Akiko Hashimoto - The Gift of Generations - Japanese and American Perspectives On Aging and The Social Contract (1996)

The Gift of Generations is an inquiry into the different cultural mean-
ings of giving and deserving help in two aging societies. Postindustrial

societies today contend with population dynamics that have never before
existed. As the number of older people grows, countries must determine
how best to provide for the needs of this population. The constraints are
real: Fiscal and material resources are finite and must be shared in a way
that is perceived as just. As such, societies confront the fundamental ques-
tion of who gets what, how, and why, and ultimately must reappraise the
principles determining why some people are considered more worthy of
help than others. This study systematically explores the Japanese and
American answers to this fundamental question.
The Gift of Generations
Japanese and American Perspectives
on Aging and the Social Contract
AKIKO HASHIMOTO
University of Pittsburgh
CAMBRIDGE
UNIVERSITY PRESS
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First published 1996
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Hashimoto, Akiko, 1952-
The gift of generations: Japanese and American perspectives on
aging and the social contract / Akiko Hashimoto.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-521-48307-7 (he). - ISBN 0-521-55520-5 (pbk.)
1. Aged - Cross-cultural studies. 2. Social contract - Cross-
cultural studies. 3. Aged - Japan-Family relationships. 4. A g e d -
United States - Family relationships. 5. Aged - Services for - Japan.
6. Aged - Services for - United States. I. Title.
HQ1061.H366 1996
305.26 - dc20
95-37713
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the accuracy of such information thereafter.
To my father and my mother,
Hashimoto Kozaburo, and Hisako
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas
Learn to adore it in your heart

The silver hair on your head.
Of all the riches
That I can find in this world
Nothing can equal
In price, no matter how dear,
The silver hair on your head.
- Ryokan
Contents
List of Tables and Figure page ix

Preface xi
Acknowledgments xiii
1 The Social Designation of Deserving Citizens 1

The Private Discourse: Expectations of Vulnerability 1
The Public Discourse: Responsibilities of Intervention 10
Values, Interests, and Symbolic Equity: A Framework
of Analysis 13
2 Two Communities, Two Societies 18
West Haven 19
Westside Odawara 22
Comparing Communities 28
3 Rights and Responsibilities in the Public Domain 34
Entitlement, Obligation, and Equity 35
Individual, Family, and State 43
4 The Practice of Protection and Intervention in the
Private Domain 49
Inside the Household 51
Outside the Household 58
Family and Network 64
The Recognition of Vulnerability 65
5 The Japanese Viewpoint 71
Voices from Odawara 73
The Protective Approach 101
vn
Contents
6 The American Viewpoint 103
Voices from West Haven 105
The Contingency Approach 140
7 Cultural Assumptions and Values 143
Trajectories of Need 145
Conditions of Security 151
Intergenerational Equity 153
Primary Bonds of Affection 155
Units of Self-Sufficiency 157
Visions of Resource Affluence 158
8 The Social Regulation of Interests 163
Credits, Debts, and Mutual Interests 165
Rights, Responsibilities, and Collective Interests 168
The Logic of Symbolic Equity 169
Distribution of Symbolic Resources: Empowerment
and Disempowerment 171
Social and Cultural Constructions of Support 174
9 Conclusion 182
Culture, Power, and the Social Contract 183
Reflections on Diversity and Change 186
Appendix: Methods of Research 195

Bibliography 200
Index 215
Vlll
Tables and Figure
TABLES
2.1 Profiles of West Haven and Westside Odawara page 30

4.1 Living arrangements in West Haven and
Westside Odawara 52
4.2 Living arrangements by age, marital status, and sex in
West Haven and Westside Odawara 55
4.3 Patterns of association with close relatives and friends
by living arrangements 61
4.4 Choice of confidante by living arrangements, sex, and
marital status in West Haven and Westside Odawara 63
4.5 Receiving at least one type of informal support:
Logistic regression estimates 67
7.1 Cultural assumptions of helping relationships 145
8.1 Strategies of regulating interests in helping relationships 174
FIGURE
7.1 Expectations of need in old age 149
IX
Preface
H OW are people made deserving of help? How do different cul-

tures define the meaning of giving and worthiness of the people
who "ought" to be helped? This book explores these questions by
comparing Japanese and American helping arrangements and support
systems. Drawing on 2 years of fieldwork, the study analyzes the
cultural and structural conditions that shape the "social contract" in
the case of the elderly. My analysis draws attention to the symbolic
dimension of this social contract and focuses on the importance of
cultural assumptions and social assignments that create the conditions
of deservedness.
There is more to the phenomenon of giving and deserving help than
goodwill and meeting others' needs. People seemingly give help even
when it is not in their interest to do so. Reciprocity also seems to mat-
ter, even when people act out of generosity. I believe that the key ex-
planations are found in the regulation of values and interests entailed
in the practice of the social contract. The cross-cultural design of this
study offers an opportunity to explore systematically these values and
interests in social support. My purpose is to understand how culture
and society shape giving, both theoretically and empirically.
This framework derives from an analysis of comparative patterns of
support, the different conditions in which support is perceived to be
successful or unsuccessful, and the degree to which different values and
interests are prioritized in helping arrangements. I explain the cross-
national differences by comparing the definitions of vulnerability, se-
curity, dependency, reciprocity, protection, intervention, entitlement,
and obligation; I also account for the similarities by comparing the so-
cial practices of designating rights, responsibilities, credits, and debts.
xi
Preface
The study draws on fieldwork from two communities where I lived
as a participant observer. The two sites I selected - Odawara City in
Kanagawa Prefecture, and West Haven City in Connecticut - are com-
parable communities in size, demographic profiles, and socioeco-
nomic conditions. In addition to the information from participant
observation, I obtained systematically comparable data from 49 case
studies and 471 survey respondents. Data collection for this project
started in the early 1980s, but the core values and interests that I ex-
amine nevertheless do not change easily. If anything, the question of
the social contract in contemporary societies has become even more
significant in the intervening years.
Chapter 1 introduces the central themes of the study - deserved-
ness, vulnerability, and responsibility - and maps out the theoretical
perspective of the book. Chapter 2 sets the scene for the study by in-
troducing the reader to the two communities. In Chapter 3,1 explore
the different social designations of rights and responsibilities in the
public domain, by examining the relationship between the individual,
the family, and the state as expressed in Japanese and American social
policies. In the following three empirical chapters, I analyze the help-
ing practices in the private domain, to explore the workings of enti-
tlement, obligation, protection, intervention, reciprocity, and fairness
in the support relationship. Chapter 4 examines the different patterns
of interaction in the giver-receiver relationship. In Chapters 5 and 6,
I present the viewpoints of the elderly themselves. In the next two syn-
thesis chapters, which contain the heart of my argument on values, in-
terests, and symbolic equity, I bring together the different layers of
findings in a theoretical framework. Chapter 7 identifies and discusses
the key cultural assumptions that shape the support practice. Chapter
8 discusses the social assignments of rights, responsibilities, credits,
and debts that establishes symbolic equity in the giver-receiver rela-
tionship. Finally, Chapter 9 offers a summary and some reflections on
the implications of the study. Details of research methods can be found
in the appendix.
xn
Acknowledgments
I N the years of research leading to the publication of this book, I

have accrued gifts of encouragement, information, advice, and crit-
icism from many people on both sides of the Pacific. I am grateful to
all of them for giving freely of their time and knowledge.
My special thanks are due to the senior citizens of Odawara and
West Haven who were generous in sharing their life stories and con-
fidences with me. I have learned much from their wisdom, courage,
and kindness while I lived with them, and hope that I have portrayed
their lives in a way that they recognize.
The fieldwork in the two countries would not have been possible
without the many people who guided me and collaborated with me. In
particular, I would like to thank Lisa Berkman (Department of Epi-
demiology and Public Health, Yale University), Fujisaki Hiroko (Sa-
cred Heart Women's College, formerly of Tokyo Metropolitan
University), Kobayashi Ryoji (Tokyo Metropolitan University),
Joanne McGloin (Yale Health and Aging Project), Nemoto Yoshiaki
(Japan Ministry of Health and Welfare), Osawa Takashi (Kanagawa
Prefectural Government), and Thomas Corrigan, Louis Goldblatt, and
Susan Holtvedt (State of Connecticut). In Odawara, Matsuno Mit-
suyoshi (City of Odawara), Morohoshi Kiyoshi (Odawara Social Wel-
fare Council), and Saito Kiyoshi (City of Odawara) were invaluable
with their help. In West Haven, Arthur Cantor, Robert Congdon, and
Carla Hays (South Central Connecticut Area Agency on Aging) and
Sharon Mancini and John Wheeler (City of West Haven, Elderly Ser-
vices) were generous with their advice when it was most needed.
Research grants from Toyota Foundation, Concilium on Inter-
national and Area Studies and Council on East Asian Studies at Yale
xiii
Acknowledgments
University, and Japan Council and Asian Studies Program at the Uni-
versity of Pittsburgh have helped me carry out the different phases of
this study. I am grateful for the financial resources that they made avail-
able for this project. The research assistance of Miwa Seiko, Virginia
Tomlinson, Sawada Yoshie, and BunyaToshiko was also indispensable
for me during or after fieldwork in the two countries. The secretarial
staff of the Department of Sociology at the University of Pittsburgh
ably assisted me with the preparation of the manuscript for publication.
Many advisors, colleagues, and friends have stimulated my think-
ing and conceptualization on cultural analysis during all or part of the
years in which this book has been in the making. I would like to ac-
knowledge the earlier crucial help of my advisors at Yale: Eleanor
Westney, Deborah Davis, David Apter, and Lisa Berkman. Many
thanks are also due to my former colleagues at the United Nations Uni-
versity, Nevin Scrimshaw and Lai Jayawardena, for their special sup-
port. My colleagues at the University of Pittsburgh have also been
generous with their time to offer precious criticism and encourage-
ment: Sandra Boatwright, Keith Brown, Mounira Charrad, Ellis
Krauss, and Mae Smethurst. I am especially indebted to Rainer Baum,
Martin Greenberg, William Kelly, and Richard Smethurst for their
very constructive comments on the whole manuscript. The reviews
from anonymous readers of Cambridge University Press and another
press that was interested in publishing my manuscript have also been
helpful in shaping the final version of this book.
For their warm support, human comfort, and inspiration at various
phases of this project, I must thank many special friends, colleagues,
and family members. Among them are Atsumi Naoki, Darlene
Berkovitz, Keith Brown, Ellen Borges, Fujisaki Hiroko, Janelle and
Martin Greenberg, Romaine and Tamara Horowitz, Ann Jannetta,
Sander Kornblith, Carol Krauss Bostick, Miwa Seiko, Jon and
Monika Pierre, Thomas Richter, Mae and Richard Smethurst, and
Robert Zinn.
At Cambridge University Press, I am very grateful to my editor
Elizabeth Neal for her wise guidance and special interest in this work.
I am also indebted to Brian MacDonald for his patient and intelligent
copy editing and production.
xiv
Acknowledgments
Finally, I want to express my heartfelt appreciation to Amy Re-
mensnyder for being there at the most crucial times, and my sister Ya-
suko Hashimoto Richter for her loving and unfailing support
throughout the journey of this project.
Material appearing in the epigraph is reprinted by permission of New

Directions Publishing Corporation, from Poems of Dylan Thomas,
copyright 1952 by Dylan Thomas; and by Princeton University Press,
from The Zen Poems ofRyokan, by Nobuyuki Yuasa, copyright 1981
by Princeton University Press.
xv
The Social Designation of
Deserving Citizens
THE PRIVATE DISCOURSE: EXPECTATIONS OF VULNERABILITY
OROTHY Turoski1 is a 74-year-old woman who lives in a pub-

D lic housing complex for the elderly in the city of West Haven,
Connecticut, 80 miles to the northeast of metropolitan New York. She
packed chicken at the local poultry factory for 28 years before retiring
from her job, and now lives in a subsidized one-room housing unit of
this complex on a small Social Security income. Dorothy has some
difficulty moving around because of arthritis, and she has lived here
alone for 7 years.
I do nothing. There's nothing to do here. I haven't got none,

no friends. There's plenty of days I don't see anybody. I don't
know anybody here. I don't go to City Hall [senior center], I
don't know anybody here....
My husband died. My two daughters died. My son had a
stroke. He is paralyzed. He's in a wheelchair. For three and a half
years, I was away taking care of my daughter. I used to go at eight
o'clock till four when the kids came home from school. When
she died, it seemed that everything in me died. Because I didn't
care anymore. She suffered so much.... I got all her children,
but they're not very nice. They don't come to see me or anything.
On a Sunday, the parking lot is full when they come to see
their grandmother or their mother, but there's nobody there for
me. . ..
1 Names, occupations, and other details identifying interviewees quoted here and in
subsequent chapters have been altered to protect their anonymity.
Lots of times I wish I was 60 again. I'd be happy. I'd be

working. I'd be doing something again. I could work now but
I'm afraid. When I get up in the morning, I just can't hurry up
and run around, because I'd fall. I'm all aches and pains now;
if I had to go to the doctor for this, I'd have to go everyday.. . .
I don't know where I'd go. I haven't got no money. I'll go to
a convalescent home. That's where lots of people go from here.
I don't know what they do when they go to a convalescent
home. . . . I would be the lucky one to get one that wouldn't be
very nice - because I'm not a very lucky person.
We begin this book with four women - two Japanese and two Ameri-
cans - who talk about the realities of later life in different environ-
ments. They are all in their late 60s or early 70s and have worked
throughout their lives; but each person is different in how she defines
the boundaries of her vulnerability, and in the expectations she sets for
others to meet her needs. Their hopes and disappointments echo not
only different expectations of dependence and independence in old
age, but also their different standards of evaluating how one becomes
in need of, and deserving of, protection at such a time.
Dorothy's bitterness and sense of betrayal help us understand that
her most acute vulnerabilities lie with her family relationships. Her
laments focus on her children, none of whom are now available to love
and care for her. Her husband died 15 years ago, as did her two daugh-
ters. Of her two surviving sons, one is wheelchair-bound, and the other
is hospitalized for a drinking problem. After all of the care she gave to
her children, none of their children, in turn, feels that she now de-
serves the same in later life. Dorothy feels deprived and depressed,
even though public support is available to meet her most basic finan-
cial needs. To shield herself from further disappointments, she has se-
cluded herself in a small apartment, and does not take the opportunity
to socialize with neighbors and peers in the same building. Her ex-
pectation for old age is utterly unmet, as she now resigns herself to the
idea of eventually moving to a nursing home, a contingency that she
feels is totally undeserved. She sees herself as a person who has been
dealt a bad hand - and as deserving better.
The Social Designation of Deserving Citizens
The public support provisions for the elderly2 that Dorothy takes for
granted - subsidized housing, public meal programs, transportation
services, a range of nursing homes - are not as readily accessible to
her Japanese counterparts. In Japan, those without family support
must seek their old-age security through alternative means. Yamada
Shizu,3 also in her early 70s, lives in a rental unit in Odawara City, 50
miles to the west of metropolitan Tokyo. She has worked at the local
fish-processing factory for 16 years, and now lives with her husband,
a lacquer craftsman, in a two-room apartment. Like Dorothy, Shizu
has arthritis and moves with some difficulty, but she has recovered
from a hip operation. Shizu's strategy for old age has taken an entirely
different direction from Dorothy's: It is focused on willfully master-
minding the invention of family as a safety net. As we carry out the in-
terview, she hugs and talks to her favorite doll, Toto-chan, made in the
likeness of a 2-year-old baby girl.
I do nothing all day. I used to like making cloth flowers. I gave
them away, but I ran out of people to give them to - so, I don't
do it anymore. I like singing, so I sing here by myself to the
background music tape, karaoke. I don't like places where
there are lots of people I don't know. I don't like talking with
people I don't know. . . . I love television; I like watching
baseball; and then there's wrestling, but I love baseball.
We adopted a nephew who married a niece. They are the
children of my sisters, and they are cousins. The adoption was
arranged 15 years ago.
They're very good to us. They live in Saitama with three
children. We bought them land in Saitama, built them a house.
That was part of our understanding, part of the adoption.
We're old-fashioned people, always working hard and pre-
paring for the future.
This holiday, the Golden Week, they said they'd come to
fetch me if I wanted to go. I called them this morning and told
2 Throughout this book, the term elderly refers to persons over age 65, unless other-
wise noted.
3 Surnames precede given names for all Japanese respondents.
them that I'll be good this year. It's been a year since my hip
troubles. It's not as if I don't feel well or anything, you know.
But I just didn't want to trouble them. . . .
Toto-chan came to us through the mail order.... I even
telephoned the mail-order house, so that Toto-chan could
come to us more quickly. This dress is too large for her . .. but
now that it's getting warmer, I just roll up her sleeves. I don't
take Toto-chan with me when I visit them in Saitama. You see,
my husband would be lonely [sabishii], if he were left alone.
We'll eventually move to Saitama. I even bought a plot in
the temple cemetery there. You see, we're old so we don't
know when it will happen. It could happen any day. And so if
we buy a plot, there's no need to worry. I wouldn't want my
son to have to worry about that for us. I've told him that we
are now saving up for the funeral expenses. You see, we're
old-fashioned people. For the funeral, about one million yen
would do. . . . We'll move to Saitama when we can't work
anymore.4
To the degree that adult adoption (yoshi engumi) survives in con-

temporary Japan as a legacy of the traditional family system iey it is
today an arrangement that can secure family support for the elderly in
return for an offer of inheritance.5 As a childless couple, the Yamadas'
plan for this old-age security began years ago in their middle age,
when they turned to this traditional Japanese option. Shizu and her
husband have now invested almost all of their savings in their adopted
son, consciously grooming him and his wife as their future care-
givers - which is, for them, the most important part of the "under-
standing." Careful not to impose on the adopted couple for the holiday
weekend - and for any other expenses, for that matter - Shizu spends
most of her daytime alone, watching television, taking short walks,
4 All Japanese quotations appearing in this book were translated by the author.
5 Ie refers to the traditional patrilineal stem family, which practiced primogeniture un-
til the end of World War II. In this system, families without male heirs adopted adult
men (often the daughters' husbands) to preserve the family lineage. There were seven
cases of adult adoption in the Odawara sample.
and playing with the doll. Most of the financial transfer from the older
to younger generation seems to have already taken place: The Ya-
madas have made the downpayment for their adopted son's house,
while they themselves continue to live in a small rental unit. As such,
Shizu's adaptation to old age - and preparing for the likelihood of
widowhood - has been deliberately planned. She has intentionally
created an extended family where none existed, and has even con-
cocted a live-in surrogate grandchild, Toto-chan. Through the series
of steps she has taken over the past 15 years, she has consciously made
herself a future beneficiary of this family support system.
While Dorothy and Shizu can both be described as lonely women
with similar physical difficulties, it is clear that they seek out differ-
ent support systems not just because of different personal circum-
stances and social options. In Japan, where the majority of older
people live with their children mostly in three-generation households,
childlessness is a significant drawback in old age. When the society as
a whole is geared to the availability of children in times of vulnera-
bility, the preferred solution to old-age security for the childless lies
not in the search for public or community support, but in finding the
closest substitute to a family support system.
The two women also bring different underlying assumptions to their
own life scripts of old age from their distinct Japanese and American
backgrounds. Dorothy speaks about resorting to a nursing home as an
eventuality that was wholly unanticipated and unplanned. Shizu is all
business as she talks about moving to, and dying in, Saitama as part of
her concrete plan for the end of her life. It is clear that the support sys-
tems of these two women derive from different personal circumstances
and institutional options, and, at the same time, they are also based on
different expectations about the absolute need for support in later life.
Thus, these expectations lead to different precautions and preparations.
In contrast to these two women who are concerned about receiving

care, Irene Falletta, a retired schoolteacher in West Haven, sees her-
self first and foremost as a provider of support to other elderly by sit-
uating herself on the other side of the fence. Far from orchestrating a
plan for her own support like Shizu, Irene has created a plan to live for
others who are in need. She leads a very active life as an elderly ad-
vocate for the West Haven region, serving on boards and committees
of many community organizations, and being vocal and prominent in
the city's circle of volunteers. As a former teacher, she is educated and
articulate, and enjoys a comfortable pension that the school system af-
fords. Irene is also 72 years old and has been married for 40 years; and,
like Shizu, she has had no children of her own.
Most weeks, I'm out of the house everyday for some part of
the day. I don't really think of these [volunteer work] as
positions. You see, I believe that growing old is part of grow-
ing. It's the continuum of life. As far as I'm concerned, it was
really just growing into it. I keep going because I was getting
older, and so was the world. And then, I should find a way to
contribute. My decision was that I wanted to continue to be
involved. In order to be alive, I had to be involved. And to be
involved would keep me alive, rather than wait and see what
happens . . . no, I don't do that. I really planned to retire to do
volunteer work.. . . When I can't anymore? I'll just have to
find some other thing to contribute to.
Our grandparents lived with us. Both my maternal and pa-
ternal grandmothers lived with us, and my paternal grandfather,
too. . . . But it's not as easy today, because now people don't
grow together. . . . Yes, I would like to live with the younger
generations [if such circumstances were possible]. We don't
have children, unfortunately, but if we did, I would ask them
to live with me - rather than me with them - there's a differ-
ence here, you see. I would prefer that they lived with me.6
But for the present moment, going in to live with a relative -
no, I don't think so. Because, you see, they have their lives
and we have ours. We didn't grow together. You can't do it.
Irene's concern for her independence is a common theme empha-
sized by the elderly in contemporary American life. She refuses to
elaborate on her own vulnerability - about the possibility some day of
6 The emphasis is Irene's.

becoming incapacitated, widowed, lonely, or in need of some help her-

self. As if such thoughts would only hasten their arrival, she takes to
her retired life with a resolute sense of control. For Irene, the transi-
tion to retirement has also been part of a deliberate plan, but the plan
is essentially one that focuses on the continuity of an active and inde-
pendent life, not the end of it. She is fully absorbed in the social net-
work of peers, found far more frequently among the American than
Japanese elderly. Peer networks are important for Irene, because the
interests and pursuits of the older and younger generations in con-
temporary life are far apart - a view held more commonly in Ameri-
can than Japanese society. Irene's sense of contribution and devotion
to her peers derives from the vital notion common in American soci-
ety that life does not come to a meaningful completion without living
it up fully until the last moment.
Finally, Suzuki Masa is a nurse in her late 60s who is still profession-
ally active in Odawara. Like Irene, she has had an active career, nurs-
ing infants for 37 years despite the onset of a mild hearing problem.
Widowed for 21 years, she lives alone in a three-room housing unit.
Both of her children are married and live outside of Kanagawa Pre-
fecture - a daughter lives in Chiba, and a son moved as far away as
Sapporo on the northern island of Hokkaido to represent the central
government. With a busy life-style, career, and social engagements,
Masa is strikingly similar to Irene. But her notion of what follows be-
yond this stage of activity in old age is quite different from Irene's:
Masa has designs to move in with her son in the future just like Shizu,
as she said when we discussed the meaning of old age in her home.
There's so much to do all day. I haven't got any quiet time for
myself, oh really . . . I've got so much to do! . . . They don't
want to see me go. Even if I quit the hospital work, there are
still all the little babies to look after [at the nursery] and I've
got all of the counseling to do, too.. .. Oh, I wish I could also
take some English classes. Seriously! I really wanted to do it
this year, but I never, never got around to it. And then there's
all the sewing, too. There's still plenty I want to do!
People are always asking me if I don't get lonely [sabishii],
living alone. You see, I never am, because I'm so busy, right
now. . . . You know, it is so important to keep on doing things.
We must go on doing things all the time \yaranakucha dameyo,
ne\. It's so true. And we continue to grow, because we are
learning new things all the time. People make people, I think.
I've taken all the beatings life has to offer - all of it. When I
was thirty-three, when I had my second child, I had to take to
bed for six years. Times of illness, they are so hard. .. . And
then, my husband died, and before he died, he was bedridden
for a while, too . . . yes, for seven years. Then, making a
living, bringing up the kids by myself. . . . There were some
hardships I couldn't even begin to tell. So, you see, no matter
what life has yet in store for me, I know I can take it. Really,
any amount of endurance [gaman], I can take it.
Of course, at my daughter's, they're always asking me when
I'm coming to live with them. That is, with my daughter. My
son is far away right now because of his transfer to Hokkaido,
you see. These transfers are always so unpredictable, aren't
they, even after he gets back to Tokyo again... . So, this son
told his sister that while he's on the move, he's delegating my
care to her. But after all, I really only want to do what's right.
You see, a son is a son. I must not do things that put him in a
bad light [taterutokorowa tatenakya, ne]. And his wife's
mother is feeling so embarrassed about it all.
Living alone in Odawara for Masa has not so much to do with carv-
ing out a new life-style for herself as it has to do with her son's geo-
graphical mobility as a career civil servant. Her concern for moving
in with him in the future is obvious, and it reveals a clear sense of dis-
tinctness between her present status as a healthy person and her future
status in frailty. Being fully occupied with her work and living here by
herself makes sense now in this context, but as a temporary phase, not
a permanent one. Masa wants to conform to the social expectations of
living with a child - especially with a son, not a daughter - in an en-
vironment where a majority of her peers take the arrangement for
granted. She feels the pressure of social expectations for coresidence
("people are always asking me if I don't get lonely, living alone"),
which she also reinforces herself ("I really only want to do what's
right"). Such expectations make her similar to Shizu: Although they
come from different social class backgrounds, Masa and Shizu share
the assumption that making family support arrangements in old age is
part of the necessary business at the end of the life course; and for both
women, the sense of deserving such support is acquired through sons,
not daughters. In this sense, both women subscribe to the normative
regulation of intergenerational relationships in Japanese society.
The four women's accounts of their later lives illustrate the main
themes of this study: assumptions about vulnerability and responsi-
bility that underlie the social ideals of helping arrangements; cultural
preferences for different ways of organizing help; and the dynamics of
the social contract that regulate these different choices. This book of-
fers a case study of how culture and society shape these assumptions,
preferences, and choices.
This study examines these issues by exploring the meaning of de-
servedness embedded in the social contract in cross-national perspec-
tive. Japanese and Americans agree that old age is, on the whole, a
vulnerable time of life, as one experiences deteriorating health and is
pushed to the periphery of economic activity; they also agree that
something ought to be done about it. But the notions of what can be
done, how, and with what results differ according to the cultural as-
sumptions and social assignments that define the value of giving and
deserving help in each society. At the same time, the standard of eval-
uation expressed in this notion of deservedness - that some are entitled
to get help, or that others are obliged to give help - symbolizes the idea
of fairness that lies at the heart of the social contract in both cases.
Before we elaborate on the conditions of deservedness as a means
to introduce the theoretical framework that guides this study, it is use-
ful to turn briefly to the bigger picture of which these four women are
a part: the social contract of the elderly in contemporary postindustrial
societies. What these women think, do, and plan to do point to the con-
cerns of an increasing number of older people who find themselves in
similar predicaments throughout the postindustrial world. Their con-
cern is relevant, because almost everyone is part of a support network
for older relatives or friends and participates in a social security sys-
tem that supports their livelihood. The concerns affect everyone, as
each must also grow old. And today, these societies face a critical junc-
ture in their demographic history.
THE PUBLIC DISCOURSE: RESPONSIBILITIES OF INTERVENTION
In Japan and in the United States today, one in every eight persons is
65 years of age or older.7 The elderly population includes 16.2 mil-
lion people in Japan and 32.3 million in the United States.8 They
are expected to live well into their 70s and 80s, and even their 90s.9
Life expectancies in both societies have been increasing at a phe-
nomenal rate, as improved living conditions, nutrition, public health,
and medical technology have had a major impact on prolonging life.
When survival was more difficult and the aged proportion of the
population was still small, old age could be viewed as a bonus. Now
7 The proportion of the elderly is similar in the two countries: In 1992, it was 13.1% in
Japan and 12.6% in the United States. Miura Fumio, Zusetsu koreisha hakusho 1994,
30; U.S. Bureau of Census, Statistical Abstract of the United States (1994), 8, 15.
8 Figures are for 1992. Miura Fumio, Zusetsu koreisha hakusho 1994, 30; U.S. Bureau
of Census, Statistical Abstract of the United States (1994), 15.
9 Life expectancy at birth in Japan was 76.1 years for men and 82.2 years for women
in 1992, compared with 44.5 years and 46.5 years respectively in 1930. The compa-
rable figures for the United States were 72.3 years for men and 79.0 years for women
in 1992, rising from 58.1 years and 61.1 years respectively in 1930. Life expectancy
at age 60 has increased at a slower rate than life expectancy at birth in both countries.
In Japan, it rose from 14.9 years to 19.9 years for men and 17.9 years and 24.0 years
for women between 1960 to 1987, whereas it increased more slowly in the United
States from 15.9 years to 18.2 years for men and 19.6 years to 22.5 years for women
from 1960 to 1987. There is considerable variation in life expectancy between black
and white populations in the United States that is not apparent in the averaged fig-
ures. Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, Health Care Sys-
tems in Transition: The Search for Efficiency, 189-190; Japan Ministry of Health and
Welfare, Health and Welfare Statistics in Japan (1990), 57; Miura Fumio, Zusetsu
koreisha hakusho 1994, 35; U.S. Bureau of Census, Statistical Abstract of the United
States (1994), 87.
10
with tens of millions of elderly people, whose numbers are projected
to nearly double in the next few decades, old age has become a
"problem."10
By the year 2025, one in every four to five people will be aged 65
years and older in Japan, the United States, and other postindustrial
nations.11 As both mortality and fertility rates continue to decline,
"population aging" has become a social concern in regard to what is
known as the aged dependency ratio in the social contract.12 As the la-
bel itself indicates, these societies share a growing recognition of the
elderly as a dependent population - as a social group that requires
public and private support - due to their withdrawal from the labor
force and their increasing physical frailty. As great-grandparenthood
becomes a more common phenomenon, so does the existence of a
group of people with chronic health conditions, which often require
intensive caregiving over long periods and result in high medical ex-
penses. As the number of retirees grows, so does the need to allocate
more public resources to the social security system, which must be
funded by governments, employers, and current employees. Although
longevity may still serve as an indicator of success in conquering
many illnesses that were once lethal, it has, ironically, also created a
"social problem."
The public support systems in the two societies in fact originate
in similar circumstances during a period of economic prosperity.
Except for the social security systems, which started at different
10 The population aged 65 and over in Japan is projected to rise to 32.4 million by the
year 2025. Similarly, the American elderly population is expected to increase to 61.8
million by 2025. Miura Fumio, Zusetsu koreisha hakusho 1994, 30; U.S. Bureau of
Census, Statistical Abstract of the United States (1994), 16.
11 The proportion of elderly population over age 65 is projected to rise to 25.8% and
18.1% in Japan and the United States respectively by 2025. Miura Fumio, Zusetsu
koreisha hakusho 1994, 30; U.S. Bureau of Census, Statistical Abstract of the
United States (1994), 16.
12 The dependency ratio, the ratio of those over age 65 to those between ages 15 to 64,
was 18.7 in Japan and 19.4 in the United States in 1992. It is expected to reach 43.2
in Japan and 29.4 in the United States by the year 2025. Calculated from U.S. Bu-
reau of Census, Statistical Abstract of the United States (1994), 15-16, and Miura
Fumio, Zusetsu koreisha hakusho 1994, 30.
11
times,13 the important program expansions in both nations occurred in

the 1960s and early 1970s in the wake of years of steady economic
growth, when there seemed to be enough wealth in the nations for
everyone. The range of public provisions created for the elderly at the
time includes social services, employment opportunities, health care
subsidies, and financial assistance. These formal social contracts in
the two nations and in other postindustrial countries are similar in
theory, though not identical in practice - a matter hardly surprising in
light of the basic needs for food, health, and housing and the con-
siderable cross-national transfers of welfare policies that occurred at
the time.14
In the 1980s, however, the politics of resource allocation took on a
particularly crucial turn in both nations, as the formal social contract
came under increasing public scrutiny. Contesting claims were made
on both sides of the Pacific that one could no longer allow the social
security and health care expenditures to increase as they had in the past
decades.15 Accordingly, both governments moved up the eligibility
age for social security for future cohorts, and made efforts to cap
health care expenditures by limiting the types of treatment and pay-
ments from public insurance for illnesses, a stipulation known as
Diagnosis-Related Groups (DRGs).
As the question of moderating state responsibility became a dis-
puted issue, the notion of family responsibility for the elderly also
took on a renewed significance. If the aging problem is growing, and
the state will no longer expand its provisions to deal with it, then
further solutions, some argued, must be sought in the family and the
13 The social security system dates back to 1935 in the United States; the Japanese sys-
tem originates in 1961.
14 Virginia C. Little, Open Care for the Aging: Comparative International Ap-
proaches, 48; Stephen J. Anderson, Welfare Policy and Politics in Japan: Beyond
the Developmental State, 150; Yukio Noguchi, "Overcommitment in Pensions: The
Japanese Experience," 188.
15 Public expenditures for social security grew exponentially in both countries dur-
ing this period. Between 1959 and 1976, social security expenditure as proportion
of national income grew by 176% in Japan and 189% in the United States. Inter-
national Labour Organisation, The Cost of Social Security: Twelfth International
Inquiry, 1981-1983.
12
community.16 Whether the family and the community have the neces-
sary resources, willingness, and responsibility for such an undertak-
ing, however, also remains a serious point of contention.17
In both public and private domains, therefore, the future of the so-
cial contract has become a contested issue. As we look toward the pro-
jected population dynamics of the twenty-first century, it is clear that
the social agreement between successive generations to help and be
helped requires a critical reappraisal.18 More than just a prediction of
material costs and benefits, this reappraisal must examine the funda-
mental cultural assumptions and social assignments that define the
meaning of giving and deserving in the social contract. This book con-
tributes to this inquiry by clarifying how these assumptions and as-
signments shape the social contract in Japanese and American
societies, and by examining how culture and society mold the inter-
play of contending interests entailed in such contracts. To my knowl-
edge, no scholarship to date has addressed this issue both empirically
and theoretically on a cross-national basis.
VALUES, INTERESTS, AND SYMBOLIC EQUITY:

A FRAMEWORK OF ANALYSIS
To learn how the social contract is forged in different cultures, it is

useful to distinguish between two theoretical dimensions: the subjec-
tive and objective conditions of support relationships. The subjective
16 For example in Japan, the Ohira government issued a well-publicized report in

1980, "Kateikiban jyujitsu no tameno teigen," hailing the family as society's "hid-
den asset" ifukumi shisan) to develop a "Japanese-style" welfare society that relies
on family values and responsibilities. Similarly, the Reagan administration also
sought to evoke more family responsibility for elder care by attempting to "reinter-
pret" the federal Medicaid regulation that prohibits the application of family re-
sponsibility laws in local states. These attempts have had mixed results.
17 Robert M. Moroney, Shared Responsibility: Families and Social Policy, chap. 1;
Eugene Litwak, Helping the Elderly: The Complementary Roles of Informal Net-
works and Formal Systems, chap. 1; Marvin B. Sussman, "Family, Bureaucracy, and
the Elderly Individual: An Organizational/Linkage Perspective"; Naomi Maruo,
"The Development of the Welfare Mix in Japan."
18 Vern Bengtson, "Is the 'Contract across Generations' Changing? Effects of Popula-
tion Aging on Obligations and Expectations across Age Groups."
13
conditions refer to the perceptions, assumptions, attitudes, and values

that constitute the vision of reality of individuals and groups alike. In
Berger and Luckmann's terms, this symbolic universe shapes our so-
cial construction of reality, which is taken for granted in our everyday
life.19 The objective conditions of support, on the other hand, refer to
the unequal conditions of access to (material and instrumental) re-
sources between the helper and the helped. The support relationship
mirrors the social difference between those who are in a position to
give and those who are not, because it relies on this intrinsic distinc-
tion that makes the very act of giving possible.
The support practice is shaped by these subjective and objective
conditions that define the meaning of action, and the boundaries of
structural possibilities. The meanings to which individuals subscribe
define their values, expectations, and beliefs about what support
"ought" to do. On the other hand, the asymmetrical relationships of in-
dividuals constrain the interests and choices that they make. These
subjective and objective realities are intertwined in a process that
Pierre Bourdieu calls double structuration - the notion that actors
make subjective choices among options limited by objective condi-
tions.20 In the support practice, individual actors thus seemingly
choose freely from a range of support options defined by their values;
yet these options are constrained by the structural inequity of the sup-
port relationship that is shaped by their interests.
This study incorporates these two key dimensions in its framework
of analysis. The social contract is shaped by the confluence of these
values and interests that are embedded in the cultural and social con-
texts where the support practice takes place. Accordingly, this study
compares and contrasts Japanese and American support practices, and
their corresponding notions of deservedness, in terms of both the sub-
jective and objective conditions of giving. In empirical terms, these
values and interests will be examined by deciphering key cultural as-
sumptions - about vulnerability, security, equity, and self-sufficiency -
19 Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality: A Trea-
tise on the Sociology of Knowledge, part 2, chap. 2.
20 Pierre Bourdieu, In Other Words: Essays toward a Reflexive Sociology.
14
and by identifying the social assignments of rights, responsibilities,
credits, and debts in the support relationship.
Social support is based on a set of cultural assumptions about need,
security, equity, and self-sufficiency that influence the notion of giv-
ing. These expectations and presuppositions influence our vision of
reality, and our vision of what support ought to do. These are cultural
dispositions that shape the subjective reality in which we make sense
of the nature of life, human relationships, and the life course. These
dispositions, which Pierre Bourdieu calls habitus,21 come into relief
when we compare the meaning of helping arrangements in different
cultures. Since these perceptions and expectations are defined cultur-
ally, it follows then that the outcomes - the way support is orga-
nized - are also different from one culture to another. In other words,
"who is deserving of help" is defined to a large degree by our values,
which differ from one society to another.
Social support also involves means to regulate self-interests, which
is, in turn, influenced by cultural assumptions. Although spontaneous
goodwill exists,22 altruism is not an enduring quality that ensures reg-
ular support over a long term, as Richard Titmuss has shown.23 To reg-
ularize giving, we therefore construct notions of collective interests
and mutual interests in the giver-receiver relationship. As we will see,
typically the arrangement of reciprocal intergenerational support es-
tablishes notions of mutual interests; likewise, the social designation
of rights and responsibilities establishes notions of collective interests.
Japanese and American helping arrangements both entail these mech-
anisms to regulate the interests of givers and receivers.
To regularize everyday acts of giving, a support system must do
more than invite generosity with incentives and rewards; it must rou-
tinize giving through the social assignments of rights, responsibilities,
21 Pierre Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice, chap. 3; and Outline of a Theory of Prac-
tice, chap. 2.
22 R. G. Simmons, S. K. Marine, and R. L. Simmons, The Gift of Life: The Effect of
Organ Transplantation on Individual Family and Societal Dynamics; J. A. Piliavin
and H. W. Charng, "Altruism: A Review of Recent Theory and Research."
23 Richard Titmuss, The Gift Relationship: From Human Blood to Social Policy, 225.
See also Alvin Gouldner, "The Importance of Something for Nothing," 268.
15
credits, and debts - to regulate our tendency to keep rather than to

give. Practices of entitlement, obligation, and reciprocity in support
are therefore central to both Japanese and American systems. These
practices effectively assign different symbolic resources to givers and
receivers, so that the receiver becomes deserving by earning the right
to be helped, and the giver remains obliged to give. As we will see,
these assignments restore the equity in the support relationship by a
logic of fairness, which I call symbolic equity.
Symbolic equity refers to the nexus of values and interests that
shapes the logic of fairness in the gift relationship. As cultural values
of gifts vary from one context to another, the formulas of regulating
interests by matching particular responsibilities with certain rights,
and by canceling particular debts with certain credits, also differ from
one society to another. Yet this logic of fairness remains central to each
support practice regardless of such contexts.24 The difference between
Japanese and American social contracts is therefore found neither in a
generic tolerance for dependency nor in a critical mass of goodwill; it
is found in the different standards of evaluation as they apply to fair-
ness. Japanese and American support systems therefore contain fea-
tures distinct from one another, yet similar in their logic of practice.25
This book explains these distinct features and similarities in the
logic of practice by creating a conceptual scheme of interpretation. I
derive the synthesis at the cross-national level by relying on two strate-
gies of analysis, which Charles Tilly calls individualizing comparisons
and variation-finding comparisons.261 use individualizing comparisons
in Chapters 3 to 6, which systematically compare the differences of the
two helping arrangements, to identify the special empirical features of
each case. I then use variation-finding comparisons in Chapters 7 and
8, which synthesize the differences and similarities, to establish the
24 For discussions on the centrality and plurality of the notion of justice in allocation,
see Jon Elster, Local Justice: How Institutions Allocate Scarce Goods and Neces-
sary Burdens; Joel Feinberg, Doing and Deserving: Essays in the Theory of Re-
sponsibility; and Michael Walzer, Spheres of Justice: A Defense of Pluralism and
Equality.
25 Pierre Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice, chap. 5.
26 Charles Tilly, Big Structures, Large Processes, Huge Comparisons, chaps. 5 and 7.
16
principle of variation that applies to both cases. The intent of this book
is therefore to conceptualize the link between culture and the social
contract at a level of generality that accounts for both cross-national
differences and similarities.27 Although this comparative approach at
times requires me to pay less attention to variation within each
case - for example, by gender, class, and ethnicity - 1 nevertheless be-
lieve that a cross-national synthesis can offer a parsimonious explana-
tion of the values and interests entailed in the social contract.
By adopting Marcel Mauss's approach to the gift relationship,28 the
social contract in this study refers to the reciprocal arrangement to
give and receive gifts in turn, based on a tacit standard of evaluation
that defines their symbolic equivalence. Although the term also brings
to bear a long-standing tradition of liberal political philosophy from
Thomas Hobbes to John Rawls,29 it is a multifaceted concept with
many variations.30 The social contract in this study has a wide defini-
tion that includes both the explicit, public contract between the state
and its citizens and the implicit, private contract of individuals and
collectives. This study examines the tacit standard of evaluation - de-
servedness - for these multiple arrangements, to uncover the meaning
of fairness expressed in the symbolic equivalence of gifts.
As Alvin Gouldner once suggested, ascertaining such equivalence
of value in reciprocal relationships is an empirical question.31 Thus,
on this note, we are ready to begin our comparative inquiry in the two
communities, Odawara and West Haven. We will start by first de-
scribing the historical and national contexts, then proceed to the com-
munity contexts where givers and receivers negotiate the value of
giving, receiving, and deserving in their social contracts.
27 Melvin Kohn, "Cross-National Research as an Analytic Strategy," 85.

28 Marcel Mauss, The Gift: Forms and Functions of Exchange in Archaic Societies,
2-5.
29 Sheldon S. Wolin, Politics and Vision: Continuity and Innovation in Western Politi-
cal Thought, chap. 8; Peter Laslett, "Is There a Generational Contract?"; Norman
Daniels, Am I My Parents' Keeper? An Essay on Justice between the Young and the
Old, chap. 3; John Rawls, A Theory of Justice.
30 Michael Lessnoff, Social Contract, 4; Peter Laslett, "Is There a Generational Con-
tract?" 25.
31 Alvin Gouldner, "The Norm of Reciprocity: A Preliminary Statement," 172.
17
Two Communities,
Two Societies
This street was the busiest around here, but now all business is gone to
Station Plaza. . . . Land Reform even changed the name of this place.
- Shimada Toshio (67), former company employee
W HEN older people talk about their past, one is immediately

struck by the broad range of history they have witnessed in their
lifetimes. The elderly provide a special fascination, because their ret-
rospective accounts of the past often point to continuities and changes
that lead to the present and also project into the future. In this sense, the
elderly are historians, and in some ways they act as the barometer of so-
cial change. Their individual responses to change usually encompass a
range of feelings and thoughts that relate to satisfaction with their pre-
sent lives. In this study, the Japanese elderly often noted a sense of
progress and social change, referring to new production technologies
and household conveniences that have become widely available. The
American elderly, in general, tended to express nostalgia for the past,
some sense of loss, and a concern that new values represented some-
thing of a decline.
This sense of change must be understood within the contexts of the
history and the community characteristics of West Haven and
Odawara, which this chapter illustrates. The changes that each com-
munity has encountered - new job opportunities, residential options,
modern life-styles - have influenced the social relations and support
networks of the elderly and represent the background in which their
helping arrangements are forged. We will first explore the history of
the American site, West Haven, and then that of the Japanese site,
Odawara. We will also examine the demographic and socioeconomic
18
Two Communities, Two Societies
profiles of the two communities, to ascertain the comparability of
these two settings in the study.
WEST HAVEN
Right here,rightwhere this house is, was an amusement park. This is

where I made my living and made my money, right. The reason I
bought this house here is because one of my stands wasrighthere. I
worked here since I was nine years old.
- Joseph Brown (71), former amusement business owner
American cities rarely retain the same appearance, organization, and
people over a long period of time: West Haven is no exception. Given
the mobility of the labor force in the region, few elderly residents have
lived in West Haven as long as Joseph, who has worked there for more
than 60 years. The community has undergone a dramatic transforma-
tion in size and character. Jobs have come and gone with the chang-
ing times for Joseph and for others; old stores and manufacturing
enterprises have been gradually replaced by new modes of production
and sales. Whether as a result of economic recessions, changing mar-
kets, or outmoded production techniques, when the West Haven el-
derly speak of their job changes, they often refer to their shops or firms
as having "gone out of business." Social change in recent decades has
also involved much urban growth and development. Within the life-
times of these elderly residents, West Haven has grown first from be-
ing part of the town of Orange to being the town of West Haven, and
subsequently to the city of West Haven.
West Haven dates back to 1648 when, as "West Farms," it formed
an agricultural community within the original New Haven Colony, a
Puritan settlement founded in 1638 on the Long Island Sound between
New York and Boston.1 From the beginning, the history of West
Haven has been closely linked to the growth of neighboring New
Haven, a city on the Old Boston Post Road that prospered in the nine-
teenth century as a manufacturing and commercial center of diversi-
fied hardware. West Haven remained a traditional Yankee community
1 For the history of New Haven, see Rollin G. Osterweis, Three Centuries of New
Haven, 1638-1938.
19
until the middle of the twentieth century, partly as a residential suburb
of New Haven, and partly as home to its own small- and midsized
manufacturing industries, and also its farming and oystering enter-
prises. While the larger-scale industrial plants concentrated in New
Haven continued to draw labor from West Haven, West Haven's own
productive enterprises - ranging from lumber, shipbuilding, rubber,
and machines to elastics, paper, and buckles - also absorbed much of
the remaining labor force.2
Major recent changes came about as a result of New Haven's mas-
sive urban renewal efforts in the 1950s and 1960s.3 As New Haven
changed, so did the interdependent communities immediately sur-
rounding it. West Haven expanded and developed as it absorbed large
numbers of migrants from New Haven in newly constructed rental
units. It strengthened its own manufacturing force and commercial
base as transportation and communication facilities developed and
improved in New Haven. Essentially, West Haven became a commu-
nity constituting part of Greater New Haven, sharing much of its eco-
nomic activities and social infrastructure such as transportation,
communications, public facilities, medical and social services, and en-
tertainment outlets. Today, West Haven is one of the 15 towns and
cities comprising the Standard Metropolitan Statistical Area (SMSA)
of Greater New Haven. With over 53,000 residents within an area of
11.2 square miles, it remains one of the more populous and urbanized
sectors within the region.
In recent decades, West Haven has shed much of its early identity,
essentially becoming a multiethnic community. Italian, Irish, and Pol-
ish Americans now make up a substantial proportion of its total pop-
ulation. The largest ethnic group is of Italian descent (41%), followed
by those of Irish (10%) and Polish (7%) origin. The survey population
in West Haven was predominantly Catholic (72%), a slightly higher
percentage than in other New England urban areas, according to a
2 West Haven League of Women Voters, This Is West Haven; West Haven Chamber of
Commerce, West Haven; Connecticut Council of Economic Advisors, Annual Re-
port, 1979.
3 David Birch, Reilly Atkinson, Sven Sandstrom, and Linda Stack, Patterns of Urban
Change: The New Haven Experience.
20
Gallup survey.4 Family relations of the elderly respondents are there-

fore more typical of a Catholic population, if not exclusively of a dom-
inant ethnic group.
Most of the older residents of West Haven were born and raised in
the state of Connecticut, and continue to consider this part of the
United States their home; over half of those interviewed were born in
Connecticut, and one-sixth were born in neighboring states such as
Rhode Island, Massachusetts, New Jersey, and New York. A fifth were
born outside the United States, mainly in Italy, and have settled in the
northeastern region of the United States where many of their fellow
immigrants had made their home. The majority of these foreign-born
moved to the United States before the age of 20 and have continued to
live in this region throughout their lives.
With urban renewal, influx of new business, and intrastate migration,
the West Haven elderly have rarely remained at the same address for a
long period of time. A quarter of the respondents had lived at the same
address for less than 10 years, and two-thirds for less than 30 years.
Some of the more recent moves can be accounted for by the fact that 20
people in the sample lived in a public housing unit that was built in
1972. The average period of local residency among the elderly was 30
years; the majority had lived in the community for less than half their
lives. Residentially, if not geographically, the elderly in West Haven
have been a comparatively mobile population, experiencing losses of
old homes and neighborhoods in a way that the Odawara elderly did not.
West Haven's lower-middle-class and working-class character has
become more enduring with these developments. Over two-thirds of
the older men and women worked in blue-collar jobs throughout their
lives, often spanning over 50 years, with the remainder employed in
white-collar jobs. Most of the sample respondents (84%) were re-
tirees. On the average, they have had 9 years of formal education.
With no significant concentrations of wealth or poverty, West
Haven is a relatively safe place for senior citizens to walk or drive, a
city where they can go about their daily routines without undue diffi-
culty. The streets are well kept and never too busy to exclude those
4 Gallup Report, Religion in America.
21
who might need or choose to organize their lives at a different pace.

