The Country That Became a Warning Before Everyone Else
Japan has been worrying about its birth rate for so long that the problem almost feels like part of the country’s identity. Newspapers have reported on empty schools, shrinking towns and elderly people living alone for years. Politicians have promised help for parents, companies have been encouraged to offer better parental leave, and governments have spent billions trying to make family life easier. Yet the number of babies born in Japan continues to fall. By 2025, the country’s total fertility rate had reached 1.14 children per woman, while the number of births dropped to just 671,270, both record lows in the official figures.
Now look at South Korea. For years, Japan was the familiar example of what happens when a wealthy society has fewer children. South Korea has since fallen much further. Its preliminary fertility rate rose to 0.80 in 2025, an improvement on the previous year, but it remains extraordinarily low. Taiwan has also experienced a sharp fall in births, recording 107,812 in 2025, around 20% fewer than in 2024. The countries share many features: advanced technology, highly educated populations, expensive cities and intense pressure to succeed. Their demographic paths, however, have not been identical.
So what has Japan done differently? The tempting answer is that Japan discovered a better family policy or preserved a stronger attachment to traditional family life. Neither explanation is enough. Japan’s fertility rate is still falling, its population is shrinking, and many Japanese adults are struggling with the same decisions facing young people elsewhere in East Asia. Its advantage is relative, not absolute. To understand the difference, we need to look at how these societies changed, what they ask of young adults today, and whether their governments are prepared to change the conditions that make parenthood difficult.
How Japan Reached This Point
Japan’s story began long before its birth rate became a political emergency. After the Second World War, the country experienced a baby boom, followed by a rapid decline in fertility as family sizes became smaller. Economic growth, urbanisation, improved education and changing expectations reshaped ordinary life. More people moved into cities, households became smaller, and the idea that a family needed several children gradually lost its place in everyday life. By the mid-1970s, Japan’s fertility rate had fallen below the level needed to replace the population over time.
The decline did not happen in one dramatic collapse. Japan’s fertility rate fell to 1.57 in 1989, a figure that shocked the public and became known as the “1.57 shock.” It reached 1.26 in 2005, then recovered slightly over the following decade, touching 1.45 in 2015. That small recovery encouraged hopes that the decline might be manageable. The improvement did not last. Births began falling again, and the fertility rate dropped to 1.14 in 2025.
This history matters because Japan had time to recognise the problem and experiment with different responses. Its governments gradually expanded childcare, introduced family benefits and tried to make employment more compatible with parenting. The country’s population had already started ageing, so the consequences of low fertility were visible before the same issue reached its current intensity in South Korea. Japan became an early warning system, although being warned about a problem does not automatically mean knowing how to solve it.
South Korea’s transformation happened at a different speed. It moved from high fertility to extremely low fertility within a much shorter period, alongside rapid industrial growth, urbanisation and intense educational competition. The country’s economic success changed what people could expect from life, but the institutions surrounding work and family did not always keep pace. For many young adults, the route to a secure future began to look longer, more expensive and less predictable.
There is an uncomfortable lesson here. Economic development can give people more choices while making some of those choices harder to combine. Education opens doors, careers offer independence, and living standards rise. Yet if the cost of housing climbs, working hours remain long and parenting demands a major career sacrifice, a society can become richer without becoming a place where starting a family feels easier.
The Problem Is Not Simply That People Do Not Want Children
Public debate about falling birth rates often begins with the wrong assumption: young people have become selfish, materialistic or unwilling to accept responsibility. That explanation is convenient because it places the blame on individuals. It also avoids asking whether the society around them has made family life unnecessarily difficult. People’s values matter, of course, but their choices are shaped by the conditions in which they have to live.
Surveys and research repeatedly point to a gap between the families people would ideally like and the families they eventually have. Someone may want two children but feel unable to afford the first. Another person may want a family but worry that taking parental leave will damage a career built over ten years. A couple might delay marriage while trying to save for a home, only to discover that prices have risen faster than their savings. The desire for children can remain real even as the practical route towards parenthood becomes less convincing.
