Why Tokyo’s Lack of Benches is a Deliberate Urban Strategy: Insights from Japan’s Aging Society

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Recently, an older colleague who had traveled to Tokyo told me he couldn’t find benches anywhere in the city and found the experience deeply frustrating. He said that despite Tokyo’s status as a super‑aged metropolis, most subway stations and bus stops offer no seating, so he had nowhere to rest while walking around and could not understand why.

I asked the same question. Japan is a highly developed country with the resources to provide seating for citizens, so why would they deliberately refrain from installing benches?

On a recent visit to Tokyo, I paid closer attention after hearing his complaint. As I suspected, benches were scarce in subway stations and uncommon at bus stops. According to reports, fewer than 30% of bus stops in central Tokyo have benches, meaning most stops provide no seating.

At my age—I am in my eighties—I also struggled to find places to sit while touring Tokyo. When I entered Ueno Park, I walked well past the entrance expecting to find benches, but there were none. My legs ached; with no available benches, I had to sit on a concrete berm to rest. I don’t know whether benches appear deeper in the park, but I left without ever finding one. If I had difficulty, I can imagine my colleague found it even harder.

There are, however, deliberate reasons Tokyo makes benches difficult to find. The policy reflects urban planning choices and broader social considerations.

First, authorities avoid installing benches to prevent them from becoming long‑term sleeping spots for people experiencing homelessness. Second, as part of stricter security measures, officials try to reduce public areas where belongings can be left or where people can loiter. Third, Tokyo’s exceptionally high population density means benches can obstruct pedestrian flows, so minimizing fixtures helps keep walkways moving. Fourth, limiting public furniture reduces maintenance costs and helps control litter. For these reasons, officials generally prefer not to install benches.

This approach is not born of indifference to the elderly or other citizens’ discomfort. Rather, city authorities have judged that maintaining a clean urban environment and public safety takes precedence, even if that imposes some inconvenience.

Knowing that the scarcity of benches stems from such intentional policy decisions only reinforces my admiration for the Japanese commitment to meticulous planning. It is also striking how readily Tokyo residents accept the inconvenience and comply without much public protest.

How does our situation compare? In Seoul, subway stations typically provide benches, and most bus stops include seating. Because Seoul is relatively newer in many parts, stations and stops often have more space, allowing for more seating.

Many of our bus stops even have more seats than necessary. Some provide heated seating in winter, and a number of “smart rest areas” offer climate control—both heating and air conditioning.

At certain intersections, several benches may be installed even where few people actually sit. Compared with Tokyo, we might be described as a “bench paradise.”

So far, bench proliferation has not created major social problems here. Still, we should monitor whether the issues Tokyo worried about—loitering, security risks, maintenance burdens, and sheltering by the homeless—emerge in our cities. If they do, we could face the costly and politically difficult choice of removing benches we have already installed. I sincerely hope we do not reach that point.