The geographical range of the community is also small enough so that
older residents retain a measure of familiarity with their neighbors and
many others, despite their relative mobility. For those who have rooted
themselves in the community, West Haven seems to be a comfortable
place to live. Some people talk about retiring to the Sun Belt where
the climate is more agreeable, but they are the exceptions.
The quality of relative security and integration makes West Haven
more readily comparable with a Japanese city than other U.S. cities;
external environments are rarely similar in a cross-national study, but
choices must be made to ensure as much comparability as possible in
qualities of life. Both West Haven and Odawara have experienced
economic growth and expansion in the past decades, in the context of
their respective nations; the relative stability of both communities
amid these changes is also one of the factors that makes the compari-
son feasible.
WESTSIDE ODAWARA
We were farmers here. We worked hard and had little time to sleep.
We had to pay taxes. .. . But now we don't farm here anymore. . . .
Now my son goes into the office. He gets paid to do that.
- Sada Kiyo (80), former farmer
Like their counterparts in West Haven, the elderly in Westside

Odawara have witnessed dramatic changes in their city over their life-
times. The technological innovations of contemporary life - from the
mechanization of the workplace to the introduction of household ap-
pliances - have had a profound impact on the lives of the Japanese el-
derly like Kiyo. Convenient tools have simplified work inside and
outside the household, and have changed the organization of daily life.
Miso (soybean paste), for instance, is no longer produced from scratch
at home, but is instead bought as a simple commodity from the local
grocery store. Yet the new appears to have a way of blending smoothly
with the old. The changes are real and conspicuous enough, yet they
have not really "replaced" the old order. The internal structure of
Odawara life still retains many of the dynamics of traditional Japan.
22
The social history of Odawara as a town dates back to 1495, when
the Hojo Clan of the Kanto District plundered the Odawara Castle to
begin the full-scale development of a castle town.5 Its location was
strategic in a variety of ways. Directly facing Sagami Bay at the foot
of the Hakone Mountain, and sandwiched between two rivers, the Saka-
wagawa and the Hayakawa, the area provided the natural resources es-
sential for the development of a commercial town; the town could
readily subsist on its own supply of rice, fish, and processed foods. Of
even greater importance was the political significance of its location.
Control of Odawara meant control of the Sagami Region on the T6-
kaido Road connecting eastern and western Japan - by far the most im-
portant of the seven ancient road networks. During the Edo Period
(1600-1868), Odawara grew in importance to become a key town for
the Tokugawa regime, both politically and geographically. As a post
town 50 miles to the west of the capital Edo (Tokyo), Odawara was an
important element in the plan for Edo's tactical defense. The town also
became an essential point of respite for travelers, before and after the
vital inspection barrier of the steep Hakone Mountain Pass.
As the importance of the Tokaido Road grew, the town prospered.
At the height of its prosperity, Odawara could count over 100 inns and
a range of industries catering to the needs of travelers. Notable among
these industries were those concerned with the processing of durable
foods such as kamaboko, tsukemono, and umeboshi (fish paste, pick-
led vegetables, and fruits), and those given over to the production of
tools and equipment necessary for long-distance journeying (palan-
quin, medicine, lanterns, footwear, souvenirs, etc.). Some of the more
prestigious family concerns dating from this period still continue their
businesses today, even though the handing down of occupations to
successive generations in the family is no longer economically viable
for most Odawarans. The tradition of household successions - where
the family property and homes are handed down to successive gener-
ations in line - is, however, still found in the community at large.
5 For the history of Odawara, see Fukuda Ikuo, Uchida Tetsuo, and Iwasaki Sojun,
Waga machino rekishi Odawara; Iwasaki Sqjun, Uchida Kiyoshi, and Uchida Tet-
suo, Edojidai no Odawara; Uchida Tetsuo, Odawara; Shinokosho no seikatsushi;
Uchida Tetsuo, Nenpyo; Odawara no rekishi.
23
Odawara's prosperity ended when the new Meiji regime came to

power. The Meiji Period (1868-1912) represented a period of eco-
nomic and demographic decline for Odawara, which lost its primary
businesses when the Odawara Castle and the Hakone inspection bar-
rier were closed down. The new regime ushered in the era of modern-
ization and industrialization, but bypassed Odawara; it did not extend
the new national railway to Odawara because of the steepness of the
Hakone Mountain. Toward the end of the Meiji Period and the begin-
ning of the Taisho Period (1912-26), small-scale industrial manufac-
turing and sales began to grow, with products such as silk, cotton, and
processed fish; but the truly modern industrial development of
Odawara on a larger scale did not really begin until the opening of the
Tanna Tunnel through the Hakone Mountain. The vital national rail-
way finally reached Odawara with the opening of the tunnel in 1934.
Odawara was incorporated as a city in 1940 with a population of
55,000 inhabitants. It has since doubled in size and trebled in popula-
tion through natural growth and a series of annexations of neighbor-
ing villages and towns in 1960, 1970, and 1975. Today Odawara is a
midsized Japanese city covering a geographical area of 44 square
miles with a population of over 180,000. In addition to its traditional
cottage industries, agriculture, and fisheries, Odawara is also the home
of major factories producing photographic supplies, as well as plants
manufacturing automobile parts, batteries, electric appliances, cos-
metics, and pharmaceuticals.
Some traditional practices also survive within the new economic
structure. Odawara retains its centuries-old status as a regional dis-
tribution center of fish and agricultural products, and the shopping
districts are still lined with a variety of specialized stores run by self-
employed shopkeepers and their families. And tourists still stop in
Odawara on their way to the Hakone Springs.
Most of the old people of Odawara today have borne witness to the
city's growth from the Meiji slump to today's industrial prosperity.
With a marked residential stability that spans 50 years on average,
many of the Odawara elderly have experienced the dramatic effects
of rapid urbanization and testify to the impact of these changes on
their daily lives. They have seen rice fields turn into large factories,
24
old wooden and straw houses become modern high rises, and or-
chards give way to large convenience stores. Over the years, they
have experienced the acceleration of technological sophistication and
the influx of new modernity. Gas, electricity, and telephones, which
were introduced to a limited number of Odawara households during
their childhood, are now available in all housing units. Roads have
been paved, waterworks and sewage systems installed, and produc-
tion, transportation, and communications networks developed. All of
these developments have brought about fundamental changes in their
life-styles.
Partly as a result of this rapid modernization, old people in Oda-
wara generally describe their lives as being much easier than those of
their parents or grandparents. They describe the changes in terms of
growing comfort and affluence. They often speak of their greater con-
trol over the natural environment - a particularly welcome develop-
ment for a generation that has repeatedly had to build and rebuild its
lives and homes in the wake of earthquakes, seaquakes, fires, floods,
and air raids. This sense of progress is especially striking, consider-
ing the many losses that old age often tends to bring about.
More jobs came to Odawara as the industrial composition of the
city's economy changed. In 1980, the primary industry accounted for
only 7% of all industries, while the secondary industry grew to 39%
and the tertiary industry to 54%.6 The transition to greater occupa-
tional diversity has had an effect on the working lives of the middle
and younger generation in Odawara and, by implication, on the lives
of today's elderly. On the whole, the city now accommodates a broad
range of occupations, from small-scale woodcrafters and farmers, to
industrial workers, executives, and bureaucrats. Some occupations,
such as the production of kamaboko and the running of specialized
stores, have existed for centuries; other jobs in factories, bureaucra-
cies, and private enterprises became available after World War II. This
diversity extends even to individual families, where it is not uncom-
mon to find a blend of occupations existing side by side, such as in
Kiyo's household. More members of the younger generation than the
6 Japan Prime Minister's Office, Statistics Bureau, Population Census of Japan, 1980.
25
older have worked in the new, salaried occupations; conversely, more

members of the older generation have worked in the traditional, self-
employed occupations of shopkeeping, cottage industry, and agricul-
ture. Some of the children of today's elderly have followed in their
parents' footsteps, and many others have moved into newer occupa-
tions. And in turn, their children - more educated than the generations
preceding them - can also pursue fast-track careers in business and
local government. Much of family life was bound to change as a re-
sult, yet the normative content of family relations has remained curi-
ously intact.
It is remarkable that even with these dramatic transformations in the
economic structure of postwar Odawara, the community still strongly
conveys an impression of calmness and stability. When talking with
the older residents of the community, one is particularly struck with
this sense of stability. Most older residents of Odawara lived in homes
that they or their families owned.7 The majority have lived in Odawara
well over half of their lives;8 of these, over half have even lived in the
same house throughout these past decades. Consequently, many older
Odawarans relate to each other with the ease of persons who have
known one another for over half a century. This aura of familiarity also
means that many of the younger people in the community are known;
they are the children, grandchildren, and in-laws of acquaintances.
Most of the elderly in Odawara report that they have no plans to
move out of the community. Most say they would move only if some-
thing unforeseen were to happen to their families. When asked why
they have lived in the community as long as they have, they typically
respond, "because we've always lived here." Many of these Oda-
warans have held only one job all their working lives, unlike their
West Haven counterparts. Over a third continue to work into old age,
and few have experienced formal, mandatory retirement.9 As in most
7 In Odawara, 89% of the survey respondents lived in houses that they or their coresi-
dent family members owned.
8 In the sample, 73% already lived in Odawara before World War II.
9 In Odawara, 38% were still working, and 20% were retired. This labor force partici-
pation rate was comparable to the national average of 39%; Soda and Miura Fumio,
Zusetsu rojin hakusho 1983, 144.
26
of ethnically homogeneous Japan, the majority had no formal reli-
gious affiliation, but followed a few basic Buddhist customs.10 On the
average they have had 8 years of schooling, similar to the level of their
West Haven counterparts.
The site and the people selected for this study were confined to a
section of Odawara that might be called Westside Odawara, situated
west of the Sakawa River and east of the Hayakawa. This section is
an administrative unit known as Honcho-chiku,11 the core of old, cen-
tral Odawara before the annexations of neighboring villages took
place in recent decades. With an area of 16 square miles, it consti-
tutes approximately one-third of what is Odawara City today, exclud-
ing the sparsely populated, less developed sections (e.g., vast areas of
woods, fields, and hills). Honcho-chiku is a commercial and residen-
tial district consisting of 13 town sections (owaza). Some social class
segregation exists only insofar as the very affluent live apart from
other residents; but the working-class and middle-class residents are
generally interspersed, the former living in rental units scattered
throughout the city.
Neighborhood organizations (chonaikai) that provide residents
with a sense of community are well established throughout Odawara,
adding to the feeling of security and integration. Like West Haven, it
is quite safe to move around Odawara, both downtown and in the res-
idential neighborhoods. Since buses are infrequent and local trains
reach only limited destinations, the common means of transportation
for the local elderly is the taxi, if their families cannot provide rides.
Few older people in Odawara drive their own automobiles; driving
has hardly been an option for these people unlike their American
counterparts, because cars have not been commonly available for this
generation.
10 Only 25.6% of Odawarans reported their affiliation with Buddhism, but 53.6% fol-
lowed Buddhist customs. See Hayashi Chikio, Nihonjin no kokoro o hakaru,
141-143, for the characteristic discrepancy between religious affiliation and reli-
giosity in Japan.
11 Honcho-chiku ( *WT), the administrative unit, should not to be confused with Hon-
cho( jfcffilkK), a town section in central Odawara City.
27
COMPARING COMMUNITIES
Japan and the United States are two highly industrialized nations, with
the world's largest gross national products. Both are also "aging soci-
eties" with high proportions of older people.12 In many respects, the
life-styles of the older citizens in the two societies are similar, given
the comparable levels of affluence, technological development, edu-
cation, and urbanization. Yet these common features do not outweigh
the distinct historical, geographical, and cultural dynamics. Compar-
ing the similarities and differences between Japan and the United
States thus offers an opportunity to explore the influence of socioeco-
nomic and cultural conditions on social support in two distinct con-
temporary societies. Comparing such countries offers the advantages
of identifying both the cultural assumptions that underlie the different
helping arrangements, and the common requirements that postindus-
trial societies must meet to reproduce the social contract.
The reasons for comparing the helping arrangements of the elderly
in Westside Odawara with those of the elderly in West Haven may
seem less obvious. Why compare this conventional Japanese commu-
nity and this lower-middle-class American community? In a cross-
national study of communities in Japan and the United States, the
researcher must search for the best approximate "match" according to
key relevant criteria. The key to comparability lies in seeking out sites
that share similar demographic and economic conditions as well as po-
litical positions, in their respective societies. Any differences identi-
fied in the analysis can then be attributed to the more fundamental
cultural and social dynamics in each society, according to John Stuart
Mill's method of difference.13
It would not make sense, for instance, to compare the elderly of
rural Japan and urban America, since village life and metropolitan life
promote entirely different social characteristics - occupational and
12 A country is defined as an aging society when its proportion of those aged 65 and
over reaches 7%.
13 John Stuart Mill, A System of Logic. See Neil J. Smelser, Comparative Methods in
the Social Sciences, 62-70.
28
economic differences above and beyond national differences. Rural

Japan and highly urban America, for example, also have dispropor-
tionately large numbers of elderly people, and conversely, many
newer Japanese communities have disproportionately small elderly
populations. By the same token, a conservative Japanese community
and a liberal American community are incomparable, since the range
of social services and programs available to the elderly in these com-
munities would likely differ, not for cultural but for political and ide-
ological reasons. What must be standardized, accordingly, are key
demographic, economic, and political indicators of the two commu-
nities, to generate a controlled comparison.
The key criteria in the selection of comparable communities for this
study were, accordingly, demographic and geographical characteris-
tics, level of urbanization, industrial composition, average wage, level
of commitment to social services, and administrative jurisdiction. What
I have sought is not the unlikely "perfect fit" for each of these charac-
teristics, but a balanced, approximate "overall fit" with respect to all of
these indicators. I examined 10 cities in the Kanto Region and 5 towns
and cities in Greater New Haven to select the acceptable "match."14
Table 2.1 shows the profiles of West Haven and Westside Odawara,
with corresponding descriptions for surrounding Greater New Haven
and Odawara City. West Haven and Westside Odawara are of similar
scale in population, number of households, and geographical size, as
medium-sized communities situated in larger urban environments.
The elderly populations were similar in size and proportion, and both
proportions corresponded closely to the respective national aver-
ages.15 The proportion of older people today is 14.8% in West Haven,
14 Yale University's Department of Epidemiology and Public Health decided to

conduct its pilot study in West Haven after I began my fieldwork at the Area
Agency on Aging located in West Haven; the logistical decision to choose West
Haven therefore came first, for practical reasons. I then chose Odawara as the
Japanese counterpart by searching in the Kanto Region. For further details, see
the appendix.
15 The national average was 11.2% in the United States, and 9.0% in Japan. U.S. Bu-
reau of Census, Statistical Abstract of the United States (1985); Japan Prime Min-
ister's Office, Statistics Bureau, Population Census of Japan, 1980.
29
Table 2.1. Profiles of West Haven and Westside Odawara
West Greater Westside

Haven New Haven Odawara Odawara
City (SMSA) (Honcho-chiku) City
Total population 53,184 417,592 81,165 177,469

Population 65
and over 6,860 51,518 8,148a 15,969
Population 65
and over (%) 12.9 12.3 10.0* 9.0
Population density
(per square mile) 4,748 1,322 4,961 4,023
Area (square miles) 11.2 315.9 16.4 44 A
Number of households 20,182 149,574 23,715 51,802
Primary industry (%) — 0.5 — 7.0
Secondary industry (%) — 33.5 — 39.0
Tertiary industry (%) — 66.0 — 54.0
"1982 estimates for Honcho-chiku by Department of Social Welfare, Odawara

City.
Sources: U.S. Bureau of Census, U.S. Census of Population, 1980; Japan
Prime Minister's Office, Statistics Bureau, Population Census of Japan,
1980; Odawara City, Shisei tbkei yoran, 1980.
and 13.1% in Odawara, which are both still consistent with their re-
spective national means.16
Communities of similar population size and density may never-
theless differ in socioeconomic and geographical aspects, especially
when they are in different countries; I therefore sought further com-
parability. Sites were "matched" according to industrial compositions
16 These figures are for 1990 in West Haven, and 1994 in Odawara; U.S. Bureau
of Census, U.S. Census of Population, 1990, and Odawara City, Odawarashi no
koreisha fukushi. The average annual population growth rates in the interim
years have been 0.5% in Greater New Haven and 0.8% in Odawara; calculated
from U.S. Bureau of Census, Statistical Abstract of the United States (1994), 40;
Kanagawa Prefecture, Kanagawa kensei yoran 1988, 47; Kanagawa kensei yoran
1993, 45.
30
and average wages that created similar occupational conditions.17
Both West Haven and Westside Odawara are also old communities
that developed historically along major roads of transportation, the
Old Boston Post Road and the Tokaido Road, which promoted early
commercial and cultural development. Both are located by the sea and
are within an hour and a half's drive of major metropoles (New York
and Tokyo), a distance that makes for a demanding daily commute but
easy occasional access. Some important parallels therefore exist for
the purpose of comparison, even though the histories and traditions of
the two communities are obviously very different.
Since the study extends to the role of community services for older
people, I also selected communities that maintain active social service
programs relative to the respective national standards. Both Con-
necticut and Kanagawa Prefecture are comparatively progressive
providers of social services for the elderly, earmarking larger amounts
of expenditure for social security programs than their respective na-
tional averages. The social security expenditure in the state of Con-
necticut was $750 million (23.4% of total expenditures), and $160
million (4.6% of total expenditures) in Kanagawa Prefecture.18 Each
of these proportions is high by national standards, though they are not
comparable cross-nationally due to the use of different classification
schemes. Nevertheless, it seems clear that both Greater New Haven
and Odawara have generally benefited from the relatively progressive
policies of their local governments over the recent years.
Direct services develop as much according to demand as supply. Be-
cause communities on the scale of West Haven and Westside Odawara
could not realistically develop a network of formal services indepen-
dent of the finances and economies of scale generated by their larger
17 The primary industry in West Haven, however, was somewhat smaller than in
Odawara. At the time of the surveys, the average wage was $16,000 in Connecticut
and $15,000 in Kanagawa (1982 exchange rate of $1 = ¥250). More recently, av-
erage wages were still comparable at $22,500 in Connecticut and $24,500 in Kana-
gawa (1986 exchange rate of $1 =¥190). U.S. Bureau of Census, Statistical
Abstract of the United States (1985), and Statistical Abstract of the United States
(1990); Kanagawa Prefecture, Kanagawa kenseiyoran 1988.
18 State of Connecticut, Budget, 1982-83; Kanagawa Prefecture, Kanagawaken no
fukushi (1981). The expenditure of $160 million was equivalent to ¥40 billion.
31
outer affiliates, it is useful for the purpose of the study to look at West
Haven as part of the Greater New Haven complex, and Westside
Odawara as part of the Odawara City complex. Since the administra-
tive unit of a "city" is entirely different in Japan and the United States
(being generally larger in Japan, through a succession of mergers and
annexations, and smaller in the United States through repeated divi-
sions), I have found a compromise by selecting a city for the American
case study and a section of a city for the Japanese case study.
Neither community represents its country, and neither was selected
for this purpose. Nonetheless it is true that each is basically an aver-
age, medium-sized, stable community of a type not uncommon in
Japan or the United States; at the same time, both communities have
qualities of life that are comparable with one another. All things con-
sidered, West Haven and Westside Odawara "match" satisfactorily,
within limitations, for the purpose of this study. The divergence be-
tween the communities, the result of their location within different na-
tional entities, continues to remind us that we are dealing with
approximate comparisons. Social class and gender relations, for ex-
ample, are different in the two communities, given divergent national
and historical conditions; however, these relations are not pivotal
themes of this study. The ethnic diversity of the American community
also poses a challenge for identifying an "American" pattern, which
the Japanese counterpart does not;19 most cross-national research de-
signed to explore the relative significance of cross-national variation
compared with national variation, however, has shown that, despite its
heterogeneity, an American pattern is indeed salient;20 and other
American social scientists who have conducted well-known studies in
Greater New Haven have also pointed to general conclusions relevant
19 This point on diversity is also relevant in the Japanese context, if not in the ethnic
sense. See Christie W. Kiefer, "The Elderly in Modern Japan: Elite, Victims, or
Plural Players?"; and David Plath, Work and Lifecourse in Japan.
20 See for example Robert J. Havighurst, B. L. Neugarten, J. M. Munnichs, and
H. Thomae, Adjustment to Retirement: A Cross-National Study. For an example of
a study comparing American culture with another Western culture that draws simi-
lar conclusions about the relative significance of cross-national variation over na-
tional variation, see Michele Lamont, Money, Morals, and Manners: The Culture of
the French and American Upper-Middle Class.
32
to understanding American society as a whole.21 With these thoughts
on comparability in mind, we will now turn to the support arrange-
ments in public and private domains in the two communities.
21 Robert Dahl, Who Governs? Democracy and Power in an American City;
Robert E. Lane, Political Ideology: Why the American Common Man Believes
What He Does; Jennifer L. Hochschild, What's Fair? American Beliefs about
Distributive Justice.
33
Rights and Responsibilities in
the Public Domain
If only we had adequate nursing facilities, you know - families like

us with bedridden elderly could have our peace of mind. We would
have our peace of mind, but, still - we'd be neglecting them, wouldn't
we? I think, well - they can't go there.
- Sugino Waka (66), former city employee
W AKA'S ambivalence about relying on formal institutions for

her husband's care is frequently shared among families with
physically dependent elderly persons, both in Japan and the United
States. The decision to entrust such care to institutional services1 re-
quires much appraisal of moral obligations, priorities, and capacity,
for caregivers like Waka and others.2 As such, the question of support
responsibility is a normative evaluation as well as an assignment of in-
strumental tasks. The appraisal hinges on our values about who ought
to help, and how we ought to order our priorities and interests to do
our "fair" share. The rights and responsibilities in the social contract
are forged by such normative considerations grounded in the context
of specific political and fiscal conditions.
1 The rates of institutionalization among the elderly are relatively small in both coun-
tries and have remained stable over the past decade. The American figure, however,
is over three times higher than the Japanese figure: in 1990, 1.65% were institution-
alized in Japan, and 5.2% in the United States. These figures are calculated from
Miura Fumio, Zusetsu koreisha hakusho 1992, 119-120; and U.S. Bureau of Census,
Statistical Abstract of the United States (1990), 55.
2 David Plath, " 'Ecstasy Years' - Old Age in Japan." For predictors of institutional-
ization, see Vicki A. Freedman, Lisa F. Berkman, Stephen R. Rapp, and Adriean M.
Ostfeld, "Family Networks: Predictors of Nursing Home Entry."
34
Rights and Responsibilities in the Public Domain
As Robert Pinker noted, public policies ultimately rest on funda-

mental assumptions about the order of a "good society."3 The legal
framework of the social contract is created by human choices that
derive from these fundamental assumptions and institutional con-
straints.4 This chapter explores the normative conditions and insti-
tutional frameworks that underlie the social contract for the elderly in
the public domain. It examines the expectations and goals that are
specified in the policies, programs, and practices in Japan and the
United States. The analysis suggests that expectations of entitlement,
obligation, and equity shape the rights and responsibilities of the in-
dividual, family, and state differently in the two societies. We will first
explore the question of deservedness and equity in the state policies,
and then turn to the conditions of access to social services in Odawara
and West Haven.
ENTITLEMENT, OBLIGATION, AND EQUITY
In the 1960s and early 1970s, both Japan and the United States took a
series of legislative measures such as the Law for the Welfare of the
Aged and the Older Americans Act to enhance the well-being of their
older citizens.
The aged shall be loved and respected as those who have for
many years contributed toward the development of society and
a wholesome and peaceful life shall be guaranteed to them.
The aged shall be conscious of their mental and physical
changes due to aging, and shall always endeavor to maintain
their mental and physical health to participate in society with
their knowledge and experience.
In accordance with their desire and ability, the aged shall be
given opportunities to engage in suitable work or to participate
in social activities.5
3 Robert Pinker, Social Theory and Social Policy, 105.

4 See Frank Upham, Law and Social Change in Postwar Japan, for the relationship be-
tween traditional values and legal doctrine.
5 Full text in Rojin fukushiho, Law for the Welfare of the Aged, Law No. 133, July 11,
1963, revised 1990. Chapter 1: General Provisions, Articles 2 and 3.
35
The Congress hereby finds and declares that, in keeping with the
traditional American concept of the inherent dignity of the indi-
vidual in our democratic society, the older people of our Nation
are entitled to . . . secure equal opportunity to the full and free
enjoyment o f . . .
1. adequate income in retirement. . . .

2. best possible physical and mental health . . . without regard to
economic status.
3. suitable housing . . . designed and located with reference to spe-
cial needs and available at costs which older citizens can afford.
4. full restorative services for those who require institutional care.
5. opportunity for employment with no discriminatory personnel
practices because of age.
6. retirement in health, honor, dignity - after years of contribution
to the economy.
7. pursuit of meaningful activity within the widest range of...
opportunities.
8. efficient community services . . . which are readily available
when needed.
9. immediate benefit from proven research knowledge which can
sustain and improve health and happiness.
10. freedom, independence and the free exercise of individual initia-
tive in planning and managing their own lives.6
In response to what both nations saw as the burgeoning needs of the

elderly population, a series of laws and amendments were enacted to
allocate additional resources.7 Increasingly larger shares of the na-
tional budgets were committed to these programs; in the few decades
between 1959 and 1986, Japan increased its social security expendi-
ture by 298% and the United States, by 231%. 8 By 1987, public health
6 Full text in Older Americans Act of 1965, reauthorized in 1988. Title 1: Declaration
of Objectives, Section 101.
7 For excellent comprehensive analyses of these policy developments, see John C.
Campbell, How Policies Change: The Japanese Government and the Aging Society;
Martha Derthick, Policymaking for Social Security; Theodore Marmor, The Politics
of Medicare.
8 The proportion of social security expenditure over national income in Japan in-
creased from 4.9% to 14.6% between 1959 and 1986. The growth was similar in the
United States for the same period, when it rose from 7.0% to 16.2%. Since national
definitions of "social security" vary, cross-national comparisons are approximate.
36
care expenditures also comprised 5.15% of GNP in Japan and 4.58%

of GNP in the United States.9
The similarities of these policy trends conceal differences of fun-
damental principles that underlie old-age policies in the two na-
tions - normative differences that directly affect the effectiveness of
the provisions. Collectively, the set of policies targeted to the older
population in both nations covers similar grounds: income mainte-
nance, health care, social services, and employment opportunities.
With the exception of old-age pensions, these policies were also es-
tablished around the same time in both countries. In both societies, so-
cial security systems ensure financial security for retired persons who
may otherwise have no regular income or private funds on which to
rely.10 Whole or partial subsidy programs are available for the health
care of older persons who are otherwise unable to meet the higher
medical costs often incurred in old age.11 Employment laws encour-
age the continued labor force participation of senior workers.12 Direct
service programs in both countries offer a range of social services
for older persons who are unable to carry out basic daily tasks by
Changes within a nation over time, however, are usually measured by the same de-
finition. Japan Ministry of Health and Welfare, Kosei hakusho 1989, 223; Interna-
tional Labour Organisation, The Cost of Social Security: Twelfth International
Inquiry, 1981-1983.
9 Japan Ministry of Health and Welfare, Health and Welfare Statistics in Japan, 1990,
109; and calculation from U.S. Bureau of Census, Statistical Abstract of the United
States (1990), 93. The standard of living has also improved for the elderly of both
nations; the average income of an elderly couple reached approximately half of that
of all households in both countries by 1985. Calculated from Japan Ministry of
Health and Welfare, Kokumin seikatsu kiso chosa (1987), 130; Miura Fumio,
Zusetsu koreisha hakusho 1992, 43; and U.S. Bureau of Census, Statistical Abstract
of the United States (1990), 445.
10 The Social Security Act in the United States was established in 1935. The Univer-
sal Pension Plan in Japan was established in 1961. The Japanese social security sys-
tem was subsequently revised in 1985.
11 Medicare and Medicaid were both established as part of the Social Security Act in
the United States in 1965. Medical Subsidies for the Aged in Japan was established
in 1973; it subsequently evolved into the Health Care for the Aged Law in 1982,
which was also revised in 1986.
12 The Age Discrimination in Employment Act in the United States was established in
1967. In Japan, the Law for the Promotion of Employment for Middle-Aged and
Older Persons was enacted in 1971.
37
themselves.13 Programs to encourage social participation also consti-
tute the core of services provided for the healthy elderly population in
both nations.14 The convergence in the scope of coverage - given the
similarity of basic needs - is evident in Japan, the United States, and
other postindustrial nations.15 Yet underneath the convergence of
scope are fundamental differences in the basic assumptions that shape
the practices of old-age policies in the two nations.
The differences are most pronounced in policies affecting the di-
rect, instrumental services. The distinct normative underpinnings in
the declaration of objectives of the Law for the Welfare of the Aged
and the Older Americans Act are evident. The Japanese declaration
concerns itself with the notion of guarantee, whereas the American
counterpart is geared to the entitlement to independent life. In Japan,
the subject is responsibility; in the United States, the subject is rights.
Moreover, the Japanese preamble also prescribes that senior citizens
must modify their behavior to adapt to changes "due to aging." The
American counterpart, by contrast, pronounces the equal rights of in-
dividuals to self-sufficiency, for a continuation of independent life
into old age. Different notions of rights and responsibilities, change
and continuity - and, by implication, of deservedness - permeate the
rhetoric of these two legislations.
The notion that Japanese and American social security policies en-
tail different assumptions about individual rights and state responsi-
bilities has been noted by different scholars. Hye Kyung Lee identifies
a paternalistic ideology underlying public policies in Japan, in contrast
to the individualistic ideology she observes in the United States.16
Both Ronald Dore and Ishida Takeshi suggest that, historically, indi-
vidual rights in Japan have been consistently restrained in the interest
13 The Older Americans Act of 1965, and the Law for the Welfare of the Aged in Japan
of 1963, revised in 1990.
14 Older Americans Act and Law for the Welfare of the Aged.
15 James Schulz, Allan Borowski, and William Crown, Economics of Population Ag-
ing: The "Graying" of Australia, Japan and the United States, 341.
16 Hye Kyung Lee, Development of Social Welfare Systems in the United States and
Japan: A Comparative Study.
38
of the state, especially when compared with Western societies.17 In-
deed, Hashimoto Hiroko observes that the Ministry of Health and
Welfare's guidelines accompanying the Law for the Welfare of the
Aged refer to the measure explicitly as a responsibility of state insti-
tutions, not the rights of the elderly.18 As such, it is not surprising that
the Japanese legislation frames its requirements in the obligations of
individuals and the state.
The Older Americans Act, on the other hand, frames the rights of
older people in the ideology of equal opportunity and freedom com-
mon in American society. In keeping with an egalitarian notion that
lies at the core of the American belief system,19 the legislation in ef-
fect seeks to ensure that no person, on the basis of age, be denied op-
portunities to attain the basic necessities and goals of independent life.
Because older persons may be more physically and socially handi-
capped than younger persons, the government would try to offset any
obstacles by offering specific advantages in the form of services and
subsidies. Older Americans are entitled to all forms of social partici-
pation without discrimination, to seek and sustain an autonomous so-
cial existence.20 And as we will see, these different prescriptions of
obligation and entitlement symbolized in the Japanese and American
preambles are operationalized into different practices at the commu-
nity level.
The underlying prescriptions of obligation and entitlement in Japan
and the United States derive from differences in the meaning of eq-
uity that the two societies establish in the social contracts. Japanese
17 Ronald P. Dore, City Life in Japan: A Study of a Tokyo Ward, 72; Ishida Takeshi,
"Nihon ni okeru fukushi kannen no tokushitsu: Hikaku seijibunka no shiten kara."
18 Hashimoto Hiroko, Roreisha hosho no kenkyu: Seisaku tenkai to hbteki shikaku, and
"Rojin fukushiho ni yoru fukushi no genkai," 9. Hashimoto Hiroko refers here to
the Shosetsu rojin fukushiho published by the Japan Ministry of Health and Welfare.
19 Carl N. Degler, Out of Our Past: The Forces that Shaped Modern America,
157-160; David M. Potter, People of Plenty: Economic Abundance and the Ameri-
can Character, 91.
20 For a critical account of the development of the Older Americans Act and its prob-
lems of implementation, see Carroll L. Estes, The Aging Enterprise: A Critical
Examination of Social Policies and Services for the Aged, chaps. 3 and 6.
39
old-age policies, taken together, embrace the fundamental idea that the
elderly are different as a group of people characterized by the ascrip-
tive status of age. As such, the notion of social justice entailed in the
measures is framed in the practice of what I call compartmentalized
equity. American old-age policies, on the other hand, embrace dual
notions of equity that are not readily reconciled. This dilemma lies in
recognizing age as a criterion for allocating social resources, while at
the same time not recognizing the same criterion as a legitimate basis
for marking social differences.
The dynamics of American policies lie partly in the wide variation
of social needs that exists in the unified group defined by age. But the
fundamental problem is grounded in the ambivalence inherent in the
dual nature of American equity: the advancement of the ideal that all
Americans are equal among peoples who are different. The dilemma
lies at the heart of the American thinking about the problem of old age,
a point also made by Bernice Neugarten and Dail Neugarten.21 On the
one hand, some legislation such as the Older Americans Act and
Medicare defines older people as a special group with special needs
and circumstances. They are to be treated differently, on the basis of
age, and special measures are introduced to improve their standard of
living. On the other hand, legislation such as the Age Discrimination
in Employment Act claims at the same time that older people are not
to be treated any differently from anyone else merely on the basis of
age; they must not be discriminated against as a special group in seek-
ing gainful employment, just because they are old. The goal of this
legislation lies in establishing conditions of social equity not corre-
sponding to natural inequities of age. Under these principles, the old
must receive special attention and, at the same time, the old must not
receive special attention.
As far as the Japanese are concerned, the problem of discrimination
does not arise. In Japan old age is different. Age remains a legitimate
criterion for differentiating social participation particularly in this
21 Bernice L. Neugarten and Dail A. Neugarten, "Age in the Aging Society." For a the-
oretical treatment of the contradictions of goals in American social policy, see also
James S. Fishkin, Justice, Equal Opportunity, and the Family.
40
society where the principle of seniority has historically been used as a
safeguard to social order.22 But even after Japan formally embraced
the principles of social equity in the new constitution of postwar
democracy, the question of natural inequities has not become a central
social dilemma as it has in the country that introduced the new con-
stitution to Japan. Competition is encouraged, and meritocracy is pro-
moted, but they are confined and compartmentalized within each
social unit that can be biologically defined. Far from resolving un-
equal competition arising from natural differences through a unified
ideology of meritocracy, compartmentalized meritocracy in Japan ac-
cepts the order of natural differences and confines competition to
people who are equal within each ascriptive class.
This strategy has serious implications, particularly to minorities de-
fined by the ascriptive statuses of gender and ethnicity. With few ex-
ceptions, Japanese women rarely compete in the same job market as
men;23 occupational segregation of minorities is also rampant. But age
has survived as a preferred criterion for allocating resources and dis-
tributing rewards in the society as a whole, because of the social
recognition that there is something inherently fair about the process of
aging. Age, unlike gender or ethnicity, is not a permanent characteris-
tic attached to a set of people throughout life.24 Every young person
moves on to take his or her turn in old age with time. It is fair because
everyone ages: This appeals to the Japanese sense of justice.
This principle of compartmentalized equity25 serves well in remov-
ing an ideological overtone from old-age policy in Japan, at least in
comparison with its American counterpart. If old people are defined
as a special class of people who do not stand on equal footing with the
22 Thomas Rholen, "The Promise of Adulthood in Japanese Spiritualism," 129-130;

Chie Nakane, Japanese Society.
23 Mary Brinton, Women and the Economic Miracle: Gender and Work in Postwar
Japan, chap. 5.
24 Nancy Foner, Ages in Conflict: A Cross-Cultural Perspective on Inequality between
Old and Young, 130.
25 Ishida Takeshi also points to the notion of closed competition {tozasareta kyoso) in
describing a similar phenomenon in the context of conformity and competition in
the Japanese political culture. See Nihon no seiji bunka: Docho to kyoso, 116; and
also Japanese Political Culture: Change and Continuity.
41
young regarding their abilities and privileges, the task of old-age pol-
icy may be a relatively straightforward one of promoting "welfare,"
rather than "welfare and justice." The Law for the Welfare of the Aged
sets out governmental guidelines to address the interests of old people
without invoking the question of independence and equity, as does the
Older Americans Act. Japan's Law for the Promotion of Employment
for Middle-Aged and Older Persons seeks to safeguard the labor force
participation of older Japanese without invoking the question of dis-
crimination as does the American Age Discrimination in Employment
Act. Social justice in old age is less problematic because aging itself
is considered egalitarian in nature. What remains for an old-age pol-
icy to accomplish, then, is to dispense the appropriate provisions.26
The promotion of equity and social justice is more central to Amer-
ican old-age policies than the Japanese not only because democratic
principles are at stake, but also because the dignity of the elderly is
more easily threatened in the environment of undifferentiated compe-
tition. To depend on social provisions has always come at a cost to
one's independence and dignity since the beginning of social welfare
history.27 Many of the past developments and progress made in the
field of social welfare have been related to removing the social stigma
from the benefits by turning them into entitlements.
The question of degradation and dependency, however, is less seri-
ous in Japan, because old-age policies need not be legitimated with
equity concerns. Although the stigma created by relying on social
services is not eliminated, the dignity of the old does not depend on
the same conditions as the young - on social activity, participation,
and resourcefulness. The demands made on the old are different from
those made on the young; after all, "the aged shall be loved and re-
spected" because they are in an ascriptive class by themselves, to be
judged by the accumulated credits and contributions they have made
in the past. The credit builds up over a lifetime and remains in good
standing so that the old become deserving of the benefits in a way that
26 Fukutake Tadashi also suggests that Japan has historically paid little attention to
promoting distributive justice through its welfare policies. See Shakai hoshoron
dansho, 137.
27 Margaret K. Rosenheim, "Social Welfare and Its Implications for Family Living."
42
the untested young are not. If individual responsibility requires that

"the aged shall be conscious of their mental and physical changes due
to aging," then they are a class of people who can legitimately expect
protection from others.
INDIVIDUAL, FAMILY, AND STATE
Although the notion of independence is made more explicit in the Amer-

ican policies, the concern is relevant to the Japanese context as well; it
refers, however, to different units of self-sufficiency. In the comparative
analysis of social provisions at the community level, two distinct no-
tions of self-sufficiency emerge. In Japan, self-sufficiency refers to the
independence of the family from the state. In the United States, it refers
to the independence of the individual from the family and the state. The
distinction primarily concerns the role of the family vis-a-vis the state,
with significant implications for the way local administrators recognize
and meet individual needs in the two communities. The different as-
signment of responsibilities to the individual, family, and state was ev-
ident in the practices of direct services in Odawara and West Haven.
Formal services available to the elderly in West Haven were exten-
sive in variety and range. The community directory listed approxi-
mately 450 nonprofit (provider) community organizations in the
Greater New Haven region alone.28 Of these, more than half provided
services that directly or indirectly benefited the elderly residents of the
region. Notable among the programs were daily congregate meals,
meals-on-wheels, transportation, day care, health care, employment
services, legal aid, housing, fuel assistance, senior centers, and refer-
ral and coordination services.29 These services met an extensive range
of needs, from nutrition and accommodation, to health care and
companionship. The range of professional staff and volunteers who
28 INFOLINE, Directory of Community Services: South Central Connecticut, 1st ed.

In 1993, there were more than 550 services listed; see INFOLINE, Directory of
Community Services: South Central Connecticut, 5th ed.
29 Social services in West Haven discussed here are not distinguished by sources of
funding from the federal government, the state of Connecticut, the Greater New
Haven agencies, the city of West Haven, and the private nonprofit agencies in
the New Haven and/or West Haven area. Some services are jointly sponsored by
43
provided the services on a day-to-day basis, accordingly, was also re-
markably diffuse.
The eligibility for these services was almost uniformly set with
age - mostly at age 60 (by provisions of the Older Americans Act),
and some others at ages 55 or 62. A few required recipients to be be-
low a certain income level (e.g., public housing, legal aid), and some
direct services obviously assumed physical need (e.g., day care,
meals-on-wheels, transportation services). From a comparative stand-
point, these eligibility criteria were minimal and allowed a greater
number of senior citizens to utilize the community services in West
Haven.3o
The formal services available to the elderly in Odawara, by con-
trast, were smaller in scale, and also directed toward target popula-
tions according to stringent eligibility criteria. The groups especially
targeted for the Odawara services were the bedridden (netakiri) and
those living alone (hitorigurashi).31 Services were run primarily by
two central organizations - the Division of Elderly Services of
Odawara City and the Social Welfare Council - and by a small group
of voluntary organizations. Notable among these programs were con-
gregate meals, home helpers, friendly visitors, employment, tele-
phone reassurance, and senior centers. Unlike in West Haven, there
were also mobile bathing services, bedding rentals, and elderly festi-
vals (keiro gydji).32
multiple providers, others by single providers. I cite what appear to be the most ef-
fective services regardless of organizational initiatives, because such distinctions
are of little concern from the perspective of the recipients themselves.
Today, the budget of the city of West Haven's Department of Elderly Services
has increased in proportion to total expenditures. Although the city experienced a
financial crisis in 1992 which required loan guarantees from the state of Connecti-
cut, the department's operations remain relatively intact. See City of West Haven,
Budget Adopted by the City Council, 1980-1981, A-41; Budget Adopted by the City
Council, 1985-86, A-44; Approved Operating Budget, 1994-1995, 192.
30 For a discussion of the trade-offs between age and need eligibility criteria in the
American context, see Bernice L. Neugarten, "Policy for the 1980s: Age or Need
Entitlement?"
31 More recently, limited services targeted at the frail elderly {kyojaku rojin) and el-
derly with senile dementia (chiho rojin) have also been added.
32 Social services described for Odawara are funded and/or operated by the national
government, Kanagawa Prefecture, and Odawara City. Private nonprofit organiza-
44
Most of these programs were targeted toward those aged 65 and

over. More important, however, most were also targeted to those with
limited family assistance. The marker of vulnerability for service
provisions was not only need - low income and high disability - but
also family status. In different town sections, congregate meals were
available from twice a month to once every four months, only for
those living alone.33 Home helpers (katei hoshi-in) were available
for those affected by "adverse family circumstances."34 Friendly visi-
tors attended to those living alone or only with a spouse. Telephone
reassurance services were available for those elderly residents who
were living alone and were below poverty level.35 Bathing and bed-
ding services were also offered to those living alone or those who
were bedridden.36
The implementation of such stringent criteria is impossible with-
out the provider's knowledge of the exact whereabouts of the elderly
and the status of their families and health. The target population37
was listed in a special registry, which was constructed, updated, and
reported to the city by 209 welfare commissioners (minsei-iin)}%
This listing, based on a roster of registered local residents, was then
tions of the region also fund services to a limited extent, separately or jointly with
the public sector.
33 Since 1993, Odawara City has begun a daily meals delivery service for 200 resi-
dents; again, over 90% of the beneficiaries comprise elderly persons living alone or
with spouse only.
34 The home helper program covered 30 cases in 1982, and 35 cases in 1994. See
Naomi Maruo's "The Development of the Welfare Mix in Japan," 70-71, for a dis-
cussion of the drastically low helper-client ratio in Japan compared with the ratios
in other postindustrial societies,
35 This program, which covered 25 cases in 1982, was recently updated. The new
emergency alarm service covers 316 cases, and it is again targeted toward elderly
residents living alone or with spouse only.
36 The coverage for this program ranged from 48 to 60 households in the past decade.
37 In April 1982, there were 189 bedridden elderly in Odawara City (80 in West Side
Odawara), and 412 elderly persons lived in single households (255 in Westside
Odawara). These figures have increased in proportion to the growing elderly popu-
lation in the city; in June 1994, there were 286 bedridden elderly, and 1,058 elderly
residents living in single households.
38 Minsei-iin are statutory voluntary workers. The Welfare Commissioner Law of 1948
stipulates that minsei-iin, designated by the minister of health and welfare, monitor
the needy in each town district. Minsei-iin are unsalaried (i.e., reimbursed only for
45
made available to welfare council professionals, local police stations
{kobari), elderly counselors (mjinsodan-in), and community organi-
zations (chonaikai) to allow them to focus their efforts on those who
fit the designated criteria.
The use of family status as a criterion for provisions in Odawara
was notable for access to direct instrumental services and nursing
home facilities. Since demand continually exceeds supply in a climate
of limited resources, Odawara service providers consistently referred
to this criterion in selecting their clients and allocating their resources.
Social services presuppose the primacy of family support and thus ef-
forts were compartmentalized to those who have no family to live with
them. The family as the unit of self-sufficiency was thus both legiti-
mated and reinforced through these practices.
Two legal guidelines have been especially significant in the prac-
tice of these direct services: the principle of private initiative (shiteki
fuyo no gensoku) and the principle of household unit (setai tan 'i no
gensoku). The former principle refers to the notion that private sup-
port takes precedence over public support, that is, individuals must ex-
haust private resources before resorting to public funds.39 The latter
principle refers to the notion that individuals must first exhaust house-
hold resources before turning to state intervention.40 Service providers
in Odawara adhered to these principles for the most part, and at times
sought appropriate family members to solicit their cooperation. For
American providers, no comparable prescriptions existed to restrict
their services to specific groups of people among the elderly.
These observations at the community level shed light on the differ-
ent meaning of family responsibility and security in Japan and the
United States. While family responsibility laws exist in Japan, the
expenses), but they carry prestige and exercise discretionary power in the commu-
nity. The West Haven counterparts - municipal agents - are fewer in number and
carry less authority. In 1994, the number of minsei-iin in Odawara increased to 248.
For a historical account of this system, see Stephen Anderson, Welfare Policy and
Politics in Japan: Beyond the Developmental State, chap. 5; and also Eyal Ben-Ari,
Changing Japanese Suburbia: A Study of Two Present-Day Localities, 125.
39 Daily Life Security Law 1950 Article 4 Section 2.
40 Akaishi Toshimi, "Kazokuho tono kakawari: Kotekifujo to shitekifuyo no kanren to
mondaiten."
46
United States, and other Western societies, the Japanese law is ap-
plicable to a wider range of family members than elsewhere:41 lineal
relatives and siblings and, under special circumstances, all other
relatives within the third degree.42 Although disputed cases brought
to family court are limited in unlitigious Japan,43 the stipulation is
well known among the general public. By contrast, few Americans
are aware that the stipulation even exists. In the United States, fam-
ily responsibility laws exist in 27 states, including the state of
Connecticut, stipulating the responsibility of support to spouse,
parent, child, grandparent, grandchild, and siblings.44 These state
laws, however, remain virtually impossible to enforce across state
boundaries.45 They are also at odds with federal regulations such
as Medicare and Medicaid that proscribe the application of fam-
ily responsibility laws to their recipients.46 The reason cited most
commonly for effectively eliminating the legal responsibility of
children is the elderly's own desire not to burden their children.47
Although family concerns remain an important component of
support, expectations with respect to obligations between the el-
derly parent and adult child defy clear social definition in the
United States.48
41 Yuzawa Yasuhiko, "Rojin fuyo mondai no kozo to tenkai," 22-28; Max Rheinstein,
"Duty of Children to Support Parents," 442.
42 Civil Code Chapter VI, Article 877. For a discussion, see Daisaku Maeda and
Youmei Nakatani, "Family Care of the Elderly in Japan," 196-197.
43 Toshitani Nobuyoshi, "Fukushi to kazoku: Roshin fuyo o chyushin to shite." Toshi-
tani reports that, on average, only 600 charges concerning the elderly are brought
forward annually.
44 The Family Responsibility Law in the state of Connecticut originated in 1958. See
W. Walton Garrett, "Filial Responsibility Laws."
45 Alvin Schorr, Thy Father and Thy Mother: A Second Look at Filial Responsibility
and Family Policy, 27-28; Eugene Litwack, Helping the Elderly: The Comple-
mentary Roles of Informal Networks and Formal Systems, 240; Max Rheinstein,
"Motivation of Intergenerational Behavior by Norms and Law," 237-238.
46 Theodore Marmor, Politics of Medicare; David G. Smith, Paying for Medicare: The
Politics of Reform; Robert Moroney, Shared Responsibility: Families and Social
Policy, 11-12; Alvin Schorr, Thy Father and Thy Mother: A Second Look at Filial
Responsibility and Family Policy, 28.
47 Alvin Schorr, Thy Father and Thy Mother, 11.
48 Alan Wolfe, Whose Keeper? Social Science and Moral Obligation, 85.
47
As John Campbell and James Schulz and colleagues have empha-

sized, the broad outline of contemporary old-age policies in Japan
and the United States today is relatively similar;49 the social security
and health care systems for the elderly, in particular, mainly provide
comparable benefits with roughly similar eligibility requirements.50
Nevertheless, the normative conditions of social policy that I have
discussed for the two societies affect the area of direct social services
quite differently. These conditions have also influenced the public
discourse over the social provisions: The establishment of the
"Japan-style welfare society" - which induced a series of legislative
reforms to curb rising social security expenditures in the 1980s - re-
lied on normative prescriptions such as compartmentalized equity
and self-sufficiency of the family for its legitimation.51 Although the
attempt to invoke familism to legitimate social policy directions can
also be seen in the United States and elsewhere,52 its impact on the
popular discourse was far greater in Japan, because it resonates with
cultural assumptions that are more readily recognized.
49 John C. Campbell, How Policies Change; James Schulz et al., Economics of Popu-
lation Aging: The "Graying" of Australia, Japan and the United States, 341.
50 This assessment applies to the current provisions as a whole. However, since the
Japanese universal pension system was established only in 1961, many elderly of
the older cohort today receive substantially lower social security benefits from the
National Pension or the National Welfare Pension; the recent pension reform has not
altered these benefit levels.
51 Sato Susumu, "Nihongata fukushi kokka no hoseisaku no tenkai katei: Koreika to
shakaiteki fuyo no genjittai to sono mondai o chyushin toshite," and Sekai no kor-
eisha fukushi seisaku: Kyo, asu no nihon o mitsumete; Ogawa Masaaki, Shakai
hoshoken: Ayumi to gendaiteki igi
52 Robert Moroney, Shared Responsibility: Families and Social Policy, chap. 1; Alan
Walker, "Intergenerational Relations and Welfare Restructuring: The Social Con-
struction of an Intergenerational Problem," 162.
48
The Practice of Protection
and Intervention in the
Private Domain
We were both born and brought up in New Haven. My husband's

father had a grocery store. We used to shop in that store as girls. . . .
My husband was born a couple of blocks away from me. . . . We're
basically always together.
- Elsie Bowen (71), former clerical worker
It was an arranged marriage. I was his second wife, so there was a big
age difference between us. Some relatives became our go-betweens.
- Sada Kiyo (80), former farmer
S ECURITY, equity, and self-sufficiency, important to the discus-

sion of the public contract, are also central issues for understand-
ing the private contract in both Japan and the United States. Helping
arrangements in the private domain consist of the noninstitutional,
informal support offered to the elderly by their family and social net-
works, which usually includes relatives, friends, neighbors, and ac-
quaintances. These networks of private life are complex, because they
are based on the dynamics of life cycle transitions, cohabitation, af-
fection, intimacy, and companionship that lie at the heart of these in-
terdependent relationships. We will explore these dynamics of private
helping arrangements here and in the following two chapters. In this
chapter, we will explore the conditions of helping arrangements in the
two communities by examining the junctures of giving and receiving
help at the aggregate level. As we will see, the objective conditions of
proximity and the subjective conditions of evaluating vulnerability
both play an important role in the practices of social support. Both of
these conditions are essential in shaping the private contract, of which
49
we will identify two distinct types: the protective approach in Japan,
and the contingency approach in the United States.
The narratives of Elsie and Kiyo in the opening of this chapter
demonstrate the different historical traditions of the Japanese and
American family systems, which many scholars of the family have also
described. Chudacoff and Hareven, for instance, have documented the
prevalence of the nuclear family in the United States, dating back to
preindustrial times.1 By contrast, the Japanese family originates in the
extended stem family system, ie, illustrated also by social scientists
like Chie Nakane, Kawashima Takeyoshi, and Keith Brown.2 Al-
though American families are ethnically varied and Japanese families
have also become increasingly nuclear in recent decades, family rela-
tionships in both societies do not escape these cultural influences. In
the two communities of our study, the marriages of older people orig-
inate in entirely different notions of mate selection; it is therefore not
surprising that the primary bonds of affection and interdependence dif-
fer in the two cultures along conjugal and filial ties. As we will see,
these different priorities have distinct implications for relationships of
reciprocity, obligation, and dependency forged in the private contract.
It would be rather obvious to attribute the difference between filial
family support in Japan and social network support in the United States
to cultural and historical particularities. After all, the past experiences
of primogeniture have been quite different in the two societies.3 As we
map out the differences and similarities of helping arrangements in the
two communities, however, we will find that more factors than differ-
ent family traditions are at work. Anticipated life course trajectories
and assumptions about the nature of security and self-sufficiency play
an important role in shaping such helping arrangements; socioeco-
nomic factors - such as geographical mobility, occupational changes,
1 H. P. Chudacoff and T. K. Hareven, "Family Transitions into Old Age."