Japan illustrates this gap in a particularly clear way. Its fertility decline is connected to later marriage, rising childlessness and the growing difficulty of combining paid work with family responsibilities. The OECD has reported a substantial rise in permanent childlessness among Japanese women born between 1955 and 1975. That finding points to a change deeper than couples simply postponing their first baby for a year or two. For some people, delay becomes a permanent outcome.
South Korea has faced a related shift. The OECD’s research finds that the conflict between career and family is especially severe there, even after major expansions in family policy. Women have gained educational and professional opportunities, but motherhood can still bring a disproportionate burden of unpaid care and career penalties. If a person has spent years building professional skills and financial independence, the prospect of losing income or opportunity after having a child is not a small detail. It can influence the decision before pregnancy is even considered.
The distinction matters for public policy. Governments cannot make people fall in love, find a compatible partner or want children. They can, however, make it less punishing for people who do want a family. That means looking beyond slogans about national decline and paying attention to the daily experiences that influence marriage, pregnancy and parenting.
Why Childcare Has Helped Japan
One of the most useful changes Japan made was expanding access to formal childcare. This may sound less dramatic than a large cash payment or a national campaign, but it addresses a problem parents encounter every day. A baby needs care whether a parent has a deadline, a meeting or a shift at work. If reliable childcare is unavailable, one adult may have to reduce working hours or leave employment. In many families, that responsibility still falls more heavily on mothers.
Japan increased the number of childcare facilities and reduced official waiting lists substantially between 2013 and 2022. The country also expanded the use of childcare services, giving more parents a realistic way to remain in employment after having children. Research by the International Monetary Fund suggests that expanding childcare, especially for children aged zero to two, is among the more effective measures for supporting fertility. One estimate cited in the research suggests that childcare expansion since 2005 raised Japan’s fertility rate by about 0.1. That is a modest effect, but it shows that practical support can make a measurable difference.
The important point is not that childcare makes everyone want children. It makes parenthood more manageable for some people who already want them. A family can plan around a reliable childcare place more easily than around uncertain help from relatives or an employer who expects constant availability. Parents are also more likely to remain financially independent when they can return to work without having to solve every childcare problem alone.
Japan’s system still has weaknesses. Childcare workers need adequate pay and working conditions, places must be available where families live, and opening hours must match the reality of working life. A place that closes before a parent can leave the office is not much help. Access can also vary by location and age group. The country has reduced some barriers, but it has not created a system in which every parent can combine work and family without difficulty.
South Korea has expanded childcare too, and many services are heavily subsidised. Yet the country’s fertility rate fell to extraordinarily low levels despite this support. That should stop us from treating childcare as a complete answer. Childcare is one part of a family’s life; it cannot fix unaffordable housing, competitive private education, long working hours or the belief that mothers should handle most domestic responsibilities. Japan’s experience suggests that childcare helps, but South Korea’s experience shows what happens when other pressures remain severe.
Marriage Has Become a Major Turning Point
In Japan and South Korea, births remain closely tied to marriage. Births outside marriage are far less common than in many European countries, so a decline in marriage can have a direct effect on the number of babies born. When fewer people marry, or when they marry later, there are fewer years in which they are likely to have children. This connection is especially important in societies where having a child without marrying is still uncommon or carries social and practical difficulties.
Marriage itself has become a more demanding decision. For many young adults, it is no longer enough to find someone they care about and believe they can build a life together. They may feel they need stable employment, a suitable home, savings and confidence that raising a child will not put the family under constant financial pressure. These expectations can turn marriage into a milestone that must wait until several other goals have been achieved. If those goals remain out of reach, the waiting can continue for years.
Japan’s long decline in marriage rates has contributed to lower fertility. The country’s traditional model often assumed that a man would provide the main income while a woman would take greater responsibility for the household and children. That arrangement has become harder to maintain as employment has changed and more women have built careers of their own. Yet the expectations surrounding domestic work have not always changed at the same pace. The result can leave women facing an old set of responsibilities alongside a new set of professional demands.
