Much of what we think we know about demography and cities or towns is about to be wrong. When a community’s vitality and prosperity suffer, urban planning prescribes revitalization, often in the form of population and economic growth. But what if growth is no longer a given because it’s not mathematically possible? What would this mean for local governments?

We live in a world in which once unassailable assumptions about urban growth are in doubt: as of 2024, 63 countries have declining national populations, including some of the world’s largest economies like China, Germany, and Japan. The United Nations, for example, predicts that the global population will peak at about 10.3 billion and begin to decline in the mid-2080s, with implications for cities large and small.

Factors driving this unprecedented shift include lower birthrates and longer lifespans. In many countries, birthrates have been dropping for decades. Globally, most people now live in countries where birthrates are below what demographers call “replacement rate,” or 2.1 children per woman—the number required to maintain a given population. Reasons for this decline include the availability of birth control, enhanced educational and professional opportunities for women, and urbanization. 

At the same time, lifespans have lengthened, and the proportion of people over age 65 in many societies has grown. The compounded impact of these forces can take decades to unspool, and once they do, government policies—particularly those designed to encourage reproduction—are unlikely to move the needle. Even after ending its one-child policy in 2016, and actively encouraging families to have up to three children, China’s birthrate sits at about one child per woman. The new reality for many countries is one of below-replacement birthrates that are likely to stay low, and a society in which older people outnumber younger ones.

It is impossible to overstate the significance of this shift. As national populations begin to decline, a growing number of large and small municipalities will encounter prolonged periods of population decline. Depopulation looks different in different places. In places with shrinking national populations, it often manifests first and most visibly in rural and small communities, many of which have already experienced dislocation due to economic consolidation and globalization. The impacts of global demographic shifts may therefore be particularly acute for today’s already low-population communities.

Depopulation, however, is not destiny. Its impacts are significant, and available planning tools are limited, but they don’t have to stay that way. As a field, urban planning has an inherent bias toward growth management. Where planning needs are the result of population loss, available tools are few. Similarly, local elected officials, economic development practitioners, and community leaders are also having to rethink assumptions and plans, especially in small communities that are no strangers to population stagnation and decline. Small communities have an urgent need for answers, but getting to answers first requires asking the right questions.

Japan: A Living Laboratory in Population Decline

Japan’s population peaked in 2008 at 128 million and has been declining since. With its over-65 population approaching 30%, Japan is home to the second oldest society on the planet, after the small European nation of Monaco. UN projections estimate that between 2020 and 2050, Japan’s population will contract by 16%, and the Japanese government predicts an aging and shrinking society for the next 100 years.

Depopulation is already having national impacts, but it does not affect all places equally. With a metro population close to 37 million—30% of the Japanese population—Tokyo is the world’s largest urban agglomeration, and has been almost the only Japanese city to grow continuously over the last several decades. While large metros like Tokyo will suffer population loss in Japan’s smaller, older future, many remote communities are already experiencing existential population decline. They face distinct challenges, including slower or negative economic growth, a reduced labor force, diminished tax revenues, difficulty in providing public services, school closures, vacant land and buildings, and challenges with infrastructure maintenance. The impacts of population decline are also very human: they create significant uncertainty for those who continue to call these communities home and erode communities’ sense of identity. National projections forecast that some smaller cities will decline by more than 70% between 2020 and 2050. On the contrary, during the same period, parts of central Tokyo are expected to grow by around 20%.

This trend has been decades in the making. During the 1960s and 1970s, Japan experienced a period of unmatched economic growth and industrialization that propelled its economy to the world’s second largest. Rural-urban migrants fueled this economic miracle. Encouraged by national policy, Japan’s rapid economic growth favored the chain of large urban areas stretching along the Pacific coast from Tokyo to Osaka. At the same time, areas farther from the so-called Tokaido Belt began to decline. Many small and mid-sized Japanese cities and towns have lost population since the 1960s.

Amid this substantial urban migration, Japan’s birth rate fell below the demographic replacement rate of 2.1 children per woman in 1974, spurred by factors ranging from access to birth control, government policy, urbanization, and improved economic opportunities for women. In recent years, fertility rates have oscillated between about 1.26 and 1.4 children per woman. In 2023, births fell for the eighth year straight, to 758,631—a 5.1% decline from 2022. Marriages similarly declined by 5.9% from 2022, and the age of marriage is rising. All this harbors a continued decline in birth rates, since very few births in Japan occur outside of wedlock.

At the same time, Japan leads the world in life expectancy. The central government expects the country’s population to continue to shrink for the foreseeable future.^* Smaller Japanese municipalities are therefore at the frontiers of managing population aging and decline in this brave new demographic world.