2 Chie Nakane, "An Interpretation of the Size and Structure of the Household in Japan
over Three Centuries"; Kawashima Takeyoshi, Nikon no kazoku seido; L. Keith
Brown, "Dozoku and the Ideology of Descent in Rural Japan."
3 The formal abolishment of primogeniture in the United States predates that of Japan
by 170 years. Carole Shammas, Marylynn Salmon, and Michel Dahlin, Inheritance
in America: From Colonial Times to the Present, 208; Shimazu Ichiro, Shinzoku
sozokuho, 179.
50
Protection and Intervention in the Private Domain
and housing options - also influence the practices of support. The dif-
ference in these expectations, commitments, and social constraints will
become evident as we examine the practices of giving and receiving in
the two communities. We will find that these conditions also effec-
tively recreate and reinvent the historical traditions.4
INSIDE THE HOUSEHOLD
Ordinarily people spend much of the day with those who share the house-
hold with them. In old age, when less time is spent outside the home at
full-time work, much of daily routines - eating, sleeping, talking, play-
ing, and working - are also shared by those living together. Through
these shared experiences of daily living, people who live together reach
a level of intimacy that is entirely different from that of close relation-
ships established outside the home. People who live together tolerate
and bear one another's habits, flaws, idiosyncrasies, and needs, both at
their best and their worst; among themselves, they develop a more com-
mitted pattern of reciprocal care, one that is not easily retractable even
in times of conflict. People most often rely on household members when
in need - emotionally, instrumentally, and financially - whether out of
affinity, responsibility, or necessity. Household members, then, repre-
sent the most essential resources of help in everyday life; and the house-
hold is, in this sense, the most basic social unit of sufficiency.
People living together are usually, but not always, members of a
family.5 Thus living arrangements vary, mostly depending on
4 See Robert Smith, Japanese Society: Tradition, Self and the Social Order, chap. 1,
and "Presidential Address: Something Old, Something New - Tradition and Cul-
ture in the Study of Japan." See also Eric Hobsbawm "Introduction: Inventing Tra-
ditions," 1-4.
5 The definition of "family" varies not only from one society to another, but also from
one individual to another. This is especially true regarding the inclusion of married
children and their spouses who live away. People also shift their definition of family
situationally, depending on their perception of intersubjectivity: When addressing
outsiders, the family membership tends to be more inclusive, and when addressing
insiders, the membership tends to be more exclusive. Thus, the term family in this
study refers to the members whom each individual chooses to include according to
his or her own definition; in both societies, it usually refers loosely but not rigidly to
those sharing the household.
51
Table 4.1. Living arrangements in West Haven and Westside

Odawara, in % (N)
Living arrangement by Westside

household type West Haven Odawara
One-generation
Living alone 27.1 (71) 10.0 (21)
Living with spouse 42.4 (111) 14.8 (31)
Two-generation
Living with unmarried
child/children 17.9 (47) 12.9 (27)
Living with married
child/children 2.7 (7) 6.7 (14)
Three-generation
Living with children and
grandchildren 6.1 (16) 46.9 (98)
Four-generation
Living with children,
grandchildren, and
great-grandchildren 0 (0) 4.3 (9)
Other 3.8 (10) 4.3 (9)
Total 100.0 (262) 100.0 (209)
whether or not individuals are married and have children.6 These

family circumstances, in turn, relate to age and the stages of one's
life cycle. In the later stage of the life cycle, living arrangements can
be classified broadly into three categories: living with spouse, liv-
ing with children,7 and living alone. We will examine these three
arrangements in turn.
In Odawara and West Haven, the living arrangements of the elderly
are remarkably different (Table 4.1). In Odawara the majority of the
elderly (70.8%) lived with their children, mostly in three-generation
households, and sometimes even in four-generation households. By
6 U.S. Bureau of Census, Statistical Abstract of the United States (1979); Japan Prime
Minister's Office, Statistics Bureau, Nihon no tokei 1982, 21.
7 In this study, respondents classified as living with children do so regardless of their
marital status.
52
contrast, the most common living arrangement among the elderly in
West Haven was the husband-wife household. Living with children
was the least frequent living arrangement among the Americans, and
indeed more lived alone than with their children.8 Moreover, the group
of West Haveners who lived with their children did so under substan-
tially different conditions from their Odawaran counterparts: They
lived with unmarried children in two-generation households.9 The
contrast between the prevalence of filial households in Odawara and
that of conjugal households in West Haven is evident, confirming
trends that are documented also at the national level.10
These different conditions of coresidence have profound implica-
tions for the way in which the elderly access their family members for
help. The more people there are in the household, the more potential
resources it has to share the earning, driving, cooking, cleaning, and
caring for the ill. On average, there were twice as many family mem-
bers in the Japanese household as in the American household,11
8 The small group classified as "other" in West Haven lived with siblings and sib-
lings' spouses, and none lived with more distant relatives or with friends.
9 The higher proportion of West Haveners living with their children relative to the na-
tional average is likely to be due to ethnic factors. Of those living with their chil-
dren, 48.5% were of Italian descent, whereas the corresponding proportions of
Italian Americans among those living alone and those living alone nationally were
smaller (35.4% and 39.1% respectively). In a study of 66 Italian American elderly
in New England, Colleen Leahy Johnson also found that a higher proportion (22%)
lived with children compared with the national average, although the proportion of
those living alone was about the same (35%). See Growing Up and Growing Old in
Italian American Families, 146.
10 National figures for Japan at the time of the survey were: living alone 8.5%; living
with spouse 20.5%; and living with child 68.0%. The corresponding national aver-
ages for the United States were: living alone 32.0%; living with spouse 53.3%; and
living with child 14.4%. See Soda Takemune and Miura Fumio, Zusetsu Rojin
hakusho 1983, 41; and Carole Allan and Herman Brotman, Chartbook on Aging in
America, 100. The 1982 national surveys conducted by the Japan Prime Minister's
Office show fewer filial households in both countries (Japan, 52.1%; United States,
9.9%), but these figures were likely to have been deflated by the inclusive use of the
"other" category (Japan, 17.0%; United States, 8.8%); see Rojin no seikatsu to
ishiki: Kokusai hikaku chosa kekka hokokusho, 52.
11 The average number of persons per household was 4.2 in Odawara and 2.1 in West
Haven. The Odawaran household members were also on average 17 years younger
than their American counterparts.
53
although they both lived in the same size dwellings.12 These differ-
ent patterns show the significant concentration of potential sup-
port resources in the Odawara household compared with that in
West Haven.
Our concern for identifying available resources also extends to the
variation by individual circumstances, and in this connection, it is use-
ful to observe the distribution of living arrangements by gender,13 mar-
ital status,14 and age. In both communities, significantly more women
than men lived alone, due to their longer life expectancies and the fact
that men are usually older than women at marriage. The two commu-
nities, however, show different patterns of association between living
arrangements and age. In West Haven, living arrangements change
significantly with age;15 in Odawara, they remain the same across dif-
ferent age groups (Table 4.2).
The apparent increase of Americans living alone in the older age
group is not surprising, considering the fact that the ability to main-
tain the conjugal household, the most common living arrangement,
is contingent on the longevity of the spouse. Predictably in West
Haven, the conjugal household was most common only for those aged
79 and under; the average age of people living with their spouse was
12 The average number of rooms per household was 4.9 in Odawara, and 4.8 in
West Haven.
13 A note on the gender proportions derived from the stratified sampling procedure
in West Haven is in order. The survey was designed to obtain an equal propor-
tion of men and women for the purpose of investigating health status; this
sample therefore entails a small overrepresentation of men (52% men, 48%
women). The 1980 census showed that 40.0% of those over age 65 in West
Haven were men and 60.0% were women; on the other hand, a Regional Plan-
ning Agency Survey conducted in 1977 showed a more even breakdown-
48% men and 52% women. To obtain even gender proportions, this sample also
somewhat overrepresents married persons (who were men). My analysis of gender
in this study is limited because of these constraints. See the appendix for details of
the sampling procedures in both communities.
14 Of the unmarried category, 84.3% were widowed.
15 Associations described throughout this chapter are based upon tests of significance
for /-statistics, chi-squares, Pearson correlation, or b coefficients. Results reported
are significant at/? < 0.05.
54
Table 4.2. Living arrangements by age, marital status, and sex in

West Haven and Westside Odawara, in % (TV)
With child With child

With (2 gen- (3 & 4 gen-
Alone spouse erations) erations)
West Haven
Age**
65-69 18.2 53.5 23.2 5.1
70-74" 26.4 54.2 13.9 5.6
75-79" 30.6 36.1 27.8 5.6
80+ 50.0 13.6 25.0 11.4
Total 27.9 (70) 44.2(111) 21.5(54) 6.4(16)
Sex**
Men 14.4 55.3 23.5 6.8
Women 43.3 31.7 19.2 5.8
Total 28.2(71) 44.0(111) 21.4(54) 6.3(16)
Marital status
Married — 71.6 23.2 5.2
Unmarried 72.6 — 18.9 8.4
Total" 27.6 (69) 44.4(111) 21.6(54) 6.4(16)
Westside Odawara
Age
65-69 11.1 23.6 19.4 45.9
70-74" 9.4 17.0 22.6 50.9
75-79" 12.2 7.3 17.1 63.4
80+ 8.8 5.9 23.5 61.8
Total 10.5(21) 15.5(31) 20.5(41) 53.5(107)
Sex**
Men 4.6 26.4 20.7 48.3
Women 15.0 7.1 20.4 57.5
Total 10.5 (21) 15.5(31) 20.5(41) 53.5 (107)
Marital status
Married — 31.6 20.4 48.0
Unmarried 21.0 — 20.0 59.0
Total 10.6(21) 15.7(31) 20.2 (40) 53.5(106)
Note: "Other" category of living arrangements is excluded.

"Figures do not add up to 100.0 due to rounding.
**Chi-square statistics are significant at 0.01 level.
55
6 years younger than those in other living arrangements.16 By contrast,
half of the West Haven elderly aged 80 and over lived alone, and they
were predominantly women - a well-known phenomenon among the
American elderly nationally.17
However, the three-generation household was common among the
Odawaran elderly of all ages. The Japanese elderly lived with their
children regardless of whether or not their spouses were still alive, and
regardless of how many children they had.18 Although the incidence
of coresidence in three-generation households is generally higher for
those in older age groups, this increase was not statistically signifi-
cant. It indicates that although living alone was as much a widow's ex-
perience in Odawara as it was in West Haven, the Japanese women
were also somewhat more likely to move in with their children than
live alone in advanced old age.
By viewing the serial cross section of age groups as synthetic co-
horts with some caution,19 we can surmise household transitions of the
elderly by age - transitions that will also be confirmed in the case
studies of the following chapters. West Haveners make a transition
from conjugal household to single household with increasing age; the
Odawara counterparts retain the same living arrangement across age
16 The average age of couples living in conjugal households was 71 years. As one
would expect from their shorter life expectancy and marriage to younger wives,
more men lived in conjugal households than women. In the American sample, the
age of respondents ranged from 65 to 95 years.
17 See Karen Holden's "Poverty and Living Arrangements among Older Women: Are
Changes in Economic Weil-Being Underestimated?" for an account of the drastic
increase in single households among the American elderly during 1950-1980. Ad-
ditionally, the small group of West Haveners living with their children were diverse:
Some still had children of school age, and others lived with single, middle-aged chil-
dren. In some cases, the parent and child had always lived together; in other cases,
they had merged their households at the onset of a parent's illness.
18 The fact that there were fewer childless Odawarans than West Haveners (6% com-
pared with 13%) has a small bearing on the greater Odawaran proneness to filial
coresidence. This trend reflects the practice of adult adoption {yoshi engumi) dis-
cussed in Chapter 1, not a natural difference in the rate of childlessness. Adopted
children were grouped together with natural children in the analysis.
19 The cross-sectional nature of the data makes the synthetic-cohort approach neces-
sary. For an overview of methods in life course research and synthetic cohorts, see
Angela O'Rand, "Stratification and the Life Course."
56
groups. Whereas in West Haven widowhood is an important marker
that creates household transitions, in Odawara it does not. These pat-
terns are consistent with trends found also at the national level.20
With the predominance of husband-wife households in the ear-
lier years of old age among Americans, a major change in house-
hold structure is inevitable in the event of a spouse's death. Many
people, especially women, must change their living arrangements to
single households in advanced old age; only in exceptional cases
does widowhood in the older age group seem to result in coresi-
dence with (married or unmarried) children. In this way, the elderly
in West Haven continue to make adjustments in living arrangements
even late into their life cycle; finally, there is the possibility of mak-
ing a further transition to a nursing home. As we will see in Chap-
ter 6, relations with children, friends, and acquaintances also
undergo changes as a result of widowhood. This anticipation of un-
certain future transitions fundamentally affects the way in which
Americans prepare for their security and self-sufficiency in old age.
The Japanese three-generation household, by contrast, is seemingly
more resilient in these life course transitions.21 The same life events
that affect American households do not alter the basic household con-
ditions in Japan, because filial households are the building blocks to
which in-laws and grandchildren are added as a result of the child's
marriage: Widowhood does not change this structure. Thus the tradi-
tion of primogeniture is reproduced in postindustrial Odawara, but to-
day it is recreated as an arrangement that regulates interests in filial
relationships, as we will see in Chapter 5.
The different patterns of living arrangements in the two communi-
ties invite a series of questions regarding differences in the nature of
helping arrangements of the elderly in the two societies. The durable
nature of Japanese households, in contrast to more transient American
20 Jacob S. Siegel and Cynthia M. Taeuber, "Demographic Perspectives on the Long-

Lived Society."
21 The lower incidence of divorce in Japan also induces stability and fewer household
transitions. The divorce rates were 1.32 in Japan and 5.19 in the United States per
1,000 population. Japan Prime Minister's Office, Statistics Bureau, Kokusai tokei
yoran 1982, 24.
57
households, suggests that older people in Japan come to rely on their
children over a very long time span. On the other hand, the prevalence
of the smaller-sized, transitional conjugal households and single
households in the American community suggests that relationships
with friends, relatives, and nonresident children may substitute for
what is not found inside the boundary of the household. This is the
subject to which we will turn in the following section.
OUTSIDE THE HOUSEHOLD
As we map out the patterns of older people's social ties outside the
household, we discover more differences between the two communi-
ties: The Americans maintain much stronger peer group ties as part
of their social network than do the Japanese. These networks out-
side the household represent potential support resources that are
contingent on the availability of resources inside the household - a
relationality that Ethel Shanas refers to as the principle of substitu-
tion.22 These networks play a key role in instrumental help and com-
panionship for older Americans. As Marjorie Cantor, Virginia Little,
and others23 have pointed out, this phenomenon speaks to the larger
division of labor - among spouse, children, relatives, and friends -
that takes place in the American context; Toni Antonucci has also
referred to this social network over the life course as the convoy of
social support.24
The social network outside the household usually consists of non-
resident children, relatives, friends, neighbors, and acquaintances.
Most elderly in both communities are close to their nonresident chil-
22 Ethel Shanas, "The Family as a Social Support System in Old Age."

23 Marjorie Cantor and Virginia Little, "Aging and Social Care." See also Ethel
Shanas, "The Family as a Social Support System in Old Age," and Eugene Litwak,
Helping the Elderly: The Complementary Roles of Informal Networks and Formal
Systems.
24 Toni Antonucci, "Personal Characteristics, Social Support, and Social Behavior."
See also Toni Antonucci and Hiroko Akiyama, "Social Networks in Adult Life and
a Preliminary Examination of the Convoy Model." Examining the case for Japan,
David Plath refers to these associates over the life course as consociates; see Long
Engagements: Maturity in Modern Japan, 8-9.
58
dren regardless of living arrangement.25 However, the characteristic
difference in the network patterns is found not in the role of children,
but in the centrality of peer group ties. On average, the West Haven
networks included almost 3 times as many close friends, and 1.5 times
as many close relatives, as the Odawara networks.26 The fact that these
American networks included many peer relationships attests to the
importance of the old-age subculture that Arnold Rose and Arlie
Hochschild have suggested.27
Although the Japanese are more noted for their regard for age grading
than the Americans,28 they paradoxically maintain weaker peer group
ties among their age-sets. These peer group ties are limited partly be-
cause filial attachments are strong, and also because adult peer relations
in an age-stratified environment are competitive. Takie Lebra suggests
that vertical alliance in Japan is indeed forged at the expense of hori-
zontal alliance.29 Conversely, the stronger age-group solidarity among
the elderly in the less age graded of the two societies, the United States,
may be accounted for by the relative absence of clear definition about
intergenerational differences.30 Along these lines, Jennie Keith has ar-
gued that age homogeneity among older people is often evoked when
intergenerational relations no longer work to their relative advantage.31
The relative advantages of age segregation versus age integration is
a controversy discussed more commonly among West Haveners than
Odawarans, who conceive the matter more as a choice between two
equally feasible alternatives than as nonnegotiable social impera-
tives. This perception of choice, and its connotation of voluntarism
25 Of the elderly not living with children, over two-thirds in West Haven reported hav-
ing at least one child in the same city region, compared with one-half in Odawara.
The average number of surviving children was 2.3 in West Haven and 3.4 in Oda-
wara. The number of children does not differ significantly by age in either sample.
26 The average number of close friends was 5.1 in West Haven and 1.8 in Odawara.
The same for close relatives was 3.1 in West Haven and 2.1 in Odawara.
27 Arnold Rose, "The Subculture of the Aging"; Arlie Hochschild, The Unexpected
Community: Portrait of an Old Age Subculture.
28 For a description of age grading and rank order by seniority in Japan, see Edward
Norbeck, "Age-Grading in Japan," and Chie Nakane, Japanese Society.
29 Takie Sugryama Lebra, Japanese Patterns of Behavior, 11.
30 Bernice L. Neugarten and Dail A. Neugarten, "Age in the Aging Society."
31 Jennie Keith, "Age in Anthropological Research," 253.
59
and autonomy, lies at the heart of the formation of extensive networks
in West Haven, which we will turn to in greater detail in Chapter 6. In
Odawara, by contrast, the local network is perceived only as a second
choice for support at best, something that the elderly resort to when all
possibilities of family help have failed to materialize.32
The elderly in the two communities usually refer to the same people
as close relatives and close friends: siblings, brothers- and sisters-in-
law, cousins, and friends from former workplaces, social clubs, neigh-
borhoods, and even old schools. Despite their longer residence33 and
greater rootedness in the community, the Odawarans had limited ties
with their lifelong peers who grew up in the community with them.
Many had no close relatives and friends in their local network; over
one-third had no close relatives and almost one-half had no close
friends at all (Table 4.3). By contrast, the majority in West Haven had
many close relatives and friends in the local area, and over a quarter re-
ported more than 10 close friends.34 The importance of friends in West
Haven is rooted in the "peer group society," which Herbert Gans ob-
served,35 and in the strength of community bonds in American society,
which Rubin, Bellah and his colleagues, and others have also described.36
32 Marvin B. Sussman and James C. Romeis's comparative study of Winston-Salem

and Tokyo also shows that Americans are much more open to the possibility of as-
sisting friends than the Japanese, which is consistent with my findings in West
Haven and Odawara. See "Family Supports for the Aged: A Comparison of U.S. and
Japan Responses."
33 The average length of residence was 50.7 years in Odawara, compared with 33.5
years in West Haven.
34 In the American sample, 27.3% cited that they had more than ten friends, compared
with 3.1% in the Japanese sample. Although many, especially Italian American, el-
derly tended to socialize with relatives as "friends," the survey specifically requested
that they separate these network members into the two nonoverlapping categories.
35 Herbert M. Gans, Urban Villagers: Group and Class in the Life of Italian Ameri-
cans, 93. His observation is relevant in this context, because 41% of the West Haven
respondents were second-generation Americans of Italian descent, as described in
Chapter 2.
36 Lillian Rubin, Just Friends: The Role of Friendship in Our Lives', Robert Bellah,
Richard Madsen, William Sullivan, Ann Swidler, and Steven Tipton, Habits of the
Heart: Individualism and Commitment in American Life, 116. There is no compa-
rable work on Japanese friendship patterns, which partly reflects the relative weak-
ness of such intimate, peer group ties.
60
Table 4.3. Patterns of association with close relatives and friends by living arrangements, in % (N)
At least At least
No close one close No close one close
relatives relative in friends in friend in
No close in same same city Relatives No close same city same city Friends
relatives city region region (AO friends region region (AO
West Haven
Alone" 21.7 24.6 53.6 (69) 14.7 5.9 79.4 (68)
With spouse 15.5 19.1 65.4 (110) 9.2 1.8 89.0 (109)
With child 25.7 12.9 61.4 (70) 14.5 2.9 82.6 (69)
Total 20.1 18.9 61.0 12.2 3.3 84.5
(AO (50) (47) (152) (249) (30) (8) (208) (246)
Westside Odawara
Alone 25.0 25.0 50.0 (20) 33.3 0.0 66.7 (21)
With spouse 34.5 24.1 41.4 (29) 38.7 12.9 48.4 (31)
With child 38.1 20.4 41.5 (147) 47.6 6.3 46.1 (143)
Total 36.2 21.4 42.4 44.6 6.7 48.7
(AO (71) (42) (83) (196) (87) (13) (95) (195)
Note: "Other" category of living arrangements is excluded. City region for West Haven is Greater New Haven; for Westside
Odawara it is Odawara City.
61
At the same time, the significance of friendships also makes sense as

an extension of the close conjugal (peer) ties that are part of the Amer-
ican couple culture.37 American couples living by themselves tended
to have more friends than those living alone or with children; this dis-
tinction was not found among Japanese couples.
The distinct boundaries of the support networks also become more
evident when we observe how the elderly in the two communities
chose their confidantes ("special person") in the surveys. The most
common confidante - the person to whom the elderly felt closest - in
West Haven was a friend; in Odawara, it was a child (Table 4.4).
Conversely, the least common choice among West Haveners was a
child; and in Odawara, a spouse. In West Haven, friends were consis-
tently important for all categories of living arrangements, and espe-
cially for women and for widows. Spouses, for those who had them,
were favored less than relatives, perhaps because they were more
easily taken for granted and because confidantes, at least in the
United States, require a valued place outside the household.
By contrast, the special person in Odawara lived inside the house-
hold. Coresident children (especially sons) mattered consistently
more than others - spouse, relatives, and friends - especially for
women and for widows. The small group of Japanese elderly who
lived alone, however, favored their friends over children, and those
living with their husband or wife confided more in their spouse than
they did in their children or friends.38
37 Both Gans and Johnson observe that Italian Americans are characteristically adult-
centered and maintain relatively weak conjugal ties, compared with other ethnic
groups; Gans has attributed this pattern to social class, and Johnson to ethnic cul-
ture. The strength of husband-wife ties in West Haven on a whole, however, remains
remarkably significant especially in cross-national perspective. See Herbert J. Gans,
Urban Villagers: Group and Class in the Life of Italian Americans, 229, and Colleen
Leahy Johnson, Growing Up and Growing Old in Italian American Families, 46.
38 Surveys conducted by the Japan Management and Coordination Agency also con-
firm these differences between Japanese and American confidantes at the national
level; see Rojin no seikatsu to ishiki: Dai 3 kai kokusai hikaku chosa kekka
hokokusho, 35. For further details of interpersonal relationships in Odawara and
West Haven, see Akiko Hashimoto, Old People in Japan and America: A Compara-
tive Community Study, and "Rqjin kea no nichibei hikaku"; and Fujisaki Hiroko,
"Ronenki no shakaiteki nettowaku."
62
Table 4.4. Choice of confidante by living arrangements, sex and

marital status in West Haven and Westside Odawara, in % (N)
Spouse Child Relative Friend
West Haven 16.7 13.4 20.4 49.5

Living arrangement**
Alone — 19.0 20.7 60.3
With spouse" 27.4 9.5 21.1 42.1
With child 16.1 16.1 19.6 48.2
Total 16.7(35) 13.9(29) 20.6 (43) 48.8(102)
Sex**
Men" 24.1 9.3 20.4 46.3
Women" 9.3 17.6 20.4 52.8
Total 16.7 (36) 13.4(29) 20.4 (44) 49.5 (107)
Marital status**
Married" 27.3 11.4 19.7 41.7
Unmarried — 16.7 21.4 61.9
Total 16.7 (36) 13.4(29) 20.4 (44) 49.5 (107)
Westside Odawara 13.2 41.2 25.7 19.9

Living arrangement**
Alone — 33.3 20.0 46.7
With spouse 36.8 15.8 31.6 15.8
With child 10.4 47.9 24.0 17.7
Total 13.1(17) 41.5(54) 24.6 (32) 20.8 (27)
Sex**
Men" 26.5 26.5 34.7 12.2
Women" 5.7 49.4 20.7 24.1
Total 13.2(18) 41.2(56) 25.7 (35) 19.9(27)
Marital status**
Married" 26.6 31.3 31.3 10.9
Umarried" — 51.4 21.4 27.1
Total 12.7(17) 41.8(56) 26.1 (35) 19.4 (26)
Note: Respondents who claimed no confidantes (West Haven 15.6%,

Odawara 27.2%) and those who cited "others" (West Haven 0%, Odawara
7.5%) were excluded from this analysis. "Other" category in living arrange-
ments is excluded. Child category includes children-in-law.
**Chi-square statistics are significant at 0.01 level.
63
FAMILY AND NETWORK
The different resource networks of West Haven and Odawara are thus
evident in comparative perspective. In the American context, children,
relatives, friends, and neighbors39 are all essential members of the re-
source network. There is a greater degree of triangulation of resources
in West Haven, extending widely outside the confines of the house-
hold. If seeking help can be spread among a wide network of people,
then the relative independence of the elderly person at the center of
that network can be enhanced as a result. In other words, the extensive
network can help to facilitate the autonomy of the elderly in the Amer-
ican context.
The network in Odawara, on the other hand, shows a greater con-
centration of resources in the household. The strength of filial ties
is evident in contrast to the weakness of community ties we have ob-
served. If the triangulation of resources in the American network can
reduce the dependency of the elderly on each individual in the net-
work, the concentration of resources inside the household in Japan
can also intensify the dependency of the elderly on a few, specific
individuals.
Thus greater independence as an individual can be attained in a tri-
angulated network, yet greater independence as a household unit can
be more easily attained in a concentrated network where the boundary
of mutual obligations can be more clearly defined. Different bound-
aries of "self-sufficiency" operate in the two communities around the
individual, couple, family, and community, and in this connection we
can also point to the weaknesses of the American and Japanese net-
works. Where a concentration of resources is the norm, as it is in Japan,
those with no children or distant children can be vulnerable, because
39 The significance of American neighbors also merits special mention at this point.
As Marjorie Cantor has observed, the elderly in American communities receive ex-
tensive help from their neighbors, especially when they have no family nearby. Even
though many West Haven elderly received support from their children, a large pro-
portion (69.9%) also reached out to their neighbors for instrumental help (e.g., bor-
rowing, shopping, checking mail); a similar proportion of Odawarans (68.5%), by
contrast, reported that they never or rarely did so. See Marjorie Cantor, "Neighbors
and Friends: An Overlooked Resource in the Informal Support System."
64
there are fewer alternative resources that can substitute for filial rela-
tionships. Where a triangulation of network is the norm, as it is in the
United States, those who survive spouses and friends and still depend
on an increasingly shrinking peer network are likely to be vulnerable.
At the same time, the extensive network in West Haven seems more
suited to a society that embraces household transitions as a necessary
condition of changes in the family cycle. Since "leaving home" is a
concomitant of adulthood,40 a shared expectation on the part of both
parents and children, individuals and couples form extensive networks
outside the household to promote diffused security that does not de-
pend only on children. The filial orientation found in Japan, on the
other hand, is conducive to forming a concentrated network focused
on coresident children, which promotes structured security inside the
household.
THE RECOGNITION OF VULNERABILITY
In comparing the objective conditions of household and network com-

positions in Odawara and West Haven, the different patterns of associa-
tion inside and outside the household appear evidently enough;
understanding the nexus of need, protection, and intervention, how-
ever, requires a clarification of how these potential resources among
family and friends are converted to actual helping arrangements. Thus,
in this section, we will ascertain how much help these family and
friends actually gave in the two communities. We will find that the
helping practices differ according to the distinct ways in which helpers
recognize the vulnerability of individuals who require support. These
distinct patterns of recognizing need reveal the different subjective
judgments - and criteria of "eligibility" - applied to those deserving
help in the private contract.
In both communities, the elderly received a great deal of support,41
but the characteristics of those who receive help, compared with those
40 Robert Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Commitment in Amer-
ican Life, 57.
41 The informal support index was constructed from responses to three questions re-
garding financial, instrumental, and emotional support received in the past year. An
65
who do not, differ. We find that Odawarans take a.protective approach,

one in which the elderly receive help in anticipation of need. West
Haveners, by contrast, take a contingency approach in which the el-
derly receive help directly according to need. Thus, Odawarans and
West Haveners receive protection and intervention according to dif-
ferent patterns of recognizing vulnerability and criteria of need.
In their general profiles - such as age, living arrangement, marital
status, gender, employment status, past occupation, education, and length
of residence - the elderly who received help were similar to those who
did not receive help in both communities (Table 4.5). The significant
difference between the West Haven and Odawara receivers of help lies
not in these general characteristics, but in their conditions of need: income42
affirmative answer in at least one category classified the respondent as a receiver of

informal support for our comparative purpose. In West Haven, 88.9% received at
least one type of support, and in Odawara, 73.1%. The higher proportion of support
in West Haven compared with that in Odawara can be explained partly by the dif-
ferent notions of support that respondents had in mind. While it is relatively easy to
solicit comparable information on instrumental help cross-nationally, the same is
not true for emotional and financial help. The Japanese tended not to recognize emo-
tional support as "support," especially when they shared the household with those
who provided it. They also tended not to perceive financial help as "help" when it
did not come in regular and explicit monetary forms. This is the primary reason I
have aggregated and dichotomized the support index, instead of developing the ac-
cumulated responses into an ordinal scale index.
42 Income was reported in 6 categories: $0-1,999, $2,000-4,999, $5,000-6,999,
$7,000-9,999, $10,000-14,999, and $15,000 and over. Yen equivalents were also
reported in 6 categories, using the exchange rate of January 1982 ($1 = ¥250). Al-
though the response categories were comparable in the two samples, the reporting
units were not: West Haven respondents reported the couple's income if they were
married, but Odawara respondents reported individual income regardless of their
marital status. To correct this discrepancy in the two surveys, I calculated the effect
of being married on income for the West Haven sample, subtracted it from the orig-
inal responses, and made separate estimates for male and female respondents. The
regression equations that yielded the highest proportions of explained variance in-
cluded education, employment status, age, disability, and marital status (male: R2 =
0.38, female: R2 = 0.33). The estimation equations for males was: Y = 12,884 +
490*EDUC + 1,334*EMPLOY - 116*AGE - 229* DISABIL + 1,687*
MARITAL; and for females: Y =8,583 + 321*EDUC + 2,604*EMPLOY -
75*AGE - 1*DISABIL + 2,968*MARITAL.
As a result, the incomes of 100 married persons in West Haven were classified
downward. Of these, 63 were men and 37 were women. The majority of men (59%)
moved down one category while the majority of women (81%) moved down two
66
Table 4.5. Receiving at least one type of informal support: Logistic

regression estimates
West Haven Westside Odawara
Coefficient (SE) Coefficient (SE)
Age .02 (.07) -.07 (.04)

Living with children .76 (.72) -.05 (.50)
Married -1.67 (1.09) .22 (.56)
Female .59 (1.00) .88 (.61)
Blue-collar -.70 (.72) -.18 (.47)
Years local residency .01 (.02) .00 (.01)
Children within city region .38 (.34) .08 (.17)
Close friends within city region .22* (.10) -.17 (.09)
Close relatives within city region -.14 (.10) .02 (.14)
Close neighbors .09 (.14) .06 (.09)
Income -.95* (.42) -.16 (.16)
Disability 1.42* (.72) -.05 (.52)
Constant 3.91 (6.52) 6.55* (3.20)
Chi-square 33.49** 12.69

d.f. 12 12
N 189 152
*p < 0.05.
**/?<0.01.
and disability.43 West Haveners received help according to need; they

received significantly more help when they had low income and high
disability.44 And West Haveners received more help when they also had
categories or more. The estimated average income in West Haven was $5,160; the
average reported income in Odawara was $4,130.
43 The disability score ranged between 0 and 33. "A lot of difficulty" was assigned a
score of 3, "some difficulty" a score of 2, "a little difficulty" a score of 1, and "no
difficulty at all" a score of 0. In West Haven, the mean score was 3.3 and the max-
imum score was 33. In Odawara, the mean score was 2.5 and the maximum score
was 28.
44 In a large-scale state survey of emotionally distressed American elderly, Greg
Arling finds a similar increase in informal support for those in physical and
financial need. See "Strain, Social Support, and Distress in Old Age."
67
more close friends. The triangulation of resources therefore matters at
the crucial moment: Helpers intervene when need is demonstrated.
The Japanese counterparts, however, received help regardless of
need. This apparent disregard for the need criterion in providing help
requires an appraisal of subjective perceptions - anticipations and ex-
pectations - which is explored here and, in fuller detail, in the next
chapter. The protective approach is practiced not according to the
demonstration of actual need on the part of the elderly, but the expec-
tation of potential need on the part of the helpers. In Japan, people give
help just because the elderly are old; caregivers link the life stage of
old age itself with the need for help. Since increasing age is associated
with greater proneness to chronic health conditions that affect physi-
cal capacity and strength, and with loss of earning power that affects
financial resources-a fact also confirmed in these surveys-the
Japanese attempt to forestall these crises by providing support before
circumstances deteriorate. Starting the protection early, as we saw in
Shizu's and Masa's plans in Chapter 1, is critical: Helpers protect be-
fore need becomes apparent.45
Of the two societies, life course trajectories and needs are more
closely intertwined in Japan. Historically, Japanese life stages have
been clearly defined, punctuated by age-related celebrations that were
expressed as rites of passage. As Takie Lebra describes, these defini-
tions are notable also for old age.46 David Plath also points to the im-
portance of expressing models of maturity in age-specific terms.47 The
fundamental assumption that the young and the old have distinct needs
in different life stages by ascription was also noted in Chapter 3. The
life stages are associated with different strengths and weaknesses ac-
cording to age status and imply that age differences are irrevocable.
While this understanding endorses the inequities of health, wealth,
and other qualities according to life stages, it also reinforces the recog-
45 In this connection, I conjecture that if the middle aged (40-64 years) had also been
sampled in the surveys, old age (65 years and over) might have emerged more
clearly as the eligibility criterion for informal support in Odawara.
46 Takie Sugiyama Lebra, Japanese Patterns of Behavior, 97. Lebra refers to the junc-
tures at ages 60, 70, and 77.
47 David Plath, Long Engagements: Maturity in Modern Japan, chap. 1
68
nition that unequal needs according to age are to be expected. Thus,

increased need in old age is recognized as a given part of the life script,
assumed as a matter of course for each succeeding generation. As
individuals, the elderly have different life circumstances, but as a col-
lective group they are perceived as a seasoned but vulnerable popula-
tion. This stronger consciousness of age differences in Japan - and of
needs associated with specific life stages - is also confirmed in com-
parative surveys at the national level. The attitudinal survey published
by the Prime Minister's Office, for example, shows that most Japan-
ese elderly think of themselves as unequal to the young, whereas the
American elderly feel that they are equal.48
The American life script, on the other hand, offers a sequence of
status transitions that presumes life stages to be distinct but generally
equal in their perceived merits and rewards. The young and old are
inherently different, but the demarcation between life stages in adult-
hood is not always as clear-cut as it is in the Japanese life script. As
Bernice Neugarten and colleagues suggest, age norms significantly
define the shared timetables in American society;49 yet in compara-
tive perspective, the American life script also seems to assume a
great deal more individual variation so that age differences can at
times even be revoked - such as taking part in marathons or re-
marrying at age 70. Sharon Kaufman has also noted that milestones
between birth and death such as marriage, childbirth, and divorce
have become increasingly flexible and age-irrelevant, as preferences
and choices of life-styles override the traditional demands of age
48 Japan Prime Minister's Office, Rqjin Taisakushitsu, Rojin no seikatsu to ishiki:

Kokusai hikaku chbsa kekka hokokusho. The survey covered persons aged 60 and
over in Japan, Thailand, the United States, the United Kingdom, and France: 37.5%
of the Japanese and 67.9% of the Americans felt they were equal to the young. Of
the Japanese who felt unequal to the young, 19.1% felt superior, 22.9% felt inferior,
and 20.5% were unsure. Erdman Palmore and Daisaku Maeda contend that the
stronger age consciousness in Japanese society is associated with the respect for el-
ders (and seniority) inherent in its age stratification; the survey results, however, re-
main inconclusive on this point. See The Honorable Elders Revisited: A Revised
Cross-Cultural Analysis of Aging in Japan, 17-18.
49 Bernice L. Neugarten, Joan W. Moore, and J. Lowe, "Age Norms, Age Constraints,
and Adult Socialization"; Gunhild Hagestad and Bernice Neugarten, "Age and the
Life Course."
69
appropriateness.50 If aging cannot be entirely controlled, it is still
individualized and assumed to be "manageable" in postindustrial
America by individual effort.51 Age can be just a mind-set; as the
saying goes, "you are only as old as you feel." Given the ethnic vari-
ety and the country's relatively short unified past, the American
sense of the life course is more abstract and unmolded than in Japan;
it is therefore more amenable to individual adjustments. "Very" old
age signals vulnerability and need, but it is not easily made part of a
collective life script, because it is also expected to vary individually.
The tension between the realities of the life cycle and the ideals of
making a possible fresh start at any life stage creates an ambivalence
in directly associating need with old age.
As the conditions and practices of helping arrangements differ - in
the households and social networks - it is reasonable to expect that the
rules of entitlement, obligation, and reciprocity that constitute the
heart of the social contract would also vary in the two communities.
In the following chapters, we will explore the subjective conditions of
the social contract as the elderly of Odawara and West Haven speak of
their perceptions, desires, options, and constraints in their helping
arrangements. As they talk about vulnerability, security, and indepen-
dence in their own voice, the web of cultural assumptions and assign-
ments that underlie protection and intervention will become clear:
They also do not come without a price.
50 Sharon Kaufman, The Ageless Self: Sources of Meaning in Later Life.
51 For an excellent discussion of how this perception has evolved in American culture,
see Thomas R. Cole, The Journey of Life: A Cultural History of Aging in America.
70
5
The Japanese Viewpoint
T HE subjective perception of vulnerability differs from one soci-

ety to another according to customs, values, and resource afflu-
ence. Tolerance for pain, poverty, and loneliness varies because of
different cultural prescriptions, social definitions, and relative sense
of deprivation. The degree to which this vulnerability is anticipated as
an inevitable process of old age is fundamental to the way societies
prepare for - and ultimately deliver - social support for the elderly. In
Japan, this anticipation is far more prevalent than in the United States;
the assumption that everybody will need help - the preparation for an
eventuality rather than a possibility - creates a greater willingness on
the part of givers to commit the time, energy, and resources necessary
to help, as they themselves stand to benefit from this arrangement in
their own later lives.
The perception of help also differs from one society to another ac-
cording to access and desirability. Cultural assumptions and norms that
shape social ties - transcending individual cases of need - produce
smaller, focused support networks in Japan. The mutual helping
arrangements forged by obligation and affinity are explicit in these
small units and have important consequences for the security and in-
dependence of the elderly in Japan.
How an individual attains security and independence in old age,
however, is not an abstract but a concrete issue that affects the quality
of financial, physical, and emotional well-being. As we shift our dis-
cussion from the aggregate level to the individual level, the emotional
and cognitive content of security and independence becomes more ap-
parent. It derives from a sense of deservedness and assurance that the
necessary help will materialize when needed. It rests on the assessment
71
of the present as well as the anticipation of the future, especially be-

cause need is expected to be inevitable. For some Japanese elderly,
this assurance comes at a high price to their independence, whereas
others perceive that such assurance is earned. Many choose a path that
lies somewhere in between this sacrifice of autonomy and the sense of
deservedness.
The helping arrangements in the two societies reflect different
nuances of security and independence as concrete conditions of every-
day life; they point to the hidden assumptions underlying entitlement,
obligation, and reciprocity that constitute the essence of the private
contract. When translated into daily decisions, these hidden assump-
tions about who should do what for whom are sometimes shared by dif-
ferent generations, but other times not. Clearly, much more is at work
here than romantic stereotypes would suggest.1 The elderly in the two
societies both seek fair and equitable helping arrangements that are
based on their own sense of deservedness; and this basic principle takes
us beyond the attributes of traditional values such as Confucian ethics,
collectivism, or democratic individualism. The meaning of deserved-
ness and fairness will therefore be examined in this analysis.
The fourteen case studies that follow here and in Chapter 6 (Japan
and the United States respectively) present the perspectives of older
people themselves. The stories offer portraits of elderly people who
find themselves in different helping arrangements, and illustrate the
distinct meanings, constraints, and implications of these practices in
their everyday life. These cases are selected from the survey respon-
dents in Odawara and West Haven2 who articulate their own subjec-
tive views on vulnerability and deservedness, and talk about their own
personal circumstances for making the choices as they do. The por-
traits also offer tangible examples of different individuals who com-
prise the two distinct aggregate patterns described in the previous
chapter. These stories therefore depict the reasons why individuals
embrace those protective and contingency practices, how they con-
struct the meaning of those practices in their own terms, and how they
1 Joseph J. Tobin, "The American Idealization of Old Age in Japan."
2 The individuals are not, however, intended as representatives of the two community
samples; see the appendix for the method of selection.
72
construe their own cultural conceptions of security, protection, and in-
tervention. The retrospective accounts in these portraits also bring a
time dimension into the discussion of the social contract, and extend
our scope of analysis to the past and to the future. We will begin first
with examples of the Japanese in Odawara.
VOICES FROM ODAWARA
Yoshino Fuku (81), Former Farmer