South Korea faces a particularly difficult version of this problem. In its major cities, housing costs and the pressure to establish a secure career can make marriage feel financially risky. Research by the OECD has also highlighted the importance of gender inequality, long working hours and unequal care responsibilities. A society cannot expect women to pursue education and professional independence, then assume that they will accept a large personal and career sacrifice when children arrive. That contradiction has become a central part of South Korea’s fertility crisis.
None of this means marriage should be treated as a tool for increasing births. People should not be pushed into relationships or parenthood to meet a government target. The more useful question is why people who want stable relationships and children find it so difficult to build them. If a secure home, reasonable work and a fair division of household responsibilities become easier to achieve, family formation may become less daunting. No policy can guarantee the outcome, but it can make the decision less dependent on wealth or luck.
The Cost of Raising a Child Begins Before Birth
The financial burden of a child is often discussed in terms of nappies, food, medical care and school fees. For many East Asian parents, the calculation begins much earlier. They worry about the kind of home they can provide, the neighbourhood in which a child will grow up, the school the child might attend and the extra tutoring they may need to compete for a place at a good university. Parenthood can feel like a long financial commitment in which every decision affects the child’s future chances.
South Korea is a clear example of this pressure. The OECD has identified housing and private education costs as important barriers to family formation. Private tutoring takes a significant share of household budgets, while the competition to enter prestigious universities can make parents feel that they must spend heavily to give their children a fair chance. If raising one child already requires a major financial and emotional investment, some couples may decide that having a second child is beyond their means.
Housing is part of the same problem. In the Seoul metropolitan area, where jobs and educational opportunities are concentrated, many young adults face high property prices and expensive rents. Some see home ownership as a requirement for marriage, even when the market makes it difficult to buy a home. A couple may be able to afford everyday life but still feel they cannot provide the space and stability expected of parents.
Japan is not free from these pressures. Tokyo is expensive, young workers can face insecure employment, and families still have to think carefully about housing and education. Yet the details differ across countries, and those differences can matter. South Korea’s concentration of opportunity around Seoul intensifies the pressure for many families, while Japan’s long experience with population decline has produced a wider range of policy responses and local approaches to supporting parents.
A payment after childbirth cannot solve a housing market problem that existed before the couple decided to have a child. Nor can a monthly allowance remove the fear that a child will need years of costly tutoring to keep up with other students. Financial assistance can ease immediate pressure and reduce poverty, but governments also need to ask why ordinary family life has become so expensive. If the answer lies partly in housing supply, urban concentration and educational competition, those systems need attention too.
The Workplace May Matter More Than the Baby Bonus
Japan and South Korea both offer family benefits and parental leave, but the formal policy is only one side of the story. The other side is what happens when a worker tries to use it. If taking leave leads to lost opportunities, a difficult relationship with a manager or doubts about future promotion, employees may decide that the official benefit is not worth the risk. A policy cannot be judged by what the law allows alone; it must also be judged by what people feel safe doing.
Japan has one of the more generous parental-leave systems among advanced economies, yet take-up by fathers has historically been much lower than the formal entitlement might suggest. IMF research notes that workplace atmosphere and a lack of understanding from managers have discouraged some men from taking leave. When fathers remain at work while mothers handle most childcare, the household division of labour changes very little. Mothers may then face a larger career cost, even if both parents technically have access to leave.
South Korea has a similar challenge, made more difficult by rigid workplace expectations and a large gender pay gap. The OECD’s 2025 report on Korea argues that many women face a choice between career progression and family life, while men face pressure to remain the main breadwinners. This is a costly arrangement for both sexes. Women may have to give up professional opportunities, while men may feel they cannot reduce working hours or take substantial leave without risking their standing at work.
A better system would make it ordinary for both parents to care for children. Fathers would be able to take leave without being seen as less committed workers, and mothers would not have to assume that a career pause is the natural price of parenthood. Employers would measure work by its quality and results rather than by how late someone stays at the office. Predictable schedules and shorter unnecessary working hours would give families something that cash alone cannot buy: time together.
