Prisons as retirement homes for low-income seniors in Japan

The rise in the number of elderly people committing minor offenses to secure shelter, food, and medical care in prison has transformed Japan’s penitentiaries into facilities increasingly geared towards this age group, where social reintegration takes precedence over punishment. Some experts, however, warn of the high cost of maintaining an elderly prisoner and argue that prisons converted into retirement homes highlight a problem: the existence of increasingly weakened communities that fail to provide adequate support for their elders.

“There are inmates who need walkers to get around, and we’ve had some who couldn’t change their diapers on their own. But our main concern is trying to prevent mental health conditions like dementia from worsening by the time they leave prison,” Yasuo Nakabayashi, head of the Correctional Treatment Department at Fukushima Prison, northeast of Tokyo, explained to EL PAÍS. “Those with serious physical problems are sent to a facility with medical resources. But those with mental health issues are our responsibility.”

Fukushima Prison is located a 15-minute taxi ride from the central station of the prefectural capital, which in 2011 suffered the triple tragedy of an earthquake, tsunami, and the worst nuclear accident in history after Chernobyl. Although its 166,000 square meters have a capacity for 1,655 inmates, only 860 are currently serving their sentences, reflecting the country’s declining population. The elderly inmates, aged between 65 and over 80, number 25 (barely 3%).

According to 2024 prison statistics, however, of the 40,544 inmates registered in Japan that year, 13.5% were aged over 65. It has recently been observed that a significant portion of the over-65 prison population ended up incarcerated after committing minor offenses that allowed them to sleep under a roof and have a hot meal for a while. The 2024 Crime White Paper, published by the Japanese government, reported that 71% of crimes committed by older women and 39% by older men were petty thefts from shops.

Japan has one of the highest life expectancies in the world. Men live an average of 81 years, and women, 87 years. It is the oldest society in the industrialized world: 29.4% of its 123 million inhabitants are aged 65 or older, according to official figures from 2025. For this reason it has been, for decades, a large-scale social laboratory for the elderly.

The declining birth rate, labor shortages, and government reluctance to encourage immigration are driving people to postpone retirement and increasing the creation of part-time jobs for older adults. Many elderly people who worked in informal employment receive pensions insufficient to live on, and their lack of resources leads to greater isolation.

In Fukushima, almost everyone is a repeat offender. “Among the older inmates, everyone has committed crimes repeatedly. Some are there for the second time, and others for the tenth,” says Nakabayashi.

Accompanied by two guards, and after passing through numerous heated corridors and double doors with mechanical and electronic locks, EL PAÍS arrives at a workshop where a group of men, some with completely white hair and using walkers, are about to begin a work session. The guards warn that they can only be photographed from the neck down, avoiding a plastic name tag hanging from their chest. Nor can the numbers printed on their white sneakers or their uniforms, made of a vibrant industrial green fabric, be shown.

Before sitting down, the older inmates stand around the tables and are numbered aloud from one to 25. It is the only time during the almost three-hour visit that a martial tone is heard throughout the facility.

Once they are seated, a middle-aged teacher wearing an educational apron depicting human organs with colorful fabrics teaches them about the digestive system. The workshop activity — assembling plastic and metal clothespins — is a way to keep them occupied for an hour, six days a week.

End to compulsory work

Nakabayashi explains that an amendment to the Penal Code came into effect last year, abolishing mandatory prison labor to dedicate more time to rehabilitation and education, with the aim of reducing recidivism. When the reform was announced — the first since 1907 — the Kyodo news agency reported that until then, prison treatment made no distinction between repeat offenders, so an elderly person who repeatedly shoplifted out of sheer necessity was subjected to the same regime as a member of a yakuza gang, the Japanese mafia.

Since 2021, Japan has had a Ministry of Loneliness and Isolation. In 2024, according to data from the National Police Agency, 58,044 people aged 65 and over who lived alone and died in their homes were identified: 76% of all bodies found in residences.

A happy prisoner

One of the Fukushima inmates who agreed to be interviewed, identified as N., is 67 years old and serving a four-and-a-half-year sentence, of which he has two years and four months remaining. N. enters escorted and pushing his walker. The reason for his imprisonment, officials say, was a “death caused by negligent driving without a license.”

N. recounts that he suffered a stroke and was unable to move his mouth or walk for a time. He describes the support he received during rehabilitation and expresses gratitude that prison has been a place of late learning, as, due to family circumstances, he had to care for five younger siblings and was unable to attend school. He is also proud of the friendships he has made behind bars. “I know it might sound strange, but I’m happy in prison,” he declares.

When asked about his return to society, he replies that he has no intention of doing so. “I’m here because I’ve caused irreparable harm, and the thought of going back out into society and causing trouble again is something I honestly don’t want,” he states. “I want to live honestly and teach my children that even from confinement, it’s possible to learn, reflect, and change.”

A failed system

The reluctance of older prisoners to return to society has been described as a failure of the welfare system by analysts such as Akio Doteuchi of the Nippon Life Insurance Institute (NLI). Doteuchi, now retired and one of the first experts to point out that Japanese prisons were beginning to resemble retirement homes, summarized his critical view of the phenomenon in a 2015 document with the phrase: “No country can consider itself to have a healthy society when older people prefer to be in prison rather than out of it.”

The annual budget for Japanese prisons in 2022, including direct costs per inmate, staff salaries, infrastructure, specialized medical care, and administration, was $1.69 billion. Given that there were 41,541 inmates that year, the expenditure per individual was $40,673 annually, or approximately $3,390 per month.

The minimum pension for someone who has contributed to Japan’s national pension system for 40 years is around $440, an insufficient amount to live independently. The detention does not prevent pensioners from continuing to receive their payments, Fukushima authorities stated in an email, apologizing for “not having the capacity to identify” which of the 25 elderly inmates in their prison are pension recipients.

To return to his cell, N. trembles as he walks down the corridors, leaning on his walker. The guard escorting him keeps a cautious distance, like someone who wants to be there in time to prevent him from stumbling.

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