Fuku is a small and slender woman. The shades of many, many wrin-
kles on her face seem to indicate the years of outdoor labor. She was
widowed at age 30. From then on, she raised four children by herself.
And now she lives with six family members-her daughter, her
daughter's husband, her grandson, her grandson's wife, and her two
great-grandchildren - in a four-generation household. Her personal
annual income was $1,000 when we met, but she received financial
help from her children. Her health was far from perfect - with heart
enlargement, high blood pressure, glaucoma, and hearing prob-
lems - but she reported no difficulties in her functional ability: Her
disabilities did not bother her. She is intelligent, very articulate, and
she remembers the past very vividly.
When I was ten, there was that great flood. This whole area
was under water, so much water. The embankment broke, yes
the embankment of the Sakawa River. It rained for several
days. You couldn't see the rice fields for all the water.
Couldn't tell the roads from the rice fields. People were
yelling and we had to run. We - me and my sister - we had to
go and live with other relatives for some time.
My father died when I was thirteen. The following year
there was the fire that swept the neighborhood - quite rare,
you know, for a rural village. Big fire sparks were flying here
and there and many houses burned down. We were afraid,
especially with no man in the house. It was very scary to be
without a father.
73
Then I married and came to this house. I was eighteen
when I came here as a yome? Right. I didn't have a father,
but my mother was alive when I came here. Yes, and both of
my grandparents were still in good health, too. But I had no
father. We were five siblings. Four girls and a boy. Well, not
having a father was pretty hard on us. We did have a hard
time, you know.
The year after I married into this house, my father-in-law
here passed away. We gave his funeral. Oh, how many
funerals we had to give over the years. My first child was a
boy. But then he died fifteen days after he was born. He died
in the same year as my father-in-law.
When my first daughter was still a toddler, we had the
Great [Kanto] Earthquake. At the time, my husband was out
making funeral arrangements for his sister who had just died
that morning. I was eating lunch with my husband's brother
and my child. Then, with this big roar, the earth started shat-
tering incredibly. We rushed outside. When I realized what
was happening, I had my chopsticks in one hand and my
child in the other. We turned around and saw that the house
had collapsed. The roof was flat on the floor. And the earth
was still quaking. It went on, you know. We could see the
fire in downtown Odawara. All of our food was gone. We
had to build a shack in the field because we didn't have a
house anymore.
Then came the war. . .. We made rice, vegetables, and saw
them taken away from us for quota delivery. The war - it was
hard on everyone. I had four girls and a boy when my husband
died. . . . He died of pneumonia. You died of pneumonia in
those days. The war came right after he died. It was hard. My
3 Yome refers to the woman who marries into her husband's family. The term is
most often used when the woman is relatively young, and therefore it usually refers
to a bride, a young wife, or a daughter-in-law. In the ie system, the yome has al-
ways maintained a structurally weak position; see Dorinne K. Kondo's account in
Crafting Selves: Power, Gender, and Discourses of Identity in a Japanese Work-
place, 132-137.
74
youngest was five years old. And my mother-in-law was ill.
We had no man in the house to work the fields. I'd go to help
out in some households so that in return their men would come
to help me plow the fields. Yes, we plowed with horses and
oxen in those days.
I had a son. My husband died six months after he was
born. I thought that I might be able to rely on this son. But
then, he got cerebral palsy. He was retarded all his life
because of this. I had much, much more trouble taking care
of him than anything else - food shortage or anything else.
You know, if only there was some hope of getting better. . . .
I would have paid for any medicine, any operation . . . it's
so painful. You hear on TV about parents doing their
[retarded] children in, you know, out of despair - I think it's
really true. I know how it feels. . . . I'd send him off to
school, and he'd come home with none of the things he'd
left with. Notebooks, pencils, lunchbox, and even his
clothes sometimes. How I cried. . . . oh, the other children
really had a hard time living with this boy, too. None of the
surgical operations helped. Then he developed epilepsy after
the operations. We'd go and search for him in the middle of
the night when he wandered away. He died when he was
thirty-six. . . .
Lots of times I couldn't understand why I had to live. I
didn't know what to live for. What could the future bring - it
was so uncertain? My husband was dead. And my son .. .
No, I never turned to religion. I had to work! Some people
thought it might help, but I never had the time. Well, I've
come all this way without it, there's no way I could need it
now. I said there couldn't possibly be anything worse than
what I had already - more misfortune than what I had already.
I said, you call this unhappiness and, if I had to have any more
of it, I don't even want my life. I really meant it. Oh, there was
no time for it anyway.
I used to get up at three in the morning to put the wash out
to dry. No, no spin dryers. I didn't even have time to warm
75
myself at the kotatsu4 when I was cold, you see. And I did all
the sewing after everyone had gone to sleep. And then we, yome,
got up early in the morning before anyone else. There was lots
of work to be done, yes, we hardly came to the kotatsu. We wove
everything too. We made threads. We women had a lot of work.
You know, all of us yome in any household had to work very
hard. We had to be the first to wake up, opening all the shades
And the field labor.... Women went out to the fields, too, es-
pecially in May, June, and July - weeding out grass by hand in
the heat.... In winter we worked on the wheat with our noses
dripping in the cold. When it rained we did all the sewing.
In those days we did all the cooking on fires. We'd start the
fire early in the morning. Difficult to do on rainy days, but we
did it. Fish, rice, everything tastes better when cooked on fire.
Oh, rice cooked with gas or electricity doesn't really taste the
same. It's different. It absorbs the moisture better. .. . Baths
were warmer and softer when made with fire, too. The heat
comes too suddenly with gas. Tap water is not good for the
tea. You see, everything has changed so much. What we eat,
how we cook. Adjustment? Well, no, it was gradual. It would
have been a surprise all at once, but it was gradual.
To be born in modern times? No, for us, you see, it's all in
the past and gone. I tell the younger ones how it was and how
it's so much more convenient now. But it doesn't mean I'd
have liked the conveniences in my time. It doesn't make sense
to want it. This is the only path we could have come along. It's
just different.
There used to be just the three of us here - me, my
daughter, and her husband. The younger ones lived out. Last
summer, my grandson, his wife and the two children came
back to live with us. They came back, because the little one
goes to preschool this year. He had to come back some time
anyway. He's the eldest son.
4 A heating system, which is usually located in the living room. The charcoal burner is
covered by a blanket over a table.
76
No, I have no anxiety over my old age. None. Even my
grandson is here now, see. I have nothing to worry about.
I never take breaks - always working - in youth and in old
age. Oh, I might weed out the garden; there are always things
to do. Cooking -just a little bit sometimes. Young people
don't do much nimono5 these days, so I sometimes cook my
own vegetables. Young people only cook what's fast. Nimono
takes too much time and too much work. But I have to watch
out for my blood pressure. When the food at dinner is too
spicy, I take just a little and thin it with hot water. I can
manage that by myself.
I do tell the younger people about the old days. They
should know, I think. When I start the nimono in the kitchen,
my grandson's yome comes around to ask me how I do it. She
goes out to buy a pumpkin, and asks me to cook it for her. I
tell them we never ate any white rice unless we had guests.
We ate wheat rice. I miss good old brown wheat rice. But you
can't really cook it just for yourself. So I eat what everyone
else eats here.
Well, I've traveled enough, and now that I'm old, I don't
really want to cause any trouble. My grandson said to me
the other day, maybe I should visit Hawaii. So I said
someone has to come with me - 1 don't want to go alone.
No, I don't really want to go. Last year when I turned
eighty, my daughter asked me if I wanted a new kimono.
I don't need a new kimono. So, they took me to Okinawa
instead.
They said [at the clinic] that I could live to be ninety. I said
there's really no need to live that long. Too lively in this
house? No, it's all right. I'm all right.
Well, I shouldn't really say this, but, you know, the
television.... Well, I go to sleep before they do, and s o . . . .
But they don't think about turning it down. It would help if
they did perhaps. Just a bit, you know.
5 A traditional form of cooking with soya sauce and Japanese wine.
77
Fuku is living witness to the tremendous social change Japan has
undergone over the past several decades. The part of Odawara where
she lives used to be a small village inhabited only by agricultural farm-
ers. None of the public works, stores, or factories existed then. The
types of natural disasters she encountered are no longer as devastating
in contemporary Japan. The kind of manual labor she used to perform
in the course of daily work has now largely been taken over or aided
by modern gadgets, saving much time and effort. Much has changed,
as is clear from Fuku's own testimony.
The sense of continuity Fuku maintains with the past despite these
social changes is therefore all the more striking. The social values
that tie the different generations within her family remain basically
intact. She lived with and took care of her in-laws in her time - not
only parents-in-law but also her husband's siblings. She continued in
this task dutifully, even after her husband, her link to the Yoshino
household, died. Now it is her own turn to receive the kind of care
and security she provided to others. This arrangement continues to be
reproduced by her children; since both of her sons died, the youngest
daughter married a man who was willing to become a yoshi.6 Fuku's
daughter, in other words, has never left her maiden home to live
away from her mother. The eldest son of Fuku's daughter has also
now moved in with the family. Although his generation of sons may
initially have had the freedom to live away from parental homes to
start their own families, Fuku's grandson has now returned to con-
tinue the family line and fulfill his family obligation. The reason
cited by Fuku for his return is not "affinity" or even "convenience."
It is simply because he is the "eldest son." The Japanese system of
filial responsibility has undergone some changes in practical form,
such as in the use of temporary separate residences; but the norms
that reproduce the sense of filial obligation among the younger gen-
erations continue to be felt in families such as Fuku's.
Cultural values that underlie the system of filial obligation certainly
reinforce its perpetuation; there are also informal social sanctions
6 A form of marriage in which the husband marries into his wife's family, and takes
over her family name.
78
applied to children who do not fulfill their obligations, since their
"character" might be called into question. But it seems that the sheer
amount of hardship Fuku encountered, fought, and survived earned
her the right to be cared for by her family. She has made her contri-
bution (to the family) over time. She has paid her dues to the system,
and she seems to feel that she has earned the right to support, in much
the same way as pensioners feel they deserve their social security
checks. Now the entitlement is hers, while the younger generations
pay their own dues in turn. Their time for entitlement will also come
in due course. The Yoshino household operates under a "social secu-
rity system" that is entirely concrete, direct, and immediately confined
within the family. This is the informal social security system that op-
erates in many three- and four-generation households in Japan.
When the sense of entitlement to care over time is acknowledged
by other members of the household, the notion of dependency is not
called into question at any given point in time. At age 81, Fuku's re-
sources for financial and physical support come primarily from her
children and grandchildren. Objectively, she is very dependent on her
family for an allowance and for the daily help that provides her with
meals and other essentials. She does not appear to feel this dependence
as a constraint. She retains her sense of self-worth because she "de-
serves" the care received, by virtue of the hard labor she has accumu-
lated to her credit.
Fuku's strong sense of security must be understood within this con-
text of entitlement to informal care in the family. Her trust in the sys-
tem of informal care derives not merely from the normative structure
of filial obligation based on tradition; there is also a notion of reci-
procity that reinforces what is essentially a serial order of care for the
elderly. The care she has previously given to the children bears fruit
in her old age, and this sense of mutual care is shared by both parent
and child. Fuku's contribution had been particularly visible in the
absence of her husband and in the face of unusually harsh historical
circumstances such as the war. For her children to choose to let Fuku
live alone in old age, for example, would be tantamount to "aban-
donment" according to the rules of mutual care. The give-and-take
between parent and child can in fact only take place along these
79
longitudinal dimensions. This relationship forms the essence of what
I have called structured security in Japan.
The continuation and maintenance of the longitudinal give-and-
take between generations can be assured only as long as younger par-
ties are still willing to participate in the private contract. There are
often economic advantages that make the three-generation arrange-
ment attractive to the young. The younger generations have no need
to pay rent or save for a down payment in a household such as Fuku's.
It is also convenient and efficient to divide the household labor
among greater numbers of family members living under the same
roof. Fuku babysits and occasionally cooks. Her daughter can go out
to work full time. This living arrangement of the extended family
makes economic sense for all parties concerned, and it embraces their
mutual interests.
When the sense of mutuality breaks down in the informal social se-
curity system, the relationship between generations can become
strained. For Fuku's sense of security to remain intact, her accumu-
lated credit must be recognized. It seems important, however, that
there is also a genuine wish on the part of the young to reciprocate, to
keep the relationships running smoothly. Fuku's granddaughter-in-
law makes sure there are some useful tasks for Fuku to perform, yield-
ing to share her control of the kitchen. Fuku, in turn, gives in to the
television noise that she does not like. Mutual consideration based on
daily compromises seems to be an important component of unstrained
generational living arrangements.
Not all multigenerational households work out as smoothly as does
the Yoshino household. We now turn to an example of strained rela-
tionships in the Ueyama family.
Ueyama Teru (84), Former Caterer

Teru is a widow who used to clean, cook, and wash for the dormitory
of the local bus company in Odawara. She was born in Odawara and
had returned there to raise her son with her maiden family after her
husband died in Kawasaki. She now lives with her son and his wife in
a rented house consisting of two rooms. The house faces directly onto
80
a national road with tremendous traffic. Buses and trucks go by, vi-
brating the house as they pass. The bus stop is right in front of her en-
trance. The bath in this house is heated by wood and the toilet is
without a flush. Her only income is a stipend from the old-age welfare
pension. The remainder of her living expenses are provided by her
son, a construction worker. Her health restricts her activity greatly.
With diabetes, high blood pressure, rheumatism, and glaucoma, she
has more difficulty with daily chores than the average elderly person
in the Odawara sample.
My husband was a good man, but he died. You can't do

anything about that. We had some happy years - 1 have to
be content with that. It's fate, maybe. Everyone has it tough
one way or another. I guess it's all right now that everyone is
good to me.
Nobody in her right mind today would do what I did.
They'd go off marrying again, or do something else -
something easier. It wasn't that easy then. Yes I might
have remarried, but [I didn't because] it's so sad for the
child. You see, if I go to another widower, he's got his
children. If my child gets into a fight with the other children,
then, what do I do? I'd have to scold my child even for the
wrongdoings of the other. The child would be sad. I would
feel bad and my child would feel bad. It was bad enough for
him that his father was sick for a long time. It's too painful for
the child. So I didn't do it. Oh yes, I put up with a lot of
hardships. I shouldn't talk about it so, but, yes, I endured . . .
a lot. If I didn't have the child, I would have married again. It
was only for the child.
We're three persons here - my son, his wife, and me. The
young ones do the grocery shopping. I just look after the child
[her great-grandchild] during the day. I don't go outdoors at
all. It's not safe for m e . . . . There aren't that many elderly in
the neighborhood. I've been to a couple of meetings at the
senior club, but they're all middle-aged - all in their fifties and
sixties. You can't really talk to people that age. They haven't
81
really worked, so there's not much to talk about. . . . It's
difficult to make friends.
I have no worries here. There's nothing I'm worried about.
I've never been to a nursing home. I won't go. It's best to stay
at home. You see, when you go away you're as good as
strangers. I suppose it's all right if you get many visits, but
if you don't, it's lonely, you know. I think it's best to stay
home as long as you can.
[With the yome] it's working out. Well, it's not always at its
best. It's a long-standing relationship, so there is much in the
past, too. Can't do anything about that. You're not [blood]
related to a yome, after all.
It's best to keep quiet. It's best not to say anything. Just
don't say it. Just say it's OK. It doesn't make me sad. Once it's
in the open, it's the end. There's no point in having any
conflict in the house. They're good to me, and . . .
It's just no good being a failure in life, you know - really.
We didn't get anywhere, not even a house. My son lost the
down payment to some fraud. Can't get the money back. . . . I
thought we'd get somewhere, you know, if only we worked
hard. I thought as long as you had good health, as long as you
worked diligently. . . . My sisters have got their houses now.
I'm the only one. . . . My sisters moved far away. Too far. We
talk on the phone, but you know, you have to live close by to
stay close. You have to live nearby. Otherwise, you can't do
anything, can you? Well, it's all right. Everyone is good to me,
so let's say it's all right even though we're poor. Can't do
much about it anyway, right?
There's nothing I want to do particularly - no, it's true. I
don't really want anything. It's all right the way it is. I don't
need anything. I'm not interested in traveling - think of my
leg. . . . Can't go up and down the stairs. Imagine if I fell. . . .
Can't afford accidents. I've been to enough places. I went to
Kyoto and I went to Osaka. Yes, it's all the same. You have
mountains, valleys, and houses - that's all. There are
mountains everywhere, you know. It's enough.
82
It's really because I don't have a friend to travel with. I have
a good friend like a sister, but, you see, her eyesight is bad.. ..
You see, I could go anyplace with her, but not anymore now.
Teru's personal history is not dissimilar to Fuku's. Both women were

widowed in their 30s, and worked hard, albeit in different occupations,
to make a living and to raise children. Teru also lives with a sense of se-
curity of being looked after by her son and his wife, a sense of entitlement
that is due to her now that she is old and disabled. What is striking in
Teru's situation, however, is the kind of bitterness with which she lives,
focused on the self-sacrifice she has endured for the sake of her child. It
is not clear from her testimony whether it was actually and objectively
impossible for her to remarry because of the child. Nevertheless, it re-
mains true that her subjective perception is one of self-sacrifice, a sense
of having foregone an opportunity for the sake of someone else, and of
having earned her old-age security through this act. Still, Teru's contri-
bution to the traditional family system itself is less than Fuku's, because
she went back to her maiden home when her husband died.
In her life's expectations, Teru remains wholly unfulfilled. Had
her fortunes with her son and his family turned upward even a little,
her regrets for past decisions might have been alleviated. We can de-
tect her sense of despair over her current predicament, as well as her
struggle to make peace with it. The Ueyama family did not improve
its social and financial position, unlike Teru's sisters' families. While
others were able to go through life on a progressive scale, Teru sees
no progress in her life. It seems necessary for her to blame her predica-
ment on external circumstances, such as the social norms that pre-
vented her from remarrying.
Her sense of resignation is in part an attempt to make peace with
her emotional turmoil. Her labor has at least borne fruit so that she can
benefit from the informal social security system, after having dutifully
paid her dues. She continues to talk over and over again about her self-
sacrifice, partly to reinforce her entitlement, and partly to resist the
strain in the household as best as she can. She apparently does not get
along with her daughter-in-law; yet, the two women stay at home to-
gether every day. The situation makes it necessary for Teru to feel that
83
she should not voice matters that might lead to conflict. There is sad-
ness to the peace Teru seeks, for her sense of past regrets and also for
the lack of freedom she endures to maintain her security.
Because the household relations are strained, her dependency on the
younger generation is not a comfortable one. The mutual care rule op-
erates at the Ueyama's, but seemingly not out of genuine wish or affin-
ity. The emotional price Teru pays for her security is high. Previously
she had been able to air her frustrations with a close friend, but this
avenue is closed because the friend has become ill. She passes her time
looking after a great-grandchild during the day, while her (adopted)
granddaughter goes out to work. This child will stop coming next year
when she starts preschool. Probed to think what she might do with her
day once the child is no longer there, Teru is most evasive and am-
bivalent in giving a definite answer: "I'll just have to see," she says.
The entitlement in the informal social security system seems even-
tually secure for Teru as well as Fuku because both women are also
very old and weak, and perhaps because people of their generation
were subject to hardships physically more severe than those of the
later generation. Hiro, our next case study, is an example of this later
generation. We will now turn to the Fukaya family where tensions in
the household seem to derive from the different levels of commitment
made to the informal social security system by two generations. Here,
the values regarding who "deserves" care are no longer shared be-
tween generations.
Fukaya Hiro (68), Homemaker

Hiro is a woman who had aged visibly beyond her years. Her dark
wrinkles and skin texture seem to reflect the toll of bearing 10 chil-
dren. Most of her children live nearby: 7 live in Odawara City, and
she sees or talks to 6 of them at least once a week. Her husband, a
bamboo craftsman, died 4 years ago, and she now lives in a three-
generation household. In addition to her son, her son's wife, and two
grandchildren, there are also two middle-aged unwed daughters; alto-
gether, there are seven members in the household. Physical problems
caused by arthritis in her right knee seem incapacitating. She has a lot
84
of difficulty getting up, walking, climbing stairs, and holding, push-
ing, or pulling any heavy objects. She also has some difficulty in bend-
ing and using the toilet. The constant pain inevitably seems to have a
depressing effect on her. She also has high blood pressure and rheuma-
tism. Consequently, she receives much more help from her children
than she can give. Included in this help is a monthly allowance of $80
from her eldest son. Around bonus time, she also receives an al-
lowance from her other children.7 State aid reaches her in the form of
an old-age welfare pension and subsidized health care.
I had ten children. Not a break in my life -just work. There

was such a food shortage [during and after the war]. Large
families like ours just didn't get enough. Large families really
had a tough time with the food shortage. Every day we went
out to look, to see what we could g e t . . . . It was rare in those
days that all children [in the family] survived - ours did. . ..
When I talk about having no rice and so on, my children hate
it. They say it sounds so poverty-stricken.
My right knee - it's been bad for ten years now.... It never
got any better. . . . These days I don't really go out much. I
think I might disgrace myself. It hurts so . . . so I can't. When
you're old - oh, there's not much you can do. No, it can't be
helped. My body went through too much battering, so this
now can't be helped.
[About the children] I can't really say this in front of them,
yes, there are those you do and don't get along with. Perhaps
in crisis boys are dependable, but otherwise girls are nicer. The
boys are not really . . . the girls are nicer.
I made up my mind long ago - what to do when my
husband was gone. He used to say I should go with the one I
liked. But the right thing was to be with the eldest son. This
was all for the best. It's not done otherwise. It's not pleasant to
mention [another option]. So, I never said [wishes to the
7 Lump sum payments made biannually (in June and December) to Japanese employ-
ees, as supplement to regular salaries and as a form of profit sharing. The amount usu-
ally totals two to four months' wages.
85
contrary] to anybody. I was going to go with my eldest son,
unless something really bad happened. There are all sorts [of
conflicts] when there are ten of them.
I don't worry about not getting care. If I'm ill, see, we are
parent and child after all. No, I'm not worried about that. I
think someone will come to help. I'll worry if something
happened to my son. I'd manage if I had my own pension, you
know. But we were self-employed. We don't have pensions.
Yes, there are things that make me angry. But when you
say it - when you bring it out in the open - the damage is
irrevocable. You know, that's why I don't let it out. That's how
I feel. I don't say things that might irritate. . . . if we're going
to stay together, we try to avoid bad feelings.
I don't cook. I'd rather not bother them. People don't like
having old people do [housework] these days.... They say old
people are dirty [kitanai]. . . . You know, it's not true.... We
aren't dirty.... You take in the wash, say, and then you fold
them, right? It saves trouble. But they say it's dirty because old
people did it - so they unfold and redo i t . . . . It's the same with
kitchen work. In homes where the young ones cook, they say it's
dirty when old people do it. Some won't cook anymore because
of that.... This sort of thing didn't used to happen before....
It's all the affluence. You know, you can get things done
yourself now without getting help from the old. All families
are smaller, see. In the old days, in busy times, you wanted all
the help you could get. The old used to feel useful, and they
felt good about helping. Now, with all the affluence they think
that our work is filthy. . ..
I don't go up and down the stairs in this house. But really,
the younger ones live upstairs, you see . . . so, I don't have any
business going up there. I don't go. I stay here downstairs. . ..
Well, at home, I'm just by myself. . ..
When my husband was still here, it was better. But they [the
family] don't say anything to me. . . . And they do what they
please. They don't like the things I do. . . . I would go to the
senior center bath if I could. I could talk there.
86
Some people I know live alone [in old age]. If you can sup-
port yourself, that's good. You have more freedom. If your hus-
band's got a pension, you see, you get half the benefits after he
dies. . . . You can manage with that if you watch out. Better to
do that than to feel nervous about your children, I think.
In any case, you see, I can't move. It can't be helped. You
know, it might be lonely living alone. I get lonely even when
I'm watching television alone here.
I guess there are many different circumstances, but they say
it's free and easy to live alone - you can call up a friend
whenever you want without worrying about the family. When
did these things change so much? It didn't used to be like this
before. I know some people find support in religion.... I can't
get excited about it. Objectively, you know, there are too many
mistakes. Even for God. He's dealing with humans. There are
just too many wrongs.
Despite the frequency of contact with her family, Hiro has an over-
whelming sense of loneliness that could not be detected from looking
at objective indicators of contact. She does not consider the quality of
these contacts intimate or caring. Strictly speaking, she does not want
for money, food, or shelter; she is provided for instrumentally and fi-
nancially by her family. But the emotional isolation and alienation she
experiences from the rest of her family in her household is evident.
Hiro feels dependent and unwanted.
Unlike Fuku and Teru, Hiro has been widowed only for 4 years. She
speaks fondly of her late husband and of her daughters who live out-
side this household. She also has a very close friend in the neighbor-
hood, whom she sometimes visits. For Hiro, alternative resources for
support are available but not accessible. She feels that the rules of mu-
tual care have forced her to take up the household with her son's fam-
ily; she does not feel free to do what she really wants. To live in a
household where she feels disliked is all the harder to bear where there
are glimpses of alternative options. Fuku and Teru's generation did not
have these other options; for Hiro's generation, obligatory conditions
now tend to be perceived as constraints.
87
Had Hiro decided to take up a living arrangement with one of her
daughters with whom she feels closer, the sibling relations between
sons and daughters might have been torn beyond repair. She decided
to live with her eldest son, for whom she does not particularly care, to
abide by the rules of filial care on which all can agree. In theory, Hiro
made a decision to go with the eldest son, but in practice, she feels there
was no choice but to go with the eldest son. Her entitlement to care is,
in fact, more clearly defined and dependable if she abides by the social
rules of filial obligation. Living with her son was a safer choice, one
guaranteed by the normative regulation of the society. In abiding by the
old rules, she also found clearer boundaries to define her action and to
avoid conflict. She pays a high price for attaining this greater security:
emotional isolation. She resents but resigns herself to the situation, ex-
ternalizing the blame on traditional customs and the lack of pension
benefits. She would have liked the entitlement, but for a lower price.
The physical price of hard work to build the family was acceptable, but
the emotional price of following the rules of family care was not.
Her sense of control is doubly violated by her physical disability.
Her constant pain is visibly taxing. Her loss of freedom to move, loss
of husband, and consequent loss of control over the household came
one after the other within a span of 10 years. She entertains no hope
for any of these conditions to improve. She has nothing to do all day
except to feel the continuous pain in her knee.
Hiro's sense of security and freedom seems to have grown out of
balance. Her entitlement borders on dependency because it is per-
ceived and treated as a burden by the younger generations living with
her. The social expectations of reciprocal care no longer seem to be
genuinely shared by the younger Fukayas. Without affinity, the rules
of obligation remain skeleton regulations that only constrain both par-
ties in siding with their natural allies.
Since our story is far from complete, we do not know of all the fac-
tors that have led to this high domestic tension. It seems that demon-
strated hardship such as raising 10 children, however, does not suffice
for Hiro to earn her help. Hiro seems to feel the change of times and
values more than Fuku or Teru. For the younger of the elderly in Japan
such as Hiro, there is a new ambivalence regarding the private contract.
88
We must now turn our attention to some case studies of men, also
of different age cohorts, which illustrate further the workings of secu-
rity, dependency, and deservedness in old age. The new changes that
seem to be taking place among the younger generation of old people
in Japan is again evident.
Nishikawa Yasumasa (75), Rice Store Owner

Yasumasa lives in a prototypical three-generation household of a kind
found often among self-employed storekeepers in Odawara. The store
is in front of the house, in which five members live: himself, his wife,
his eldest son, his son's wife, and a grandchild. When we met, he was
in the process of handing down the business to his son, but still main-
tained his owner and accountant status within the business. He also
held many positions in community organizations, including the senior
club, veterans' association, trustee of the chonaikai (neighborhood or-
ganization), rice store union, and some political and religious activi-
ties. These activities seem to reflect a high level of neighborhood
integration for this long-standing family, and the importance of local
networks, particularly for a delivery business such as his. He main-
tained an income over $12,500 at the time of the interview, and, de-
spite diabetes and rheumatism, reported no physical disability.
The Nishikawa Rice Store [komeya] has been in business for

110 years. I was born as a son of komeya, and raised as a son
of komeya.... I was the second son, so I opened my store in
this district. My elder brother runs the main store. It's in
downtown Odawara.
Yes, my son finished school, and he works for the business
now. Yes, he's going to take over my business. Right now, I'm
still the owner. I still see to all the administrative stuff. I know
you young people think that occupations should be chosen
freely. I know it's not like being in Meiji or Taisho times8 -
you're more free. Well, when my son finished school, I did
8 Meiji Era (1868-1912); Taisho Era (1912-26).
89
tell him he didn't have to take over the business, you know. I
said, go and work for a firm, or for a bureaucracy if you want.
But then he said he wanted to do it. So, I'll help him out as
much as I can. . . . See, that's why I'm still out working at
age seventy-five.
In my spare time, I love to fish. All kinds of fish - in the
river, in the sea. My favorite is sweet fish. Oh, I can't wait till
June. . . . I go mostly alone. But sometimes I have company
too. It's my second son, my younger brother, and my
daughter's husband. We all get together and go. They're better
than I am, now that I'm getting on. I taught all of them!
Old age? No, I have nothing to worry about. Absolutely.
My children are doing well. We get along. Never had any
trouble with them. There's nothing to worry about. . . . I also
talked with my daughters. I said, "Will you care for your fa-
ther and mother when they're old and ill? We did a lot to
take care of you when you were small and growing up." And
they said, yes, of course they will. I really think they will.
Barring unforeseen circumstances, yes, we'll be all right. . . .
If you do right, then the children turn out right, I think. It's a
great joy that all the children have their families now, and
they're doing well.
I try to be as thoughtful as I can with the children. If we
have disagreements, I ask for time to think it over. Then I
tell them that I understand and that they're right in what
they're saying. When we really disagree and I can't make
out what they're thinking, then I ask my wife. We talk it out
and try to figure it out. We've never had any big conflict.
Oh, they complain that I'm a stubborn old man, but we
never fight.
I have eight grandchildren. The other day we planned a
party for them - it was Children's Day, see. We thought we'd
invite just the kids, but then, all the adults wanted to come,
too. Do you know how many we are together? We're sixteen
in the family! All showed up. They were so happy. Yes, it's
very lively.
90
Yasumasa represents a male counterpart to Yoshino Fuku in old
age. Whereas women earn their entitlement through work con-
tributed to the household, notably in raising children, men such as
Yasumasa earn their entitlement through their lifelong breadwinner
status. Yasumasa's patriarchal position in the family is evident, and
is easier to demonstrate because his work (the store) is the household
under one and the same roof. His control over both work and family
remains firm in old age and reinforces the obligation on the part of
his children. The unquestioned value of male work is evident in the
Nishikawa household.
Far from finding himself in need of support, Yasumasa still likes to
see his children as something close to being his dependents. His fi-
nancial control seems to be an important key to this formula, yet we
also see a genuine sense of reciprocity between the generations. These
values of reciprocity are reinforced by the sense of continuity that runs
through multiple generations of Nishikawas, who have handed down
the komeya business for over a century. Yasumasa has a wide range of
acquaintances, but his close friends remain within the extended fam-
ily (his brothers and cousins). This family solidarity preempts any
other possibility of living arrangements. Yasumasa's sense of security
derives from a firm notion of progress and continuity, of both family
and business.
For many of the younger aged men interviewed in Odawara, work
took place outside of the home. Unlike Yasumasa, they have made a
more abrupt transition to old age through mandatory retirement. The
following are examples of such men in their late 60s, who had retired
from full-time salaried work. Each of them lives in a different kind of
household. All three cases represent the new changes in values and op-
tions available to the younger cohort of elderly in Japan.
Shimada Toshio (67), Former Gas Company Employee

Toshio retired 9 years ago from his regular work as supervisor in a util-
ity company, and works part-time in the Shimada futon business run
by his wife and son. In his spare time, he is involved in many com-
munity activities. He is the elder (sodai) to the local temple and
91
guardian to the local shrine. He is also an advisor to the local group
insurance association and a counselor to the children's section of
chonaikai. He used to run the Odawara Chapter of the Rotary Club.
He came to Odawara after the war to marry into the Shimadas (as a
yoshi)9 from a relatively well-to-do family that ran a textile shop in
Wakayama Prefecture. He was one of a handful to enter the municipal
high school in the area before he was drafted into the army. He lives
with his wife in a spacious house of five rooms, which he had built
two years prior to our interview. Until that time, he lived with his wife,
wife's mother, son, and son's wife in a three-generation household on
the second floor of the Shimada business. His annual income from
pensions and from returns on investment exceeded $12,500. He had
no major illness or functional disability.
Well, as an elderly person myself, I see that the anxieties of

old age are, you know, the worries in not knowing whether the
children will really take care of you until the very end. It's
really the yome that we worry about most. What sort of care
would she . . . ? Or won't she . . . ? This is our ultimate worry. In
my particular case, and, you know, I don't really want to say
this - and I shouldn't really say this - but my yome. . .. Her
character is reasonable, maybe, but when I was down with pneu-
monia - it's even embarrassing to tell you this - she wouldn't
even come once to see me while I was taken to bed. This sort of
thing is very hard on us old people. It makes us feel lonely. I may
sound like I'm complaining about my daughter-in-law, but the
truth is that this is our ultimate problem in old age. A son is your
own child, but theyome isn't [blood] related. If only she'd say
something warm and considerate, we could be so happy.
I really think this is true for all of us elderly people. You
hear it everywhere. In my case, we don't live with them any-
more. Since we're independent, we don't have to face the situ-
9 For an analysis of the yoshi's status in the family and his role in family succession,
see L. Keith Brown, "Dozoku and the Ideology of Descent in Rural Japan,"
1143-1144. Matthews Hamabata describes the consequences for individuals in
Crested Kimono: Power and Love in the Japanese Business Family, 44—45, 150-151.
92
ation anymore. We're really better off this way. I feel much
freer when we're away from them in the evenings. My yome
isn't that way, you see. When we're here in this house away
from them, we don't have that constraint. We're old, my wife
and myself- we don't have much to say to each other in the
evenings - but there's always the television, you know. We
watch television, and it's all to the best to spend evenings
this way.
It's all right while you're still healthy enough to take care of
yourself. But what if you have to be in a hospital for a long
time? We don't want to be forced to impose on the young.
Heavens, when I go, it would be so nice to go, just like that. A
kind yome . . . It's very lonely otherwise.
I had this operation for a lump the year after I retired. I went
by the shop on my way to the clinic. I told my yome about it and
she just said, "I see." Now the yome next door to our shop, she
said, "Oh, my goodness, you must be very worried. Please take
good care of yourself." Those were really kind words. The
operation took forty minutes. The doctor told me to go rest at
home as soon as possible. The yome next door was shocked to
see me in a bandage: "You must really go home straightaway and
take a good rest." I go to my own yome, and she doesn't even
acknowledge the bandage. She just told me coldly that no one
else was home. Not a word about my operation - about the way I
looked. It made me so mad. All she had to do was suggest to call
a taxi! I decided to walk home because I was so angry. I nearly
fainted on the way home . . . it was so pitiful. I was so miserable.
Toshio lives with none of the emotional security that was charac-
teristic of Fuku or Yasumasa. His anxiety over the future is his central
concern, yet he has sufficient income from his pensions and good
health on his side. He is worried since he feels the informal social se-
curity system is not yielding returns. His demand for filial obligation
is not being met by his children, particularly his daughter-in-law. The
sense of betrayal in the estrangement between parent and children
hurts and depresses him.
93
He is not dependent on his children, and neither are the children de-
pendent on him. In a society where an informal social security system
operates, the lack of mutual dependency can be experienced as a de-
privation. Particularly for men who have been socialized to control,
the loss of power over dependents (children) and loss of work can be
difficult. Toshio has no external constraints to blame, and magnifies
the internal family tension as the cause of his troubles. He has no close
friends, and none of his community positions seems to compensate for
the void and loneliness that he feels. Since Toshio believes firmly in
familial care, his case is one in which he paid for the cost of security,
especially as a yoshi, without receiving any assurances of its delivery.
This is one of the reasons why we detect a sense of betrayal in Toshio
that we do not see in Fuku and Yasumasa.
Sakuma Fumihiko (66), Former Factory Maintenance Worker

Fumihiko retired 6 years ago as maintenance man of a vegetable oil
processing factory in Yokohama. He commuted from Odawara and
worked there for 30 years. He is a man who centers his daily life
around practicing Japanese dance, which he performs weekly at the
senior center. Japanese music records abound in his house of four
rooms, in which he lives alone. His wife died 5 years before our meet-
ing, and his four children see or talk to him regularly - at least once a
week. Corneal inflammation had cost him his left eye. He conse-
quently had trouble with vision and in movements requiring eye co-
ordination. He reported no other physical disability, however, and
drew an income of $8,500 from his pension at the time of the survey.
I never felt happy as a child.... There was much pain all the
time. I don't really like talking about my late mother. There
are too many sad memories I have as a child about her. She
was paralytic. She couldn't talk.... On cold winter days I had
to take her by the hand to the temple. She went to pray, so
she'd get better. It was cold. We walked and cried.. . . My
other siblings couldn't follow her speech. I was the only one
who understood what she was saying. .. . Kids would tease
me about my mother. No, I don't talk much about my mother
94
to my children. It's just too pitiful. . . . It hurts. . . . And my
father was a heavy alcoholic. . . . He used to get violent. He
battered me when I was a child. He'd kick me around when he
was drunk.... It was a hard time.. .. Oh, and when he didn't
drink - when he was sober - we'd laugh together, go to the
fields together and . . . There were very few moments like this.
My eyesight was failing. I quit work when I was sixty. It
was time to retire. The ten years before retirement were hard.
My eyesight was going, I was getting older. . . . Then my wife
died five years ago. .. . She was not in very good health. She
was a tranquil person.
When she was in the hospital, I tried to take care of her. She
had a stroke. She couldn't talk and she was bedridden for three
months. I tried to feed her. I saw to her incontinence. I never
thought it dirty or anything, no. I'd stay with her all night and
run back home at the crack of dawn to wash her diapers, put
them out in the sun to dry, and then rush back to the hospital
again, to make it to feeding time. Then my daughter would
come for her shift - I'd take all the diapers again, take them
home again to wash and . . .
The younger ones used to live here upstairs, when they
worked here. Then, my son was offered the shop over in
Fujisawa, so they moved. It's his own tempura shop now. . . .
So, after my wife died, I started to live alone.
It didn't cross my mind [to join my son's household in
Fujisawa when my wife died]. This house here is my reward
for many years of labor. It's a small house, but it's mine - 1
built it and I want to stay here. After the funeral, the kids got
together to discuss my situation. . . . My son is a good man
and a very hard worker. Then, we all have failures too, don't
we? He is very short-tempered, you know. So you see, the
oyome-san10 would have a hard time. So after the funeral, I
was still in such a daze, but the children and their spouses
came to me. They asked me what I would like to do. So I told
10 A form of addressing a yome (daughter-in-law) with affection and respect.
95
all of them that I would stay here by myself. I told them they
shouldn't worry about me. I also said, right in front of all of
them, that I wanted Mari-chan [daughter-in-law] to look after
me. I said, I wanted it very much that Mari-chan would be the
person to look after me when I couldn't move about anymore.
Mari-chan might have felt burdened too, but it also gave her
recognition. I had preferred the oyome-san over my daughters.
It was significant for her. And yes, she's been absolutely
wonderful. A really nice yome. I place more importance on
Mari-chan than on my own son. . . . My daughters offered that
I should stay with them.. . . You know, it can only be
temporary [as a living arrangement]. They have their own
lives to live.
With my eye problem, I don't see well. That's why I decided to
go help at the tangerine fields. Oh, the tangerine trees are so
green. White flowers are just starting to bloom right now. It's just
beautiful.... I go because it's good for my health . . . yes. It's
such a shame to sit around at home on a nice day, so off I go to
work. It's really enjoyable. Yes, they are considerate enough to
give me something in return, but that's not what I'm after, oh no.
I go there really to enjoy myself. I don't find it hard work at all.
Then, on a rainy day, I like to dance [Japanese traditional
dance]. I just love it. I go off and buy the records that I like,
and then choreograph to the music myself... . There are some
wonderful songs [enka] I dance to, like Murata Hideo and Sen
Masao.11 They sing about life. People thinking about each
other and helping each other and so on. So all the dancing is
good not just for my health, but also for my soul. Of course
there are times I feel lonely - I'm human. But loneliness is
different from boredom. . . .
The oyome-san who looks after me is so wonderful, so nice.
You know, she sometimes stops by to leave me something for
supper. Yes, she drives out here with the kids. I was out last
time she was here. She didn't call, you see. So when I came
11 Singers of contemporary Japanese music.
96
back from the fields there was a letter here, and the refrig-
erator was full of food. This was about two weeks ago. Oh,
she is so thoughtful.
My son isn't really the sentimental type - but he does say I
should spend all my money for myself. He says there's no
need for me to save. "What about it when I'm ill?" I said. He
said he'd put me under the best medical care in the best clinic.
He would pay for it all and I shouldn't worry about a thing.
This, my oyome-san says, too.
Nursing home? No, it never crossed my mind. Yes, when I
can't manage anymore by myself in old age, my son in
Fujisawa is going to look after me. And my oyome-san is just
a jewel. I have truly nothing - nothing at all - to worry about.
Yes, eventually - yes, I will move to Fujisawa.
People seem to envy me for the freedom I enjoy living
alone. I was talking to someone the other day who feels
nervous living next door to his oyome-san. Of course he
doesn't say anything bad about her, but... . Whenever I meet
someone who talks badly of his oyome-san, I always tell them
to persevere [gaman]. Because oyome-san are the ones who
will take care of us. I'm also human and I might catch myself
gossiping too. But I don't say anything [about the yome]. Oh
yes, there were difficult times, too - things were not always
smooth when we lived together. But you know, she looks after
me well. And I would never want to do anything to hurt her.
So it's really important for me to keep the peace within
myself. Peace in my heart.. .. And sometimes when I'm filled
with joy, I call her up because I want to share it with her.
Old age is best when you're taken care of by your family. So,
it's important that we love each other. If you want to take care of
yourself, you must take care of your family - the oyome-san
and the grandchildren. You get no where just loving yourself.. ..
Our world gets smaller as we get older - year by year. We
don't seem to extend ourselves as much. .. . We become self-
focused. It seems to happen to all of us. We become some-
how narrow in old age. The family is within this narrowed
97
horizon. . . . Yes, I mix with a lot of others too, but to take care
of yourself, you have to take care of your family. . . .
We all deserve to be very happy. All of us - really. We
can accumulate the little bits and pieces of happiness that we
have, toward fulfillment. I think you achieve happiness for
yourself. . . . Add up the happiness around you. And go
on - till we die - that's a fine life.
Unlike Toshio, Fumihiko is more aware of the kind of care that must
go into in-law relationships. Fumihiko understands that the dynamics
of demands made between generations need to be adapted to the new
environment. He strives to keep the dependency on his children to a
minimum and maintains an independent life-style despite his physical
disability. Compared with Toshio, he seeks a less dominant role vis-a-
vis his daughter-in-law and he manages to balance his family relations
without overt tension. The security he feels regarding his future care is
not presented as an earned right. It is the affinity in the family that
makes him feel secure, not the traditional structure of obligations. By
living in a separate household, he retains his sense of control and free-
dom, opens himself to peer friendships, and avoids the tensions of the
informal social security system until it becomes a necessity. In this
way, Fumihiko steers his life in a positive direction rather than dwelling
on the past. The kind of arrangement he pursues is quite individualis-
tic and accommodates the realities of the changing social environment.
Much care goes into his special relationship with the daughter-
in-law. Fumihiko's precious ability to express love is directed often
toward the oyome-san, Mariko, who is married to his son. He con-
sciously cultivates the affinity in this special relationship and is wary
of both burdening her and of taking her for granted. Fumihiko takes to
this effort with the long-term inevitability in mind: He assumes that he
will need her in the future, especially after seeing his wife through her
illness before death. His affinity for his daughter-in-law is all the more
important to him, because she, more than any other family member,
will be the most intimate person for him when it is his turn to be con-
fined by illness. In Fumihiko's case, the present and the future blend
well together through the solid presence of his daughter-in-law.
98
Tsuda Yukio (66), Former Chemical Engineer

Yukio is a retired engineer who worked for one of Odawara's large
photographic supply manufacturers. He is educated and cultured, and
seems content in retirement. He is a man with a great passion for paint-
ing and calligraphy, and is recognized for his accomplishments by a
large artists' association of which he is also a jury member. He sends
his paintings annually to Nitten, a prestigious national painting com-
petition. Artistic talent seems to run in his family. His father, a farmer
of Akita Prefecture, was also a painter. His wife writes poetry
(haiku).12 The studio in his house is filled with a midsized collection
of antique pottery. He owns his house, where he lives with his wife,
son, son's wife, and two grandchildren. His pension income was over
$8,500 at the time we met, and he reported no health problems. He is
a person with a very natural style and keen self-awareness. His obser-
vations are both confident and thoughtful.
You work hard at the company because you have to make a
living. Of course, we had to work hard because if the company
went under, so did you. Hey, but that's not all there is to it. The
company is a for-profit organization. They pay you for your
work because you are useful. Once you reach retirement,
you're an old soldier. Time to bid farewell. Farewells always
come. It's a system to let go of people who are no longer useful
to the company. Thank you very much - let's take the [lump-
sum retirement] money and leave gracefully. Hell, we've
worked hard, raised a family, and paid a lot of taxes, too. With
the rest of your life, why not do what you want? Working life
is tough - it's hard work - now, finally, you're free.
Three-generation households? - well, I suppose there must
be people in all sorts of circumstances. But, on the whole, I
think things get out of hand when you don't say things to each
other. Perseverance [gaman]? No, usually there's conflict
when there's no real communication. You create the rift, and
then there is conflict. I think you have to feel free to talk about
12 A form of Japanese poetry.
99
things. I scolded my son, yes, when he was only a kid. But
now he's finished school and he's his own person. He works
hard in his own way. We talk very openly and we drink
together and so on... . How could we have conflict?
Anxiety of old age? Anxiety? Hum - 1 don't know if I'd
really understand what that means until I'm ill or something.
Money? That I know I don't have. But do you need it? When
you're healthy? Hum - come to think of it, I guess you do need
money when you're ill in old age. I was never interested in
money, but. .. yes, imagine - cancer - operation - oh, hospital
fee - gee, that would be expensive. But I don't think about it
really. Do you think there's a point in worrying? You die if you
work hard, and you die if you don't work hard, too. That's the
way it is, so, what do you want to do? You only end up the way
you end up, anyway. What's important is to feel fulfilled. The
future is made up of today and tomorrow. So, fulfill yourself
today and tomorrow.... That way you're fulfilled in the
future, too - every day until you die. Wouldn't life be boring
if you didn't think that way?
Yukio represents a new kind among the Japanese aged - in what
he thinks, what he wants out of his old age, and in his economic se-
curity. His living arrangement, on the other hand, is entirely tradi-
tional. His three-generation household, however, is not structured in
a traditional way. His combined sense of security and freedom bal-
ances here with no regard to notions of entitlement and obligation.
His security seems grounded in the affinity of a close-knit family, not
in feelings of obligation. His sense of freedom, on the other hand, de-
rives from his individualistic pursuit of art outside of the family, and
his secure, well-earned pension. Yukio has a house, decent pension,
and good health. The give-and-take between generations is open to
negotiation in a more egalitarian manner than what we have seen in
other households.
Two days after the last interview, Yukio's son was due to leave
for Europe for a year on company assignment. The son's wife and
daughter were to remain in the Tsuda household because a year
100
abroad was too short, reaffirming their commitment to stay in this
household in future years. For the younger generation of Tsudas, too,
the support system is flexible and negotiable. This is a household that
has come to live together out of choice rather than of physical or fi-
nancial necessity.
The more flexible informal social security system of Fumihiko and
Yukio in contrast with Toshio's anxiety-ridden support arrangement
shows us the increasing relevance of personal chemistry in attaining
old-age security. Indeed, the pattern of filial support is composed of
varied parent-child relations as we can see in the case studies. The
norms of intergenerational reciprocity and trajectories of inevitable
need remain at the core of the private contract, however, and lead us
to derive some generalizations.
THE PROTECTIVE APPROACH
The Japanese structure of security for the elderly can be described as

being essentially protective in nature. In this type of security structure,
care can be provided for the elderly even where need is still only a po-
tential. The demonstration of actual hardship is of course a consider-
ation, but the genuine sense of security derives from an anticipation
that help will be forthcoming from the elderly person's immediate en-
vironment as matters turn for the worse. Despite the heterogeneity of
need, the case studies of Japanese elderly illustrate how they seek pro-
tection for future vulnerability in the private contract. In the cyclic
perspective of life, the inevitable deterioration of health is a key as-
sumption. The sense of security, then, is incomplete unless the system
can successfully cope with the expectation of future needs.
A life cycle approach to the problem of aging is shared among the
different generations in the households that we examined. The sense
of continuity characteristic of the elderly in Japan derives from the
strength of this shared approach. How an aging parent will be looked
after can be a question raised even at earlier milestones of life, such
as marriage or first childbirth. Norms of filial obligation derived
from Confucian ethics have been the backbone of this order of
101
care, where each aging parent was to be looked after by the child, es-
pecially the eldest son and his yome. But today, this serial order of
care offers those of the younger provider generation a litmus test:
Their action signals to the next generation what they would like done
for them in their turn. In this sense, one starts paying for one's own
old age at an early age, particularly in the three-generation household
in Japan.
Values are not reproduced over time merely by rules and regula-
tions; prescriptions of care for the elderly must therefore also be rein-
forced in the institutional structures of reciprocity, and the social
assignment of obligations. Historically, filial care in Japan has been
structured by rewards of inheritance rights to land, property, and oc-
cupation, which established an order of mutual interest. Today, how-
ever, this sense of mutuality is not always taken for granted. As
Yasumasa talked his daughters into a commitment to care by invoking
past parental care, demonstration of past contributions becomes a key
element to legitimating the private contract in contemporary life.
Where reciprocity norms can no longer be maintained structurally,
problems of dependency can also become more visible. We found
strain and tension in the households where older members felt that
their accumulated credit from the past was not recognized. For some,
affinity between the giver and the receiver reinforced reciprocity
norms. Others adjusted to change by looking for alternative forms of
arrangement. It is important to observe, however, that instrumental
help outside the household remains largely inaccessible; thus protec-
tion must be sought inside the household in Japan.
102
The American Viewpoint
A T one of the intersections in a quiet residential district of West

Haven, there was an elderly woman carrying out a difficult task:
She was walking. She was walking with an aluminum walker cover-
ing three sides of the body; with both hands firmly holding onto the
top bars, she progressed perhaps 10 inches or so with every step, re-
peating this motion extremely slowly and painstakingly. When she
reached the intersection, her steps became even more intermittent: She
had to watch that no cars were approaching. In her extraordinary slow-
ness, she could not cross the intersection in time if a car approached
even from the furthest end of the street.
A spontaneous response on the part of an observer who encounters
a handicapped person in a less than safe situation like this is to offer
help. But if help had been offered this woman, she would most likely
have declined it. Her painstaking task was carried out with self-
reliance, self-respect, and dignity. Her stern concentration on the task
was of the kind that prohibits casual interference from outsiders. Her
face wore an expression of strength and determination.
It is not uncommon to encounter frail elderly persons walking
publicly with aids in the streets of West Haven. For all of America's
ethnic variety, this independence and resilience is a common charac-
teristic of the American way of growing old, which many cross-
national observers also note.1 This point is illustrated further in the
following case studies of the American elderly in West Haven.
1 Donald O. Cowgill, Aging around the World, 47-50; Jennie Keith, Christine Fry, and
Charlotte Ikels, "Community as Context for Successful Aging," 260; G. Clare
Wenger, "The Major English-Speaking Countries," 121; Andrei Simic, "Aging,
Worldview, and Intergenerational Relations in America and Yugoslavia," 89.
103
The cases suggest that the American expectation of independence
is deeply rooted in beliefs about self-sufficiency, need, and crisis in-
tervention. In contrast to the Japanese, older Americans approach
need more as a contingency than as an inevitable outcome of aging.
In this approach, physical need in particular is an unpredictable exi-
gency that the future may, or may not, bring about - something less
probable than financial need. As a result, the American private con-
tract assumes a high degree of flexibility that is suited to deal with
crises as they arise. Compared with the Japanese protective support,
this approach demands greater resilience and independence from the
elderly individual.
The history of immigration, frequent job changes, and family
transitions all contribute to the embracement of uncertainty. The
American preference for free choice also creates a greater will-
ingness to leave matters undecided. Consequently, the wiser strat-
egy to deal with the unpredictable future is to build resistance to
adversity. This approach, embedded as it is in the cultural history
of the United States, has important consequences for the private
contract; planning as the Japanese do to forestall adversity will
not do.
The elderly themselves perceive their support resources as di-
verse, open, and negotiable. The diffused network of the elderly out-
side the household described in Chapter 4 and in this chapter shows
that the American elderly have more extensive support resources
than their Japanese counterparts. Such an arrangement reduces their
dependence on one resource at a given time. In the long run, however,
this triangulated network can run into a problem, because the long-
term availability of the primary member - the spouse - is limited.
When reciprocal obligations are voluntary, they are also changeable
and relatively unstable. As the following case studies show, the
American elderly face different choices to supplement or "replace"
the spouse when the turning point arrives. These individuals are cho-
sen for their diversity - in age, gender, living arrangement, and eth-
nicity - to offer an examination of the wide range of circumstances
found in the community.
104
VOICES FROM WEST HAVEN
Helen Slomkowski (65), Homemaker

Helen has been widowed for 7 years; her husband was a presser at a
large local garment manufacturer. She is the youngest of seven sib-
lings, born and brought up on the same site where she lives today. She
now lives alone in a relatively large house of five rooms, but next door
is an assortment of relatives and family members. Her household is
lively. On each of three separate and random calls by interviewers,
Helen was in the midst of groups of visitors - her children, relatives,
or friends. The ease and spontaneity characterizing these interactions
showed the close nature of the relationship between Helen and her
family. All of her four daughters are married and work full- or part-
time in blue-collar or clerical jobs. They move in and out of Helen's
house more than once a week for meals, chores, and general mainte-
nance such as plumbing, carpentry, electrical wiring, and car repair
(yes, they are women!). They have keys to this house and enter freely,
and Helen has her daughters' house keys.
In her fifties, Helen worked for 6 years in the meat-packer in New
Haven. Otherwise, she has been a homemaker, raising children and
managing a household that, in essence, has included more than her nu-
clear family unit. Helen has had a long history of medical problems -
heart attack, cancer of the uterus, arthritis, high blood pressure, and
backache. But her physical functioning, she reported, was only some-
what diminished for walking long distances, stooping, or handling
small objects. At the time of the interview, her annual income was
$8,500 and she also received assistance for her heating bills (Low Cost
Fuel Assistance Program) from the city. She is a second-generation
American of Polish descent.
This is the Bartkowski's. My maiden name was Bartkowski.