This is where Japan’s relative advantage must be understood carefully. Its expansion of childcare and family policy has eased some practical barriers, but its work culture and gender inequality remain serious problems. It has not solved the conflict between career and parenting. Its experience simply shows that incremental changes can soften the pressure, while South Korea demonstrates that generous policies may have limited effects if the daily structure of work and family remains difficult to change.
Why Governments Keep Getting the Problem Wrong
Governments often treat falling fertility as a number that can be pushed upward through financial incentives. They announce a new payment for newborns, increase child allowances or launch a campaign encouraging young couples to marry. These steps may help some families, and they are not inherently useless. The problem comes when policymakers assume that the payment itself will change the conditions that made people hesitate in the first place.
A person deciding whether to have a child is thinking about a future that stretches over decades. Can the family afford a home? Will both parents be able to work? Is there a nursery place nearby? What happens if the child gets sick? Will the mother’s career stall? Can the family afford education without giving up every other financial goal? A one-time payment may answer one small part of this list, but it cannot answer all of it.
Japan’s policy experience offers a useful test. The IMF’s analysis finds stronger evidence for childcare access, particularly for very young children, than for cash transfers alone as a way to support fertility. This does not mean cash benefits should disappear. They can improve children’s lives, reduce financial hardship and make family budgets more manageable. But the policy goal should not be to send money and hope the birth rate changes. Governments need to remove the obstacles that make raising children difficult.
There is also a deeper mistake in the way demographic policy is sometimes discussed. A country needs people for its economy, tax base, public services and communities, but individuals do not exist to supply future workers. If governments speak only about national survival, people may feel that their private lives are being treated as a public resource. A more credible approach begins with the quality of life families can actually expect. Better childcare, fairer workplaces and more affordable housing are worth pursuing even if the fertility rate does not rise quickly.
The aim should be to help people build the lives they want, not to shame them for the lives they choose. Some adults will remain child-free because they prefer it. Some will want children but never find a suitable partner. Others may face infertility or health problems. A serious policy must recognise these realities instead of treating every person without children as a failed statistic. Demography is a public issue, but parenthood remains a deeply personal decision.
The Future: What Happens If Births Stay This Low?
The future is already visible in Japan’s age structure. The country has a large older population and fewer young people entering the workforce. As people retire, fewer workers are available to replace them, while the demand for pensions, healthcare and long-term care remains high. Local communities also face practical problems when schools close, bus routes lose passengers and businesses cannot find enough workers. These changes do not arrive all at once, but they accumulate over time.
Japan’s official population projections illustrate the scale of the challenge. The National Institute of Population and Social Security Research projected that Japan’s population could fall from about 126 million in 2020 to around 87 million by 2070 under its medium assumptions. People aged 65 and older could make up about 39% of the population by then. Projections are not promises about the future; they depend on assumptions about fertility, life expectancy and migration. Still, they show how much demographic change is already built into the country’s age structure.
South Korea faces a similar challenge, but the speed of its fertility decline makes adjustment particularly urgent. The OECD projects a substantial reduction in the country’s working-age population, putting pressure on labour supply and public finances. Fewer workers can mean difficulty filling jobs, slower economic growth and greater pressure on people who remain employed. The burden becomes especially difficult if a shrinking workforce must support a growing number of older people without changes to productivity, retirement patterns or migration.
Technology may help. Automation can reduce the number of workers needed for some tasks, while artificial intelligence may improve productivity in offices, factories and healthcare. But technology cannot automatically replace every human role. Elder care, childcare, medical treatment and many public services depend on human attention, judgement and trust. A robot may help move a patient, but it cannot fully replace the emotional and social parts of care.
Migration is another part of the future. Japan has historically relied less on immigration than some other wealthy economies, but it has expanded routes for foreign workers as labour shortages have grown. More migration can help sustain industries and communities, provided newcomers have fair working conditions and a realistic path to participate in society. It is not a simple substitute for births, and migrants also age, have families and need public services. Still, refusing to discuss migration while expecting a shrinking workforce to maintain every existing service would leave governments with fewer options.
The most realistic future is likely to involve several changes at once: more automation, higher employment among older adults who want to keep working, better opportunities for women, selective migration and adjustments to pensions and public services. A higher fertility rate could help over the long term, but babies born today will not enter the workforce for roughly two decades. Countries must adapt to population ageing now, even while improving the conditions for families.