Local Governments Experiment with New Approaches

How are small communities in Japan managing shrinkage? Traditionally, Japanese local governments, encouraged by national policy, have sought to halt and reverse population decline using traditional growth-focused economic and community development strategies. They have worked tirelessly to reverse migration trends and attract new residents, increase birth rates, and attract businesses. Some of those strategies have generated results.

For example, several smaller cities in Japan have invested in family-friendly policies and perks, infrastructure, and incentives. The city of Nagi in Okayama Prefecture (population 5,700) offers free medical care for children, highly subsidized childcare, and facilities to help connect parents with each other. In 2021, its birthrate was 2.68 children per woman. Other towns have generated creative community development projects or enterprises. For still others, however, a continued focus on growth in a shrinking country means competing with other communities across the country, and investing limited resources that don’t return measurable benefits for existing residents.

As Japan’s population continues to grow older and smaller, economic, financial, and administrative pressures will continue to manifest most acutely in low-population places. Eventually, demographic realities will force local governments to abandon growth-based planning and redesign their communities, imagining alternative development pathways based on different values and using different metrics to measure success. The details remain to be seen, but some municipalities, like Yubari, Suzu, and Manazuru, are already trying to chart a different course.

Yubari, Hokkaido Prefecture

Yubari made headlines when it became the first Japanese city to file for de-facto bankruptcy in 2006. Yubari emerged as a center for coal mining in the late 1800s and peaked at 116,908 in population in 1960. Soon after, Japan changed its energy policy to favor oil over coal, and Yubari’s fortunes began to ebb. As jobs went away, so did the city’s working-age population. By 1970, Yubari had lost close to 45,000 inhabitants.

At first, Yubari did what most shrinking cities do—it sought growth. Induced by national programs intended to support depopulating peripheral regions, in the 1980s, local authorities launched the “from mines to tourism” initiative ( tanko kara kankou he in Japanese), with the Coal History Village ( Sekitan Rekishi Mura ), a theme park located on a former mine site, as its flagship project. Facilities expanded throughout the years, including the Yubari Coal Mine Museum, Yubari Fossil Pavilion, Robot Science Museum, and an amusement park, the largest in Hokkaido at the time. A ski resort with a new hotel and the Yubari International Fantastic Film Festival followed in 1990. To afford all this, the city borrowed money from the central government.

After 30 years of industrial unwinding, Yubari’s last mine shut down in 1990. At that time, only 21,824 citizens remained, too few taxpayers to shoulder the city’s debts. In the 2000s, the city halted its revitalization efforts. Lack of funding forced the closure of both tourist attractions and essential public services. By 2006, the combination of aging, depopulation, and a decades-long debt-financed pro-growth revitalization strategy had put the city’s finances on thin ice. Changes to central government policy that reduced available funding for municipalities culminated in Yubari’s bankruptcy.

By 2020, Yubari was home to 7,344 people, and in 2024, the city’s estimated population is 6,374, of whom the majority are over 65. While current revitalization plans still prioritize stabilizing the city’s population with family-friendly policies and in-migration, Yubari is also focused on bolstering quality of life for its existing residents. This has included building new, more centralized housing and developing service and transportation nodes, including the new RISUTA Center (a rendering of the English “restart”). Opened in March 2020, RISUTA brings together mobility services, multipurpose spaces, and a library.

Yubari is also focused on growing its “involved population.” This concept, which Japan’s central government also promotes, is an alternative to permanent population. It includes people who do not live in Yubari but are connected in a meaningful way, like residents who have moved away but maintain social ties, or repeat tourists. City policies and plans encourage and facilitate monetary and social exchanges with the involved population.

Suzu, Ishikawa Prefecture

Suzu is a small community located at the northernmost tip of the Noto Peninsula. It gained international attention following the January 1, 2024 Noto earthquake that struck less than 

four miles away from the city. Reconstruction efforts were underway when heavy rains in September set back progress with flooding and landslides. Before these disasters, Suzu was known for its attempts to curb shrinkage by reimagining itself around the principles of sustainable agriculture and local traditions.

Suzu’s remote location—the closest large urban area is 87 miles away—and its dependence on agriculture and fisheries led its population to start declining earlier than other similar Japanese cities. Suzu’s population peaked at 38,157 in 1950. Its 2020 population stood at 12,934, half of whom are 65 or older.

Within Japan, Suzu is famous for its traditional agehama method of salt production. While labor-intensive and more time-consuming than modern methods, it is still used today. Suzu is home to a complex system of satoyama (mountainous) and satoumi (coastal) landscapes—terms that denote the natural areas surrounding rural settlements that have been reshaped by human activities for centuries. In 2011, the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization recognized Suzu as part of its Globally Important Agricultural Heritage System.