And it was the Bartkowski homestead here - an old farm-
house. . . . When my father came from Europe, and, well,
when he got a few pennies together, he bought this farm. And
105
that's where the big white house stands. . . . When [my father]
met my mother, he had this place already, well, they just had a
little shack.. . . And I understand his older brother gradually
brought the whole family over.
One [of my daughters] lives right in my backyard. . . . I had
a brother that lived over there [in the other house] and my
sister-in-law still lives there. Right now I have a brother and
his wife, Ann, living next door to me. And over here, that's my
husband's brother. At one time one of my brothers lived over
there, and they moved to East Haven.
Well, over there my uncle decided that he would make the
papers out and give this to me.. . . But we also had an
agreement that we would pay him eleven dollars - isn't that
ridiculous? But we weren't making much money either - we
were to pay this [sum] for the rest of our lives. And this way
he would be sure that he had an income.
[My uncle] was never sick, but, oh, I always used to make
stuff for him - cakes, breads, cookies, pies, and stuff like that.
He loved potato pancakes - I'd always make a batch of them
and bring them over to him. . . . I used to go over there and
clean his house for him every Saturday. Then my mother did
the washing and ironing for him.
It was nice, it was close knit.. .. You see, the reason why
we can have it and hold it is, if there is an argument, we don't
stay mad. I mean, that's it - cut and dried. That's the end of it.
And we really do get along. There is genuine affection. And
yet we don't paw over each other, and we do not stick our
noses in each others' business.
Oh, I get to see [my daughters] often. One lives in Guilford -
about thirty to forty minutes away. And one lives in North Haven.
One lives in Hamden, and another in my backyard. All the work
that's been done around here has been done by my girls! The
painting, the carpentry, plumbing! They [also] took a window out
of the bedroom - for an air conditioner. It was a Christmas gift.
The girls still stayed at home - they all lived here [until they
got married].. .. [My youngest daughter] got married five
106
years ago. The lease was up - she called me up and said, "Ma,
can we move in with you? Can we - so we can save some
money?" So she moved in here - my husband had passed
away - so she was here! They weren't here very long and, of
course, they were saving their money.
Then, they were talking about [the property next door]. . . .
I told them "if you want it, I'll help you out. If it's what
you want, now is the time to get it before [prices] go up
any higher." They bought it, and they were only here a
year. . . . They paid me. It didn't take them long. Within a
year they paid me. [My son-in-law is] a machinist - he
has an electric repair shop. It's his own business. She
works for the utility company and they really earn good
money there.
It was a pleasure having them live here. I was afraid when
they wanted to come and live here. You know, when they
wanted to come and live with me I was afraid of it. I really
was. .. . [When] she called me up on the phone and said,
"I've got a proposition for you," well, I'm telling you I was
such a wreck! I was such a wreck that night and the next day.
Well, I had gotten used to being by myself and I liked it. And
I thought, gee, couples should be by themselves.... I like to
see them on their own. I'd rather see them on their own,
because I think couples should be by themselves.
But I truly enjoyed having them here - it was a pleasure.
Rich [son-in-law] would come home, smile on his face, "Hi,
Mom!" He's a real good-natured fellow. "Hello, Mom!" - he
would always be happy. I would do the cooking, and if I didn't
feel up to it, they would do it. I mean, it was almost like there
was no question of it.
I've always said that as long as I had to have one sex, either
girls or boys, I'm glad it was all girls rather than all boys. I
truly am.. . . Friends would say, "My God, you get more work
out of your girls than I get out of my boys!" You can't expect
the kids over at the drop of the pin. And I think girls drop the
pin faster and do it than the boy will. The boy has got to do
107
things for his wife - to me I think the wife comes first, and
then the mother - as important as the mother is.
I sit down and crochet, I read, and in the evening I put the
TV on. A long time after my husband died . . . if I wanted
some company, I'd whip up some supper and have my brother
and sister-in-law over, but as time went on it got less and
less.. . . When my husband died, I would have gone out of my
mind if I didn't crochet.
My husband had cancer. He was very sick and we had a lot
of medical bills .. . and so I went to work. We paid up. . . . He
was hospitalized, yes. When they operated on him, they didn't
think he was coming through it - he was so bad. . . . It was the
year [one of my daughters] got married. He walked her down
the aisle, and I'm telling you, he was really thin, oh, so thin. . . .
[My husband and I] used to go out to Wallingford - the
open theater there. We used to go out there, go out to eat and
entertain. . . . No, I don't miss it. Because I go with the ladies.
I don't go too often anyway.... You've got to do something a
little more exciting than some crocheting!
With friends, we talk mostly about our kids, clothes, about
different places, and do you know a good place to e a t . . . .
They have a group here [at the senior center] that do line-
dancing. They're fantastic! I went to the Christmas dinner. We
go to a few of those things. They have a lot of stuff that goes
on down there you know... . But we don't have much time to
go down there - we've got our own circle.
Oh, there were two couples we used to play cards with
Saturday nights.. . . We'd talk and laugh and joke and really
have a nice evening together. I tell you, when my husband
died, that was the end of those couples. It is. I never thought it
would happen and it was.
Elderly housing - 1 don't think I could live that way, living
like this all my life. I think I'd get claustrophobia. . . . I think
[nursing homes are] for people who need them. I don't see
myself there. I hope I never have to, but I don't think of myself
as being above it.
108
Helen's life revolves around the Bartkowski homestead. Her fam-
ily and kin are here, and they also act as her neighbors, friends, confi-
dantes, and caretakers. This type of living arrangement is not typical
in West Haven, but Helen's problems as an elderly widow living alone
in ill health are.
Helen has undergone a major life transition in recent years - from
a wife to a widow. The transition involved not only a change in living
arrangement, but also her support system. She has moved from being
part of a husband-wife team in a "couple culture" to being on her own
with a new group, a new support network. She has lost her husband,
but in many ways others have taken his place: married daughters,
relatives, and peers. In Helen's case, her informal network was also
readily available when she became ill and widowed, in the immediate
vicinity of her homestead.
Helen's position at the receiving end of informal care, however, is
not a straightforward case of "entitlement" as in Japan. Her security
derives from the affinity in the relationships, not structural obliga-
tions. Furthermore, she is self-sufficient except for specific needs that
require support of her daughters, relatives, and friends. Maintenance
of the house is one such problem; bureaucratic matters such as apply-
ing for public fuel assistance is another.
Helen's economic situation also illustrates the mixture of indepen-
dence and dependence in her life. Helen remains financially indepen-
dent of her children and relatives through her social security benefits
and home ownership. Although Helen's income was low enough to
qualify her for fuel assistance, it was her income and she could count
on it. The parent and children are financially interdependent in special
circumstances - Helen's daughter moved in with her to save for a
down payment on her home - but such interdependencies are also re-
solved at the earliest opportunity.
As much as Helen relies emotionally on her children and as
much as they in turn invite her and call her frequently, Helen's
main companions are her peer friends (two of them cousins, all
of them widows). It is with them that she regularly spends the day.
The breadth of the network is such that Helen refuses to single out
one person as the confidante. Helen's support network of children,
109
relatives, and friends is far more diffuse than any we have seen
in Odawara.
The reciprocity norms of the informal network are also more flexi-
ble and are not taken for granted. Where mutual obligations are dif-
fused, the responsibility for well-being rests clearly with the
individual. Helen's sense of security must be understood in this con-
text of economic independence and diffused obligations with children,
relatives, and friends. Security is only complete if both tiers of sup-
port are available for different types of need.
Theresa Dunn (84), Former Factory Worker

Theresa was married for 50 years to a barber with whom she moved
to West Haven during the Depression. In West Haven she worked at a
large gun factory while raising five children - three sons and two
daughters. Soon after her husband died, Theresa moved into a public
housing unit for the elderly along the shoreline of West Haven. All
her children live in West Haven and call her at least once a week.
Theresa has high blood pressure and started her bout with arthritis
two years ago. She reports relatively few physical disabilities, but her
daily activities are restricted to preparing meals, reading the paper,
and watching television. She goes out of the housing complex only
once a week, to the hairdresser. She reports that she has no close
friends or confidantes; apart from her immediate family, she has little
contact with the outside world. Her annual income from Social Secu-
rity was $3,500 at the time of the interview, and she also receives
financial help from her children. Theresa is a second-generation
American of Irish descent.
I wasn't born in Connecticut. I was born in New York State. But I
came to West Haven after the war, because my husband was in
the war.. .. We had the Depression, and he had a job over here -
so we came here. We settled here. So that's the way it was. It's
been about fifty-one years that I've lived in Connecticut....
I've been here [in the elderly public housing] nine years.
See, I became a widow. Then my boys were home. . . . So
that's the way it was, you know - each picked up his own life.
110
This [building] was being built and my income was that I
could come here. Because I was alone then, see, I was. [My
sons] were married and they had their responsibilities, so -
and this for me is just perfect. Yes, it is. It's perfect because of
my income and [medical attention]. I'm very grateful so far. It
all depends, you know, there's a lot of things going on, you
know, coming here - but so far it hasn't bothered me too
much. I'm just living day to day, that's all. I don't make no
more plans.
I used to [participate in the social activities of the housing
project]. But I find now - well I'm on my own, I take care of
my own. I need to rest in the afternoon and, so - I'm very
contented. Years ago I was very active, but as I've grown
older, well, I'm eighty-four, so I can't be a big sport....
Health? There isn't any of us that escape anything, you know,
we all have to have that little something. Don't you think so? I
do. . . . I've got a cold - you can notice my voice. I had it kind
of bad. Now I notice, as I'm getting older - it hits me more.
But not severe. . .. Look at the people in walkers, with
canes. . . . I try to do what I can. That's all... .
I have a late breakfast, and I eat around one o'clock. I do my
own cooking. So I think I have enough to keep me busy. And
then I like to read, you know. And I do watch television a little
bit. I've become very tired of some of it. Because it's not for my
age, you know. I watch what's best for me - news and things.
No, I don't go downstairs [to dining hall] to eat. The reason
I don't is because they serve early. I eat late in the morning. So
I like what I'm doing. Not everybody goes down. It depends
on how you plan your meals. I think we're fortunate to have
things like that. So we can see what's going on. And it's nice
to see the relationship. Because, life is short.
I needed something like this. I wanted a place where I met
people more, and where I didn't have so much cleaning to do.
You know, you're living in a place - you've got to take care of
i t . . . . Most of the people living here . .. they've had some
years behind them. I don't know them enough to know how
111
old they are. I meet people every day. When I go down to get
my paper, check my mail. And that's enough for me.
Close friends here? No, I wouldn't say [so]. The only one that I
was very close with was a woman that got sick. And that was it.
So now, I have a couple of neighbors that drop in now and again -
but they are coming and going, s o . . . . We're just nice to each
other. Let's say we're thoughtful of each other. So that's all I do.
The only club that I belong to is the Senior Citizen and my
church. So, I have enough, you know. I'm never, never lonely.
No, I'm never lonely. I guess it's because I've had such a good
full life that I'm glad to be quiet now.
For Thanksgiving I was at my son's home. He lives in West
Haven. Yes, he's married, has three children. See, I have three
sons. And we get together at times, when there's something.
So it makes a nice family together.
I'm a great-grandmother.. . . My oldest one is my oldest's
son - he's going into his third [year]. And the other one - he's
just over his first year. I see them not too much. But I'll be
seeing them I hope, you know, for Christmas. And you look
forward to it.
I don't stay overnight anywhere. I come home right
here.... they make sure that I get home safely and everything.
But I think, just keep in touch with your family, that's all you
need. And don't wait too long to give a call now and then. My
children are - fair, you know. But of course, they're busy too.
Seeing them more often? No, not exactly. Because, see, I
don't think I'm the type that's wanting someone around me.
I think maybe I had a full life years ago - 1 don't need all that
attention now. Except when I need them.
I have two daughters, and they take me if I want to go
somewhere which is very little, because they are both busy
themselves. No, they don't work .. . but they're very good to
me, they help me in some ways.... I have a sister up in
Meriden. .. . She's younger than I am. We never lose contact.
We always know how each other are. Because, we're the only
two people.
112
I don't go downtown alone anymore. I never was a big one
[for shopping] - when you don't have the income anymore. I
have what I need. You know the prices.. . . Well, actually I get
tired. . . . I used to love going to Malley's to buy things. . . .
But that's all right. I think I'm very lucky. The only important
thing is take care - that's all. Take care of it. . . . Doctors?
Well, it all depends - I'd say twice a year. My daughter takes
me. Well, her husband drives and takes me. So I don't have to
worry about any of those things. In other words, I'm very
fortunate - let's put it that way.
I'm here nine years when they first completed it, and if
the good Lord leaves me for nine more years - that would
be great, wouldn't it? But I don't know.... No, I don't like
[the idea of nursing homes]. Not too much.... Well of course
some people have to g o . . . . Of course I don't like to say
anything about them.
For someone of Theresa's age, the informal network often narrows

down from family and friends to just family. Peers (including spouse)
become increasingly undependable as companions with the onset of
illnesses, and are lost in the event of death. Givers and receivers, how-
ever, continue to forge informal support according to contingencies
despite shrinking networks. Theresa's ambivalence in wanting to see
and go out with her children, and in wanting to respect their indepen-
dence by not burdening them, is also common among the elderly liv-
ing alone in West Haven. As the desire for independence and the desire
for support are at odds, however, Theresa resigns herself to the status
quo, without asking for more help.
Theresa's sense of security, however, is essentially intact. Her daily
maintenance is guaranteed by some family assistance and the city's
housing program. Her room is filled wall-to-wall with pictures of her
children and grandchildren - a proxy presence. She also has daily con-
tact with people in the building and can regulate it according to how
she feels on that day. What Theresa has in her room may seem little to
some observers; but her relative sense of well-being is warranted be-
cause, strictly speaking, her needs are being met.
113
Theresa's wish to remain in the housing project for another 9 years
did not come true. Seven months after the interview, she broke her hip
and was hospitalized at St. Raphael's Hospital in New Haven. Soon
discharged, she entered a nursing home in West Haven 10 minutes
away from the housing project. Her children gave up her apartment at
the housing project, and her belongings were scattered among them.
Whatever she needed at the nursing home was brought over to her by
her children on their visits. According to one of her daughters and the
social worker at the nursing home, Theresa has regained her cogni-
tive function, which became unstable immediately after she went to
the nursing home. Her records show repeated hospitalizations over the
past 2 year: anemia, congestive heart failure, and cancer of the colon.
She did not like the idea of going to a nursing home, but it is now un-
likely that Theresa will return to living on her own.
Stella Richards (72), Former Seamstress and House Guardian

Stella was born and raised in Washington, D.C., in a large African Amer-
ican family of 10 siblings and four cousins. She moved to Connecticut
when she married, and lived in Fairfield, Stratford, and Bridgeport as a
self-employed seamstress. Stella separated from her husband, who
owned his delivery business, when she was 43 years old. The couple had
an adopted daughter (Ellen) who then went off to school. After the sep-
aration, Stella worked as a live-in house guardian for 20 years, raising
a white child (Chris) whom she also calls her "adopted daughter."
Since her move to West Haven 8 years ago, she has been very ac-
tive in senior citizens' affairs, both as a volunteer and as a paid part-
time aide at a local community center. She puts in 4 hours every day
at the community center and is active as a volunteer at her Protestant
church and the Red Cross. She is also a certified volunteer inspector
of one of the West Haven convalescent homes. She goes to the local
state college twice a week to learn about social work. In her living
room she displays an "Outstanding Senior Citizen Award" from for-
mer Connecticut Governor Grasso, commending her for her volunteer
work. She lives in a two-room apartment in an (age-integrated) hous-
ing project run by the West Haven Housing Authority, and she does
114
not wish to disclose her income. Stella has a severe case of arthritic
pain and also high blood pressure. Her functional disability score was
higher than the average West Havener in the sample. She reported that
she could not handle large or heavy objects, stoop, or crouch. She does
not go out of the house when it rains or snows, for fear of slipping and
breaking her hip.
When I was a girl, principles and values meant much more

than money and power. But today, as I grow older, I can see
that money and power have taken over . .. and principles
and values are going down. .. . After the war, everybody
made a tremendous amount of money. .. . They became very
rich. When you become very rich . . . [you] don't care what
kind of principles you have. . . . If people had more values,
I think they would have been a little more loving and caring
about their relatives . . . all they can build up is hate and
distrust.. . . They don't believe in anything, and people
become so bitter. . ..
You've got to be yourself. I said, whatever you are, people
must accept you on your own merits - not because [of] what
they want you to be, or what they can get you to be, or what they
can get out of you... . People will have to accept me for what I
am - or they don't have to accept me at a l l . . . . I accept people -
I may not approve of what they do, I may not like their values, I
may not like their moral standards - but, that's not my problem.
When you move into a neighborhood - they [neighbors]
come here, they welcome me - and you let them know you're
here. But you're occupied to the extent that you do not have
time for socializing, for coffee, or going in and out of their
home. No, I never do that.. . . For me, if you get too familiar
with them, then you begin to have a little problem. They take
you for granted. They do things because you're so familiar. .. .
Lending? No, now it's too dangerous. I don't actually do it.
Never - you cannot tell people your problems. Because,
they cannot keep it. They have close friends too. They're
talking to their close friends. And when you hear it, it's not the
115
same. I guess I'm mostly a private person. And as I grow
older, I grow more independent and I like quietness - peace.
I wouldn't be working if I could.. .. There's many times I
want to give up. But I won't because as long as I can go, I
will. But sometimes, it's pretty strenuous on a person.. . . You
can come down just as fast as you go up. And it depends on
the day. It depends, for me, [on] what I eat and how well my
food digests. Sometimes I get up in the morning, [and] I feel
very sluggish. When I'm sluggish, I have no energy. And so I
go to work and I come back home -just break down. I don't
care . .. how most people look at you and say, oh gee, you
don't look that old, and you've got a lot of energy and a lot of
this and a lot of that. I think when you reach a certain age, a
lot of us push ourselves. But it's not easy, not easy. And some
people push themselves, because they don't want to admit
their age. When you reach a certain age. . . . when you break
down, it's sometimes irreparable.
But you just have to. There's no alternative.. .. I'm not ever
going to sit and rock myself away. I'm going to be active in
something. I may not be able to hold a job five days a week
[but] I'm certainly not going to rock myself to death.
No, I wouldn't want to [live with adopted child Chris].
She'd want me to When I get all sick? I don't think I'll be
around that long. I may have to go to the hospital for a little
while, but I don't think I'll be around. I don't think so. I don't
have that kind of feeling. I think - my coming and going - 1
don't think I'd be in need. And secondly, my help is coming
from no one but me.
I usually could depend, if anything happened, on my sisters.
But my sisters, all of them, are very old and not too happy
themselves. And my adopted daughter Ellen, she has her
own family, she lost her husband and [has] her own family
to take care of. They don't have to ask me for nothing, and
I don't have to ask them for nothing.... The only thing
I can think of now - that's why I'm working - [is] trying
not to put myself in the position that I have to call on
116
somebody because I can't pay my electric bill, or can't pay my

telephone bill.
If they come, I'd be glad. But I don't have that urge that I
want them - not yet. I don't even care about their coming very
often. They need to be with their own peers.. . . She used to
come up quite often, and I said, Chris . . . you can't waste so
much time fooling around with m e . . . . I said, I just want you
to live independently. I think it's better for the children,
because, you see, I was so devoted to my mother and it hurt
me. . . . I think that if you are living apart, if anything should
happen to each other, you can accept it better.
If I had to have immediate attention, it would have to be some
of my relatives that could get to me quickly. . . . I think I would
call Chris, because she's right here [in Connecticut]. And then
the next person, if I didn't get Chris - it'd be my sisters.. ..
Friends? I suppose I could call Mary - she lives up on Second
Avenue in West Haven - she would come up. She's around my
age, I guess, and she's a nurse's aid. She does practical nursing.
I could die sudden - and I said, but one thing I do know.
Whatever happened to me, my daughter will be here before I
leave. And that's one thing I know. And I don't worry about it
anymore. I used to. I'd think about it. I said if you have
faith . .. have a positive attitude. I simply can't sit down and
think about the worst thing that could happen. You think about
the best thing that could happen .. . and I want to think
positive. I said, it's just not going to happen that way.
Unlike Helen or Theresa, Stella represents a case of an elderly per-

son whose needs are entirely unmet. Like Dorothy in Chapter 1, Stella
endures an emotional isolation that expresses itself in her distrust of
the world around her. Her depression and isolation are all the more
striking when we consider her busy schedule and activities. Her sense
of bitterness was not detectable at all in earlier meetings with her at
formal gatherings. For Stella, the changing world represents a declin-
ing order - in morality, safety, quality of life, and in her own health.
At the same time, there is a strong sense of vitality in her way of life,
117
in her positive attitude toward adversity. Her denial of current and
future vulnerability is part and parcel of this defiant attitude; yet it
does not alleviate her fear of growing old.
Stella's divorce and biological childlessness are significant factors
in developing this sense of self-reliance. In times of need, she has been
able to turn to her family of origin in the past for support. This infor-
mal network of relatives, however, is shrinking in size and depend-
ability. She is ambivalent in her desire at once to depend and not
depend on her adopted children, and chooses to embrace her isolation.
Joining forces with Ellen, who is also struggling without a husband, is
a possibility, but their relationship is strained. Class and race stand in
the way of forging a closer alliance with Chris, even though Chris has
more resources to support Stella than Ellen does. The sadness of
Stella's choice is that, in fact, there is no choice in the true sense.
Stella is also ambivalent in her desire to continue her work. I sus-
pect a financial need, given her residence in a public housing unit and
the occupations she has held in the past. Yet, financial independence
has become all the more important to her now that the sibling support
network is dwindling. In a society where the conjugal partner gives
primary support, its absence demands a penalty in financial security,
especially for women and minorities in old age. We will now turn to
case studies of men who have likewise adjusted to widowhood and re-
tirement. The theme of independence is also salient for them, but it is
nuanced somewhat differently.
Ernest McCarthy (79), Former Sales Clerk

Ernest has spent his entire life in the Greater New Haven region. Born
and raised in Woodbridge, he worked and lived in New Haven until
moving to West Haven in 1944. Ernest and his wife moved into a two-
room apartment in the West Haven elderly public housing unit after
being on the waiting list for 5 years. He has continued to live in the
same apartment since his wife's death, 6 years ago. Ernest spent most
of his working career as a salesman in a retail cigar store. Because this
store went into bankruptcy and he was only compensated by a limited
lump-sum payment, he found himself still in need of a stable income
118
after he reached retirement age. Moving into the low-rent public hous-
ing, he reports, finally allowed him to stop working at age 70. In the
housing complex, he uses a wide range of social services to meet his
daily needs.
Ernest has a daughter who lives within several blocks, and two sib-
lings in West Haven. He relies on these family members for financial,
instrumental, and emotional support. His friends are those who live in
the housing project. Ernest suffered a heart attack 5 years ago. He was
mildly disabled as a result of this condition and arthritis, and he could
not carry out heavy household chores. His income from social secu-
rity at the time we met was $6,000. He is a second-generation Amer-
ican of Irish descent.
I had no grandparents in this country. My mother and father

came over from Ireland. So I never knew either [side] of my
grandparents. [But] I had a lot of aunts and uncles. . . . My
father died when he was about sixty, and I got married right
after he died. My mother died when she was seventy, so I
wasn't living home [anymore] - I was living with my wife.
My mother lived with my two sisters and my brother.
Retirement? I like it. Well, I like it because I definitely
couldn't, I just couldn't work anymore. After all, I'm going
on eighty. I worked for over fifty years and it was time. . . .
I retired at sixty-five, then worked part-time as a guard up
in the mall. [I went to part-time work] because I needed the
money. Sure, I needed the money so I was glad to get it, in
fact. . . . And then this place [elderly public housing]
opened up nine years ago. I retired ever since I came in
here. . . . I had to get out because you're only permitted to
make so much money a year on the social security. . . . I just
couldn't see that.
I worked in a cigar store for thirty years before that. And
before that I worked in a shop - 1 learned the toolmaking busi-
ness. [But] I got out around '22 -jobs were scarce. This [cigar
store] job opened up in 1924 and I stayed there for thirty years
till '54 when the company went bankrupt - and then I was out
119
of that. Then I worked in Pratt & Whitney's as a guard for

twelve and a half years. And I retired from there.
[At the cigar store] I was in sales.... When I went in there
in 1924, you very seldom saw women [customers]. You see,
years ago when I first went in, the average men smoked cigars.
Cigars, pipe tobacco, chewing tobacco - cigarettes were minor
items.... But gradually the cigarette sales came up, the cigar
sales went down.... There was no money in cigarettes. The
margin of profit was too small. We were selling cigarettes for, at
that time, twenty cents a pack. And it just couldn't carry the load.
So the company eventually went into bankruptcy. So that's it.
I worked right in the center of the city, we had three stores -
met everybody. In those days, the average men worked in
factories - had to be at work at seven o'clock in the morning.
So they had to get off the trolley cars - that was before they
had automobiles - they'd run in our store and buy a paper and
tobacco. You got to meet an awful lot of people. And I really
enjoyed it. . . . But as you get older, you know, you don't get a
kick out of them anymore.
There was no such thing as a five-day week or forty-hour week
then. You had to work Saturdays, Sundays, too. Particularly when
I got transferred from one store to another... there were only
two men working there. And you had to work every day - for two
years without a day off. So that wasn't so good. But when you're
young you don't mind that.... [The young people today] don't
know how well off they are, compared with years ago. Years ago,
it was terrible. In the factories they worked at least sixty hours a
week. Very few had such a thing as a pension, vacations....
No, I very seldom see any of the old fellows. Well, I lived in
New Haven before I moved to West Haven - 1 very rarely run
into any of them. Most of them aren't even around any more.
Most of them have died. Sure, that's what it is.
[I've been living here] nine years - ever since the place
opened.... Oh, it's much cheaper. Oh yes, definitely. I had
retired, and of course I wasn't making the money, and I was
very glad to have the opportunity to come down here. So I
120
moved.. .. My wife lived here [with me] for about three years
until she died. . . . I applied for public housing before this
place was even built - before it was even thought of.
I get up around half past eight. I very rarely stay in the
house. Well, at least I go down to the community room to
play cards. We play cards, our principal activity . . . with four
or five other men. . . . Once in a while we'll have some
[events] down in the community room. I generally attend.. . .
I never stay inside here all day. I couldn't do that. . . .
And we have a noontime lunch down there - and I go down
there . . . I eat there noontime, five days a week. Saturdays and
Sundays, you don't have it. Holidays you don't either.... I eat
here [in my apartment] in the evenings and in the morning.. . .
My cooking? No, I'm terrible. I never did learn .. . bacon and
eggs. No, in the morning I have cereal. Sometimes I make
toast, a muffin or something. It all depends - usually I don't
feel like eating.. . . When my wife was here, I ate my three
meals here. . . . On Saturdays and Sundays - well, sometimes I
go down to my daughter's house, and sometimes I eat there.
Once in a while, with a couple of friends I have here, we go
around various parts of the state to a restaurant, you know.
I have a daughter and a son-in-law and three grandchildren.
They're in West Haven. One of my grandchildren is married
and has a child. In other words, I'm a great-grandfather. For
Christmas, I'm going to be at my daughter's house. . . . I might
stay over but I doubt it. . . . No, I haven't a car. My son-in-law
comes after me.
I always like to go down to my daughter's house to see my
grandchildren.... I see them - oh, nearly every week. Possibly
every week. It all depends on the season. [In the] summertime,
they got a boat and you don't see them... . The closest person
is my daughter.... In a crisis, I would turn to my daughter.
Although I think I could also count on either one of my sisters
or my brother. In fact, I know I could because I've had it
offered to me, you know. Thank God I didn't need it. But it
was nice to know it was there if I did, you know what I mean.
121
[My wife] died of cancer. She was laid up for about a year
and a half before she died. She was here - she was in and out of
the hospital, too. She was going up to [the hospital] nearly every
day - to get radiation and all that stuff It was very rough
That's a tough way to die. My mother and father both died of
cancer.... I'm definitely afraid of it. Oh - that's something -
one thing I am afraid of. . . . You see so much of it, you know.
At times it's depressing. It is depressing. Because you know
somebody for a long time, you like him, and something happens
to him. It's bound to affect you, you know what I mean. So . . .
A lot of [residents] have died in the nine years. They're
moving, possibly on an average of one a month or more than
that - there's been quite a turnover since I moved here.. ..
You see many of them die too, you know. If they're too bad,
they can't stay here - they got to go to a nursing home. You
got to be able to take care of yourself, you know.... Oh,
people end up in the nursing home, oh surely.
Go to live with children? - no, that's rare. Years ago that's
the way it used to be. Before you had those housing projects
and social security. You had no choice. Either the poorhouse
or go live with your daughter. Nowadays, as far as I can see,
very few people live with their children. They'd rather be in
a place like this than go to a nursing home or live with their
children. . . . You talk to a lot of them who could go to live
with their families, but they want to be independent - as long
as they can take care of themselves. Because they've been
that way all their lives - they don't want to be dependent
on anybody.
Nursing homes - no, I don't want any part of them. No. It's
not the same as being your own boss. In fact, I don't want to
go live with my daughter - 1 want to be by myself. I want to do
what I want to do, and that's it. You know, so you're boss and
nobody bothers you and you don't bother anybody else, so . . .
I've never heard from anyone yet a good word for a nursing
home. I was just talking about that with a fellow who . .. just
got out of one. I was asking him how it was. Oh, ho - what he
122
said about nursing homes - they give you spaghetti to eat

every day. He didn't like it at all. And I was talking to another
woman . . . and she says that if you want to have anything
done you got to tip them. She's in a wheelchair - there's
nobody to do anything for you unless you pay. . . . You're
restricted, you know. I don't want to have somebody to give
me a pass to go out. . . . As long as I'm able to get around, I'll
never go to a nursing home.
Services for the elderly? Oh, it's very good. . . . I use
transportation services sometimes if I'm going to the doctor.
You call up a day ahead of time, and they'll take you to the
doctor. They have a bookmobile that comes around every
Monday afternoon. They have all the books . . . in large print.
It's very convenient. . . . All the comforts of home.
I could always read up until the past six months - [but] my
eyes are going bad. So I'm thankful I have the large print. At
least I can read.. .. Most books there I read forty or fifty years
ago already. But I enjoyed it then, I enjoy it this time.. ..
You know, I was thinking of an answer to one of the questions
that I put to the other [survey interviewer, who had visited ear-
lier]. Did I consider myself a "success" or a "failure"? And with-
out thinking - 1 didn't give it any thought - 1 said a "failure."
But I thought of it afterwards - what is a definition of a
"failure"? How would you define it? And I got to think of it.
Now, just because a person hasn't a lot of money that doesn't
mean he's a failure. Not that I'm a "success" by any means.
But I'm no "failure" either. You know, I'm an intermediate - 1
don't know what word to use - you know, an average person.
Because, I said, if I'm a "failure," ninety-five percent of the
people in this country are "failures."
After all, I never did accumulate a lot of money. And I
never owned a lot of worldly goods or property or anything
like that. But I tried to live a decent life. And I brought up a
family. And I said, the world isn't any worse off because
I've lived in it. And then I said, maybe I shouldn't have put
down "failure."
123
Ernest represents a male counterpart to Theresa Dunn. They live in

the same public housing unit in West Haven, and their life situations
are similar. Theresa and Ernest are both widowed, and both have low
incomes and health problems; in this they are like many others in the
housing unit. Ernest, however, uses the resources available in the
housing project to their fullest extent, from daily meals and health care
to entertainment and peer companionship.
Since he has no significant pension or savings to supplement his so-
cial security income, the social services are a welcome contribution to
his financial security. Public housing residents are not immune from a
sense of stigma, from what is tantamount to a declaration of poverty;
yet the economic self-sufficiency made possible by the subsidized
housing improves their sense of security. Financial and physical inde-
pendence from his only daughter seems to be an important element of
this sense of security, because Ernest sees filial support as depen-
dence, not reciprocity.
At the same time, it is evident that Ernest's daughter and relatives
contribute significantly to his emotional well-being, as he takes stock
of his past and confronts his own mortality. Ernest's new network of
friends in the housing project has largely replaced old friends, who
were lost through his job transitions, the move to West Haven, and
their deaths. These new friends now make up for the companionship
his wife no longer provides, and that which his daughter is not always
able to give. Yet the most important annual festivities are always
shared with his daughter's family, and for those occasions, her nuclear
family becomes an extended family for him. The combination of for-
mal support and informal support seems to balance evenly in Ernest
McCarthy's case.
As a personal preference, Ernest wants neither to live with his
daughter nor to go to a nursing home, even if his health deteriorates. In
the event of ill health, a similar combination of care resources and
nursing home facilities are likely to be available for him. Recogniz-
ing this reality is not something he takes to easily. Ernest feels he has
now earned his reprieve; with social security, subsidized housing, and
free leisure after a lifetime of hard work, he would prefer to postpone
124
thinking about what lies ahead. Reflecting on future difficulties does
not change the reality in any case.
Leonard Marcucci (70), Former Factory Worker

Leonard has been living in a three-generation household for the last
10 years. He lives with his daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter in
a six-room family house in the residential area of West Haven adja-
cent to New Haven. He has been a widower for 18 years, and his only
daughter remained in the Marcucci household after her marriage.
Leonard worked in a newspaper factory before retirement, and he was
very active in its union for many years. Since retirement, he has shifted
his attention to senior citizen advocacy in New Haven and West
Haven. He holds prominent positions in several city committees that
deal with policy making for the elderly. He also helps the elderly as a
volunteer and offers his time for the community center and his church.
Leonard had no physical ailment that hindered him in these activities.
He keeps up with a handicraft hobby that he has had since his youth.
Leonard was born and brought up in the New Haven metropolitan area
and has lived in West Haven for 29 years. He is a second-generation
American of Italian descent.
My grandparents - 1 never saw them. They were born in

Europe. But I was with my uncles - living together. My father
had five brothers and they were all living [with us]. My
mother was taking care of them. She was the only woman in
the household - six men and three children. You see, they
came from the other side - and naturally the first place they
went was to their family. That was my father. He was the
oldest brother - so they stayed with him.
He had five rooms, I remember. Four of them were
bedrooms. The kitchen was the recreation room, the dining
room, everything. . .. One at a time, they met a woman, they
got married.. . . that's how we separated. But still, when we
were older, we had friends and the friends used to come in the
125
house. That house was always rolling. My mother was a
wonderful woman.. . . We never had the door closed. We used
to help one another - that's how we were brought up.
I worked in a newspaper factory as a printer, yes. . . . As a
matter of fact, I was the union president for twenty years . . .
very busy. You've got to go on a picket line, and meetings, go
visiting the shops. . . . So, I was always busy... .
I joined [the Senior Council] right after retirement. .. . [As
union president] I was involved with people. I said, well, when
I retire, what am I going to do? I still want to be involved with
people.... So they asked me to join the council. [This was]
about five years ago. . . .
So, I was always busy. I didn't realize it, you know - now
I'm getting a little older, you know - it seems to be catching
up with me. . . . But I still have a lot of things to do for these
girls.. . . It's all voluntary - no paying job. When you're a
volunteer, you're free. You haven't got no boss over you. If it's
a paid job, you've got a boss over you.
Elderly people living alone - 1 feel very passionate about
them. Are they prepared for it? No, it's not true - it's not
true.... I drive for the church with my own car to pick up
these people at their homes or at elderly housing, convalescent
homes. We take them to church there and they say a mass,
then we have a movie. Those people, if they don't want to
come out, they wouldn't. But they come out. And they enjoy
the few hours there.
That's what the next project is going to be here. Seniors -
keep them busy. They always want to do something. That's
how it is. When you visit these people you get to see them -
they want to be involved. But you've got to get somebody to
get them out, in a nice way - convincingly. Gives you a nice
feeling too, that you're doing something.
I have a philosophy: kindness, humanity, and humility. I
always stick to that. Every time that there's something to do
for the seniors, I do it. And I won't hesitate in doing it. Even if
it takes me out of my way.
126
I also like to be involved with the children. That's why I
make these [crafts] here. I had another class with one of the
schools here in the neighborhood. I started them off with the
clowns . . . and they did wonderful. I showed them how to cut
it, hold the parts together.. .. Another woman now wants me
to go show it to her club in East Haven.... On Monday night
I'm going there. My grandchild - she drew a picture. She went
to the contest and won third prize in her class . . . so, she's
following in my footsteps!
Just like with my uncles, once they got married, having
their own families - we see them just on holidays. That's
how it happens with friends. Still trying to retain those old
friends - but then you have to make new friends too. That's
what's happening now. I have my old friends at the union, and
I start going to the seniors - making these other new friends.
And so, I still see some of the old in the industry but I don't
see them as often as I did. Now I'm involved with the senior
citizens; I see these people more often. I keep going that way.
I think I have [many contacts]. I think I have too many some-
times, you know - getting a little tired of going, going, and
going. Well, but as long as my health passes, I'm going to
continue.
You've got to keep moving. You want to be active and
retain your youth. Keep moving, you'll still move. I move fast.
That's my exercise.
My daughter - Oh, they've been living with me. My wife
passed away seventeen years ago, and I never remarried. So
my daughter - she got married and she's a social worker. She
married a graphic designer. They've got a little child. But they
live with me. She does the house. I help her out a little bit,
wherever I can. After all, the house is going to be hers anyhow.
We're pretty good, father and daughter. We've been close.
I eat lunch at home when my daughter's home. Of course, if
she's out or her husband's o u t . . . I eat out. I'm on my own.
When she's home and I'm home, she prepares a little
sandwich in the afternoon.... I eat home all the time.
127
Things would have been different if I had had a son. I think

everybody should have a daughter.... We have no problems.
Naturally we have, you know, some other thoughts, you
know - maybe you shouldn't do this, maybe you shouldn't
do that. But that's in ordinary life, your life. We have a
discussion - not argue.
My mother trained us to do housework. "Listen boys, you
got to learn." So she taught us how to wash the floors and
sink, or help her hang the clothes out on the line, help my
father make the money - everything pertaining to the
family. . . . It came in handy when my wife was sick several
times - took care of the kid, sure. So now, my daughter says,
"You did enough, I'll take care of it now." I said, "Good!"
Oh yes, I help her financially. The house is all paid up.
Now, the taxes I still pay . . . as a senior citizen you get a
discount on the assessment. Repairs and things like that -
maintenance of the house. It cost me fifteen hundred dollars
just to paint the house. So those are expenses I pay. Then I
give her an allowance every month - she doesn't need it, but
still I hand it to her. I carry the insurance - for the grandchild,
her, myself- it comes out of my income. I'm real frugal, you
know, I want to see that money is spent for the right thing. .. .
I'm old, you see - a little tight in some places.
When I have a problem? Well, I don't know. I don't go to
people when I have problems. I never complain. Sure, everybody
has worries but sympathy - 1 don't look for that. I don't look for
sympathy. I give sympathy to other people but I don't want it for
myself.... that's true - 1 like to keep it for myself.
Live alone? No. I want to be with people. With my grand-
child running around - she's always after me, you know - so
that's a companion there. . .. Alone in a house like I am in -
alone - it's not healthy. . . . but [I am] alone, when I'm doing
my [handicraft] project. . ..
[If my daughter had to move away], then I'd get
married.. . . That's why I've been free so long. You know
eighteen years - because I had a family and the family was a
128
unit. So that's why it never entered into my mind to get
married. I think that's what kept me back from getting married
again. That's my personal feeling.
Nursing homes - well, if it's a need, it's all right. It's hard to
take care. I can see the problem with the family too you
know.. . . Oh, myself? No, I wouldn't go there.
Leonard reminds us of some Odawarans we have already met. His
control over his household and work (as community volunteer) is sim-
ilar to that of Yasumasa's of the Nakagawa rice store, in both structure
and in sentiment. The sense of continuity from the past and hope to-
ward the future is strikingly similar in the two men. Leonard also re-
minds us of Teru in hinting that remaining a widower was an act
of self-sacrifice. Both he and Teru claim that they have not remarried
out of a desire to keep the family together. Leonard's sense of secur-
ity with a supportive daughter is similar to Yukio's with his son; their
private contracts are based on affinity, choice, and the anticipation
shared between generations that this arrangement will continue into
the long-term future.
Indeed, Leonard reminds us of Odawarans because of his living
arrangement in a three-generation household and his sense of entitle-
ment to family care. Such households are rare in West Haven; and had
Leonard's wife continued to live, his daughter might have chosen to
live outside her parental home. The readiness with which Leonard
takes to coresidence and that with which his daughter takes to filial
care of a widowed father may partly derive from their Italian back-
ground, which tends to emphasize strong family cohesion, as Colleen
Leahy Johnson suggests.2 Yet the three-generation household works
for the Marcuccis and not for some others of the same ethnic back-
ground in West Haven - like Irene in Chapter 1 - because sharing this
large house also makes economic sense as Leonard remains the fi-
nancial provider.3
2 Colleen Leahy Johnson, "Interdependence and Aging in Italian Families," 102.
3 Leonard's and Irene's accounts of their ties with the younger generation refer to the
relationship between second- and third-generation Italian Americans, and differ from
the ties between first and second generations that Johnson describes in her study. It
is likely, therefore, that assimilation is more significant among the Italian Americans
129
The Marcucci household remains a variation to the norm of conju-

gal and single households in West Haven, and it speaks to the greater
variety of informal care found in this community. Leonard's need for
his family can be detected in his resistance to living on his own. Rec-
iprocity norms between Leonard and his daughter are also clearly in-
tact. Unlike many Japanese in a similar situation, however, Leonard is
concerned with self-renewal of an active kind in his second career -
both as an advocate and volunteer for the elderly. "Keeping busy" is
an important way of maintaining emotional independence and self-
sufficiency for Leonard and many other West Haven elderly in the
study; and it also seems to keep future worries at bay.
In the following case studies of younger elderly West Haveners, there

is currently no financial or physical need. The interviewees share a
similar anticipation of impending changes in their lives. Economic in-
dependence through social security and pensions is assured, but the
sense of ambiguity about anticipating the future remains. They have
seen their own parents go to nursing homes, and they are witnessing
the beginning of the end of their couple culture - neither of which are
relevant in the Japanese cases. The spirit of mutual help in their
parent-child relations is evident, yet they do not wish to become de-
pendent on such help. They both express the fear of losing the spouse,
the transition to widowhood.
William Roberts (65), Former Post Office Employee

William retired from his job as a post office clerk a year ago. After
briefly working in the amusement park business early in his career, he
joined the post office and remained there for all of his working life. As
a retiree, he now spends much of his time at home with his family. He
lives with his wife and four unmarried children - two daughters and
two sons - in a six-room house. His oldest daughter is married and
in West Haven than among Johnson's respondents, who maintained their distinct eth-
nic characteristics. For the assimilationist position, see Herbert M. Gans, "Symbolic
Ethnicity: The Future of Ethnic Groups and Cultures in America"; Richard D. Alba,
Italian Americans: Into the Twilight of Ethnicity.
130
lives a block away in this lower-middle-class residential neighbor-
hood, near the center of West Haven City. A grandchild from his
oldest daughter comes to stay with William and his wife for much of
the day, while the mother goes out to full-time work. The partial pres-
ence of the third generation notwithstanding, William's house is es-
sentially a two-generation household focused around the rearing of the
youngest son, aged 13. All the other children living with him have
full-time jobs. William is a "novice" elderly both in age and health
condition; he has no illnesses at all. He prefers not to disclose the
exact amount of his income, which is essentially a government em-
ployee pension. Born and raised in Connecticut, William is a second-
generation American of Irish descent.
I was in the post office in New Haven. I used to be in the

amusement park [business] and then went into the post office . . .
and just retired from there about a year ago. Retirement? Good! I
don't miss it. Oh, yes, I miss the people there, but they're all
gone, too. It came more or less on the spur of the moment. I
really didn't plan for it. I was gonna soon, b u t . . .
I could have stayed. But I was sixty-five and things were
getting a little tough. They rely too much on the old help, and
you know, they just keep pushing, you know, on the older
one - everything. The next thing you know, you got two or
three jobs. The other one has nothing to do. It's time to go, you
know, when they give you too much. There's no sense getting
sick over it.
We usually have all our friends over here for New Year's.
Have a party, you know. All my friends that I worked with - a
few of those. My wife's friends - they all come over and we
usually have the same gang.... They're couples, so there's
maybe sixteen of us. The children are out doing their own
thing, you know.
[My own parents] had a place to themselves, and looked
after themselves... . my mother died first. Then my father -
about twenty years later. He was alone all that time, you
know. He wouldn't come in with any of u s . . . . He fell, he
131
got hurt - and we told him to come - but he wanted to stay up in
his own neighborhood. So, that's what he did. It was his own
house. We used to go up to see him, and bring him down Sundays
and take him back home. . .. Then he entered a nursing home.
Most of the nursing homes are depressing. I mean, especially
if they don't have any visitors coming to see them. Don't like
them. No way. Most children don't want to see what's
happening to their parents. It's tough to get old when you're
alone. What can you do about it? - you know - it's tough.
Services? I don't think they do enough for the old people
anyway. I never did think it. This country is a rich country.
The richest country in the world - and I mean they have a poor
setup for the old people. That's my way of thinking. Most of
them now, I mean they did a lot for the country - the ones that
are here now. Some get it, some don't. There's a lack of
communication somewhere.
There's five children. They're all living at home - all but
one. They all stayed. They even went to school around here.
They didn't bother to go [out of town]. They'll probably get
married, then they'll go - and that's it.
But I mean I think they'll stay around. I don't think any
of them will fly away or anything. Well, maybe - you never
know - it depends. You don't mind as long as you can see
them, you know. I mean, leaving is one thing, but going
away - that's when it's tough.
I don't think I would [live with married children], I mean, they
have their own life - sometimes you don't fit in with them.
They're going to have a party or something - you don't want to
be in the way there - what are you going to do? You want to go to
bed early - can't do it. There's a lot of things to consider. I mean,
say you went [to live] with my daughter, you don't know how
her husband is going to like it. I don't think it's going to work.
There's a lot of people that are alone . .. and that makes a big
difference. This way here, you still have the same house, the kids,
wife, and everything. So, it's good. But when the thing comes
later, well, we don't know. Of course it's gonna change, right?
132
It's tough to get old. And if your wife goes, it's going to
change a whole life. [Widowed people] feel out of place. They
stop going places. And that increases their depression. Senior
centers - you don't find couples going to their functions.
They're mostly widows and widowers.
I never think of death. If it's gonna happen, it's gonna
happen, right? There's no sense in getting worried and shoving
yourself a little faster... .
In a real crisis, I don't know who you would go to. Who
would you go [to]? I wouldn't know where to go for that. I
guess you'd go to your family first, you know.. .. But you
don't want to burden anyone.... If they couldn't help you - 1
don't know.
William's future plan is tenuous at best. His anticipation of change

is based on the possible loss of his wife; his sense of security derives
from her, which again attests to the importance of couples among the
American elderly. Even though he is a recent retiree and is still con-
cerned with his own nuclear family, his experience with his father's
widowhood, illness, and subsequent institutionalization has given a
glimpse of his own future, which he can only describe as "tough." Wor-
rying about death, he believes, will only hasten its arrival and, by the same
token, thinking about aging will only make the process less enjoyable.
The model of independence in old age that William saw in his own
father has socialized him to expect it for himself and also to idealize it.
This idealization may not be realistic, yet William has no contingency
plan beyond a vague expectation for his married daughter's support.
The biggest contingency will be his wife's passing (if it should occur
before his own), and its effect on his diffuse network of friends. The
rule is, couples take care of couples, and singles take care of singles.
This inherent instability of William's support network compared
with that of Odawarans is also evident when he discusses how his un-
married children could "stay away" in the future. The norm of nonin-
terference4 and the importance of options for the young take priority
4 Andrew J. Cherlin and Frank R. Furstenberg, Jr., The New American Grandparent:
A Place in the Family, A Life Apart, 57.
133
over filial responsibility. In William's view, the state, not children, has
the responsibility to support him, because his generation has con-
tributed much to the nation's growth through hard work; but it does
not meet its obligations satisfactorily. His sense of resentment about
aging and retirement is projected more readily to this abstract entity
from which he also derives a sense of entitlement.
Ben (66) and Judith Bloomfield (66), Opticians

The Bloomfields have been living in a four-room apartment in a quiet
residential area of middle-class West Haven for 6 years. Ben is a calm,
educated man who works full-time as an optician in Milford. His wife
Judith also works part-time at the same optical store. The Bloomfields
owned and operated their own optical store for many years; and re-
cently they folded the business to become employees of this Milford
store. In working life and in private life, they have a very close relation-
ship. They have two sons, both in Connecticut, who keep in touch with
them weekly or monthly. More frequently, Ben and Judith see their
friends, relatives, and neighbors who are their companions for social
activities. Their health problems restrict these activities in a limited
way. Ben has a hernia condition that gives him some difficulty in stoop-
ing, extending his arms, and climbing stairs. Judith has a heart condi-
tion that precludes strenuous activity. When we met, the Bloomfields
were in the highest income category of the questionnaire (over $15,000).
They are both second-generation Jewish Americans whose parents
came from Russia. Ben was born in New York, Judith in New Jersey.
Ben: Retirement? Not really - I'm not inclined to retire at all.

