwhile efforts are part of a wider bias at the base of our disciplines entailing the perspective of fully developed, adult actors (often middle-class). Indeed, when children are studied, the questions tend to be overwhelmingly about whether they are happy or not, or what makes them happy (Luthar and Latendresse 2005; Morrow 1999; Chu et al. 2010). Scholars, however, have not systematically analyzed how children learn to be happy. Against this background, I use the case of daycare centers in Japan to shift the scholarly inquiry to one that explores the actual experiences of children in institutions of early childhood. Such a move allows us to ask not only what happiness is and why it is important, but how it is achieved and internalized. In other words, I hope to explore questions of a more processual or developmental nature than have been previously asked.

I focus on early childhood institutions for a number of reasons. First, almost all Japanese children attend daycare centers that are under the direction of the Ministry of Health and Welfare or kindergartens supervised by the Ministry of Education. Second, while one can argue that a focus on children should concentrate on the needs of families, as Holthus (2010) convincingly does by examining caregiving patterns, if we want to examine the direct impact of the state on youngsters, then it is in early childhood institutions that the first sustained effects of official policies can be found. Third, given the developmental stages of childhood (marked by multiple transformations), a careful analysis of how children learn to enjoy and be contented in certain contexts has implications for later life. In other words, we can perhaps see some of the origins of long-term effects of early childhood education for happiness.

The data I use is primarily taken from my studies of two medium-sized daycare centers in Kyoto (Ben-Ari, 1997a, 1997b, 2009, 2012) while referring to other studies published during the past decades. I focus especially on daycare centers because this allows me to explore happiness not only in regard to curricular matters, but also to a plethora of other activities, such as sleeping, eating, or toilet training.

Official views and institutional life

In general, what is of interest to teachers and caretakers is the local daycare institution where they work, specifically for this is the place that is creating an enjoyable environment and pleasurable experiences for the children in their care. The more abstract notions of happiness or well-being (as part of what can be termed developmentally appropriate trajectories) are frequently found in official pronouncements and policies (Ben-Ari 1997b). Thus, a broad overview (Ochanomizu University 2004: 14; emphasis added) provides the overall frame for such institutions where the emphasis is on:

[a] form of early childhood care and education that is based on nurturing the human relationships within the group: The main objective is for children to learn the basic routines of daily life and study habits. Activity times consist of slots that are put together by the teacher, and slots that the child can use with relative freedom, without instructions from the teacher. During free play times, children are encouraged to play with other children or turn their attention to, and relate with, one another, rather than spending time on their own.… Teachers are affectionate toward the children, avoid becoming authoritarian, behave calmly, and build a warm relationship with the children…

The teacher is warm and cheerful, and adapts his or her approach to each individual child. Some positive features that are shared by all these diverse forms of early childhood education include “saying ‘Good Morning,’” “closeness,” “unhurried time,” “responsibility of children,” and “physical activity.”

Thus official views focus on what Mathews and Izquierdo (2009: 259–260) label the interpersonal dimension of well-being, since at the heart of such policies are the experiences of children with others: teachers and peers. Even when the physical dimension is mentioned—namely children’s experiences of their bodies in the world—it is seen as subservient, as contributing to the interpersonal dimension. The ongoing activities of the daycare centers take place against this backdrop. To provide readers with the flavor of what goes on, let me sketch out a few relevant examples from periods of free play framing each day (held during mornings and afternoons) and from the planned activities held each morning.

Art class (taken from my study in 1988; from Ben-Ari 1997a: chapter 4). As the group of four-year old children enter the hall with the two class teachers (and me), the children are welcomed by the art education teacher. She invites the youngsters in by greeting them with cries of “irasshaimase.” Explaining that this is the word used in welcoming customers to shops and stores, she informs the children that today “we are going to play as though we have a shop here, a shop selling machines.” “We will make them by pasting things on boxes and by pasting boxes together.” She goes on to show the children what she had prepared (boxes, straws, or magic markers). The children, who had been anticipating this activity since morning assembly, assault the boxes. Scattering equipment around them, groups of two to five children sit together and talk occasionally but work by themselves. From time to time, teachers inquire about what they are making and in most cases, the children—busy cutting, attaching, pasting and coloring—answer that they “don’t know.” Some kids have problems in cutting and pasting the thick cardboard boxes and although aware of these difficulties, the teachers do not intercede and only help youngsters once they go through (what seemed to me to be an excruciating) effort at tackling the problem by themselves. The children then begin to name the machines they have prepared and add additional features (extra switches from bottle-caps, for instance) in order to fit what they had designated as cars, ships, and refrigerators. Having finished his vehicle, one boy begins to drive it around the hall, and soon some of the other boys follow him.

