"Shibuya has become boring."
"Tokyo's streets have all become like cookie-cutter Kintaro-ame."
I often hear such statements.
Some cite George Ritzer's "McDonaldization" or Atsushi Miura's "Fast Fudo" (Fast Food Landscape), lamenting that capitalism has driven out public life.
Even without such academic commentary, it's clear: giant developers destroy charming street corners to build massive buildings. Inside are the same chain stores and brand shops found everywhere. As a result, everywhere becomes a similar "Something-or-other Hills" or "Something-or-other Midtown."
I think many people share this feeling.
That's why when such facilities fail, everyone seems a bit happy. Shiodome, Tokyu Plaza Ginza, Sakura Stage... "Abandoned building" YouTubers swarm like hyenas to get views. Soon, places like "Harakado" might become targets too.
On the other hand, spaces without clear commercial purposes—the rooftop of MIYASHITA PARK, Sony Park, and Umekita—are praised unconditionally as "the future of cities."
It's easy to say with a smug face, "Look, uniform development is over."
However, such spaces are merely "entertainment" provided by operators who make a killing in other prime locations. No matter how much an operator racks their brains to make a city interesting, there are countless cases where it ends in vain.
Of course, I'm all for exciting and unique urban development. But I can't shake a fundamental doubt.
Is it really Shibuya that has become boring?
Isn't it actually us who have become boring?
We Who Seek Margins but Can No Longer Tolerate Noise
"There's nowhere to sit in Shibuya anymore."
"There used to be places to hang out..."
I often hear these laments too.
Shibuya should have countless cafes, yet almost all of them are always crowded.
But on the other hand, when videos of foreigners sitting on the roadside eating and drinking are posted on SNS, people attack them, saying "troublesome foreigners" or "when in Rome, do as the Romans do."
We drove out the "Teamers" (street gangs), forced the scale-back of Shibuya Halloween, and left penniless youth with no choice but to gather at MIYASHITA PARK. And it was us who swept the homeless out of the former Miyashita Park.
Perhaps all of this was "for the sake of Shibuya." But that's not the essence.
We lament that "the city has no margins," yet we cannot tolerate the noise or deviance that appears in those margins. We say we want a place to sit, but we despise people sitting on the ground. We say we want serendipity, but we despise unpredictable others.
In the end, we are strangling ourselves.
Essentially, because we ourselves have become boring, a rich public life cannot be born. It's not the developers who need enlightenment, but ourselves.
Who Lost the Power to Take Detours?
Some say the current city lacks a sense of excitement.
What is excitement? In most cases, it probably means "we must make the city a place for chance encounters."
I think that's true.
But on the other hand, our daily lives consist of buying office supplies on Askul and daily necessities on Amazon. When looking for a shop, we check Instagram, learn about it on TikTok, and verify the number of stars on Google Maps before going.
In other words, we are removing serendipity from our daily consumption.
Walking through the city on purpose, entering an unknown shop, and failing. We've come to find such experiences troublesome. We prioritize "Time Performance" (Taipa) and "Cost Performance" (Kospa), avoid duds, and try to reach the "correct answer" via the shortest distance.
Serendipity is nothing more than a "nice-to-have spice"; we aren't bothered at all if it's missing.
As a result, the foundation of grassroots business withers. Small shops become unsustainable, and the city becomes filled only with high-end stores.
Toshi Yoshie says that urban planning needs "the economics of detours." I completely agree.
However, the general public mostly seeks shortcuts. No matter how much wisdom is poured into creating interesting spaces, if we, the recipients, are boring, it won't function.
Unknowingly, It Became a "City for Consumption on the Way"
To begin with, we go out overwhelmingly less. According to person-trip surveys in the Tokyo metropolitan area, modern youth go out less than the elderly.
At home, there are games, YouTube, and Netflix. Music, movies, shopping, and even meeting people can be completed to some extent within the house.
When we do go out, rather than wandering around nearby, we decide on a destination and go far. Daily outings shrink, and special outings grow. It's a polarization of going out.
Naturally, Shibuya stops being a "city for youth" and becomes a city for "office workers" and "foreigners" who come to the city.
In recent years, Shibuya has particularly progressed as an office district.
Instead of "people who come to Shibuya specifically seeking culture," the number of "people who consume as a byproduct of work" has grown too large.
As a result of having its heart seized by business people who have no interest in Shibuya's culture, the city's outline has blurred.
They don't take detours through the city. They just head to the station via the shortest route and take the train home. They are tired, so it can't be helped. It's harsh to tell someone on their way home from work to "enjoy the city more."
But those accumulations build the city.
If the number of people who consume "while they happen to be in Shibuya" increases rather than those who "come to Shibuya on purpose," the city will be optimized for those people.
For the common person today, affordable "fun" is just "Instagrammable" restaurants, limited-time pop-up events, and looking down at the Scramble Crossing from Shibuya Sky.
For the child-rearing generation, Shibuya's congestion is nothing but hell. Suburban Aeon Malls are much more comfortable and rational.
The Subjects Who Make the City Interesting Are Not Just Developers, but Us Who Walk There
The interest of a city is not born from the shortest distance.
Taking a slight detour. Entering an unknown alley. Spending time without a purpose. Entering an unplanned shop. Overhearing someone's conversation. Somehow accepting the existence of people different from yourself.
The interest of a city resides within such detours.
However, we are currently bad at detouring.
We seek shortcuts. We search. We compare. We avoid failure. We hate crowds. We hate lining up. We hate places with many strangers. We hate noisy places. But at the same time, we say, "The city needs more excitement."
That is quite convenient.
To create an interesting city, interesting development is not enough. The people who use it also need to be interesting.
Places where people who enjoy things gather, like BONUS TRACK in Shimokitazawa, are still strong. But if the people who enjoy things themselves wither away, the city will grow thin no matter how good a space you create.
So before lamenting that Shibuya has become boring, I want to think a little.
Do I have the power to enjoy Shibuya? Am I just complaining to the city as a consumer?
I myself am quite boring.
I don't want to go to crowded places. I don't want to line up. I don't want to fail. Rather than entering an unknown shop, I want to go to a highly-rated one. If I'm tired, I want to go home via the shortest route.
That's why I think I have no choice but to practice every day.
How to enjoy public life.
Not blaming the city for my own boredom.
Not what Shibuya can do for you, but what you can do for Shibuya.
The subjects who make the city interesting are not just developers. It's also us, walking through that city.