I'm physically well and able to continue full-time work, and I
don't find it too demanding. I feel that retiring would be like
letting go. And I fear letting go. I want to keep active as long
as I possibly c a n . . . . No, not really for financial reasons - the
social security provides somewhat of a blanket and it could be
used to maintain oneself. I find it interesting dealing with the
public in my work, so I have no inclination to just cut off
work, and just take it easy.
134
Judith: On his late shifts, I work, too, at the store. So
Wednesdays and Fridays I go in. Three years ago . . . his boss
needed some part-time help, so he [hired me]. I'm home
anyway those nights - alone.
We had our own store for many years. After the kids grew
up, I worked very close to him in the old store. . . . Well, it
worked for us. I did the bookkeeping and I was in the front. ..
and he took care of the optical business. So, we kind of never
interfered with each other, and we worked very well
together. .. .
Mostly when he's not working, we're together. Because we
want to be - like a package deal. Our marriage? It'll be thirty-
five years. It's been a great life - 1 just hope it continues. And
when we go, I'd like to go together... .
Ideally, I would say that in a few years from now - maybe
five years - 1 would hope that he would go on social security
and work part-time to supplement, so that he would have more
leisure. I'd like him to have some leisure time with me before
we part from each other. .. . Despite what he says, I think he
needs more leisure.
Ben: We were several times down in Florida where my
sister lived in a community that was for the elderly. And we
found it a very undesirable way of living.
Judith: Hated it.
Ben: We didn't like it.
Judith: I never wanted to segregate myself according to
age. I don't want to live in a senior citizen's apartment. I want
to live where there are young people, too.
Ben: We have a social life here - with family and
friends.. .. [We see them] on an average of once a week. They
are cousins or near relatives.... Most of them are lifelong
friends.
Judith: We go out. We usually have cocktails at home,
and then go out to dinner - and have fun. You know, it's
strictly social. Nothing else involved except that we can
cry with each other, which is very important. We've had a
135
lot of tragedies in the last five years. My family particu-
larly. . .. These two couples are really . .. very supportive.
And there we have a free and easy relationship. It's a good
relationship. . . .
We have social activities with our neighbors.... I play
mahjongg with the girls and he plays pinochle. .. . When my
brother died a month ago, they all came up - very, very
supportive.
Ben: We find it easy to make friends - and we usually do.
The ones we are friendly with are approximately our age.
Judith: Nursing homes? - 1 hope I die before I have to go
into one of them. That's how I feel about them. Don't like
even the best of them - believe me.
Ben: The mere fact of your old age takes away from the
dignity of being in a home of that kind. Your independence is
gone. You're dependent upon other people - to take care of
you, to keep you going, to do for you the things that you've
done all your life. You lose your spirit of independence.. ..
Judith's mother who is now ninety-two is [in] the Jewish
Home for the Aged.
Judith: She had lived with my sister - but after my sister
died, she came to live with us in the last five years. My sister
was single, and my mother and my sister lived together. . . .
She lived by herself for a while but she broke her h i p . . . .
After that, neither one of us could see her in a nursing home.
We just didn't want it for her. So we brought her here. She
lived here with us. And it was a good relationship - it worked
out well - 1 had help for her when we had to go away. I had
somebody in - well, a visiting nurse or somebody who sat with
her on Sunday so we could go out and not leave her alone. We
were doing everything for her benefit - without it taking away
a lot from us. Well, it did. We were tied down many times. But
we didn't care. We were comfortable with my mother being
here. She was great. But then, I got very sick. And I had to go
for open heart surgery. And there is no way. . ..
Ben: We had no choice. . . .
136
Judith: No choice, I had no choice. So we put her in the
home. There's been a great deterioration. I don't say that she
wouldn't have deteriorated if she lived here. . . . I tell you
something - that realistically speaking, I really feel that my
mother eventually would have gone to the home. Because,
realistically, there was no way - even if I had been well.
Certain things would happen that I couldn't take care of
anymore, really and truly. When you take care of your child
and change his diapers, it's one thing. You're young and
you've committed yourself to the helpless little baby that has
to be changed and eventually, that child is going to stop
[needing] diapers, right? When you're in your sixties and you
have to take complete physical care of a grown person, it's a
completely different matter. And this is where the rub lies. And
this is why children who give their parents into homes should
not be criticized unless the whole story is told. I did feel guilty
at first - we both did. But I feel no guilt now, because my
mother is where she really should be. She gets the proper care
there. I couldn't give her the care that she gets there. The
home is one of the best. .. .
She's now run out of funds. She's going to have to go on Title
19 [Medicaid], because in the three years she's been at the home
we went through eighty thousand dollars. So . . . it wiped out
the entire estate my sister left. She left a very sizable estate. And
it wiped out the whole thing. In three years - eighty thousand!
She has no more money. She'll go on Title 19 - we're in the
process now. Nine-tenths of the people there are on Title 19.
There are very few private patients. The care that she will get -
it will make no difference.... Ben's father was independent up
to the time he died.
Ben: He maintained his own apartment.
Judith: And my mother would have too, if she hadn't
broken her hip. Because they were that type of people.... It
takes a very strong marriage, I think, to have somebody - even
somebody you love as much as you do your mother.
Ben: Because it's an intrusion on your privacy.
137
Judith: We're involved with our children's lives, but not to
the extent where they swamp our lives. Oh, we don't like that.
We have a terrific relationship with both our sons and their
children and wives - and we want to keep it that way. I mean,
I'm not their friend. I mean, I'm their friend, but not their
companion. We're not their age. They have to go their own
way and we have to go our way. I was taught this by my
own mother.
Ben: We see them frequently, but we don't interfere in their
lives. They have their own lives. They have their own children
to bring up, and they have to do it in their own way, and this is
up to them - not to us.. . . We enjoy being on the periphery of
their affairs.
Judith: Sometimes I don't see them for weeks, but they are
busy - we're busy. It isn't a flaw in the relationship. It's a nice,
easy relationship. We have reached a point where our sons are
not children. They're equal to us, in an adult way. .. . We can
talk in an adult fashion.
Ben: Live with them? - no.
Judith: No way. Now [they] have said, "You'll always have
a place with us." But I would rather not - 1 don't say that I
never would.
Ben: It's not a question of dislike or disliking their family
or style of living or anything else. It's just a matter of
independence for ourselves. We would never want to feel that
we're dependent on our children.
Judith: My greatest desire, if I should be the one to be left
alone - is that I would be independent enough. At that point,
maybe [I will live in] one of those senior citizens' apartments
like Tower One. Not a nursing home - although if I'm sick, I
would have to - and maintain my independence in my own
one room, but my own. Where I can visit my children, where
my children love me, [where] I know it, [where] I'm secure in
their love for me and mine for them. But I don't want to live
with them.
138
Ben: [In a major crisis] we'd turn to our children. There's

no doubt about that. But they're not able to help us in a
financial situation, if we needed a lot of money.
Judith: We would probably have to turn to federal or state
funds to help us. . . . Well, his sister had to go through dialysis
and that had to go on state because there was no way that she
could pay for it. So it can happen. We have seen it happen.
There is a possibility that a catastrophe could happen to one or
the other of us.
Ben: The family relationship is strong. . . . We belong to a
family circle that has been in existence now about thirty years.
Up until very recently it grew and grew, and at this point it is
deteriorating because the older members are dying out. The
younger members, unfortunately, don't have much family
consciousness. . . . They don't feel as close.
West Haveners' reliance on a combination of both formal and in-

formal support is evident not only for the working class, but also for
the middle class, as we see in Ben and Judith's case. This is particu-
larly true of Title 19 (Medicaid), which provides long-term care in
nursing homes as a final resort. Judith's mother and sister have both
turned to this safety net; Ben and Judith will also resort to it them-
selves, should the need arise.
None look forward to the prospect of going to a nursing home, as
all West Haveners amply testify. To anticipate it implies an acceptance
of dependence and helplessness; yet the reality is inescapable when
one has taken part in the institutionalization of one's own parent. The
anger, resignation, and rationalization that Ben and Judith show about
Judith's mother's predicament express in part an attempt to come to
terms with the possibility that the same fate may also be in store for
themselves. That possibility remains, in their view, a random chance,
as it was also for Judith's mother; and it is far from the ideal of inde-
pendent living that Ben's father enjoyed.
Their sense of guilt about Judith's mother is based more on the
unpleasantness of the nursing home than on underfulfillment of filial
139
responsibility. As Ben and Judith's case demonstrates, the primary tie

of dependence among older Americans is the conjugal tie: Mutual in-
terests and reciprocal help exist first and foremost in this relationship.
The prospect of widowhood in old age is distressful because it means
losing the most important source of emotional, instrumental, and fi-
nancial support at a time when one can least afford it. In widowhood,
the diffuse network of relatives and friends steps in to provide support,
but it never quite replaces the spouse, because the bond of affinity, the
romantic love, cannot be replaced. The strength and vulnerability in-
herent in Ben and Judith's marriage is something we rarely observe
among our Odawara respondents.
As Ben and Judith attest, reciprocal ties with children are open to
negotiation especially when the children are sons, not daughters. Ben
and Judith are not part of their sons' nuclear units; they also have lim-
ited responsibility toward their sons' welfare. The principle of nonin-
terference is paramount particularly at this stage: The young have their
own lives to live and their own goals to pursue, whether or not their
life-styles and values are agreeable to the parents. Their marriages and
nuclear families come first, as they did for Ben and Judith in their turn.
The respect for a serial order and the sense of "turn" in filial relations
is focused on the independence of the child, not the dependence of the
parent, in the United States.
THE CONTINGENCY APPROACH
Americans take a contingency approach to care in later life. This

approach presupposes self-sufficiency until that "critical" point when
individuals in need reach out for help. The timing varies from one
person to another: For some it is precipitated by widowhood, and for
others by the onset of illness. Help is customized according to indi-
vidual need, and therefore there is some variation in the balance of
formal and informal resources that individuals receive. However,
there is a general pattern to the American approach to these con-
tingencies: The elderly tend to rely on their wide social network
for emotional and some physical needs, and count on their social
security and pension benefits for long-term financial security. This
140
pattern represents a helping arrangement that I have called dif-
fused security.
The contingency approach succeeds when help can be secured from
a wide support network of family, peers, and community services.
Spouses provide the most important ties of mutual obligation and
dependency. Family support, especially from daughters, contributes
considerably to physical and emotional well-being. Peer companion-
ships also offer an important sense of closeness and comfort among
persons who share special experiences; and a generalized, voluntary
reciprocity also exists in the informal network of relatives and friends.
Because friendship networks are based more on affinity and compat-
ibility than a direct sense of duty, they usually preclude long-term
physical assistance. Many peers in old age are also themselves no
longer in a position to help others. The American peer network is
large, but it is not designed to be a full-scale informal social secu-
rity system.
This American informal social security system - with its assign-
ments of entitlement and obligation - is established in the conjugal re-
lationship in the same way it is established in the filial relationship in
Japan. The unit of self-sufficiency is the married couple, until such
time that either one of the pair becomes unavailable. The contingency
approach to support often begins to take shape after this time, around
the elderly person who must establish self-sufficiency as an individ-
ual. Children are important to the support network, but they are by no
means the only resources. There is a division of labor among those in
the diffused, triangulated network.
A concern for the independence and resilience of the individual is
characteristic of this approach, despite the heterogeneity of American
society. This cultural ideal, the most salient feature of the American
private contract, stands out in contrast to that of other societies, and is
noted also by American cross-national observers.5 This ideal is mod-
eled partly on the vitality the first generation of immigrants demon-
strated to the second, and partly on the cultural prescription for
5 Donald O. Cowgill, Aging around the World, 47-50; Jennie Keith et al., "Commu-
nity as Context for Successful Aging," 260.
141
pursuing life to its fullest potential. The romanticization of indepen-
dence, however, can be as costly as the romanticization of filial piety
in Japan. Self-sufficiency is by no means easy at a time when the con-
jugal unit dissolves and the peer network dwindles. The cultural ideals
of independence and self-reliance can result in a failure to resolve the
ambivalence between independence and dependence, as some case
studies have also shown. As dynamic as the spirit of self-reliance and
self-renewal is, it is a perception that befits the young and healthy.
For many Americans, the social security system remains a back-
bone to old-age security in the financial sense. They count on it and
depend on it with a sense of entitlement because of the contributions
they have made throughout their working lives. In both Japan and the
United States, the primary sense of security in old age derives from
that (formal or informal) support system which entails the greater
sense of entitlement. This sense of entitlement creates the perception
of dependability of support, which is most essential to security in old
age. As people enter old age - even when they are still healthy and/or
wealthy - they attempt to evaluate the kinds of potential resources that
are accessible to them. In the private contract, dependability of care
can be tested in the smaller confines of personal relationships; in the
public contract, dependability also becomes a matter of trust in more
abstract entities - state and community institutions.
From the comparative standpoint, the case studies show that the
cultural assumptions that define reciprocity, dependency, entitlement,
and obligation are fundamentally different in Japanese and American
societies. We will now turn to an analysis of these cultural assump-
tions that shape the notions of what helping arrangements ought to do.
The social assignments that constitute the foundations of the social
contract in the two societies will be explored further in Chapter 8,
after we examine the assumptions that shape their meaning.
142
7
Cultural Assumptions
and Values
T O explain the cross-national differences and similarities outlined

in the previous chapters, we will now focus systematically on the
cultural and structural conditions that shape the social contracts. Here
and in Chapter 8,1 synthesize the comparative findings in a concep-
tual scheme, to identify the regularity of variation in the values and in-
terests that shape these social contracts. In the previous chapters, the
main purpose of the comparative analysis has been to illustrate the dis-
tinct features of the two cases. The comparative analysis now shifts to
Tilly's variation-finding comparison1 to specify the systematic varia-
tion in the cultural assumptions of deservedness and fairness (Chap-
ter 7), and in the structural relationship of the social contract (Chapter
8). The classifications of cultural assumptions and assignments of
symbolic resources that I develop in these two chapters are typologies
distilled from the comparative empirical analysis that characterize the
essence of the helping arrangements. The conceptual scheme classi-
fies the typical characteristics of the two cases, and specifies the prin-
ciple of variation between them, to account for the differences and
similarities of the social contract.
First, in this chapter, I will explore the cultural assumptions under-
lying the protective and contingency approaches to identify the sys-
tematic variation in them, and explain how they inform the social
organization of help. These assumptions are grounded in the subjec-
tive realities in which people construct the meaning of their behavior,
a vision of the world that they take for granted in everyday life;2 they
1 Charles Tilly, Big Structures, Large Processes, Huge Comparisons, chap. 7.

2 Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality, 14.
143
represent the subjective interpretations of life and human relation-
ships, and the universal experiences of compassion, vulnerability, and
sacrifice. Just as actuaries make demographic assumptions to calcu-
late risk insurance, support givers and receivers must also make as-
sumptions to decide what actions they must take as insurers and
beneficiaries of old-age insurance; the risk depends on the assump-
tions about how life runs its course, how social relationships are
forged, and what helping arrangements ought to achieve. These per-
ceptions are also neither impressionistic nor random, but are struc-
tured by an internal logic that individuals share in a given culture; they
constitute part of Bourdieu's habitus, the system of generative
schemes that makes our thoughts and actions possible.3
The cultural assumptions that are especially relevant to under-
standing the different approaches to the social contract in the two so-
cieties can be classified in six categories: need, security, equity,
primary bonds, self-sufficiency, and resource affluence. I argue that
the protective and contingency approaches are based on these differ-
ent assumptions, which underlie the meaning of giving, receiving, and
deserving help. Table 7.1 shows these six assumptions that together
define the value of helping arrangements, and specifies their compar-
ative variation. The first assumption refers to the expectation of need
in old age that is based on different life course trajectories. These tra-
jectories are key to understanding the different patterns of recogniz-
ing vulnerability in the two societies. The second assumption' refers to
the different qualities of security that societies seek, based on what is
assumed to be needed in old age. The third assumption refers to the
expectation of intergenerational equity, which expresses the sense of
fairness that generations share as they take turns to depend on and be
independent of one another. These different perceptions of fairness, as
we will see, relate closely to assumptions of need trajectories. The
fourth assumption refers to the primary bonds of affection that are
salient in different societies. The fifth assumption refers to the defini-
tion of self-sufficiency and its implications for self-reliance. Finally,
3 Pierre Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice, chap. 3; and Outline of a Theory of Practice,
chap. 2.
144
Cultural Assumptions and Values
Table 7.1. Cultural assumptions of helping relationships
Assumptions West Haven Westside Odawara
Need/dependence Might be inevitable Will be inevitable

in old age
Security in Diffused intervention Structured protec-
old age promotes autonomy tion promotes
certainty
Intergenerational Younger generation Older generation
equity takes its turn to takes its turn to
claim independence claim dependence
Primary bond Primacy of conjugal Primacy of filial
of affection tie tie
Unit of Individual or Family oriented
self-sufficiency couple oriented
Social resource Abundant and Scarce and limited
affluence negotiable
the assumption of social affluence points to the expectations of alter-

native resources. As typologies, these categories of assumptions draw
out the typical features of practical knowledge that inform the making
of the helping arrangements; hence they accentuate the essential ideas,
and classify them into analytical constructs, for explanatory pur-
poses.4 I will discuss each category of this classification in turn.
TRAJECTORIES OF NEED
Sakuma Fumihiko, the retired vegetable oil factory worker who

dances to the tune of popular Japanese music, makes concrete plans to
move to his son's house when he becomes frail. He has even desig-
nated his yome as the primary caregiver for this eventuality. Ernest
McCarthy, the retired cigar store salesman who lives in comparative
comfort in the elderly housing unit, insists on living by himself, and
will have no part in living in a nursing home or with his daughter in
4 Hence, typologies are not average types or representations of consensus, but are ab-
stractions of reality. See Max Weber, The Methodology of the Social Sciences, 90.
145
the future. The difference in the choices of these two men lies not only
in their personal preferences and options: The Japanese anticipates his
frailty in the future as a foregone conclusion, whereas the American
does not see it as an inevitability. Fumihiko eventually expects to be
in need; Ernest denies that this must eventually happen. These two
expectations - based on distinct need trajectories - have clearly dif-
ferent implications for preparing for later life: The former calls for
prudent planning, the latter for resilience.
Although much research has advanced our understanding of life
course transitions, Gunhild Hagestad has pointed out that comparable
work on life course trajectories - the "prospective view of life" based
on cultural life scripts - has been limited.5 Perhaps the best-known ex-
ample, in the context of comparing Japanese and American societies,
has been Ruth Benedict's arc of freedom describing the different
levels of social constraints experienced through the life cycle.6 But the
effort to etch the trajectories of need in later life from cultural life
scripts has been limited, although it is essential in understanding the
fundamental expectations about what a support system ought to do.
The trajectory affects our level of preparedness for that need - our
sense of urgency about what should be done, and who should do some-
thing about it. Whether we see frailty as more, or less, inevitable
frames our blueprint for obtaining future help. If we think frailty will
happen, then the utmost preparation for it will not only be prudent but
necessary; on the other hand, if frailty is something that might be
likely as a matter of probability, then plans for support require contin-
gency measures, just in case. The logical choice of action regarding
future care, therefore, depends on the forecast about the future and the
calculation of risk for that future.
The trajectory of need also plays a role in assigning the responsi-
bility (and blame) for the problem. If dire frailty must eventually hap-
pen to everyone, then an individual is absolved from the blame of
5 Gunhild Hagestad, "Social Perspectives on the Life Course."

6 Ruth Benedict, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword: Patterns of Japanese Culture,
253-255. See also the comparative analysis of age appropriateness and constraints in
Chicago and Hanshin by Gunhild Hagestad and Bernice Neugarten in "Age and the
Life Course."
146
being frail: No one can be responsible for preventing it. But when dire
frailty is one of a number of possibilities occurring in later life, it is
very much up to the individual to stay physically fit: Each individual
is responsible, after all, for preventing the worst possibility from oc-
curring as best as she or he can.
These trajectories, therefore, lead to different notions about when
people are responsible and obliged to give help. In the will need sce-
nario, individuals are not necessarily expected to help themselves;
caregivers must, therefore, be involved in planning support from an
early stage. In the might need scenario, caregivers intervene only
when individuals show that there are needs to be met. Fumihiko's
son has already built an extra bedroom that Fumihiko will use in the
future; Ernest's daughter is not responsible for making such ad-
vanced plans.
The individual's responsibility for self-reliance is more limited in
the will need scenario than in the might need scenario. In the protec-
tive approach - arising from the will need trajectory - autonomy in
later life is not an option. Protective measures to forestall the im-
pending crisis are therefore the key features to this approach. Japa-
nese men and women take this approach to minimize the impact of
future calamity, crisis, and need that are part of their later life's sce-
nario. Self-reliance, in this context, is an attribute to a person who
plans prudently for the future.
The contingency approach - based on the might need scenario -
emphasizes individual resilience and control over future calamity, and
incorporates social support measures that maximize them. This ap-
proach facilitates independence and flexibility, and customizes help-
ing arrangements according to individual circumstances. In this
context, autonomy, not planning, facilitates self-reliance, because in-
dividuals are responsible for managing their own uncertain futures.
These different expectations of frailty originate in distinct assump-
tions about the nature of growing old. Perception and recognition of
need in old age vary in Japan and the United States, because the two
societies embrace these different collective life scripts. Childhood,
adulthood, and old age signal different needs because expectations
and priorities associated with each of these life stages are different;
147
and cultural repositories define these specific relationships between
age and need. Both will need and might need scripts see childhood
associated with high need and adulthood with low need, but follow
different scenarios thereafter. In the will need script, a life course
comes to a full circle in old age when need increases again to the level
of childhood. In the might need script, increasing need in later life may
or may not exceed beyond the threshold where self-sufficiency is di-
minished (Figure 7.1). Fumihiko's and Ernest's plans are based on
such trajectories of need in later life, represented in these two differ-
ent scripts of the life cycle.
The threshold of self-sufficiency is more explicitly recognized in the
will need scenario, which readily defines it by the universal marker, age.
This threshold defines the point beyond which individuals will not be
expected to exercise self-reliance and control, and therefore become
eligible for support. The different criteria of obtaining help discussed
earlier in Chapter 4 make sense in this context: The expectation of self-
sufficiency is different in the two life scripts. When the universal marker
is available, as it is in the will need script, the caregiver recognizes need
without seeing the receiver explicitly demonstrate it; the marker suffices
to evoke protective support. By contrast, the receiver's demonstration of
need is the signal to crossing the threshold of self-sufficiency in the might
need script; this demonstration of need then leads to contingency support.
This threshold therefore defines the eligibility for informal social
security systems, just as formal social security systems also set their
formal eligibility criteria. If old age is equated with need in the will
need scenario, then it follows that Japanese social service agencies
would find targeting "special needs" like living alone or childlessness
to be a legitimate practice. Since the American might need scenario
assumes a larger variation of need among the elderly, however, such
criteria for targeting services make less sense. Policy direction is
therefore influenced as much by these trajectories of need in the col-
lective life script as it is by economic and political considerations.
The two life scripts represent crude scenarios, which, in reality, in-
volve different probabilities, and both scenarios are made plausible
only when confirmed by personal and collective experiences. Ben's fa-
ther died as a self-sufficient man, but both Judith's mother and Fuku's
148
Will-Need Script Might-Need Script
high self-sufficiency
threshold
childhood old age childhood old age
\ / /
low self-sufficiency birth death birth death
Figure 7.1 Expectations of need in old age
149
father-in-law have required much caregiving in later life. People can
therefore modify the basic script in a way that is meaningful to their
own subjective experiences. In this sense, the basic scripts are proto-
types that conform to the general experience known to the collective,
subject to individual revisions; and individual revisions vary, because
people have different capabilities to translate ideas into action.7
In fact, both scenarios may be rather accurate, when we consider the
different demographic histories of the recent past. Shorter life ex-
pectancies and limited medical technology are still fresh in the col-
lective memory of Japanese society. Biographies of immediate kin,
such as those of Fuku's father, her father-in-law, and her husband, who
were all bedridden for long periods of time, serve as reminders that the
same will happen to her. On the other hand, biographies of Ben's in-
dependent father and Judith's frail mother signal that either fate is pos-
sible for Ben and Judith.8 Wataru Koyano also confirms this distinct
pessimism that the Japanese project on old age-compared with
Americans and Europeans - and attributes it to the existence of strong
negative stereotypes about the elderly.9
Facts and myths interspersed in collective memory are also impor-
tant in reinforcing caregiving values between generations. The expec-
tation that succeeding generations face the same predicaments creates
the basis for reciprocal helping arrangements that extend over gener-
ations: The young person is more likely to pay the price of old age
willingly at an early age, if he or she also expects need is inevitable
and wants to guarantee his or her future support. The Golden Rule in
support can thus be articulated: Do unto your parents what you would
like your own children to do unto you.
The Japanese demand protection on reaching old age with a sense
of legitimacy that is less easily recognized in the United States. De-
7 See Ann Swidler, "Culture in Action: Symbols and Strategies."

8 James Schulz and colleagues cite evidence for this scenario in an American survey:
Those who "need help of another person" comprised 7% of persons aged 65-74, 16%
of persons aged 75-84, and 39% of persons over age 84. See Economics of Popula-
tion Aging: The "Graying" of Australia, Japan and the United States, 290.
9 Wataru Koyano, Katsuya Inoue, and Hiroshi Shibata, "Negative Misconceptions
about Aging in Japanese Adults," 133; Koyano Wataru, "Gendai nihon no rojinkan,"
665-666.
150
pendency in later life is legitimate when it is recognized collectively
to be inevitable, but it is less so when recognized as an individual's
failure to maintain self-sufficiency. Dorothy and Theresa, both retired
factory workers living in the elderly housing unit, talk about their
sense of failure and inadequacy for not living up to the collective ideal
of self-reliance. Dependency robs them of their sense of self-worth
and represents defeat in their ideal of retaining autonomy. It is rea-
sonable to conjecture, however, that the life scenarios of the two soci-
eties will grow closer in the future, as a larger number of Japanese
elderly become more financially independent, and an increasing num-
ber of American elderly endure chronic illness prolonged by longer
life expectancy.
CONDITIONS OF SECURITY
Just as societies adopt different ideas about how life typically runs its
course, they also embrace different notions of security in everyday
life. This security not only refers to physical safety, but also to safety
in the generic sense, a feeling of being part of a social world that re-
volves around a familiar, predictable order. This sense of security de-
rives from our fundamental trust that we understand our everyday
world and can effectively anticipate its twists and turns. Giddens's
notion of ontological security expresses this fundamental trust in
the order of the world, which gives us the essential means to control
our anxiety.10
This sense of security is integral to our expectation for support in
old age, since it influences our vision of how we want our needs to be
met. The assumption of security in old age refers to our expectation of
probable help in relation to our expectation of probable need. This as-
sumption of security is fundamental to the social construction of sup-
port and of preferences for different kinds of helping arrangements.
Our choices are defined by this assumption of security; and as such,
the protective and contingency models represent strategies that are
10 Anthony Giddens, The Constitution of Society: Outline of the Theory ofStructura-

tion, 50.
151
based on different expectations of security in the two societies. Japan's
structured protection focused on care provided by children not only
reveals an order of commitment to social obligations, but also a pref-
erence for the sense of certainty it promotes. This sense of certainty
and predictability lies at the heart of the Japanese preference for pro-
tective, filial support.
The American contingency approach, on the other hand, represents
a preference for a sense of security characterized by autonomy.
American security in old age is complete only when individuals can
choose their support from multiple options, because choice gives
them a degree of control. It does not follow, then, that the American
elderly are more carefree than the Japanese, or that the Japanese chil-
dren are more compassionate about their aging parents than the
Americans: They are predisposed to entirely different preferences of
security. Choice promotes security, not insecurity, in the United
States because it fosters a sense of autonomy; by contrast, obligation
promotes security in Japan, because it fosters the sense of pre-
dictability and certainty. For the Japanese, the open-endedness of the
American practice does not create a sense of security, because it pro-
motes uncertainty; by the same token, the predictability of the Japan-
ese practice does not foster a sense of security for the Americans,
because it offers no choices.
In this sense, both societies adopt approaches that enhance security
in old age; since the idea of security itself is different, however, the
approaches are different. In Japan, the obligation structured into the
support relationship increases the certainty that long-term care will be
provided; it links the will need script to a will support script. By con-
trast, the contingency approach in the United States increases the
chances that help will be of the kind that people prefer to give and re-
ceive, which links the might need script to a might support script.
Thus, both societies pursue the kind of security that is consistent with
their internalized trajectories of need.
These approaches also entail different degrees of security, as we
saw in the case studies. The Japanese expressed different degrees of
contentment depending on whether their support was dependable and
certain. Fuku, Yasumasa, Fumihiko, and Yukio are content with their
152
private contract because of their children's concrete willingness to
carry out their obligation with dependable love. For Teru, Hiro, and
Toshio, however, the private contract is unsatisfactory, because their
children are unlikely to commit themselves to providing loving care.
The American elderly are contented with their helping arrange-
ments to the degree that they succeed in promoting autonomy, choice,
and control. Irene, Helen, and Leonard, for instance, have developed
support networks that facilitate their self-sufficiency; Stella and
William, however, find themselves threatened by the prospect of not
being able to exercise control over their support arrangements. For
both Japanese and Americans, the sense of vulnerability derives from
the threat to their respective ideals of security.
INTERGENERATIONAL EQUITY
The idea of reciprocity is closely linked to the notion of fairness. The

reciprocal support practice is based on the notion that people take
turns in giving, and that this arrangement is also equitable. The sense
of fairness in reciprocal relationships is often based on assumptions
of intergenerational equity that define the appropriateness of giving
and deserving. It is "fair," for example, for Fuku and Teru to expect
their children to look after them because their turn has come, just as
it will come for the children; likewise, it is "fair" for Ben and Ju-
dith's younger sons to pursue their own independent lives, just as
Ben and Judith did when it was their turn. Thus, we can identify two
typologies of intergenerational equity in this comparative analysis:
In Japan, the older generation takes its turn to claim dependence, and
in the United States, the younger generation takes its turn to claim
independence.
The sense of turn in filial relations is focused on the parent in Japan
and on the child in the United States. Whether the respect for a serial
order is directed to the old in an age-graded society or to the young in
a youth-oriented society, it is the underlying sense of the fairness of
turns that makes the succession of give-and-take possible. The shared
notions of equity create the glue of intergenerational support, which
Martha Baum and Rainer Baum have called the trust in diachronic
153
solidarity and Vern Bengtson and colleagues have called normative

solidarity.11 The sense of deservedness that many Odawaran elderly
describe derives in part from this serial order of equity. Likewise, the
sense of resentment that some Odawarans like Toshio feel derives
from a betrayal of this expectation for equity.
Because the serial order is focused on the child, not the parent, in the
United States, the American elderly are at a greater disadvantage than
the Japanese. Thomas Jefferson's ideal that "each generation is as in-
dependent of the one preceding, as that was of all which had gone be-
fore"12 specifies the rights of the young, not of the old. Whereas some,
like Helen and Leonard, feel secure in their relationships with the
younger members of the family, others, like Dorothy and Stella, feel
aggravated by this disadvantage: They would like to depend on their
children and grandchildren, but they do not feel entitled to do so. A sys-
tem of intergenerational fairness that allows the old to claim depen-
dence, by contrast, is more advantageous for the vulnerable in old age.
The notion of turn in the United States is not as straightforward as
it first seems, however. In a country where choices among alternative
beliefs are particularly important, assumptions are likewise varied.
Helen who lives down the street from her married daughter and
Leonard who lives with his married daughter, also believe to some ex-
tent in their turn for entitlement to support - if in a less demanding
way than their Japanese counterparts. Ben and Judith, on the other
hand, believe more strongly in their children's turn to be free of sup-
port burdens, than in their own turn to depend on them. Upstream and
downstream expectations of intergenerational equity are mixed, just
as belief systems are pluralistic in American society as a whole.
Nevertheless, as Andrew Achenbaum suggests, the basic assumption
that the young are equal to the old in rights and responsibilities has
historically been a significant feature of American society.13 The high
11 See Martha Baum and Rainer Baum, Growing Old: A Societal Perspective, 7-13;
and Vern Bengtson, Neal Cutler, David Mangen, and Victor Marshall, "Generations,
Cohorts and Relations between Age Groups."
12 Cited in W. Andrew Achenbaum, "Generations in Historical Context," 30.
13 W. Andrew Achenbaum, "Societal Perceptions of Aging." See also his Shades of
Gray: Old Age, American Values, and Federal Policies Since 1920.
154
regard for autonomy, choice, and control at any age creates a pluralis-
tic ambivalence in the American notion of intergenerational equity.14
The prototypical assumptions of intergenerational equity in Japan
and the United States therefore differ in substance. In Japan, inter-
generational equity means taking turns in giving and receiving sup-
port according to differential abilities in different life stages. To
Americans, intergenerational equity means taking turns to give to
children, but they are less willing to give irrevocable meaning to age.
As John Hewitt suggests, the multiple ideals of equal opportunity,
youth orientation, and compassion for the weak are at odds,15 just as
the desires for both independence and dependence in later life. Age is
an equalizer in both societies, but the assumption about what it should
equalize in intergenerational relationships is therefore different.
These assumptions of intergenerational equity are also closely
linked to the trajectories of need in old age. When need in old age is
inevitable, an aging parent's claim to dependence has significant so-
cial validity; by contrast, when need in old age is not inevitable, an
aging parent's claim to dependence cannot command the same va-
lidity. As American observers suggest, age-related abilities that
nevertheless exist in reality must then be justified by legislative enti-
tlement to formalize the age stratification.16 In spite of the relatively
straightforward principle of serial order, Japanese intergenerational
equity is also not carved in stone. As the case studies show, demon-
strating past contributions to one's credit is also essential for some to
claim dependency.
PRIMARY BONDS OF AFFECTION
Partnerships of informal support usually consist of special bonds of af-

fection that tie individuals together. A special trust is embedded in these
14 Alan Wolfe, Whose Keeper? Social Science and Moral Obligation, 85; Gunhild
Hagestad, "The Aging Society as a Context for Family Life," 127.
15 John P. Hewitt, Dilemmas of the American Self, viii.
16 Matilda White Riley and John W. Riley, Jr., "Longevity and Social Structure: The
Added Years"; Bernice L. Neugarten and Joan W. Moore, "The Changing Age-
Status System."
155
bonds, connecting people with love and empathy. Bonds of affection

are the strongest of support relations, because they are not only based
on conditions of give-and-take, but also on a fundamental desire for
connectedness. Because of this affinity, we perceive these bonds as the
most dependable and desirable support relationships in everyday life.
Intimacies, however, can also be fickle. After all, affairs of the heart
are variable and chancy; people change, and so do their priorities. De-
spite our desire for permanent love and trust, bonds of affection do not
always survive the inherent variability of human feelings. Social sup-
port therefore relies not only on these emotions, but also on social in-
stitutions like marriage and family that presume permanence, and
command moral legitimacy. These institutions safeguard the long-
term emotional commitments; they cement the emotional bonds with
mutual interests and social responsibility.
These bonds of affection have different cultural expressions in the
two societies; they differ in the choice of relationships, degree of inti-
macy and sacrifice, and the display of affection. The comparative
analysis points to two typologies of primary bonds: the filial and the
conjugal. The Japanese tend to form their primary bonds with their
children, and Americans do so with their husbands or wives.17 Both
societies readily assume that those closest are also those most avail-
able to help, but the structure of the primary bonds differs: The Japa-
nese bonds are intergenerational and are based on the primacy of
blood ties, whereas the American ties are voluntary and chosen, and
are based on the primacy of romantic love.
The Japanese value the irrevocable quality of blood ties to forge
nonnegotiable and lasting commitments. Masa's comment on the na-
ture of filial obligation makes this point clear - "a son is a son": The
absence of choice reinforces the bond, as many Japanese scholars have
also noted.18 For Americans, by contrast, the voluntary quality of the
17 See also Sylvia Junko Yanagisako's account of these contrasts between first- and
second-generation Japanese Americans in Transforming the Past: Tradition and
Kinship among Japanese Americans.
18 See, for example, Takie Sugiyama Lebra, Japanese Patterns of Behavior, 60. Diana
Lynn Bethel's account of the pseudo-kinship ties created among unrelated residents
of a Japanese nursing home provides an interesting corroboration of this point; see
"Life in Obasuteyama, or, Inside a Japanese Institution for the Elderly."
156
primary tie is essential to forging commitments. This support rela-
tionship is a chosen one, and as such, it embodies negotiations and
adaptations. Whether these primary relationships are forged across or
within generations has important implications for the living arrange-
ments of the elderly, and also for their choices of outside sources of
help. Filial coresidence in Japan represents resources of an intergen-
erational range, focused on parent-child relations inside the house-
hold. Conjugal households in the United States also involve
coresidence of people tied by primary bonds, and it is supplemented
by triangulated networks of peer and intergenerational ties.
UNITS OF SELF-SUFFICIENCY
Whether conjoined by karma, kinship, or choice, people who live to-

gether share a common fate for survival in everyday life. Financially,
they usually pool their resources and make joint investments - in
housing, furniture, car, insurance, and the like. They also usually di-
vide household tasks and responsibilities like cooking, cleaning,
shopping, and paying bills - subject to gender role expectations. Be-
cause of this sense of shared fate, the household creates a special kind
of connectedness among coresidents even if it is not always in har-
mony; as such, it is recognized as a socioeconomic collective, a social
unit of sufficiency.
The assumption of self-sufficiency refers to the recognition of
boundaries that define the limits of primary support relationships.
The unit of self-sufficiency usually points to the individual, the couple,
or the family, depending on the expectations of interdependence that
these social relationships carry. Different boundaries of self-sufficiency
can be found in two typologies: Self-sufficiency in Japan refers to the
independence of the family from the community, whereas in the United
States, self-sufficiency refers to the independence of the individual or
the couple from the family and the community. These different cultural
assumptions of self-sufficiency have important implications for sup-
port practices in the two societies, as we also discussed in Chapter 3.
Japan's proneness for the collectivization of responsibility and obli-
gations at the cost of individual autonomy has been well documented
157
by many scholars. Thomas Rohlen, for example, has noted its salience
in the Japanese workplace, school, and other institutions.19 Robert Smith
has suggested that this preference for the collective derives from the
fact that Japanese identity is defined in relation to others, not the au-
tonomous self.20 Other evidence also suggests that this kind of identity
formation is more prevalent in non-Western cultures than elsewhere.21
This regard for the collective entity - such as the family - as the so-
cial unit of self-sufficiency creates distinct boundaries of self-reliance.
When Waka speaks about her ambivalence to nursing homes, she is
concerned about the self-sufficiency of the family. West Haveners like
Ernest and Stella, on the other hand, speak about their concern for self-
sufficiency as individuals. The American concern for self-sufficiency,
however, does not apply to the interdependence between husband
and wife, much in the same way that the Japanese concern for self-
sufficiency does not apply to parent-child relations. For Fuku, her
grandson is included in her unit of self-sufficiency, yet for Ben and Ju-
dith, their sons are clearly excluded. Individual perceptions of inde-
pendence and interdependence differ in the two societies, because the
boundaries of self-sufficiency are not drawn in the same places.
When the basic classification of "we" differs, the rules of allocation
and reciprocity require different interpretations. As support resources
vary according to units of self-sufficiency, so do the rules of support.
Depending on whether the helping relationships are communal or
noncommunal - inside or outside the unit of self-sufficiency - the
particular arrangements of help also take on different meanings and
carry different expectations in the two societies.
VISIONS OF RESOURCE AFFLUENCE
Self-sufficiency in old age, whether as an individual, couple, or fam-

ily, is also influenced by the anticipation of alternative social re-
19 Thomas P. Rohlen, Japan's High Schools and For Harmony and Strength: Japa-
nese White-Collar Organization in Anthropological Perspective.
20 Robert Smith, Japanese Society: Tradition, Self and the Social Order, 49.
21 Alan Roland, In Search of Self in India and Japan: Toward a Cross-Cultural Psy-
chology, 329-330; Hazel Rose Markus and Shinobu Kitayama, "Culture and the
Self: Implications for Cognition, Emotion, and Motivation."
158
sources that societies have to offer. Visions of resource affluence re-
fer to subjective perceptions, not objective assessments, of alterna-
tive support resources that seem available outside the unit of self-
sufficiency from the viewpoint of those seeking support. The socio-
economic, political, and demographic conditions that shape social
security, health care programs, private insurance, labor markets, and
dependency ratios offer the grounds for an objective assessment of
resources available to the elderly,22 and various studies shed light
on these particular conditions. Meredith Minkler and Carroll Estes,
and John Myles, for example, point to the importance of class and
power dynamics that determine resource allocation in the political
economy.23 Margaret Weir, Ann Shola Orloff, and Theda Skocpol fo-
cus on the institutional-political processes that shape social policy
and resource allocation.24 These studies represent provider perspec-
tives on how material and human resources are allocated according
to fiscal and labor policy, market incentives, taxation, and resulting
power dynamics.
To understand individual choices, however, we must also observe
the availability of resources from the recipients' perspective. Percep-
tions and reactions to resource allocation are subjective; they are
shaped by selective knowledge and beliefs obtained from personal ex-
periences, acquaintances, and the media.25 Whether or not these per-
ceptions accurately reflect the availability of resources, they are
pivotal in shaping decisions and choices, because they define the vi-
sion of what is there to be utilized. People cannot use what they do not
know exists; assumptions about alternatives therefore play an impor-
tant role in the decisions they make about helping arrangements.
22 Akiko Hashimoto and Hal Kendig, "Aging in International Perspective," 10-12.

23 Meredith Minkler, "Introduction"; John Myles, "Conflict, Crisis and the Future of
Old Age Security"; Carroll Estes, "Austerity and Aging: 1980 and Beyond." See
also John Myles, "Comparative Public Policies for the Elderly: Frameworks and Re-
sources for Analysis."
24 Margaret Weir, Ann Shola Orloff, and Theda Skocpol, "Introduction: Understand-
ing American Social Policies."
25 In this connection, Juanita Kreps also maintains that the financial implications of
the allocation process are poorly understood by the public. See "Intergenerational
Transfers and the Bureaucracy," 30.
159
Although Japan and the United States are the two wealthiest na-
tions in the world, they differ in how they perceive the limitations
in their socioeconomic environments. The two typologies of resource
affluence that apply in this context are scarcity and abundance. De-
spite the current high income levels and stockpiles of economic capi-
tal, the Japanese are more conscious of their resource limitations,
especially because of the permanent shortage of one natural re-
source - land. This shortage of fertile land - to harvest, mine, and
build houses on - has a strong impact on the Japanese assumption of
social affluence in everyday life, despite the abundance of cash itself.
The perceived shortage of housing and space is a daily reminder of this
limitation, and the shortage of mineral resources emphasized in every
textbook and reference weighs heavily in business conduct and na-
tional foreign policy. The Japanese adhere to a sense of scarcity
largely based upon this idea of shortage, both historically and at pres-
ent. Because the experience of postwar affluence is relatively short
and concentrated in the private sector anyway, their expectation of
what the public sector can do for them is limited. Waka's comment
about state provisions, "if only we had adequate nursing facilities . . .
we would have our peace of mind," derives from a sense that these al-
ternative resources are scarce and inaccessible.
The American perception of affluence has been well known by
contrast.26 As the country that originated as the land of opportunity
and abundance, the United States has long been accustomed to its
status as the world's richest nation until more recently. These great
expectations are also great obstacles to recognizing its real limita-
tions. The natural resources are seemingly abundant, thus the zero-
sum reality of resource allocation in the current political economy is
made more difficult to acknowledge than in Japan. William's com-
ment on state provisions represents this sense of betrayed expecta-
tions: "This country is a rich country, the richest country in the
world - and I mean they have a poor setup for the old people." Na-
26 See David M. Potter, People of Plenty: Economic Abundance and the American
Character, chap. 3; Seymour Sarason and Elizabeth Lorentz, The Challenge of the
Resource Exchange Network.
160
tional pride is invested in this sense of affluence despite its limita-
tions, and leads to the perception that resources are negotiable and
obtainable as long as one works hard and ingeniously.
The assumptions of social affluence also mirror the different de-
mands and expectations made for community resources in the two so-
cieties. These "soft" resources are not distributed according to the
mechanisms of resource allocation akin to the public sector, but de-
pend essentially on the pool of goodwill of friends, acquaintances, and
strangers, as Robert Wuthnow describes.27
These expectations concerning the pool of generosity - or the kind-
ness of friends, acquaintances, and strangers - also differ in the two
societies. When Irene points to the generalized expectation to give and
be given, she speaks of her moral, Christian obligation to contribute to
this pool. The large peer networks of kin and friends in the United
States are part of this pool that facilitates generalized mutual support.
When Masa talks about her desire to stay active, by contrast, she points
to her specific obligations to the little babies at the nursery, and Toshio
also talks about his volunteer work at the local temple and the neigh-
borhood association as specific status positions. Masa's and Toshio's
contributions are not intended for a presumed general pool of goodwill
as such, but are instead directed to specific people and organizations.
Odawara's small number of voluntary organizations, described in
Chapter 3, reflects the nature of Japanese goodwill, which is made up
of specific social ties rather than an abstract entity like the commu-
nity.28 The different size of support networks in the two communities
also makes sense in light of the different expectations about the abun-
dance of generosity.
The foregoing classification of assumptions about the nature of life

course, human relationships, and social environment goes some way
toward explaining why the social contracts in the two societies differ
as they do. It points to the systematic differences in the salient values
27 See Robert Wuthnow, Acts of Compassion: Caring for Others and Helping
Ourselves.
28 See also Harumi Befu, "Gift-Giving in a Modernizing Japan," 167.
161
that shape - and legitimate - the different arrangements. Although the
cultural assumptions and expectations are mostly taken for granted
in everyday life, they influence support relationships in two funda-
mental ways: They define the worth of different kinds of help offered
in each society, and the interests of givers and receivers in the support
relationship. In the next chapter, I will turn more specifically to these
questions of worth and interests in the structural relationship of the
social contract.
162
8
The Social Regulation

of Interests
T HE support relationship is inherently unequal, because it evolves

out of the interaction between givers and receivers. Support is
asymmetrical at each moment in time, since every act of giving is es-
sentially a one-sided endeavor, where help that emanates from one per-
son is obtained by another. Every meal that Ernest's daughter prepares
for him and every stipend that Teru's son gives to her are gifts that de-
fine the positions of the giver and the receiver respectively. The support
relationship entails the seed of inequity between those who are in a po-
sition to give and those who are not, because it relies on the intrinsic
distinction of the material and instrumental resources that they own.
When these positions become fixed over time, the support relation-
ship develops into one in which the giver and the receiver lose the crit-
ical sense of mutuality about the help that is given and received. Instead
of taking turns with Ernest, his daughter always hosts the family din-
ners for him; likewise, Teru cannot reciprocate her son's financial help.
Ernest and Teru have become regular receivers of support, with limited
resources to return the favors and gifts they accept. When giving and
receiving are regularized, the support relationship inevitably creates a
pattern of inequity that is referred to also as dependency.
Given individual differences in material and instrumental re-
sources, some are bound to be in the stronger position to give, and oth-
ers less so. The giver who controls the resources in demand often
maintains the upper hand, and the receiver, whose need has prompted
the giving in the first place, inevitably occupies the weaker, more de-
pendent position.1 The act of giving therefore mirrors a hierarchy of
1 James Dowd, Stratification among the Aged, 19.
163
difference between the giver and the receiver that is based on the dis-
tinction of what people own and are capable of giving.
This relationship also creates a dynamic of power between the giver
and the receiver, and leads us to question why and how the giver is in-
duced to support the receiver in an unequal society. Although givers are
capable of treating receivers with goodwill, this goodwill is not an en-
during quality that ensures regular support over the long term.2 They are
also prone to safeguard their own interests, which usually perpetuates,
rather than diminishes, the social difference.3 As the demand for social
support escalates with increasing longevity and incidence of chronic
illnesses, the need to induce the givers to support the receivers over an
extended period of time is essential for regularizing support. The sup-
port practice therefore requires an effective mechanism that regulates
the interests of givers and receivers to mitigate the social difference.
This chapter argues that the regulation of interests between givers
and receivers is essential to routinize social support. For social sup-
port to become an enduring social contract, it must assign rights, re-
sponsibilities, credits, and debts to regulate the interests in the
giver-receiver relationship. Typically, the assignment of rights and
responsibilities establishes a sense of collective interest in the rela-
tionship. By the same token, the logic of credits and debts that estab-
lishes reciprocity results in the establishment of mutual interests in
the support relationship. These assignments define the symbolic
value of giving and deserving in the framework of interests, and es-
tablish the legitimacy of the helping practice. In this chapter, I turn to
these assignments of symbolic resources - rights, responsibilities,
credits, and debts - to explore the regulation of interests and power
in the social contract. I will first discuss the assignment of credits
and debts in reciprocal relationships, and then the designation of
rights and responsibilities at the collective level. I will then turn to
a classification of these assignments that illustrates the symbolic
strategies of regulating interests. These strategies - empowerment
2 Richard Titmuss, The Gift Relationship: From Human Blood to Social Policy,
238-239; Robert Pinker, Social Theory and Social Policy, 162; Alvin Gouldner, "The
Importance of Something for Nothing," 268.
3 Annette Weiner, Inalienable Possessions: The Paradox of Keeping- While-Giving, 43.
164
The Social Regulation of Interests
and disempowerment - point to the essence of deservedness, fair-

ness, and symbolic equity in the social contract.
CREDITS, DEBTS, AND MUTUAL INTERESTS
Social support is a helping arrangement that embraces the logic of

credits and debts in the giver-receiver relationship referred to as rec-
iprocity. Reciprocity creates a formula of mutual interest and gain, by
linking two acts of help as gift and return gift in an ongoing chain of
giving in social relationships. These gifts and countergifts are cultur-
ally defined as credits and debts, such as in the case where an adult
child owes support to an aging parent who deserves it for having raised
the child in the past. This formula of mutual interest reorganizes the
unit of action from "give" to "give and take," by making a symbolic
connection between different deeds. Reciprocity enhances our will-
ingness to act at times against our own interest and habitualize this be-
havior in everyday life, by legitimating the notion of mutual interests,
as Marcel Mauss observed. 4
This practice of assigning credits and debts is pervasive in everyday
life, but differs from the notion of social exchange described in some
well-known studies such as Homans's and Blau's.5 It differs from so-
cial exchange in that credits and debts of symbolic value are culturally
assigned to givers and receivers, rather than strictly derived from ma-
terial and instrumental transactions. More important, actors do not
freely enter into support relationships to maximize their gain in the ex-
change process in the way that James Dowd suggests;6 they do so
under the constraints of cultural definitions about what is fair and
deserved in these relationships. For example, not all children share
the same amount of debt to their parents in Japan; some are desig-
nated to carry the debt more than others - according to birth order and
4 Marcel Mauss, The Gift: Forms and Functions of Exchange in Archaic Societies,
71-72.
5 George Homans, Social Behavior: Its Elementary Forms; Peter Blau, Exchange and
Power in Social Life.
6 James Dowd has developed a rigorous social exchange theory in the field of geron-
tology; see Stratification among the Aged; "Aging as Exchange: A Preface to The-
ory"; "Aging as Exchange: A Test of the Distributive Justice Proposition."
165
gender - as in the case of eldest sons. As these cultural definitions de-

