Demolition started this week on the Nakagin Capsule Tower in Tokyo, an iconic but increasingly disheveled piece of 1970s architecture that was a darling of the architectural scene and a must-see for tourists.
A years-long campaign to save the Nakagin failed, but instead of mourning its passing, it should be celebrated as a symbol of the Japanese capital’s constant urban rebirth that is not only one of its inherent charms, but also a key reason that it works so well.
Just as the phoenix is born from the ashes of its predecessor, a new Tokyo is rising from the detritus of post-World War II projects like the capsule tower.
An innovative but flawed building designed in the 1970s by late Japanese architect Kisho Kurokawa, Nakagin was composed of a series of independent pods intended to be replaceable. Kurokawa was the leading light of an architectural scene known as metabolism, which pictured buildings that would change organically, with aging pods popped out for new ones.
Replacement never happened and Nakagin fell into such disrepair that it has not had central hot water for more than a decade.
Its demolition would be a “bitter loss,” architecture critic Nicolai Ouroussoff wrote more than a decade ago, arguing that “the way we treat our cultural patrimony is a fair measure of how enlightened we are as a society.”
Japan brooks no such sentimentality. Perhaps the holiest site in Shinto, the 1,300-year-old Ise Grand Shrine, is knocked down and rebuilt every 20 years, after all. To be in Tokyo is to live among this constant renewal and upheaval.
The more familiar example might be the Hotel Okura, a symbol of Japanese modernist design featured in the James Bond novel You Only Live Twice and demolished in 2015 in defiance of an international outcry. Perhaps because it reopened just months before the COVID-19 pandemic shut down tourism to Japan, few have noticed that the Okura’s impressive US$1 billion replacement ably preserves the atmosphere of the original, while being superior in almost every measurable way.
And it is not just a matter of aesthetic preference. Tokyo’s enthusiasm for building helps keep housing plentiful and relatively affordable. In the past decade, Tokyo has added five to 10 times the new housing units that New York City has each year. Until recently, it was adding more in most years than all of England, a country with more than four times Tokyo’s population.
Japan has gradually loosened regulation around apartment building over decades, including a deregulation in 1997 aimed at supporting real-estate developers still reeling from the collapse of the 1980s bubble economy and its over-inflated property prices. That made it much easier to build large-scale, high-rise condominiums known here as “tower mansions.” Their development has boosted the housing stock, and began to tempt people back from the suburbs into the city center.
So, while Japan’s population overall is declining, Tokyo’s is still growing, albeit slowly.
As a result, Tokyo is perhaps one of few major metropolitan areas in the world where a middle-class, dual-income family can afford to buy a new downtown apartment with a relatively minimum fuss. Prices have been buoyed recently by a rise in these “power couples” — where each partner earns at least ¥7 million (US$56,000) a year — because of a surge in the number of women employed as full-time workers over the past decade. And while apartment prices are finally back above the bubble-era high watermark, they have risen only one-third in the past decade from a post-financial crisis slump.
Housing certainly is not seen as the long-term sure-fire investment it is expected to be elsewhere — young couples in Japan do not talk about getting on the property ladder — but neither has property become the political crisis it is in London, New Zealand or Ireland.
While wages might scarcely be rising, urban renewal is a boost to quality of life. Tokyo is transforming its landscape in a building frenzy.
Marunouchi, the financial district home to the offices of companies including Bloomberg, is unrecognizable from just 30 years ago, thanks to a public-private partnership that has restored the redbrick facade of the historic 108-year-old Tokyo Station while surrounding it with gleaming glass skyscrapers. These new buildings are more environmentally friendly and more accessible — essential not just for disabled people, but also for Japan’s rapidly aging population — as well as being less vulnerable to the natural disasters that strike Tokyo from above and below.
Areas such as trendy Shibuya, home to the Scramble Crossing, are undergoing a “once in a century” reconstruction, which involves razing and rebuilding one of world’s busiest train stations. The reconstruction also includes an anti-flooding water storage facility capable of holding 4,000m3 of water, vital during the “guerrilla rainstorms” which increasingly strike the country.
In the post-bubble years, Japan was criticized for over-spending on construction to prop up the economy, typified by “bridges to nowhere” and other rural boondoggles.
However, it is now one reason that its infrastructure is so durable, able to withstand disasters like 2019 Super Typhoon Hagibis, which struck Tokyo head-on, dealing US$15 billion of economic damage, but just 121 deaths.
All this means that in Tokyo, you cannot get too attached.
I am mentally steeling myself for the day that the backstreets of Shibuya’s Dogenzaka 2-chome, a ramshackle but distinctive district of love hotels, dive bars and most recently, trendy craft beer joints that is just meters from some of the most expensive real estate in the world, joins the list of areas to be bulldozed. For those who will mourn the capsule tower, remember that metabolism saw buildings as regenerative.
And while that has not happened in a literal sense with the Nakagin itself, that spirit lives on through Tokyo’s constant destruction and reconstruction.
Gearoid Reidy is a Bloomberg News senior editor covering Japan. He previously led the breaking news team in North Asia and was deputy head of the Tokyo bureau.
Taiwan should reject two flawed answers to the Eswatini controversy: that diplomatic allies no longer matter, or that they must be preserved at any cost. The sustainable answer is to maintain formal diplomatic relations while redesigning development relationships around transparency, local ownership and democratic accountability. President William Lai’s (賴清德) canceled trip to Eswatini has elicited two predictable reactions in Taiwan. One camp has argued that the episode proves Taiwan must double down on support for every remaining diplomatic ally, because Beijing is tightening the screws, and formal recognition is too scarce to risk. The other says the opposite: If maintaining
India’s semiconductor strategy is undergoing a quiet, but significant, recalibration. With the rollout of India Semiconductor Mission (ISM) 2.0, New Delhi is signaling a shift away from ambition-driven leaps toward a more grounded, capability-led approach rooted in industrial realities and institutional learning. Rather than attempting to enter the most advanced nodes immediately, India has chosen to prioritize mature technologies in the 28-nanometer to 65-nanometer range. That would not be a retreat, but a strategic alignment with domestic capabilities, market demand and global supply chain gaps. The shift carries the imprimatur of Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, indicating that the recalibration is
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairwoman Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文), during an interview for the podcast Lanshuan Time (蘭萱時間) released on Monday, said that a US professor had said that she deserved to be nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize following her meeting earlier this month with Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平). Cheng’s “journey of peace” has garnered attention from overseas and from within Taiwan. The latest My Formosa poll, conducted last week after the Cheng-Xi meeting, shows that Cheng’s approval rating is 31.5 percent, up 7.6 percentage points compared with the month before. The same poll showed that 44.5 percent of respondents
China last week announced that it picked two Pakistani astronauts for its Tiangong space station mission, indicating the maturation of the two nations’ relationship from terrestrial infrastructure cooperation to extraterrestrial strategic domains. For Taiwan and India, the developments present an opportunity for democratic collaboration in space, particularly regarding dual-use technologies and the normative frameworks for outer space governance. Sino-Pakistani space cooperation dates back to the end of the Cold War in the 1990s, with a cooperative agreement between the Pakistani Space & Upper Atmosphere Research Commission, and the Chinese Ministry of Aerospace Industry. Space cooperation was integrated into the China-Pakistan