Although Suzu implements traditional pro-growth approaches to attract tourists, like its Oku-Noto Art Triennale, local authorities are leveraging Suzu’s natural and cultural assets as part of a strategy to maximize exchanges with urban areas throughout Japan. The city opened the Noto School in 2006 to teach practical agricultural business skills to urban entrepreneurs. Through the program, local authorities hope that some of the students will move to Suzu, start new companies, and add value to its economy while preserving the city’s satoyama and satoumi. Suzu is also embracing other tenets of sustainable development, including wind and solar power.

It is difficult to predict how the dual disasters of 2024 will affect Suzu’s development. The earthquake killed 126 people and damaged 5,916 out of the city’s 6,000 homes. How Suzu’s pre-disaster revitalization efforts support its recovery may be the best test of its natural asset-based approach to community maintenance.

Manazuru, Kanagawa Prefecture

Located 90 minutes west of Tokyo by high-speed rail, the town of Manazuru reached its peak population in 1970 with 10,284 residents. In 2020, it was home to 6,725 residents, 

43.5% of whom were over age 65.

Historically a center for fishing and stone quarrying, Manazuru contributed the stones that formed the foundation of Tokyo’s Edo Castle. The stones were also highly valued throughout the 20th century as material for tombstones, and former Emperor Hirohito’s tombstone was quarried in Manazuru. The town’s population has declined over time due to aging and out-migration. Its stone industry has also suffered as consumers have turned toward simpler, less expensive funerary alternatives.

In the 1980s, during the years of Japan’s real estate bubble, Manazuru took a different path from other coastal towns close to Tokyo. Local authorities prevented the construction of high residential buildings and instead chose to protect Manazuru’s traditional landscape and ocean views. This strategy allows Manazuru to stand out from other shrinking communities by highlighting its preserved townscape, thereby enhancing the quality of life for its residents.

Local authorities are aware that leveraging Manazuru’s relative proximity to Tokyo amplifies regeneration opportunities. Rather than try to recruit permanent residents, Manazuru has focused on facilitating a constant churn of repeat worker-visitors. Manazuru brands itself as an alternative to the capital—close by rail, but a cultural world away. In the “Manazuru Republic,” it’s possible to work in the morning and spend the afternoon catching dinner with laidback locals.

Manazuru has marketed itself as a home for startups, as a desirable location for satellite offices for Tokyo’s tech firms, and as a site for “workcations,” or extended working holidays. Through a public-private collaboration, the town is also home to the Manazuru Tech Lab, a former sushi restaurant-turned-makerspace that includes machinery for digitized stone carving, 3D printing, machining, and a kitchen for developing recipes and value-added food products.

Looking Forward, Developing New Concepts and Tools

Japan’s case is not unique; it foreshadows demographic shifts already underway in other countries around the world. Population aging and decline will stretch pension systems, distort labor markets, and increase demand for social services. While both local and national governments will feel the impacts of population aging and decline, small local governments are already at the forefront of managing these changes, with limited resources and without a strong assortment of tools from disciplines like urban planning and economic development.

While Japan’s central and local governments are only beginning to develop the tools and strategies they will use to manage demographic change moving forward, Japan’s experience shows that when a national population is shrinking, traditional economic development models based on competition and growth are of limited utility, and can even be counterproductive. Stabilizing population or slowing its decline can be an achievable goal, but growth is likely not possible in a national shrinking population context. Local governments that accept these dynamics can better invest their limited resources.

While some municipalities have achieved locally higher birthrates, research shows that policy and incentives tend to have negligible and often only temporary impacts on reproductive decision making. Any increase they generate is typically not enough to raise birthrates to replacement level. There is a need for a bigger, broader conversation about growth, our expectations surrounding it, and how those assumptions influence planning.

We are about to enter a world where population growth is not possible for many local governments. The search for alternatives is an ongoing effort that will require our best and most creative thinking, which in turn requires our best efforts to understand our new demographic trends.

 SARAH SIELOFF is an urban planner and funding strategist at Haley and Aldrich.

FERNANDO ORTIZ-MOYA, PhD, is a policy researcher at the Institute for Global Environmental Strategies in Japan.

* Japan experiences very limited immigration per year. Whereas immigration can be a source of population growth, it is so limited in Japan that absent a significant change in government policy, immigration will not make up for the natural imbalance between births and deaths. For perspective, 14% of U.S. residents were foreign born in 2022, but only 1% of Japanese residents are foreign born.