termine the value of credit and debt, the standards of evaluating the gift
differ from one culture to another.7
These observations shed light on the different practices of reciproc-
ity in distinct cultural settings: The practices differ, because they in-
volve distinct social constructions of gifts and return gifts as symbolic
equivalents. Charlotte Ikels, for example, has observed cases of de-
layed reciprocity among never-married Irish Americans who receive
support from kin in their old age, in return for the earlier caregiving
they provided to their own parents.8 Takie Lebra, on the other hand, has
pointed to the practice of lineal transference in Japan, where a serial or-
der of reciprocal caregiving is handed down from one generation to the
next.9 Akiyama, Antonucci, and Campbell have also focused on the
distinction between symmetric and asymmetric rules of reciprocity in
American and Japanese intergenerational relationships.10 Patterns of
reciprocity in support are varied, because "objects" carry different
symbolic values beyond their economic utility in different cultural
contexts. The range of such gifts in the support relationship (e.g.,
money, love, meals) is virtually unlimited, as long as it becomes part
of the cultural repertoire of credits and debts that defines the ground
rules of reciprocity.11 Thus, different types of reciprocity have been ob-
served - symmetrical or asymmetrical, heteromorphic or homomor-
phic, restricted or generalized12 - yet they all denote a formula of
mutual gain in the relationship.
7 Harumi Befu, "Gift-Giving in a Modernizing Japan," 166.
8 Charlotte Ikels, "Delayed Reciprocity and the Support Networks of the Childless
Elderly."
9 Takie Sugiyama Lebra, "An Alternative Approach to Reciprocity," 559-560, and
Japanese Patterns of Behavior, 108.
10 Hiroko Akiyama, Toni Antonucci, and Ruth Campbell, "Exchange and Reciprocity
among Two Generations of Japanese and American Women."
11 This formulation is therefore consistent with the notion of "unlimited" or "un-
payable" debt, on, of adult children that Japan scholars have described. See, for
example, Takie Sugiyama Lebra, Japanese Patterns of Behavior, 102-103.
12 Alvin Gouldner, "The Norm of Reciprocity: A Preliminary Statement"; Lebra, "An
Alternative Approach to Reciprocity"; Berit Ingersoll-Dayton and Toni C. An-
tonucci, "Reciprocal and Nonreciprocal Social Support: Contrasting Sides of Inti-
mate Relationships"; Claude Levi-Strauss, The Elementary Structures of Kinship;
Peter Ekeh, Social Exchange Theory: The Two Traditions.
166
Patterns of reciprocity observed in Odawara and West Haven also
capture the practice of mutual gain in its essence. Fuku receives a
great deal of household help from the younger members of her family,
but can offer housing and babysitting in return. Helen's uncle also ac-
cepted her meals and cleaning efforts, and returned the favor by giv-
ing her a house-for a symbolic token of $11. Fuku's and Helen's
helping arrangements work, because the tacit contract of mutual giv-
ing creates a support system that offers gains for both givers and re-
ceivers. As in these two cases, the "equivalents" are not actual but
symbolic; yet the notion of mutual interests in the interaction is
fundamental in regulating the power dynamics in the long-term gift
relationship.
In the social contract these gifts and countergifts are rarely identi-
cal or equivalent in actual terms, but they are made equivalents in
symbolic terms. What matters is not the actual content of the gifts
themselves, but the social construction that the gifts are legitimate and
equivalent. Those who have paid their dues by helping some family
members are "entitled" to take aid, even if the type or duration of help
involved does not equal what was "owed" by accurate measure. By
culturally assigning these credits and debts to givers and receivers, the
act of giving becomes a gift that is made an equivalent of something
else that has transpired in the past.13
This practice of reciprocity also hinges on the notion that giving is
earned and condoned equitably, and that this rule applies to everyone
under the same conditions, even if it does not satisfy everyone to the
same degree. The social contract is based on this notion of earned
credit and repaid debt that are applied equally to the participants.
When help is given, earned, and repaid in an ongoing chain of giv-
ing, the interaction reinforces the belief that support arrangements
are mutual and therefore fair. The symbolic equity entailed in the
practice of reciprocity allows givers and receivers to subscribe to the
idea of giving without incurring "undue" sacrifices, because the gift
is deserved.
13 Along these lines, Robert E. Goodin has hence argued that parent-child relations
do not, strictly speaking, constitute "reciprocity"; see Protecting the Vulnerable:
A Reanalysis of Our Social Responsibilities, 84.
167
RIGHTS, RESPONSIBILITIES, AND COLLECTIVE INTERESTS
Social support becomes a social contract when it is legitimated in a

collective order of giving that transcends the material and instrumen-
tal give-and-take of everyday life. If deserving help is a social con-
struction, then this construct must be legitimated in the institutional
order of society. Helping schemes for the elderly that yield delayed
and indirect payoffs to successive generations must be reinforced by
a shared understanding of the requisites that legitimate the social con-
tract.14 Helping arrangements are precarious without the designation
of rights and responsibilities that define the substance of this collec-
tive agreement. 15
The social designation of rights and responsibilities also regulates
the collective interest of givers and receivers symbolically. The cu-
mulative lifetime contributions to the social security system, for ex-
ample, do not equal the total amount of benefits paid out to an average
retiree, because the contributions are now easily recovered within a
few years of retirement;16 yet, the symbolic equation that "you pay in
what you get out" prevails in the popular perception.17 Similarly, the
unilateral transfer of social services has also been construed as a sys-
tem of exchange, based on the equation of taxes and services.18 As few
social situations call for exact exchanges of identical gifts, as I have
argued, the social contract must be based on such symbolisms and ap-
proximations of equivalence. The social designation of rights and re-
sponsibilities casts the objective reality in different light to invoke a
collective perception of equity even when no equity exists in the ac-
tual sense. This system of regulating collective interests is particularly
important in relationships of giving that involve delayed and intangi-
14 Peter Laslett, "Is There a Generational Contract?" 27-28.
15 Norman Daniels, Am I My Parents' Keeper? An Essay on Justice between the Young
and the Old, chap. 2.
16 Martha Baum and Rainer Baum, Growing Old: A Societal Perspective, 10;
Laurence Kotlikoff, Generational Accounting: Knowing Who Pays, and When, for
What We Spend, 97-98. This "rate of return" may decline in the future; see discus-
sion in James Schulz, Economics of Aging, 172-175, and Norman Daniels, Am I
My Parents' Keeper?: An Essay on Justice between the Young and the Old, 132.
17 Juanita M. Kreps, "Intergenerational Transfers and the Bureaucracy."
18 Robert Pruger, "Social Policy: Unilateral Transfer or Reciprocal Exchange."
168
ble gratification. Robert Pinker also refers to this logic of collective
interest as a system of social equivalence,19 which creates the sense of
equity in the way people are made to deserve the help they re-
ceive - that is, the sense of symbolic equity.
THE LOGIC OF SYMBOLIC EQUITY
In essence, the social contract entails a process of establishing sym-

bolic equity that regulates the collective order of giving. To institu-
tionalize the everyday acts of giving, a social contract must do more
than cement goodwill and generosity with incentives and rewards: It
must routinize giving through means of regulating the interests of
givers and receivers. As givers and receivers in the support relation-
ship are involved in an intrinsically inequitable relationship - in the
material and instrumental sense - the social contract works according
to a logic of fairness that restores the equity between them, symboli-
cally. Cultural assignments of rights, responsibilities, credits, and
debts create special standards of evaluation so that beneficiaries are
regarded as having earned the right to be helped, and as receiving the
aid legitimately. The social contract, when successful, resolves the
question of power and hierarchy in the giver-receiver relationship
through this formula of creating the symbolism of deservedness in
symbolic equity.
This logic of symbolic equity in the social contract finds an anal-
ogy in what Anthony Giddens calls dialectic of control - the notion
that relations of power provide the subordinate with some degree of
control over the other in defining the conditions of reproducing power
through the very act of participating in that relationship.20 Support re-
ceivers sustain some measure of control in the hierarchical relation-
ship of giving by legitimating their "deservedness," and by evoking
their past contributions and gifts to the givers. The support relation-
ship is therefore not a rigid, quid pro quo exchange of help, but a fluid
19 Robert Pinker, Social Theory and Social Policy, 153. See also his The Idea of
Welfare, chap. 5.
20 Anthony Giddens, Central Problems in Social Theory: Action, Structure and Con-
tradiction in Social Analysis, 6.
169
series of giving that is symbolically constructed as reciprocation in
this dialectic of control.21 Deeds and objects that are "matched" are
rarely identical or even tangible in practice, but are created by indi-
vidual perceptions and evaluations about what counts. They matter as
equalizers in meaning and substance only to the givers and receivers
concerned in their context of relevance; as such, any type of giving
can count if it is meaningful to them.
The process of creating symbolic equity entails the central premise
that a long-term helping arrangement must level the playing field be-
tween the giver and receiver to routinize and redistribute the gift. By
assigning rights, responsibilities, credits, and debts, the support sys-
tem symbolically redresses the material inequity in the giver-receiver
relationship. When condoning the idea that givers owe help to those
who deserve it and that receivers are entitled to help from those who
are obliged to give it, social support becomes a system of giving that
regulates self-interests, and not just a sum of favors that people ex-
change to maximize their self-interests.
In essence, symbolic equity is an evaluation that is shaped by the
perceptions, dispositions, and converted interests of individual givers
and receivers. As such, it is a subjective construct that is influenced by
the assumptions people make about the nature of life and the interests
that they pursue. People construct the meaning and value of giving and
deserving according to this subjective vision of fairness created from
accumulated memories of past experiences.22 At the society level,
different standards of evaluating giving and deserving yield different
social contracts. At the individual level, mismatched meanings of giv-
ing and deserving lead to a failure of establishing meaningful support
relationships - just as they did for Dorothy and her grandchildren, and
Toshio and his daughter-in-law.
These evaluations are structured in the subjective meanings and
equivalences that determine the value of the gifts. As Bourdieu has
argued, they constitute a system of dispositions, habitus, that gener-
21 In this sense, this formulation is akin to Levi-Strauss's notion of generalized ex-

change; see Elementary Structures of Kinship, part 2.
22 Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality: A Trea-
tise on the Sociology of Knowledge, 127.
170
ate particular preferences and interests that shape the rules of interac-
tion.23 His notion that perceptions and actions embrace a logic of
practice that holds its own internal system of symbolic meaning is
also useful for understanding cross-cultural differences in helping
behavior. Affluent societies agree that the vulnerable should be pro-
tected, but notions of who is vulnerable, what constitutes protection,
and how the goal ought to be achieved hinge on these different sys-
tems of dispositions that constitute the logic of the social contract.
This argument therefore suggests that social contracts for the elderly
are different not because they are culturally "unique," but because
they apply dissimilar standards of symbolic equity that derive from
local knowledge and interests.
DISTRIBUTION OF SYMBOLIC RESOURCES:

EMPOWERMENT AND DISEMPOWERMENT
The analysis of symbolic equity now leads us to the notion that the
social contract is not only a distributive system of material and in-
strumental resources, but also a distributive system of symbolic re-
sources. These symbolic resources24 - rights, responsibilities, credits,
and debts - are distributed to givers and receivers according to a logic
of fairness that lies at the heart of the social contract. Withoutthis con-
cern for symbolic resources, individual helping agreements are short-
term solutions that are unlikely to resolve what Alan Wolfe calls the
dilemma between selfishness and selflessness.25 At best, the social
contract distributes these symbolic resources to restore the equity in
the giver-receiver relationship.
Each society has two logical possibilities of establishing symbolic
equity between those with and without material and instrumental
resources - that is, between the giver and the receiver of the support
23 Pierre Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice, chap. 3; and Outline of a Theory of Prac-
tice, chap. 2.
24 I use the term symbolic resources to refer to the four social assignments: rights, re-
sponsibilities, credits, and debts. This term derives from Bourdieu's idea of sym-
bolic capital, but refers here only to the specific assignments analyzed in this study.
See Pierre Bourdieu, "Forms of Capital."
25 Alan Wolfe, Whose Keeper? Social Science and Moral Obligation, 215.
171
relationship: They can be equalized by strengthening the weak, or by
weakening the strong. Accordingly, these possibilities lead to two
generic strategies of establishing symbolic equity between the giver
and receiver which I will call the strategy of empowerment and the
strategy of disempowerment.
The strategy of empowerment refers to a process of legitimating de-
pendency by recognizing the rights of the vulnerable. It strengthens the
relative status of receivers by framing these rights in a language of de-
servedness (credit). Receivers are to be protected because they are en-
titled to help; their past contributions are made to count in their license
to receive their "repayment." In this equation, the receivers are transformed
from being helpless beneficiaries to entitled, deserving individuals.
By contrast, the strategy of disempowerment represents an attempt
to legitimate dependency by emphasizing the duties of givers in the
support relationship. It weakens the relative status of givers by defin-
ing these duties in terms of their indebtedness (liability) to the re-
ceivers. Givers are thus obliged to help; they are diminished from
being controlling givers to indebted, obligated persons. By assigning
different symbolic resources - rights and responsibilities - both
strategies establish an abstract kind of fairness in the support relation-
ship I have called symbolic equity.
Japan and the United States share these same structural options
of restoring the equity between the giver and the receiver. Insofar as
both share the same problem of inequity between the giver and the
receiver, they face these same choices in regulating interests in the
giver-receiver relationship. Yet they choose differently from these op-
tions, because they embrace different cultural definitions of vulnera-
bility and he'p. How different symbolic resources come to count in
some societies and not in others can be better understood in light of
these different structural choices. The most fundamental distinction
between the Japanese and American social contracts lies in these dif-
ferent strategies they choose to restructure the power dynamics be-
tween the giver and the receiver.
Throughout the empirical analysis of this book, we have seen these
different strategies of symbolic redistribution at work in the two soci-
eties. It is evident that, on the whole, Japan's approach to social sup-
172
port primarily emphasizes the strategy of disempowerment. Japan's
support system is essentially giver-driven, as its reliance on filial
obligation, family responsibility, and preference for protection amply
attest. The protective approach in Japan essentially promotes old-age
security by making the givers accountable for giving. While some em-
powerment of the elderly is also found to some degree - notably in the
social security and health care systems - the social contract is
grounded primarily in the generalized designation of responsibilities
rather than rights of its citizens.
By contrast, Americans primarily emphasize the strategy of em-
powerment, as we have seen in their preference for independence, en-
titlements, and crisis intervention. The strategy focuses on promoting
the autonomy of receivers by safeguarding a range of choices in the
support system. Again, some disempowerment can also be found in
the American contingency approach to a degree, especially for family
caregivers, but the social contract derives primarily from the general-
ized exercise of rights rather than the prescription of responsibility per
se. In both Japan and the United States, tolerance toward dependency
is therefore determined not by different amounts of goodwill, but by
the different derivations of symbolic equity in their respective cul-
tures. These two symbolic strategies represent the most essential dif-
ference in the social contracts of Japan and the United States.
The typological classification of different social expectations and
assignments of the two strategies is shown in Table 8.1. The strategy
of empowerment focuses on regulating the interests of receivers: It
symbolically elevates their power by designating entitlements, and by
inducing their expectation toward intervention in times of need. In this
strategy, therefore, givers are expected to intervene when vulnerabil-
ity is evident. By contrast, the strategy of disempowerment is directed
to regulating the interests of givers: It diminishes the symbolic power
of givers by designating obligations to them, to help and protect those
who are deemed vulnerable. Receivers in this case are helped not so
much by right but by their expectation for protection toward those who
shoulder the designated duties. In both strategies, therefore, the
giver-receiver relationship is symbolically restructured according to
a distinct logic of fairness that regulates the helping arrangement.
173
Table 8.1. Strategies of regulating interests in helping relationships
Strategies Givers Receivers
Empowerment Expectation of Designation of

of receivers intervention entitlement
Disempowerment Designation of Expectation of
of givers obligation protection
SOCIAL AND CULTURAL CONSTRUCTIONS OF SUPPORT
The foregoing analysis of cultural assumptions and symbolic assign-

ments now leaves us with multiple subtexts to interpret the practice of
giving, receiving, and deserving across the two societies. Cultural as-
sumptions and assignments shape support practices and are reinforced
by them, in turn, in the dynamics of empowerment and disempower-
ment strategies. The conditions of these strategies are inevitably sub-
sumed under the same semantic labels when we discuss them in the
same language, but they carry different desires, options, and con-
straints for individuals in different cultural and social environments.
In this last section of the chapter, I will identify these different condi-
tions of deservedness created by symbolic strategies as they emerge
from our comparative analysis, and then discuss their implications for
the social contract. For this purpose, I will address the core issues of
the social contract in turn; first I will deal with issues of vulnerability
and security, then entitlement and obligation, and reciprocity and de-
pendency. Finally I will address the failures and costs in the two
strategies and their implications for individuals, both old and young.
Vulnerability and Security

When Toshio and Ernest - the Japanese retiree who married into the
Shimada futon business and the American widower who lives in West
Haven's elderly housing unit - express their fears about old age, they
speak of different kinds of vulnerability. Toshio's uneasiness is pre-
174
cipitated by his less than friendly daughter-in-law, who is unlikely to
perform her designated caregiver role to his satisfaction. Ernest's
problem, by contrast, has to do with not wanting to reach the point
where he would be forced to depend on someone to live. While Toshio
fears helplessness as a state of not having help, Ernest fears helpless-
ness primarily as a state of being in need of help. The distinction be-
tween the two men's sense of helplessness rests in the different
degrees to which disability is expected and accepted in old age, and
the different solutions it implies.
Although both men wish for more affectionate ties that would help
alleviate those fears, their search for security leads to different direc-
tions because the quality of their helplessness is different. Toshio
wants an assurance of dependable support - an assurance that is in-
deed the central feature of the protective approach to support in Japan.
Because the knowledge that help will be available is the key to alle-
viating the Japanese sense of helplessness, the assignment of obliga-
tion and indebtedness to givers is critical to the protective approach.
Filial coresidence has greater symbolic value in Japan than a similar
living arrangement would have in the United States, because coresi-
dence represents a proof that these assignments have been accepted by
the givers in the family. In this context, coresidence amounts to a strat-
egy of disempowerment, because it legitimates the formula of debt in
the coresident children.
Ernest prefers a scenario that allows him to maintain his autonomy
until the end - although this is not, strictly speaking, a gift that any-
body can be reasonably expected to give. The alleviation of helpless-
ness is therefore not a direct responsibility of caregivers, but his own.
The hallmark of the contingency approach in American society is thus
the diffuse support network that facilitates the bearing of this respon-
sibility. The greater symbolic value of customized help - according
to need - in American society becomes more evident when we con-
sider this responsibility assigned to the elderly. The American sense
of security derives from the respect for self-reliance as part of this
responsibility, which in turn leads to the preference for a strategy
of empowerment.
175
Entitlement and Obligation

When Yasumasa and Helen, the owner of the Nishikawa rice store and
the West Haven homemaker, talk about their expectations of future
support, they refer to different systems of entitlement and obligation
in the giver-receiver relationship. Yasumasa has secured his son's and
his daughters' obligations by evoking their debts explicitly ("Will you
care for your father and mother when they are old and ill? We did a lot
to take care of you when you were small and growing up"). By con-
trast, Helen allows greater flexibility in her daughters' obligation to
help ("You can't expect the kids over at the drop of the pin. And I think
girls drop the pin faster and do it than the boy will"). Yasumasa and
Helen have different notions of obligation in mind: A child's obli-
gation for Yasumasa is a duty; for Helen, a voluntary commitment. The
distinction between the two people's anticipation of help lies in these
different qualities of duties and commitment that are assigned to the
givers in the support relationship.
Both Yasumasa and Helen feel relatively secure with their personal
support systems, because their children evidently accept the cultural
assignments of duties and commitments. In the Japanese case, obli-
gation is a nonnegotiable debt imposed on the younger generation.
Obligation in the Japanese protective approach is part of a generalized
designation of responsibilities that leaves little room for these givers
to choose. In this sense, the greater symbolic value of family respon-
sibility in Japan compared with that in the United States, both as a
feature of social service delivery and as a legislative framework (fuyo
gimu), also becomes more evident. To reproduce giving at the society
level, the social contract in Japan distributes symbolic resources to
disempower the givers.
Helen's daughters subscribe to commitments of a more elective
kind than those of their Japanese counterparts. In the American
contingency approach, obligation refers to a chosen commitment to
offer help, and it is more contingent on individualized need and per-
sonal affinity than in Japan. Under these conditions, commitment
becomes a negotiable and variable symbolic resource for givers and
receivers alike. In the contingency approach, obligation is construed
176
as a choice: As such, it creates constraints for givers, but it does not

disempower them.
The two different notions of obligation in Japan and the United
States also mirror a distinction in the idea of entitlement to the social
contract. Entitlement in the Japanese protective approach refers to a
sense of reward - a payoff for past contributions made primarily to a
private contract.26 For example, Fuku who lives in a four-generation
household can designate her children and grandchildren to be care-
givers, because she has earned this reward through past sacrifices and
hardships. By contrast, entitlement in the American contingency sys-
tem refers to a sense of claim to rights designated primarily in a pub-
lic contract. Ben and Judith, the middle-class opticians, have turned to
Medicaid for Judith's mother and if necessary they will also take ad-
vantage of it themselves. These two approaches to entitlement reflect
distinct notions of rights that are embedded in their respective strate-
gies of empowerment and disempowerment.
The two approaches to entitlement designate different credits and
rights, in part because they entail distinct ideas about the complemen-
tarity of entitlement and obligation. In the Japanese context, entitle-
ment and obligation are complementary: One's entitlement is
another's obligation,27 and indeed one does not exist without the other.
On the other hand, entitlement in the American context is not a com-
ponent in a zero-sum relationship, but part of a generalized formula of
rights and responsibilities assigned to each individual. The distinction
between systems of rewards and claims therefore reflects these dif-
ferent notions of boundary in the availability of social and symbolic
resources. The stronger sense of resource limits in Japan leads to the
belief that empowering one person must disempower another; in the
United States, the weaker sense of the upper limits of resources leads
to the notion that one person can be empowered without disempow-
ering another.
26 In fact, there is no exact translation for the English word entitlement in the Japa-
nese language, which is symptomatic of the strategy of disempowerment. Ap-
proximate but insufficient translations are found in the words kenri (right) and
shikaku (qualification).
27 Alvin Gouldner, "The Norm of Reciprocity: A Preliminary Statement," 169.
177
Reciprocity and Dependency

When Japanese and Americans talk about intergenerational support,
they both refer to systems of reciprocity and dependency in the
giver-receiver relationship. As we have seen, these systems are not
readily explained by structural characteristics like the number of chil-
dren or different levels of resource availability. They depend, in most
cases, on the assumptions and assignments of credits, debts, and affin-
ity that underlie the agreement of support between younger and older
generations. These agreements are not always amicable or conflict-
free, as we will discuss in the next section. Nevertheless, these agree-
ments play a central role in the regulation of intergenerational interests
in the support relationship.
These systems of reciprocity and dependency also have somewhat
different meanings in the two cultures. For example, the homemaker
Hiro sees something of a reciprocal contract between herself and one
designated son, which does not exist for her other nine children ("the
right thing to do was to be with the eldest son. . . . It's not done other-
wise"). She has a sense of contract with him that derives its social va-
lidity from the assignment of credits and debts for this specific
relationship in the Japanese context. This son is not even her favorite
child, and she would much rather live with one of her daughters, but
it is he who represents the symbolic contract that ensures long-term
security for Hiro. Under these conditions, moving with another child
will not create symbolic equity; only staying with this eldest child es-
tablishes a legitimate social contract.
By contrast, the former factory worker Theresa who lived in the se-
nior housing unit refers to a sense of solidarity rather than a contract,
when she talks about intergenerational relations ("we get together
sometimes. . . . I don't need all that attention now. Except when I need
them"). This solidarity also represents a helping arrangement, but one
that embraces diffuse expectations that whoever can help will do so.
Her intergenerational relationships sustain symbolic equity, because
the careful regard for the reciprocal rights of each generation main-
tains their independence from one another.
178
This distinction between the two types of reciprocity reflects the

different degree to which dependency is legitimated in the cultural
fabric of Japanese and American societies. West Haveners amply tes-
tify to their desire for independence, as Ben and Judith were especially
eager to point out ("they have to go their own way, and we have to go
our way")- To Odawarans, dependency itself is no imminent threat,
compared with that of not having appropriate help when one becomes
dependent. Hence, Odawarans like Fuku who have all the help they
need experience no sense of danger ("even my grandson is here now,
see. I have nothing to worry about"). The different symbolic values of
reciprocity are evident in these cases: The distribution of symbolic re-
sources is directed to reducing dependency in the United States, and
to legitimating dependency in Japan.
Failures and Costs

The social contract evolves around the principle of symbolic equity,
but does not always succeed in regulating everyone's interests simul-
taneously. As social and cultural choices are made about whose rights
and responsibilities - and whose credits and debts - should be rein-
forced among givers, receivers, and nonreceivers, symbolic equity is
enhanced for some relationships and not for others. The socially and
culturally acceptable costs and benefits of dependency fluctuate over
time, as does the definition of the giver-receiver relationship, so that
different generations do not always agree on the standard of symbolic
equity. Establishing rights, responsibilities, credits, and debts requires
social agreements that are not always easily achieved, especially un-
der conditions of rapid social change.28
Symbolic strategies to resolve the problem of inequity and depen-
dency in support relationships therefore lead to different individual
successes, failures, and costs in the two societies. We have seen
many cases of intergenerational conflict in Japan. Both Teru and
Hiro feel unwelcome with their sons' families, but resign themselves
28 Nancy Foner, "When the Contract Fails: Care for the Elderly in Nonindustrial
Cultures."
179
to the demands of the younger generation in silent frustration. Toshio
and his wife have moved out of their three-generation household
because the intergenerational conflict grew out of control. These are
cases where notions of entitlement and obligation have become mis-
matched because different generations maintain dissimilar percep-
tions of credits and debts; and they exemplify failures in establishing
symbolic equity in the support relationship. In the multigeneration
household, symbolic equity is not always easy to attain: Family
members must forge compromises in everyday decisions and choices,
about what to eat, when to talk, and where to sleep. The key to
getting along, as Odawarans testify, lies in sustaining the sense of
fairness in the everyday acts of giving. Otherwise, the system of
coresidence - and the strategy of disempowerment - exacts a high
price from those in the younger generation, especially as it expects
them to start paying for their own old-age insurance at an early age.
By contrast, the failure of support in American society is found
more commonly in individual cases of withdrawal and isolation.
Stella, for instance, exemplified this sense of isolation from her so-
cial supports when she pointed to the hostility, distrust, and bitterness
that she perceived in the world around her. Dorothy has also with-
drawn from her family and social network in the housing compound,
to avoid both disappointment and dependency. Because the contin-
gency approach sets a standard of symbolic equity that demands vol-
untary engagement, it also invites more d/sengagement in the support
relationship than the protective approach.29 The withdrawal and iso-
lation more common for the American elderly30 therefore derive not
from an inherent absence of generosity in intergenerational ties, but
from a greater willingness to withdraw from the relationship when
the negotiation fails. When symbolic equity fails for the elderly in
29 This point is also consistent with psychologist Martin Greenberg's findings that
people are less likely to request and accept help when they cannot reciprocate. He
proposes that this behavior is due to discomfort associated with indebtedness. See
"A Theory of Indebtedness," 17.
30 Elaine Cumming and William E. Henry, Growing Old: The Process of Disengage-
ment. Although Cumming and Henry proposed that the process of disengagement
in old age is universal, their thesis is tenable only in cultural contexts where volun-
tary disengagement is viable as a social option.
180
Japan, they pay the price of security with resignation; when it fails
for the elderly in the United States, they pay the price of autonomy
with disengagement.
The imperfections of the social strategies in forging symbolic eq-
uity point to the constraints and limitations of constructing the social
contract in each society. In this sense, the criterion of symbolic equity
ultimately amounts to setting the threshold of acceptable flaws, and of
the price that individuals are willing to pay; and the payment is in-
evitably higher for some than for others. The cultural negotiation in
the dialectic of control therefore never completely succeeds in equal-
izing all relationships between the giver and the receiver.
181
9
Conclusion
M ODERN societies today contend with new population dynam-

ics that have never before existed in their demographic history. As
the number of older people grows, these countries must determine how
best to organize themselves to provide for the needs of this population,
while at the same time fostering the sense of social contract for the so-
ciety as a whole. The constraints are real: Fiscal and material resources
are finite and must be shared in a way that is perceived to be just. In the
face of these problems, societies confront the fundamental questions
of who gets what, how, and why. To answer these questions, these so-
cieties ultimately must appraise the principles underlying the reasons
why some people should deserve more help than others.
This study has systematically examined the Japanese and American
answers to this fundamental question. It has explored the basic issues
of vulnerability, dependency, security, protection, entitlement, and
obligation that require direct attention if these societies are to meet the
demands of different generations in the forthcoming decades. We have
found that support is organized and perceived differently according to
different cultural and social conditions; yet in both Japanese and
American societies, the key to turning obligation into giving and char-
ity into entitlement is the recognition that support between generations
is a legitimate process of intrinsic value. Despite differences in both
nations, the solution to the "problem" of old age in the final analysis
is the gift of generations symbolized in a logic of fairness.
The intrinsic value of giving in contemporary society is based on its
secular standard of symbolic equity. Helping arrangements are insti-
tutionalized as a support system ultimately according to how fairness
is defined in the contemporary culture, and how this fundamental eval-
182
Conclusion
uation is structured into the social hierarchy of resource inequity.
Thus, the argument I have proposed in this study points to the practice
and assessment of symbolic equity as the essence of the social con-
tract in each society.
This argument is based on an examination of the premises and ground
rules on which these societies draw, both implicitly and explicitly, to
organize their helping arrangements. It highlights the significance of
social expectations and solidarities that are grounded in cultural mem-
ories, and the salience of social strategies and regulations that control
the different intergenerational interests. These expectations and strate-
gies form the foundation of support systems in which succeeding gen-
erations of both societies participate with a sense of a "social contract."
This argument, derived inductively from comparative empirical
data, also points to the intersection of culture and power in our under-
standing of the social contract. The notion that support practices are
sustained by the normative regulation of symbolic resources embed-
ded in structural relationships takes us a step further in understanding
how culture shapes power. The cultural assignments of rights, re-
sponsibilities, credits, and debts that I have examined in this study are
essential processes of manipulating the structural dimension of the gift
relationship. These cultural assignments create a redistribution of
symbolic resources - through empowerment and disempowerment
strategies - that restores the equity in the hierarchy of social differ-
ence between the gift giver and the receiver. Unlike in class inequity
where theorists suggest that symbolic capital is used to reproduce the
social difference,1 in the social contract, symbolic resources are used
to redress the social difference, because this gift relationship is deeply
embedded in a dialectic of control.
CULTURE, POWER, AND THE SOCIAL CONTRACT
In support of the argument, this study points to the centrality of two

key dimensions of support practices found across different societies.
1 Pierre Bourdieu, Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste; Michele

Lamont, Money, Morals, and Manners: The Culture of the French and American
Upper-Middle Class.
183
The Significance of Cultural Assumptions

Social support is structured by a set of expectations and dispositions
about need, security, equity, and self-sufficiency that influence our
values and preferences about what support ought to do. These cultural
assumptions underlie the subjective reality in which we make sense
of the nature of human relationships, anticipate our life course trajec-
tories, and forge our gift relationships. To understand how and why
the social contract works, then, it is important to recognize the key
cultural assumptions, and identify how they mold and constrain the
organization of support in each sociocultural context. These as-
sumptions are central in forging the social ties of giving, receiving,
and deserving help in old age, and also in assigning entitlements and
obligations in the support relationship. Since these assumptions and
assignments are defined culturally, it follows then that the outcome -
the way the social contract is organized - is also different from one
country to another. As such, the social designation of "deserving citi-
zens" is defined by our values and ideas that are constrained by the
sociocultural conditions of different societies.
In both Japan and the United States, these cultural assumptions play
a pivotal role in shaping support arrangements by defining the giving
and receiving of help in ways that are meaningful in their societies. The
six cultural assumptions that I have discussed in this study concern the
essence of social support: need, security, equity, intimacy, self-suffi-
ciency, and resource affluence. In both societies, the same categories
of assumptions matter in different ways. As we have seen, the Japan-
ese tend to expect more vulnerability in old age than the Americans,
and seek security in maximizing the certainty of support rather than
minimizing dependency. The Americans, by contrast, pursue a more
open life course scenario than the Japanese, and tend to seek security
by maximizing their autonomy. The premium placed on protection in
Japan and on crisis intervention in the United States makes much sense
in the context of these assumptions and preferences.
Japan's protective approach to support also relies on the assump-
tion that the filial, not conjugal, tie is the most intimate and reliable
social bond, and that this intergenerational relationship is the unit of
184
Conclusion
self-sufficiency. This arrangement is "fair" in the Japanese context,
because the serial order of giving is directed to the older generation,
which successively takes its turn to depend on the younger generation
for support. The American contingency approach, on the other hand,
is linked to the perception that the conjugal tie takes precedence over
the filial tie as the primary bond, and that the couple makes the inde-
pendent unit of self-sufficiency. The "fairness" of this American
arrangement relies on the sense of intergenerational equity that is
directed to the younger generation, which will successively take its
turn to seek its own independence. Clearly, the prevalence of filial
coresidence in Japan and that of husband-wife households in the
United States originate to a large extent in these assumptions about the
nature of parent-child and husband-wife relationships.
The Regulation of Interests

Social support is also a helping arrangement that involves means to
regulate interests, which are, in turn, grounded in cultural assump-
tions. The designation of rights, responsibilities, credits, and debts
regulates the interests of givers and receivers to restore symbolic eq-
uity in the support relationship. To forge the social contract, these as-
signments are indispensable: Typically, the arrangement of reciprocal
intergenerational support is based on a logic of credits and debts that
establishes the notion of mutual interest; by the same token, the des-
ignation and reinforcement of rights and responsibilities to the elderly,
the family, and the state establish the notion of collective interest for
institutionalizing support arrangements.
Regulating interests in the social contract is important, because sup-
port involves intrinsically unequal relationships. In each act of giving
the giver and the receiver are not on equal footing, as giving is essen-
tially a one-sided endeavor of material or instrumental transfer; the
regulation of interests is a means to redress this structural inequity.
The social assignments of rights, responsibilities, credits, and debts
that construct notions of deserving citizens serve precisely this pur-
pose. These assignments define the symbolic value of the gift in such
a way that the helper derives a sense of obligation and fairness, and
185
the helped derives a sense of entitlement and deservedness. From this
perspective, the social contract is not just a redistributive system of
tangible material and instrumental resources: It is also a social agree-
ment that relies on the assignment of symbolic resources to reformu-
late the structural interests of the gift relationship.
In both Japan and the United States, this assignment of symbolic re-
sources is fundamental to establishing long-term support arrange-
ments, and the two societies emphasize different strategies to attain
this goal. We have seen that Japan primarily adopts a strategy of dis-
empowerment that is geared especially to regulating the interests of
givers. If the Japanese are more prone to family support, it is not nec-
essarily because they are more compassionate about their aging par-
ents than the Americans; it is because their interests are regulated more
effectively by using the family unit. By contrast, American society
tends to adopt a strategy of empowerment that is directed to regulat-
ing the interests of support receivers. This strategy's assignment of
entitlements and credits is more compatible with the American con-
cern for crisis intervention rather than crisis prevention.
Meanings and interests are therefore both essential elements to un-
derstanding the social contract. Meanings embodied in cultural mem-
ories are grounded in material conditions that make giving possible in
the first place; and these meanings also shape the ground rules of giv-
ing, keeping, receiving, and deserving that transform the structural
interests in those activities. Structural interests of gift relationships,
in turn, also give shape to these rules by eliciting the social strategies
for regulating deservedness. The social contract is therefore at once
materially grounded, structurally conditioned, and also contingent on
meaning. Clarifying these subjective and objective conditions of de-
servedness - and their recursive influences on one another - is there-
fore pivotal to understanding the practices of the social contract both
empirically and theoretically.
REFLECTIONS ON DIVERSITY AND CHANGE
A comparative study such as this which synthesizes a range of cross-

cultural observations relies on a conceptual framework that also
186
Conclusion
subsumes both cultural and structural elements of the social contract.
It suggests that a support system is only unique insofar as cultural as-
sumptions and assignments vary from one society to another, and also
that the principle that determines the notion of deservedness is noth-
ing inherently unique to a certain culture. This principle of deserved-
ness is simply a standard of symbolic equity that regulates interests
differently in different cultures; therefore, support systems in differ-
ent cultures share similar social mechanisms to cope with the same
structural constraints of inequity. These differences and similarities
taken together reveal the mutual constitution of culture and structure
mediated in these practices. While it is tempting to focus on unique
historical traditions - such as Confucianism and Christianity, or col-
lectivism and individualism - to account for the differences between
Japanese and Western support practices, these cultural explanations
alone do not adequately account for the reasons why all societies
nevertheless sustain these social contracts. By the same token, ac-
counting for cross-national similarities in the social contract by fo-
cusing on the institutional conditions of capitalist economies neglects
to explain why actors in different cultures nevertheless make dissim-
ilar choices and commitments.
This study has attempted to bridge these cultural and structural per-
spectives by linking them in the concept of symbolic equity. Under-
standing the workings of the social contract in both Japan and the
United States - for all their differences and similarities - lies in iden-
tifying the common categories of assumptions and assignments rele-
vant to routinizing support, and in recognizing the parallel logic2 in
the social practices of transforming structural relationships. As such,
this framework presupposes neither the uniqueness of cultures nor a
"lag" in the structural evolution of societies that have dominated the
culture-structure debate. The burgeoning recent efforts in compara-
tive research to bridge the culture-structure divide seem to justify this
contribution to the expanding scholarly enterprise.3
2 Pierre Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice, chap. 5.

3 See, for example, V. Lee Hamilton and J. Sanders, Everyday Justice: Responsibility
and the Individual in Japan and the United States; Robert E. Cole, Strategies for
Learning: Small-Group Activities in American, Japanese, and Swedish Industry;
187
This perspective also has the advantage of expanding the potential
scope of future research in comparative gerontology. By applying a
theoretical framework that centers on the notion of normative regula-
tion, it is possible to develop a further understanding of support in
Western and non-Western societies for which gerontological theories
of modernization, disengagement, and activity have not accounted.4
Many non-Western, especially Asian, nations also share the charac-
teristics of Japan's family support system, yet none of its cultural or
socioeconomic conditions.5 India or Thailand, for example, espouses
no Japanese features6 (e.g., Confucian values, ie family system, amae
dependency, on obligations, or advanced industrial development), yet
establishes similar patterns of multigenerational coresidence and fil-
ial obligation.7 These similarities may be accounted for, not by point-
ing to different religions and family systems, but to the logic of
regulating interests based on like assumptions and assignments.
By the same token, the diversity among Western societies - such as
that between the welfare states and the nonwelfare states - might also be
explored by comparing the key assumptions and relevant assignments
among them. It might be conjectured, for example, that the cradle-to-
grave policies of the Scandinavian states derive from assumptions that
need will be inevitable in old age, and that their responses to this life
script are found in a strategy that both empowers the receiver and dis-
empowers the giver simultaneously. The hypotheses that develop from
James R. Lincoln and Arne L. Kalleberg, Culture, Control and Commitment: A Study
of Work Organization and Work Attitudes in the United States and Japan; Hiroshi
Ishida, Social Mobility in Contemporary Japan: Educational Credentials, Class, and
the Labour Market in Cross-National Perspective; Mary Brinton, Women and the
Economic Miracle: Gender and Work in Postwar Japan; Margaret Lock, Encounters
with Aging: Mythologies of Menopause in Japan and North America.
4 Donald O. Cowgill and Lowell D. Holmes, Aging and Modernization; Donald O.
Cowgill, Aging around the World; Elaine Cumming and William E. Henry, Growing
Old: The Process of Disengagement; Robert J. Havighurst, "Successful Aging."
5 Akiko Hashimoto, Hal Kendig, and Larry Coppard, "Family Support to the Elderly
in International Perspective," 297; Deborah Davis-Friedmann, Long Lives: Chinese
Elderly and the Communist Revolution; Linda Martin, "The Aging of Asia"; Janet
Zollinger Giele, "Family and Social Networks," 69-70.
6 Akiko Hashimoto, "Ageing in Japan."
7 Akiko Hashimoto, "Living Arrangements of the Aged in 7 Developing Countries:
A Preliminary Analysis."
188
Conclusion
this framework lend themselves to empirical tests to further our un-
derstanding of different types of social contracts. In the process, new
categories of assumptions and assignments may well emerge from
comparing nations of different types of political economies, unlike
those in a comparison of Japan and the United States.
Although this study has essentially been cross-sectional in nature,

some reflections on the possibilities of change - especially the con-
tested possibility of convergence between Japan and the United
States - might nevertheless be stated. Whether changing structural
conditions in Japan, such as the increasing pension benefits and de-
clining filial coresidence, make it become "more like the West" can be
examined by searching for evidence of convergence in specific cultural
assumptions and assignments. Distinguishing between assumptions
and assignments that are more sensitive to changing socioeconomic
conditions, and those that are less so, is useful in this context. Theo-
retically, assumptions and assignments that respond more swiftly to
changing structural conditions comprise potential forces of conver-
gence, whereas those that are more resistant to change do not.
As Japanese pension benefits increase with the maturity of the Em-
ployee Pension system available for a greater number of younger el-
derly, an increasing proportion will no longer depend on filial support
for financial security. Although the pension and health care reforms of
the 1980s have curtailed the financial responsibility of the public sec-
tor to some degree,8 the diffusion of Employee Pension benefits is
nevertheless likely to increase the sense of self-sufficiency and re-
source alternatives. This prospective financial security of a greater
number of Japanese elderly has already stimulated the private sector
to start some new businesses that offer essential instrumental services.
Kinoshita and Kiefer also point to the creation of new retirement com-
munities.9 If those who benefit from higher levels of pension in the
8 The pension reform of 1985 increased the age of eligibility of future cohorts of ben-
eficiaries, and the health care reform of 1986 introduced new copayment schemes for
the elderly.
9 Yasuhito Kinoshita and Christie Kiefer, Refuge of the Honored: Social Organization
in a Japanese Retirement Community, especially 74-77.
189
future indeed take advantage of those services that can substitute for
family support, then it is possible that they will invest less in the so-
cial contract with their children. Whether the prospective affluence is
a sufficient condition itself to alter the nature of primary bonds, how-
ever, remains questionable in the foreseeable future.
Whether the declining trend in coresidence - from 70% to 60% be-
tween 1980 and 1990 10 -will make Japan become "more like the
West" can also be examined by searching for evidence of change in
some cultural assumptions and assignments. The assumptions and as-
signments that affect coresidence, however, seem slow to change in
spite of the changing socioeconomic environment. Some data in this
study suggest that the declining rate of coresidence in Japan reflects a
trend toward a postponement of coresidence rather than an abandon-
ment of this practice. As Masa's, Shizu's, and Fumihiko's cases show,
these Japanese families have adapted to social and geographic mobil-
ity of the younger generation by delaying coresidence, while retaining
their expectation of future support essentially intact. The declining
coresidence in Japan therefore has not so much to do with changing
cultural assumptions of need and security that are converging toward
the West, but with a modification of past practices to suit new struc-
tural conditions.11 Evidence from recent national surveys shows that
over 80% of Japanese men and women still expect coresidence to be
essential once aging parents are frail or widowed;12 Naoi Michiko also
confirms the trend toward delayed coresidence at the national level,
and refers to the phenomenon as tochudokyo.13 Delayed coresidence
therefore represents a variant of the strategy of disempowerment,
rather than a switch to the strategy of empowerment. It is unlikely, for
this reason, that the rate of coresidence in Japan will ultimately fall to
the level of Western societies in the foreseeable future.14
10 Miura Fumio, Zusetsu koreisha hakusho 1994, 44.