Could Japan’s Fertility Rate Rise Again?
It could rise in a particular year, as South Korea’s preliminary 2025 figures show. But a single increase does not prove that a lasting recovery has begun. Births can rise because couples who postponed parenthood decide to have children, because the number of people at childbearing ages changes, or because marriage patterns shift. To judge whether a country is truly recovering, researchers need to watch the trend over several years and examine whether people are eventually having more children over their lifetimes.
Japan has experienced a modest fertility rebound before. Between 2005 and 2015, its rate increased from 1.26 to 1.45, helped in part by changes in the timing of births and broader social conditions. The rate then began falling again. This history shows why a temporary improvement should not be confused with a lasting reversal. It also suggests that the future is not fixed, even if a return to replacement-level fertility would be extremely difficult.
A stronger recovery would require changes that people can feel in everyday life. Young adults would need a better chance of finding stable employment and affordable housing. Parents would need childcare that works with their schedules, while fathers would need to share care without damaging their careers. Education should not require families to spend beyond their means simply to keep a child competitive. These changes would not guarantee more births, but they would make parenthood less dependent on income, workplace status and personal sacrifice.
There is a limit to what any country can promise. Wealthier societies tend to have smaller families for many reasons, and no advanced country has found a policy that reliably pushes fertility back to replacement level once it has remained very low for years. Governments should not pretend that one more allowance or campaign will solve the problem. They should set more realistic goals: reduce child poverty, make family formation easier, close the gap between desired and actual family size, and prepare public services for an older population.
What Japan Really Teaches Us
Japan has not escaped the fertility crisis. Its birth rate reached a new low in 2025, and its population will continue to face the consequences of decades of small families. The country’s advantage over South Korea and Taiwan is relative, and the latest figures do not justify declaring victory. Still, Japan’s long experience gives other countries something valuable: a chance to see how demographic change develops and which responses can make family life more manageable.
Childcare expansion has helped, but it is not enough on its own. Financial support matters, but it cannot make an unaffordable home affordable or give parents more hours in the day. Parental leave is useful, but only when workers can use it without punishment. The decisions that shape fertility emerge from the whole structure of life: how people meet partners, how they work, what they pay for housing, what they expect from education and who is expected to care for a child.
Perhaps the biggest mistake is to see low fertility only as a failure of young people. A society can ask its citizens to study hard, work long hours, compete for secure jobs, save for expensive homes and invest heavily in their children’s education. It cannot then be surprised when some people decide they have neither the time nor the money to raise a family. Those decisions may be personal, but the conditions surrounding them are shaped by public policy, business practices and social expectations.
The future will not be decided by a slogan about having more babies. It will be shaped by whether people can build a life in which a child feels possible rather than financially reckless. Japan has made some changes in that direction, which helps explain why its fertility rate remains higher than South Korea’s. Yet its own record-low figures show how much work remains. The real lesson is not that Japan has found the answer. It is that the longer a society waits to make family life workable, the harder it becomes to change the path it is on.
FAQs
Why is Japan’s fertility rate higher than South Korea’s?
Japan has expanded childcare and family support over time, while South Korea faces particularly strong pressures from housing costs, education spending, long working hours and the unequal career costs of parenthood. No single factor explains the gap.
What was Japan’s fertility rate in 2025?
Japan’s final official statistics put its total fertility rate at 1.14 children per woman, with 671,270 births.
Did South Korea’s birth rate increase in 2025?
Yes. Preliminary government figures show South Korea’s fertility rate rose to 0.80 in 2025 and live births increased by 6.8%. The rate nevertheless remains very low.
Will Japan’s population keep shrinking?
Japan’s population is expected to continue shrinking and ageing under current projections. The exact pace depends on future fertility, mortality and migration.
Can childcare benefits solve low fertility?
Childcare can reduce a major barrier to parenthood, but it cannot solve every cause. Housing, job security, working hours, gender equality and education costs also shape family decisions.
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