Rhythmic class (2005). The five-year old children enter the central hall with their two teachers. Once they are arrayed in a semi-circle, one of the teachers tells them that they are going to have fun today. Putting music on with a cassette player at the side of the hall and joining the children, the teachers variously walk, run, and skip around the hall. They lead the children in various animal versions of walking and running: turtles, rabbits, and frogs (see also Ben-Ari 1997a: chap 4). The youngsters are then divided into twosomes (based on who is standing next to whom) and carry out the animals’ running styles together. The children seem to be enjoying themselves very much. A number of times three or four exuberant boys run off to the side of the hall, and one of the teachers urges them back with a smile.

Teacher-initiated game during free play (2005). When I enter the room of the five-year old children, one of their teachers is telling them a story using story cards about a machine that grants all sorts of wishes to animals: a lion who asks for a crown since he is the king of the animals, a monkey that has a cold and wants some medicine. It ends with a female raccoon-dog (tanuki) who asks for friends. The machine replies that one cannot ask for friends, and by the end of the story she meets a male raccoon-dog and they become friends. The children listen intently and from time to time ask questions. When storytelling ends, the teacher asks the children if they want to play catfish, and they noisily retort that they do. She hands out short threads of wool, which they stick under their noses to resemble moustaches. When a male teacher enters, the first teacher asks him to go out again and come in and guess what they are doing. Upon entering, he tries all sorts of speculations but in the end the children answer that they are catfish. Spontaneously he grabs a plastic bucket and says that like in an aquarium he will hand out food to the fish. The children lie on the floor to catch the imaginary fish he is throwing at them. He then widens his legs and the children “swim” underneath him as though he is a bridge. From time to time he sings a song about a bridge falling and falls on the children swimming underneath him to everyone’s laughter.

Playing in open grounds surrounding the daycare centers (1988 and 2005). Both centers being urban institutions have small grounds surrounding them but are still sites of an abundance of activities. Here children make mud pies and cookies, ride small tricycles, push prams, play catch or climb, and slide down slides (see also Adis Tahan 2015). In these games the children enjoy each other’s company, become connected, and learn to trust and feel comfortable with each other. Teachers often join the children, either by being invited in or by helping organize dances or games of hide-and-seek or by looking and commenting on how children mastered ever-more complex uses of jungle-jims. In contrast to the structured morning programs, all of these games go on simultaneously and with “permeable” boundaries. Children are free to move into and out of any activity, under the proviso that they keep to the rules of the action. As in other places in Japan (Burke 2013; Che et al. 2007; Tobin et al. 2004), games very often involve mixed-age groups. In October 2005, two four-year old girls spontaneously took up the role of caretakers while two more children (from the group of three years) and I “played” the children. The two girls offered us a short performance with dolls that they had brought from home. A teacher from the group of six-year old children joined and suddenly became an MC using a small plastic block as a microphone and asking everyone to introduce themselves.

Playing house during free play (2005): Walking into the room of the six-year-old group, I find two girls playing house (mamasan gokko). They take white toy plates and cups, clear plastic jars and a purple kettle from open shelves and place them on a table. One brings some water in the kettle, and they both proceed to pour it back and forth into the jars and cups. One girl invites me over and shows me a small cloth used for cleaning up when water spills and then explains that the jars have a line on them showing the children how much water to pour in so that none is spilled. She then explains that they are making tea and invites me to join them. Her friend takes a saucer with small rounded stones and using plastic tweezers places them on the plates. She does not integrate me into her game.

While one can easily (and correctly) interpret these events in developmental terms (as preparation for the housewife role, mastering motor skills, or learning about friendship), I underscore the following points as a basis for my analysis. First, in all or parts of the games and play, children are deeply engaged in “the action,” in “another” world. While many occurrences of play have relatively porous boundaries, all are characterized by profound absorption as indicated by the fascination on youngsters’ faces, the seeming lack of attention to outside cues (including those of authority figures) while playing, or the emergent character of many episodes where new elements were introduced almost seamlessly into the created worlds.

Second, the deep absorption of the children—say when making the machines out of cardboard, placing ever-smaller beads on plastic cords, or dancing in more and more complex patterns—is very often related to tasks that are difficult for them. Accordingly, play is not only agreeable but involves ever-greater challenges for the youngsters. In fact, such episodes—involving minute tests of abilities—are not only limited to games as Tobin (Tobin et al. 2009) explains. In the preschool he studied, a five-year-old boy took a two-year-old boy and taught him to pee while standing. Tobin shows that the older child seemed to enjoy the act of teaching with its intricate explanations about posture and self-control and subsequently took pride in a job well done. In a related manner, Cave (2007: 199) explains that, after some elementary school children spent a day with preschoolers, he “had rarely seen Japanese primary school children so full of spontaneous pleasure and enthusiasm at a school event.”

Third, activities often included various amalgamations of twosomes, threesomes, or small groups. To follow Adis Tahan (2015), the absorption and challenges of games and play are collective actions that create a space of togetherness as a result of a sort of non-locatable body of children ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• List of figures
• List of tables
• List of contributors
• Preface and acknowledgments
• Series editors’ preface
• Introduction: Making sense of happiness in “unhappy Japan”
• PART I Childhood and youth
• PART II Adulthood
• PART III Old age
• Index