11 Akiko Hashimoto, "Family Relations in Later Life: A Cross-Cultural Perspective."
12 Daisaku Maeda and Yutaka Shimizu, "Family Support for Elderly People in Japan," 235.
13 Naoi Michiko, Koreisha to kazoku: Atarashii tsunagari o motomete, 103-104. It is
also notable that Yuzawa Yasuhiko predicted this trend in 1973; see his "Rojin fuyo
mondai no kozo to tenkai."
14 For the relevance of bequests in this context, see Norkio O. Tsuya and Linda G. Mar-
tin, "Living Arrangements of Elderly Japanese and Attitudes toward Inheritance."
190
Conclusion
Another variant in Japan's strategy of disempowerment can be
found in the diversification of women's social assignment as primary
caregivers. As new social conditions - such as the abolishment of the
stem family system ie, geographical mobility, and higher dependency
ratio - make the availability of yome less certain, increasingly more
daughters will become caregivers also to their own aging parents.15
Yome, after all, is not an ascribed status like birth order or age that
comprises the basis of social assignments, so her obligation has be-
come more negotiable in recent years. As in Toshio's and Hiro's cases,
the yome's assignment is also a source of irrevocable conflict for many
families.16 Japan's response to this growing uncertainty about yome's
roles and obligations is likely to be found in enlisting daughters to sup-
plement or sometimes replace these daughters-in-law.17 Since yome
are themselves daughters to their own aging parents, however, this
modification of practice is only likely to escalate women's caregiving
obligations.18 Thus the modified assignment represents neither an em-
powerment of women nor of the elderly, but a variation in the strategy
of disempowerment in which women's caregiving obligations will
intensify.19 As such, the revised assignment broadens, but does not
15 This is especially likely in a metropolitan area like Tokyo where the proportion of
daughters who provide care for their own parents has increased in recent years,
while that of daughters-in-law has remained the same. See Miura Fumio, Zusetsu
koreisha hakusho 1994, 47.
16 The tension and conflict between yome and parents-in-law have also been noted by
many Japan scholars. See Ezra F. Vogel, Japans New Middle Class: The Salary
Man and His Family in a Tokyo Suburb, 203-207; Yoshinori Kamo, "A Note on El-
derly Living Arrangements in Japan and the United States," 303.
17 A recent national survey conducted by the Rojin Taisakushitsu of the Japan Man-
agement and Coordination Agency also shows an increase in the preference for
daughters as caregivers; see Choju shakai to danjo no yakuwari ishiki: Choju shakai
ni okeru danjobetsu no ishiki no keiko ni kansuru chosa hokoku, 41, 172.
18 The escalating caregiver burden of Japanese women has been well documented; see
Daisaku Maeda, "Family Care in Japan," and also Christie W. Kiefer, "Care of the
Aged in Japan."
19 Ruth Campbell and Elaine Brody have shown that gender role attitudes are signifi-
cantly less egalitarian in Japan than in the United States, although the latter's
achievement is also limited. See Ruth Campbell and Elaine M. Brody, "Women's
Changing Roles and Help to the Elderly: Attitudes of Women in the United States
and Japan"; Elaine Brody, " 'Women in the Middle' and Family Help to Older
People"; and Elaine M. Brody, Pauline T. Johnsen, Mark C. Fulcomer, and Abigail
191
drastically change, the key assumptions of intergenerational equity

and primary bonds underlying the practice of serial care.20
For as long as some of these basic assumptions and strategies re-
main in force, it seems reasonable to project that Japan is likely to
continue pursuing its protective approach, and that the United States
will also likely continue its contingency practices. To the degree
that systems of entitlements and obligations are tied to these cul-
tural expectations and solidarities, the fundamental nature of the so-
cial contract in these societies is unlikely to change dramatically in
the foreseeable future. Although some modification in support prac-
tices will inevitably take place, a fundamental transformation of
a security structure, such as from a Japanese to an American one,
is unlikely. This conclusion therefore agrees with that of Palmore
and Maeda's study of aging in Japan for different reasons:21 If the
Japanese continue to prize certainty above autonomy because of
their perception of anticipated need, then it is only reasonable for
them to continue seeking protection over crisis intervention; as
long as they forge their primary bonds and interdependent ties with
their adult children, their preference for support maintained by the
obligation of adult children will also continue. I therefore propose
that the normative regulation of interests plays a greater role than
filial piety in shaping society's response to economic and demo-
graphic pressures.
M. Lang, "Women's Changing Roles and Help to Elderly Parents: Attitudes of Three
Generations of Women."
The ambivalence of Japanese women themselves is also reflected in the conflict-
ing findings of recent surveys. Morgan and Hiroshima, for example, have found a
generally high degree of satisfaction among married women living in extended fam-
ily residence; Ogawa's study, by contrast, suggests their increasing reluctance for
filial dependence. Philip S. Morgan and Kiyoshi Hiroshima, "The Persistence of Ex-
tended Family Residence in Japan: Anachronism or Alternative Strategy?"; Naohiro
Ogawa, "Resources for the Elderly in Economic Development."
20 The gendered assignments also continue to be problematic. William Kelly therefore
suggests that the increasing strain between genders may potentially become more
significant than the tension between generations as the caregiver burden escalates;
see "Japan's Debates about an Aging Society: The Later Years in the Land of the
Rising Sun."
21 Erdman Palmore and Daisaku Maeda, The Honorable Elders Revisited: A Revised
Cross-Cultural Analysis of Aging in Japan, chaps. 2 and 7.
192
Conclusion
In conclusion, it is useful to point to five areas of further research
that this study identifies. First, a comprehensive assessment of change
in social support requires not only an examination of changing demo-
graphic and institutional conditions, but also an analysis of change in
cultural assumptions and assignments. To develop an understanding of
a "changing contract" that Vern Bengtson calls for,22 or the "perma-
nence" of intergenerational solidarities of the kind that Martha Baum
and Rainer Baum suggest,23 there is a need for historical and longitu-
dinal data not only on changes in objective conditions over time, but
also on changes in subjective perceptions of intergenerational inter-
ests. Second, a comparative study of two countries can exaggerate dif-
ferences over similarities24 to account for dichotomized variance;
further research on the symbolic dimension of the social contract could
therefore benefit from examining variation in multiple (Western and
non-Western) countries of different cultures and political economies.
Third, as a comparative study such as this one focuses more on
macrosocial variance than on microsocial differences, further research
is needed to account also for different "cultural" assumptions and as-
signments by gender, class, and ethnicity. Fourth, in contrast to most
social support research, this study has focused on support largely as a
distributive system of symbolic resources; a promising area of future
research lies in an effort to identify how closely, or loosely, this system
links to the distribution of material and instrumental resources. Fifth,
the intersubjectivity of meaning across different generations requires
further attention for refining the symbolic equity thesis. Future re-
search could therefore benefit from examining the congruities and
incongruities of cultural responses across the interest positions of dif-
ferent generations by developing matched multigenerational samples.
Finally, the question of fairness in designating individual, family, and

state responsibilities to help the vulnerable in affluent societies is a
22 Vern L. Bengtson, "Is the 'Contract across Generations' Changing? Effects of Pop-
ulation Aging on Obligations and Expectations across Age Groups."
23 Martha Baum and Rainer Baum, Growing Old: A Societal Perspective, 8.
24 Joseph J. Tobin, D. Wu, and D. Davidson, Preschool in Three Cultures: Japan,
China, and the United States, viii.
193
matter of relative choice between strategies of empowerment and dis-

empowerment. As we have seen, each strategy, based on different sets
of assumptions and assignments, has its strengths and weaknesses,
costs and benefits, and successes and failures. Nevertheless, the ques-
tion of who deserves to be helped and why remains at the heart of the
social contract that redistributes gifts from one generation to the next.
The answers must address the dilemma of reconciling egoism and al-
truism as a fundamental condition of social support, and must be
found in a negotiation guided by the standards of symbolic equity em-
bedded in the tapestry of culture, power, and economy. By the year
2025, 20% of Americans and 25% of Japanese will be aged 65 and
over. As population dynamics change, it is reasonable to expect that
some of our needs and social relationships will also be transformed. A
question of survival may become a matter of comfort; minimum suf-
ficiency may become inadequate; and along the way, new rules, codes
of conduct, and alternative risk insurance may also emerge. Yet, even
as societies change in the amount of comfort and inequity they take
for granted, it seems unlikely that the gift of generations itself will be-
come dispensable for many years to come.
194
Appendix
Methods of Research
T O learn about cross-national patterns of support from different as-

pects, I used multiple methods of data collection in this study. In
fieldwork, I used three research methods: participant observation, fo-
cused interviews, and surveys. Because the same methods were used
in both sites - West Haven and Odawara - the cross-national data are
systematically comparable in all three respects. I collected most of the
data during two years of fieldwork between 1980 and 1982, and up-
dated them subsequently whenever possible. My last visits to the two
cities took place in summer 1994.
This study uses primary data from a total of 49 interviewees, 471
survey respondents, and innumerable local observations. I carried out
all of the focused interviews and participant observation myself, and
interviewed many of the survey respondents as well. I conducted
fieldwork in both Japanese and English - being fluent in both lan-
guages as a Japanese who also lived in England and the United
States as well as Germany for 17 years. In both communities, I inter-
acted with the local elderly residents as an "outsider," being a
woman in her early 30s, originally from Tokyo, and affiliated with
an American university. My experience and familiarity with both
Japanese and American cultures were essential in developing rap-
port with the residents, and in observing the cultural nuances of what
was said and done. At the same time, my being an "outsider" in both
communities also proved valuable in probing residents to talk
openly and frankly about their private concerns, and to explore the
cultural conceptions that they take for granted in everyday life.
Virtually all of the elderly persons I talked to in Odawara and West
Haven were receptive to my request for their time, and they were
195
Appendix
also generally friendly and cooperative in responding to my ques-
tions about their lives.
WEST HAVEN SURVEY
Data were collected as part of a pilot study conducted by the Yale

Health and Aging Project during the planning stage for the "Es-
tablished Populations for the Epidemiologic Study of the Elderly,"
funded by the National Institute on Aging (N01-AG-0-2105). The pro-
ject is carried out by the Department of Epidemiology and Public
Health, Yale School of Medicine, and I participated in it as a research
assistant and interviewer. The questionnaire used in this pilot study
consisted of 209 questions, from which I selected 92 questions for the
comparative study. The questionnaire was pretested for 71 respon-
dents in Waterbury, Connecticut.
The West Haven sample was generated by stratified cluster design
by type of housing and by sex. The general housing subsample used
a sampling frame of utility outlets, and the public housing sub-
sample was selected from the two elderly housing projects in West
Haven City. Both subsamples were stratified by sex in a ratio of
1 male to 1.5 females. The survey was conducted as two field trials over
staggered periods, yielding response rates of 59% and 61%. The gen-
eral housing subsample had 242 respondents and the public housing
subsample had 109 respondents. The West Haven sample in this study
derives from the general housing subsample and 20 randomly selected
respondents in the public housing subsample. I selected the latter re-
spondents to represent the proportion of segregated housing residents
of the elderly population in West Haven City (18.3%).
WESTSIDE ODAWARA SURVEY
Following the West Haven survey, I conducted the Westside Odawara

survey in collaboration with the Department of Social Welfare of
Tokyo Metropolitan University. The questionnaire consisted of 60
questions: 50 of them derived from the West Haven survey and 10
196
Methods of Research
were added for supplementary information. The questionnaire was
translated into Japanese (and reworded where necessary) by two in-
dependent translators, and pretested with 9 respondents in Tokyo.
The Odawara sample was generated by stratified simple random
design, using the city's roster of residents over age 65 as the sampling
frame. The survey was carried out over a 5-day period by 18 trained
interviewers recruited mainly from the Department of Sociology at
Tokyo Metropolitan University. Each interview lasted between 30
minutes and 2 hours. The Westside Odawara survey generated a total
of 209 respondents; the response rate was 84%.
FOCUSED INTERVIEWS
During the fieldwork, I collected case studies from survey respondents

and informants to obtain detailed information about individual per-
ceptions, personal circumstances, and histories. I selected 25 inter-
viewees in West Haven and 24 interviewees in Westside Odawara
from a pool of survey respondents who indicated their willingness to
participate in the case study after finishing the questionnaire, and a
pool of local informants who agreed to be formally interviewed. The
West Haven case studies consisted of 20 survey respondents and 5 lo-
cal informants; the Odawara case studies consisted of 19 survey re-
spondents and 5 local informants. All of the case studies introduced in
this book, however, are selected from the pool of survey respondents
in both West Haven and Westside Odawara, with the one exception of
a local informant cited in Chapter 1.
To collect a broad range of case studies, I selected the interviewees
according to their diversity in age, sex, marital status, and household
composition. Thus, the West Haven interviewees consisted of 14
women and 11 men; 10 of them were married and 15 were unmarried;
9 of them were in their 60s, 12 were in their 70s, and 4 were in their
80s; and 11 lived alone, 8 lived with their spouse only, and 6 lived with
at least one adult child. Of the 24 Odawaran interviewees, 15 were
women and 9 were men; 11 of them were married and 13 were un-
married; 10 were in their 60s, 10 in their 70s, and 4 in their 80s; and
197
Appendix
7 lived alone, 5 lived with their spouse only, and 12 lived with at least
one adult offspring.
Interviews usually lasted from 1 to 6 hours, over one to three meet-
ings. I talked with all of the interviewees privately in their homes, ex-
cept in one case where the interviewee requested to meet at a local
diner; in all meetings, no other person was present during the inter-
view. During these sessions, I obtained detailed information about five
areas of inquiry: personal history; daily activities; social relationships;
utilization of formal services; and perceptions and values about aging,
family, and support relationships in the past and present, and expecta-
tions about them in the future. I asked the same set of questions on
these five subjects to all interviewees systematically, while also al-
lowing them the latitude to focus their responses on matters they chose
to emphasize. The questions were therefore comparable in both com-
munities. Although additional interviews with specific family mem-
bers of the elderly would have also aided the case study analysis, I
chose in the end not to seek out these caregivers directly, in the inter-
est of maintaining the trust of elderly interviewees who offered their
thoughts on sensitive family relationships in confidence. All of the in-
terviews were tape-recorded.
PARTICIPANT OBSERVATION
I was a participant observer for 15 months in West Haven and 9

months in Odawara. During these periods, I either lived in or com-
muted to these communities, and participated in a range of activities
with informants, senior citizen groups, and social service agencies. I
visited the elderly, their families, and their friends, both in their
homes and out in the city. I took part in their social activities and ob-
served them in multiple social situations: playing bingo and cards,
competing in gateball, going on excursions, shopping, cooking,
working, and even collecting garbage. I visited them in hospitals,
senior centers, community centers, and other group settings. I also
attended the meetings of advocates, social service administrators,
and community volunteers, and visited day care centers, homes for
the elderly, public housing for the elderly, and nursing homes. I ac-
198
Methods of Research
companied social workers, home health aids, and welfare commis-

sioners on their daily rounds, and participated in meals services and
mobile bathing services. I also interviewed many social service ad-
ministrators and probed them about their community service organi-
zations. I recorded these observations in 800 pages of notes during
fieldwork in both communities.
199
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214
Index
abundance, 160-1; see also resource autonomy, 60, 147, 151, 155, 157-8,
affluence 192; in American social support,
Achenbaum, Andrew, 154 173, 175, 180; maximizing, 184; net-
administrative jurisdiction, 29, 32 works and, 64; security and, 152,
adult adoption (yoshi engumi), 4-5 153
adulthood: as life stage, average wage, 29, 31
147, 148
affection, 49; see also primary bonds of bathing and bedding services, 45
affection Baum, Martha, 153-4, 193
age: ascriptive status of, 40, 41-2, Baum, Rainer, 153-4, 193
68-9; as criterion, 40-2, 44, 45; bedding rentals, 44
and living arrangements, 54-7, bedridden (the) (netakiri), 44
55 t; and need, 148 Bellah, Robert, 60
age discrimination, 40, 42 Benedict, Ruth, 146
Age Discrimination in Employment Bengtson, Vern, 154, 193
Act (U.S.), 37nl2,40,42 Berger, Peter, 14
age grading, 59 Blau, Peter, 165
age integration, 59-60 Bourdieu, Pierre, 14, 15, 144, 170-1,
age segregation, 59-60 171n24
age stratification, 155 Brody, Elaine, 191nl9
aged dependency ratio, 11, 159, 191 Brown, Keith, 50
aging, 70; changes due to, 38,
43; fairness in, 41, 42; life Campbell, John, 48
cycle approach to, 101-2; see also Campbell, Ruth, 166, 191nl9
old age Cantor, Marjorie, 58, 64n39
aging problem, 12-13 certainty, 152, 184, 192
Akiyama, Hiroko, 166 change, 38, 186-94; due to aging, 38,
altruism, 15, 194 43; and social support, 193; see also
amae (dependency), 188 economic change; social change;
anticipation of need: in Japan, technological change
66,68,71,72, \Q\\see "changing contract," 193
also expectation childhood: as life stage, 147, 148
Antonucci, Toni, 58, 166 childlessness, 5, 64-5, 118, 148
arc of freedom, 146 children: as confidantes, 62; reciprocal
Arling, Greg, 67n44 ties with, 140; relations with, 58-9;
ascriptive status, 41; age as, 40, in resource/support network, 64, 141;
41-2, 68-9; ethnicity as, 41; see also parent-child relations
gender as, 41 choice, 155; American preference for,
Asian nations, 188 104; in Japan, 87; obligation as, 177;
215
Index
choice (cont.) contribution(s), 79, 83; and claim of
perception of, 59-60; and resource dependency, 155; in legitimation
affluence, 159; and security, of private contract, 102
152, 153; in support system, 14, control, 155; in case studies (Japan),
152, 173 88, 91, 94, 98; in case studies
Christianity, 187 (U.S.), 129; choice in, 152, 153;
Chudacoff, H. P., 50 see also dialectic of control
class, 32, 118, 159, 183 convergence: Japan/U.S., 189, 190
closed competition, 41n25 coresidence, 9, 56, 129, 175, 180,
collective interest(s), 15, 164, 168-9, 185, 188; declining rate of, 189,
185; see also interest(s) 190; different conditions of,
collective memory, 150 53-4; in filial households
collectivism, 72, 158, 187 (Japan), 53, 57; primary bonds of
communities: West Haven/Odawara affection and, 157; widowhood
compared, 22, 28-33 and,57
community bonds, 60 costs, 174, 179-81
community organizations: Odawara couple (the): as unit of self-
(chonaikai), 27, 46; West sufficiency, 141, 157, 185
Haven, 43-4 couple culture (U.S.), 62, 109,
community responsibility, 13 130, 133
community services: West credits, 42-3, 165-7, 177, 179, 180;
Haven/Odawara compared, 31-2 assignment/designation of, 15,
comparative analysis, 17, 193; cul- 16, 164, 169, 178, 183, 185, 186;
tural assumptions of deserved- in case studies (Japan), 79, 80; as
ness and fairness, 143-62 symbolic resource, 171
comparative gerontology, 188-9 crisis intervention (U.S.), 104, 173, 184,
compartmentalized equity, 40, 186, 192
41-2,48 cross-national comparisons, 32,
compassion, 144, 155 171, 188-9
competition, 41, 42 cross-national synthesis, 16-17,
confidantes, 62, 63t, 109 171-3
conflict avoidance, 84 cultural assignments, 187, 188, 189,
Confucian ethics, 72, 101, 187, 188 194; analysis of change in, 193;
conjugal bond/tie, 50, 62, 141, see also social assignments
156-7; in case studies (U.S.), cultural assumptions, 70, 187, 188,
140; in contingency approach 189,194;change in, 190, 193;
(U.S.), 141; as primary bond, regarding credits and debts,
185; see also couple 165-6; defining reciprocity, de-
conjugal household(s), 53, 54-6, 57, 58, pendency, entitlement, and oblig-
185 ation, 142; of deservedness and
connectedness, 156 fairness, 143-62; regarding fam-
Connecticut: family responsibility law ilies, 48; regarding giving and
in, 47; social services for elderly in, deserving, 13; significance of,
31 184-5; in social contract, 143,
contingency approach (U.S.), 144; and support networks, 71;
50, 66, 72-3, 104, 133, 140-2, 173, underlying helping arrange-
180, 185, 192; cultural ments, 14-15, 28
assumptions underlying, 143, 144, cultural construction of support,
147, 149, 151-2; diffuse support net- 174-81
work as hallmark of, 175; entitle- cultural differences: in definitions
ment in, 177; obligation in, 176-7 of vulnerability, 172; in reciproc-
continuity, 38, 78, 91, 101-2, 129 ity and dependency, 178-9
216
Index
cultural ideals, 141, 151 dialectic of control, 169-70, 181, 183
cultural values: of gifts, 16; of dichotomized variance, 193
filial obligation, 78-9; diffused security, 65, 104, 141,
see also values 175, 178; in case studies (U.S.),
culture, 9, 194; and power and the 110, 140
social contract, 13, 17, 183-6; dignity, 42
and structure, 187 disability; see physical disability
disempowerment, 165, 171-3, 174, 177,
daughters, 88, 191 180, 183, 186, 190, 191
day care, 43, 44 disengagement, 180, 188
debts, 165-7, 179, 180; assignment/ distributive justice, 42n26
designation of, 15, 16, 164, 169, diversity, 186-94
175, 178, 183, 185; as symbolic division of labor, 58, 141
resource, 171 divorce, 57n21
degradation, 42-3 Dore, Ronald, 38-9
delayed coresidence, 190 double structuration, 14
delayed reciprocity, 166 Dowd, James, 165
demographic factors, 28, 29, 193 dynamic of power: and resource alloca-
demographic histories, 10-11, 150 tion, 159; in support relations, 164,
dependability, 142 167, 172
dependence/dependency, 2, 42-3, 64, 79,
155, 163, 182; in case studies economic change: in Odawara, 24-6
(Japan), 84, 88, 89, 98, 102; in case economic factors: in comparison,
studies (U.S.), 109-10; claim of, by 28, 29, 30-1; and public support
elderly, 153, 154, 155; in conjugal programs, 12
tie, 140; costs and benefits of, 179; Edo (Tokyo), 23
cultural assumptions underlying, Edo Period, 23
142; legitimated, 150-1, 171, 178-9; egoism, 194
minimizing, 184; mutual, 93; in pri- elderly (the): as group, 40; negative
vate contract, 50; reciprocity and, stereotypes about, 150; in Odawara,
174, 178-9; tolerance for, 16, 173; 22, 24-5, 26-7; talk about their past,
see also amae 18; in West Haven, 20-2; see also
dependency ratio; see aged depen- services to elderly
dency ratio elderly counselors (rqjinsodan-in), 46
dependent population, 11 elderly festivals (keiro gydji), 44
deservedness, 17, 186; in case studies elderly populations, 10-11;
(Japan), 79, 84-9; conditions of: Odawara, 30; U.S./Japan, 36;
Japan/U.S., 174; cultural assump- West Haven, 29-30
tions of, 143-62; ideas of, 14, 38; eldest son, 78, 88, 166, 178
meaning of, 9-10; and perception of eligibility criterion/criteria: age as,
vulnerability, 71-2; principle of, 187; 40-2, 44, 45-6; disability as, 44,
sense of, 72, 154; in social contract, 66-8; family status as, 45-6; in-
165, 194; social strategies regulating, come as, 44, 66-7; need as, 45;
186; standard of evaluation in, 9; in of social security, 12, 148; of so-
strategy of empowerment, 172; sym- cial services, 43-8; of social
bolism of, 169 support, 148
deserving, 153, 174; cultural assump- emotional support; see social
tions regarding, 13; ground rules of, support
186; meaning of, 144 Employee Pension system
deserving citizens, 184; social designa- (Japan), 189
tion of, 1-17 employment: laws, 37; opportunities, 12,
Diagnosis-Related Groups (DRGs), 12 37; services, 43, 44
217
Index
empowerment, 164-5, 171-3, 177, 183, 165; standards of evaluation for, 16;
186, 188, 194 in reciprocal relations, 153
entitlement, 16, 39, 142, 182, 186; familism, 48
in American support system, family, 156; cultural origins of, 50;
155, 173; assignment of, 186; definition(s) of, 51n5; individual,
in case studies, 79; in case and the state, 43-8; Japan/U.S.
studies (Japan), 83, 88, 91, compared, 50-1; living arrange-
100; in case studies (U.S.), ments, 51-2; and networks,
109, 129, 134; in contingency 54-5; in Odawara, 26; tension
approach (U.S.), 141; cultural in, 94; as unit of self-sufficiency,
assumptions regarding, 72, 142, 46, 157, 158, 186; and vulnerability,
184, 192; expectations of, 2; in West Haven, 21; see also
35-43; and intergenerational extended family; nuclear family;
conflict, 180; notion of, 38; stem family system
and obligation, 174, 176-7; family responsibility, 12-13, 193-4;
rules of, 70; social security Japan/U.S. compared, 46-7; in
as (U.S.), 142; U.S./Japan Japan's social support, 173, 176
differences, 39-40 family responsibility laws, 46-7
equal opportunity, 39, 155 family status, 45; as eligibility criterion
equity, 14, 15; cultural assumptions for services (Odawara), 45-6
underlying, 144, 153-5, 184; family support: in contingency approach
dual notions of, 40; expectations (U.S.), 141; as informal support
of, 35-43; in Japan, 41; meaning system (Japan), 4, 5, 9; see also
of, 39-40; in old-age policies, social support
42; and private contract, 49; see filial coresidence; see coresidence
also compartmentalized equity; filial obligation, 156, 188; in case studies
intergenerational equity; sym- (Japan), 93, 101; in case studies
bolic equity (U.S.), 139-40, 134; Japanese sys-
Estes, Carroll, 159 tem of, 78-9, 102, 173; norms of
ethnic diversity, 32, 53n9, 70 (Japan), 101-2; rules of (Japan), 88
evaluation: of gifts, 166; standards filial relations/ties, 50; in family support,
of, 6, 9, 16, 169, 171; symbolic 50-1; in Japan, 64, 65, 141, 142,
equity as, 170-1 156-7; as primary bond, 184-5;
expectation(s): of alternative return in, 153-4; see also parent-
sources, 145; of entitlement, child relations
obligation, and equity, 35-43; of filial responsibility; see family
generosity, 161; of intergenerational responsibility
equity, 144, 153-5; and life course financial assistance, 12
trajectories, 144, 145-51; of financial security; see security
need, 149f, 151, 173; regarding formal support; see instrumental ser-
parent-child obligations, 47; of vices; public support systems
security, 152; of support, 176-7; four-generation household (Japan), 52,
of vulnerability, 1-10 79, 177
extended family, 80 frail elderly (kyojaku rqjin), 44n31
extended stem family system; see stem friendly visitors, 44, 45
family system friends/friendships, 60; in case
studies (Japan), 91, 98; in case
failures, 174, 179-81 studies (U.S.), 109-10, 113, 119,
fairness, 185, 193-4; cultural assump- 124; in contingency approach
tions of, 143-62; logic of, 16, 169, (U.S.), 141; relations with, 57,
171, 173, 182-3; meaning of, 17, 72; 58, 61, 62; in resource network,
sense of, 180; in social contract, 9, 64,68
218
Index
fuel assistance, 43; in case studies Health Care for the Aged Law (Japan),
(U.S.), 105, 109 37nll
Fukutake, Tadashi, 42n26 health care reforms (Japan), 189
health care systems (Japan/U.S.), 48,
Gans, Herbert, 60, 62n37 173
gender: ascriptive status of, 41; assign- help: cultural definitions of, 172; cus-
ments by, 191-2, 192n20; living tomized according to need, 140, 175;
arrangements by, 54, 55t; relations, meaning of, 144; perception of, 71;
32; role attitudes, 191 n 19 worth of, 162
generosity, pool of, 161 helping arrangements, 144; comparing,
geographical characteristics, 29, 30-1; 28-9; contentment with, 152-3; cul-
Odawara, 23-4; West Haven, 22 tural assumptions regarding, 142;
geographic mobility (Japan), 8, 190, 191 designation of rights and responsibil-
Giddens, Anthony, 151, 169 ities in, 168-9; institutionalized,
gift relationship, 17, 184; structure of, 182-3; in Japan, 71, 72; logic of fair-
183,186 ness in, 173; in private domain,
gift(s): evaluation of, 166; symbolic 49-70; reciprocity in, 167; recogni-
value of, 17, 185-6; value of, 170 tion of vulnerability in, 65-70; secu-
giver-receiver relationship, 15, 183; en- rity and, 151; symbolic equity in,
titlement and obligation in, 176; reci- 170-1; typologies of, 143, 145; value
procity and dependency in, 178—9; of, 144, 145t; see also social support
regulation of interests in, 164, 165, helplessness, 175
167, 169, 170, 171-2, 173, 174t, 178, Hewitt, John, 155
179, 181, 185-6 Hobbes, Thomas, 17
givers: interests of, 162; obligation to Hochschild, Arlie, 59
give, 16; and receivers, 163-4; strat- Homans, George, 165
egy of disempowerment and, 173 home helpers (katei hoshi-in), 44, 45
giving, 15, 153, 174; cultural as- Honcho-chiku, 27
sumptions regarding, 13; ground horizontal alliance, 59
rules of, 186; institutionalizing, household(s), 51-7; concentration of re-
169-70; intrinsic value of, 182-3; sources in, 64; parent-child relations
meaning of, 144; practice of, in, 157; protection sought in (Japan),
51; routinizing, 15-16 102; successions, 23; tensions in
Golden Rule, 150 (Japan), 84-9, 102; as unit of self-
"good society," 35 sufficiency, 157
Goodin, Robert E., 167nl3 household transitions, 56-7, 65
goodwill, 15, 16, 161, 164, 173 housing services, 3, 43, 124; see also
Gouldner, Alvin, 17 public housing
Greater New Haven, 29, 32; community husband-wife households; see conjugal
organizations, 43 household
Greater New Haven Standard Metropoli-
tan Statistical Area (SMS A), 20 ie; see stem family system
Greenberg, Martin, 180n29 Ikels, Charlotte, 166
guarantee, notion of, 38 immigration, 104, 141
income: in case studies (Japan), 92, 93,
94, 99; in case studies (U.S.), 105,
habitus, 15, 144, 170-1 109, 110, 119, 124, 134; as criterion
Hagestad, Gunhild, 146 of need, 44, 66-7
Hakone, 23, 24 income maintenance, 37
Hareven, T. K., 50 independence, 2, 42, 64, 70, 147, 155;
Hashimoto, Hiroko, 39 American preference for, 6-7, 173,
health care, 12, 36-7, 43, 85, 159 179; in case studies (U.S.), 103, 104,
219
Index
independence (cont.) isolation: in case studies (Japan), 87, 88;
109-10, 113, 118, 124, 130, 133; of U.S., 117, 118; as failure in Ameri-
child(ren), 140; claim by younger can system, 180
generation, 153; in contingency ap- Italian-Americans, 62n37; intergenera-
proach (U.S.), 141-2; in Japan, 71-2, tional relations of, 129
157; notions of, 43; perceptions of, Japan: compared with U.S., 28; Ministry
158; in U.S., 157 of Health and Welfare, 39; Prime
India, 188 Minister's Office, 69; subjective per-
individual(s): and family and the state, ception of vulnerability in, 71-102
43-8; and responsibility, 43, 193-4; "Japan-style welfare society," 48
and rights, 38-9; as unit of self- Jefferson, Thomas, 154
sufficiency, 157,158 Johnson, Colleen Leahy, 53n9,
individualism, 38, 72, 187 62n37,129
individualizing comparisons, 16-17 justice, Japanese sense of, 41; see also
industrial composition, 29, 30-1 social justice
industry, 31nl7, 188; Odawara, 24-6;
West Haven, 19-20 Kanagawa Prefecture, 31, 44n32
informal social security system(s): Kanto, 23, 29
American, 141; in case studies Kaufman, Sharon, 69
(Japan), 83, 84, 93, 94, 101; eligibil- Kawashima, Takeyoshi, 50
ity for, 148; Japan, 79, 98 keeping, 164, 186
informal support, 49; logistic regres- Keith, Jennie, 59
sion estimates, 67t; see also Kelly, William, 192n20
social support Kiefer, Christie, 189
institutional factors, 35 Kinoshita, Yasuhito, 189
institutionalization, 34; rates of, 34nl
instrumental resources: distribution labor force: mobility, 19; participation of
of, 193 elderly, 42
instrumental services, 38, 46 labor markets, 159
integration: Odawara, 27; West Haven, Law for the Promotion of Employment
22; see also age integration for Middle-Aged and Older Persons
interdependence, 157, 158 (Japan), 37n 12, 42
interests, 13-17; in social contract, 162, Law for the Welfare of the Aged (Japan),
186; social regulation of, 164-81, 35, 38, 39, 42
185-6, 187, 188; see also collective Lebra, Takie, 59, 68, 166
interest(s); mutual interest(s) Lee, Hye Kyung, 38
intergenerational equity, 153-5, 192; ex- legal aid, 43, 44
pectation of, 144, 153-5 life course trajectories, 146, 184;
intergenerational relations, 59; con- anticipated, 50-1; expectation
flict in, 179-80; Japan, 78, 80; of need based on, 68-70,
normative regulation of, 9; and 144, 145-51
solidarity, 193 life cycle: Japanese approach to, 101-2;
intergenerational support, 80, 182; and living arrangements, 52, 57
reciprocity and dependency in, life expectancy, 10, 54, 150, 151
101, 178-9 life scripts, 5, 146, 148-50, 152, 188;
intersubjectivity, 193 collective, 147-8, 150
intervention, 70, 72; practice in private life transitions, 49, 146; widowhood
domain, 49-70; responsibilities of, as, 109
10-13; see also crisis intervention lineal transference, 166
intimacy, 49; cultural assumptions re- Little, Virginia, 58
garding, 184; in household, 51 living alone, 52, 56, 57, 62, 148; hitorig-
Ishida, Takeshi, 38-9 urashi, 44, 45
220
Index
living arrangements, 51-7; in case stud- Nakane, Chie, 50
ies (U.S.), 109, 129; choice of confi- Naoi, Michiko, 190
dante by, 63t; of extended family, 80; National Pension (Japan), 48n50
patterns of association with relatives National Welfare Pension (Japan), 48n50
and friends by, 6It; primary bonds of need, 15; age and, 148; beliefs about
affection in, 157; West Haven and (U.S.), 104; as contingency, 104;
Westside Odawara, 52t, 53-8, 55t criteria of, 66-8; cultural assump-
living with children, 52, 53, 56, 62; see tions underlying, 144, 145-51, 184;
also coresidence; three-generation as eligibility criterion for services,
households 45; expectations of, 149f, 151; help
living with spouse, 52, 53, 62; see also customized according to, 140, 175;
conjugal household life course trajectories and, 68-70;
logic of practice, 16-17 unmet, 117-18
loneliness, 71,87, 94 need trajectories, 101, 144, 145-51,
Low Cost Fuel Assistance Program 152, 155
(U.S.), 105 neighborhood organizations; see com-
Luckmann, Thomas, 14 munity organizations
neighbors, 58, 64; in U.S., 64n39
macrosocial variance, 193 network(s); see social network(s)
Maeda, Daisaku, 192 Neugarten, Bernice, 40, 69
marital status: choice of confidante by, Neugarten, Dail, 40
63t; living arrangements by, 54, 55t New Haven, 19,20
marriage, 156 New Haven Colony, 19
material resources, 193 noninterference, norm of, 133-4, 140
Mauss, Marcel, 17, 165 nonprofit organizations, 44n32
meal programs, 3, 43, 44, 45 normative conditions, 35, 48; differences
meaning: intersubjectivity of, 193; in of, 37-43
social contract, 186 normative regulation, 188, 192
Medicaid, 13nl6, 37nll, 47, 139 normative solidarity, 154
Medical Subsidies for the Aged nuclear family(ies), 50, 133; of
(Japan), 37n 11 children, 140
Medicare, 37nl 1,40, 47 nursing home(s), 2, 3, 5, 57, 158; access
Meiji Period, 24 to (Odawara), 46; in case studies
Meiji Regime, 24 (U.S.), 114, 124, 130, 139-40, 145
method of difference, 28
microsocial variance, 193 obligation, 16, 182, 185; in case studies
might need script, 147-50, 149f, 152 (Japan), 100; collectivization of
might support script, 152 (Japan), 157-8; in contingency ap-
Mill, John Stuart, 28 proach (U.S.), 141; cultural assump-
Minkler, Meredith, 159 tions defining, 72, 142, 147, 184,
minorities: in Japan, 41; see also 192; entitlement and, 174, 176-7;
ethnic diversity expectations of, 35-43; and intergen-
modernization, 25, 188 erational conflict, 180; in Japan, 39;
mortality rates, 11 parent/child (U.S.), 47; in private
municipal agents (West Haven), 46n38 contract, 50; rules of, 70; and secu-
mutual care rule: in Japan, 79-80, 84, 87 rity (Japan), 152; social assignment
mutual interests, 15, 164, 165-7, 185; in of (Japan), 102; U.S./Japan differ-
conjugal tie, 140; see also interest(s) ences in, 39-40; voluntary, 104;
mutual obligations, 110; boundaries see also on
of, 64 occupational diversity: Odawara, 25-6
mutuality, 102, 163 occupational mobility: in case studies
Myles,John, 159 (Japan), 100-1, (U.S.), 104
221
Index
Odawara, Japan, 17, 18; family and re- population dynamics, 13, 182, 194
source networks in, 64-5; formal postindustrial nations, 9, 11, 38; social
services to elderly in, 44-6; friend- contract in, 28
ships in, 62; peer networks in, 59, power, 194; culture and, 183; and
60; social history of, 23-4; see also culture and the social contract,
Westside Odawara 183-6; relations, 169
Odawara City, 29, 32; Division of El- primary bonds of affection, 50,
derly Services, 44 190, 192; cultural assumptions
Ohira government, 13nl6 underlying, 144, 155-7;
old age, 10-11; cultural assumptions Japan/U.S., 184-5
regarding, 147-8; and need for primogeniture, 4n5, 50, 57
help, 68-9; pessimism regarding, principle of household unit (setai
in Japan, 150; problem of, 11, tan 7 no gensoku), 46
40, 182; resource availability in, principle of private initiative
142; vulnerability as inevitable (shitekifuyono gensoku), 46
process of, 71; see also aging; private contract, 17, 49-50, 65, 129;
elderly (the) ambivalence about (Japan), 88;
old-age policies, 37; normative differ- American, 104, 141-2; in Japan,
ences in, 38-43, 48 153; dependability of, 142;
old-age subculture, 59 essence of, 72; protection in,
Old Boston Post Road, 19, 31 101, 102; and younger genera-
Older Americans Act, 35, 36, 38, 39, 40, tion, 80
42,44 private domain: expectations of
on (obligation), 188 vulnerability in, 1-10; practice
ontological security, 151 of protection and intervention
options; see choice in, 49-70
Orloff, Ann Shola, 159 private insurance, 159
protection, 70, 72, 171, 182; in Japan's
Palmore, Erdman, 192 social support, 173; practice of,
parent-child relations, 167nl3, 185; in 49-70; valued in Japan, 184, 192
case studies (Japan), 101; in case protective approach (Japan), 50, 66,
studies (U.S.), 105, 109, 113, 124, 68, 72-3, 101-2, 104, 173,
130, 140; see also filial relations/ties 184-5, 192; central feature of,
paternalistic ideology (Japan), 38 175; cultural assumptions under-
patrilineal stem family; see stem lying, 143, 144, 147, 148, 150-2;
family system entitlement in, 177; obligation
peer group ties/networks, 7, 58, 59, in, 176
60, 141, 161 prototypes, 150
pension benefits/pensions, 37; in case public contract, 17; dependability
studies (Japan), 85, 88, 92, 93, 99, of, 142
100; in case studies (U.S.), 130, 131; public discourse: regarding social
Japan, 48n50, 189-90; U.S., 140 services, 48
physical disability: in case studies public domain: responsibilities
(Japan), 84-5, 88, 94, 98; in case of intervention in, 10-13;
studies (U.S.), 103, 105, 109, 115, rights and responsibilities in,
134; as criterion of need, 67, 68 34-48
Pinker, Robert, 35, 169 public housing, 44; in case studies
Plath, David, 68 (U.S.), 110, 113-14, 118-19, 124
police stations (koban), 46 public policy, 12, 35, 159; life course
political factors, 34; in comparison, 28, trajectories in, 148; normative con-
29 ditions of, 48
population aging, 11 public support systems, 2, 3, 11-13
222
Index
Rawls,John, 17 unequal access to, 14; see also sym-
Reagan government, 13nl6 bolic resources
receivers, 16; givers and, 163—4; inter- responsibility(ies), 179; regarding aging,
ests of, 162; strategy of empower- 146-7; assignment/designation of,
ment and, 173; see also 15, 163, 164, 168-9; assumptions
giver-receiver relationship about, 9; collectivization of (Japan),
receiving, 174; ground rules of, 186; 157-8; equality of, 154; in Japanese
meaning of, 144; practices of, 51; support system, 173; of intervention,
social ties of, 184 10-13; rights and, 16, 34-48; as
reciprocal support: in case studies symbolic resource, 171, 172; see
(Japan), 88; and conjugal relations, also family responsibility; state re-
140; and intergenerational relations, sponsibility
15,185 retirement, 7, 11, 26; in case studies
reciprocal relations: equivalence of (Japan), 91-101; in case studies
value in, 17 (U.S.), 130-4
reciprocity, 16; assumptions underlying, rights, 179; in American support system,
72, 142; basis of, 153; in case studies 173; assignment/designation of, 15,
(Japan), 79-80, 91; credits and debts 164, 168-9, 183, 185; equality of,
in, 165-7; and dependency, 174, 154; notions of, 177; and responsibil-
178-9; institutional conditions of, ities, 16, 34-48; as symbolic re-
(Japan), 102; norms of, 101, 110, source, 171, 172; of the vulnerable,
130; in private contract, 50; rules of, 172; see also entitlement
70; voluntary, 141 risk, calculation of, 144, 146, 194
referral/coordination services, 43 Rohlen, Thomas, 158
regulation of interests, 185-6, Rose, Arnold, 59
187, 188; in giver-receiver Rubin, Lillian, 60
relationship, 164, 165, 167,
169, 170, 171-2, 173, 174t, safety, 21-2,27, 151
178, 179, 181 Scandinavian states, 188
relative deprivation, 71 scarcity, 160
relatives, 58, 60, 64; in contingency ap- Schulz, James, 48
proach (U.S.), 141; patterns of asso- security, 4, 5, 14, 15, 37, 70, 72, 180,
ciation with, 61t 182; in case studies (Japan), 79-80,
religious affiliation: Odawara, 27; West 83,84,88,89,91,93,94,98,100,
Haven, 20-1 101; in case studies (U.S.), 109, 110,
research methods, 195-9 113, 118, 124, 129, 133; contingency
resentment, 134, 154 approach to (U.S.), 140-1; cultural
residency: Odawara elderly, 24, 26; West assumptions underlying, 144, 151-3,
Haven elderly, 21 184; in Japan, 71-2, 173; Japan/U.S.
resilience, 146, 147; American elderly, compared, 142; preparation for, 57;
103, 104; in contingency approach and private contract, 49, 50; protec-
(U.S.), 141-2 tive approach to (Japan), 101-2; vul-
resource affluence, 177; cultural as- nerability and, 174-5; see also
sumptions underlying, 144, 145, diffused security; ontological secu-
158-61, 184 rity; structured security
resource allocation, 36-7, 159, 161; self-interest, 15
Odawara, 46; politics of, 12 selfishness/selflessness dilemma, 171
resource availability: and household, 54; self-reliance, 144; boundaries of, 158;
and social networks, 58 ideal of (U.S.), 151, 175; responsibil-
resource networks; see social network(s) ity for, 147
resources: concentration of, 64-5; self-sufficiency, 14, 15, 158-9; beliefs
perception of, 104; "soft," 161; about, 38, 104; boundaries of, 64,
223
Index
self-sufficiency (cont.) 183; see also private contract;
158; in case studies (U.S.), 109, 124, public contract
130, 153; in contingency approach social equivalence, 169
(U.S.), 140, 142; cultural assump- social exchange, 165
tions underlying, 144, 157-8, 184; of social institutions, 156
family, 48; notions of, 43; prepara- social justice, 40, 42
tion for, 57; and private contract, 49, social network(s), 49, 50-1; in
50; threshold of, 148; see also unit of case studies (U.S.), 110, 113,
self-sufficiency 118; in contingency approach
senile dementia, elderly with (chiho (U.S.), 140-1; diffused, 104,
rqjin), 44n31 110, 175; family and, 64-5;
senior centers, 43, 44 see also peer networks; sup-
seniority (Japan), 41 port networks
serial order of care, 153, 154, 155, social participation: age criterion in,
166, 185, 192; in case studies 40-1; entitlement to, 39; pro-
(U.S.), 140; in Japan, 79, 102 grams to encourage, 38
sex: choice of confidante by, 63t; see social policy; see public policy
also gender social sanctions, 78-9
Shanas, Ethel, 58 Social Security Act (U.S.),
Skocpol, Theda, 159 37nnl0, 11
Smith, Robert, 158 social security: expenditures, 36;
social assignments, 15, 142; regard- policies (Japan/U.S.), 38-9
ing giving and deserving, 13; social security system(s), 10, 11,
of rights/responsibilities/ 31,37, 159, 168; eligibility cri-
credits/debts, 164, 171n24; see teria, 12, 148; Japan, 11-12,48,
also cultural assignments 173; U.S., 11-12,48, 130, 140,
social change, 18, 179; in Japan, 78, 142; see also informal social
98; in U.S., 19-20 security system(s)
social constraints, 146, 174; and social services, 12, 37-8; eligibility
rules of obligation, 87, 88 criteria, 44-6; level of commit-
social construction of reality, 14 ment to, 29; in public housing:
social construction of support, 174-81 case studies (U.S.), 119, 124;
social contract, 9, 12, 72, 165, 174, stigma of rely ing on, 42-3; West
181, 186-9; aged dependency ra- Haven/Odawara, 43-8
tio in, 11; cultural assumptions social support, 165; change in, 193;
and values in, 143, 144; culture cultural assumptions in, 15,
and power and, 17, 183-6; dif- 184-6; cultural preferences for,
ferences between Japan and U.S., 9; eligibility for, 148; in Japan,
16, 161-2, 172-3; as distributive 172-3; Japan/U.S. compared,
system of symbolic resources, 28; key dimensions of, 183-6;
171-3; of elderly, 9-10; entitle- regularizing, 164; rules of, 158;
ment in, 177; failures and costs, as social contract, 164, 168; so-
179-81; framework of analysis, cial institutions in, 156; unequal
13-17; future of, 13; gifts/coun- relations in, 185-6; in U.S., 139;
tergifts in, 167; regulation of in- see also informal support; sup-
terests in, 185-6; rights and port systems
responsibilities in, 34, 35, social ties, 58-63
39-40; rules of entitlement, Social Welfare Council
obligation, and reciprocity in, (Odawara), 44
70; social assignments in, 142; socioeconomic characteristics: and
social support as, 164, 168; factors, 50-1; Odawara, 24-6,
symbolic equity in, 169-71, 27; West Haven, 19-20, 21-2
224
Index
sons, 140; see also eldest son symbolic equity, 13-17, 167, 168-9,
spouse, 62, 104, 113; death of, 171-2, 178, 182-3, 185, 187-8,
57; loss of, 130, 133; as 194; derivations of (Japan/U.S.),
primary tie, 141 173; logic of, 169-71; principle
standard of evaluation, 9, 16, 17; of deservedness as standard of,
see also deservedness 187; in social contract, 165,
standard of living, 37n9 179-81, 183
state (the): individual and family symbolic equity thesis, 193
and, 43-8 symbolic resources, 16, 143, 164,
state responsibility, 13, 193-4; 176, 177; distribution of, 171-3,
in case studies (U.S.), 134; 179, 183, 196, 193
individual rights and, 38-9; symbolic strategies, 173, 174,
see also responsibility 174t, 179-80
stem family system (ie), 4, 50, 188, symmetric/asymmetric reci-
191; see also family procity, 166
stigma, 42; of public housing, 124
strategy of disempowerment, 172-3, Taisho Period, 24
174, 175, 177, 180, 188, 194; technological change, 18, 20, 22, 25
used in Japan, 186, 190, 191 telephone reassurance services,
strategy of empowerment, 172-3, 44,45
174, 175, 177, 188, 194;used Thailand, 188
in U.S., 186 three-generation households, 5, 52,
structural conditions: Japan, 189-90 56, 57, 79, 102; in case studies
structure: culture and, 187 (Japan), 89-91, 100; in case
structured security, 65, 80 studies (U.S.), 125-30; eco-
subjective perceptions, 143, 144; of nomic advantages of, 80
independence, 71-2; of intergen- Tilly, Charles, 16, 143
erational interests, 193; in recog- Title 19;seeMedicaid
nition of need, 68; of resource Titmuss, Richard, 15
affluence, 159-61; of security, TokaidoRoad, 23, 31
71-2; of vulnerability, 70, Tokugawa Regime, 23
71-102, 103-42 Tokyo, 23, 60n32
substitution principle, 58 trajectories of need; see need trajectories
support network(s), 10, 18, 58-60; transportation services, 3, 27, 43
boundaries of, 62; case studies triangulation: of networks, 157; of
(U.S.), 109-10; in Japan, 71; in U.S., services, 44, 64, 65, 68, 104, 141
50-1; see also peer networks; social trust, 151, 155-6
networks turn: in filial relations, 153-4;
support relations/relationship: bonds of sense of (U.S.), 140
affection as, 156; boundaries of, two-generation households, 53, 131
157; cultural assumptions in, typologies: of helping arrangements,
145t, 162; equity and inequity in, 143, 145; of intergenerational
16, 163-4; social assignments in, equity, 153; of primary bonds of
15; subjective/objective conditions affection, 156; of resource afflu-
of, 13-14 ence, 160-1; of self-sufficiency,
support resources; see resources 157-8; of social expectations and
support systems, 5, 15-16, 187; assignments, 173, 174t
in case studies (U.S.), 109-10;
foundation of, 183; sense of uncertainty, 104, 152
entitlement in, 142; see also so- unit(s) of self-sufficiency, 43, 157-8;
cial support alternative resources outside of,
symbolic capital, 171n24, 183 159; in contingency approach
225
Index
unit(s) of self-sufficiency (cont.) welfare commissioners (minsei-
(U.S.), 141; couple as, 185; family iin), 45
as, 46; household as, 51; intergenera- welfare council professionals, 46
tional relationship as, 184-5; see welfare policy; see public policy
also self-sufficiency West Haven, Connecticut, 17, 18, 19-22;
United States, 28; subjective perception compared with Westside Odawara,
of vulnerability in, 103-42 28, 29-33; Department of Elderly
Universal Pension Plan (Japan), 37nl0 Services, 44n29; ethnic composition
of, 20-1; family and resource net-
values, 13-17, 34, 72; of deservedness work in, 64-5; friendships in, 59, 60,
and fairness, 143-62; in Japan, 78, 62; living arrangements in, 52t,
102; changing, 18; in/and social con- 53-8, 55t; profile of, 30t; services to
tract, 143; see also cultural values elderly in, 43-4
variation-finding comparison, 16-17, 143 West Haven Housing Authority, 114
vertical alliance, 59 Western societies, 188-9
voluntary organizations, 44, 161 Westside Odawara, 22-7; compared
volunteer work, 59; in U.S., 43-4, 114, with West Haven, 28, 29-33; living
125,130 arrangements, 52t, 53-8, 55t; profile
vulnerability, 14, 144, 171, 182, 184; as- of, 30t; see also Odawara
sumptions about, 9; cultural defini- widowhood, 57, 118, 130, 140
tions of, 172; evaluating, 49; widows, 62; in case studies (U.S.),
expectations of, 1-10; and help, 173; 105-14
recognition of, 45, 65-70, 144; re- will need script, 147-50,
source network and, 64-5; and secu- 149f, 152
rity, 153, 174-5; subjective will support script, 152
perception of (Japan), 71-102; sub- Wolfe, Alan, 171
jective perception of (U.S.), 103-42 women; see gender
Wuthnow, Robert, 161
Weiner, Annette, 164
Weir, Margaret, 159 yome, 74n3, 102, 191; in case studies,
Welfare Commissioner Law 74, 76, 92, 93, 96-7, 98, 145
(Japan), 45n38 yoshi, 78, 92, 94
226

Akiko Hashimoto - The Gift of Generations - Japanese and American Perspectives On Aging and The Social Contract (1996)

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Akiko Hashimoto - The Gift of Generations - Japanese and American Perspectives On Aging and The Social Contract (1996)

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The Gift of Generations is an inquiry into the different cultural mean-

ings of giving and deserving help in two aging societies. Postindustrial

Cambridge University Press

© Cambridge University Press 1996

This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception

permission of Cambridge University Press.

First published 1996

Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication data

Transferred to digital printing 2009

Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or

Learn to adore it in your heart

List of Tables and Figure page ix

1 The Social Designation of Deserving Citizens 1

Appendix: Methods of Research 195

2.1 Profiles of West Haven and Westside Odawara page 30

7.1 Expectations of need in old age 149

H OW are people made deserving of help? How do different cul-

I N the years of research leading to the publication of this book, I

Material appearing in the epigraph is reprinted by permission of New

THE PRIVATE DISCOURSE: EXPECTATIONS OF VULNERABILITY

OROTHY Turoski1 is a 74-year-old woman who lives in a pub-

I do nothing. There's nothing to do here. I haven't got none,

Lots of times I wish I was 60 again. I'd be happy. I'd be

To the degree that adult adoption (yoshi engumi) survives in con-

In contrast to these two women who are concerned about receiving

6 The emphasis is Irene's.

becoming incapacitated, widowed, lonely, or in need of some help her-

THE PUBLIC DISCOURSE: RESPONSIBILITIES OF INTERVENTION

times,13 the important program expansions in both nations occurred in

VALUES, INTERESTS, AND SYMBOLIC EQUITY:

To learn how the social contract is forged in different cultures, it is

16 For example in Japan, the Ohira government issued a well-publicized report in

conditions refer to the perceptions, assumptions, attitudes, and values

credits, and debts - to regulate our tendency to keep rather than to

27 Melvin Kohn, "Cross-National Research as an Analytic Strategy," 85.

W HEN older people talk about their past, one is immediately

Right here,rightwhere this house is, was an amusement park. This is

Gallup survey.4 Family relations of the elderly respondents are there-

4 Gallup Report, Religion in America.

who might need or choose to organize their lives at a different pace.

Like their counterparts in West Haven, the elderly in Westside

Odawara's prosperity ended when the new Meiji regime came to

older have worked in the new, salaried occupations; conversely, more

economic differences above and beyond national differences. Rural

14 Yale University's Department of Epidemiology and Public Health decided to

Table 2.1. Profiles of West Haven and Westside Odawara

West Greater Westside

Total population 53,184 417,592 81,165 177,469

"1982 estimates for Honcho-chiku by Department of Social Welfare, Odawara

If only we had adequate nursing facilities, you know - families like

W AKA'S ambivalence about relying on formal institutions for

As Robert Pinker noted, public policies ultimately rest on funda-

ENTITLEMENT, OBLIGATION, AND EQUITY

3 Robert Pinker, Social Theory and Social Policy, 105.

1. adequate income in retirement. . . .

In response to what both nations saw as the burgeoning needs of the

care expenditures also comprised 5.15% of GNP in Japan and 4.58%

22 Thomas Rholen, "The Promise of Adulthood in Japanese Spiritualism," 129-130;

the untested young are not. If individual responsibility requires that

INDIVIDUAL, FAMILY, AND STATE

Although the notion of independence is made more explicit in the Amer-

28 INFOLINE, Directory of Community Services: South Central Connecticut, 1st ed.

Most of these programs were targeted toward those aged 65 and