The Massive Difference between Greetings among Children and Adults in Japan

In front of my apartment in Chiba, there is an elderly man in a uniform every morning from 7am. Tasked by the neighborhood committee, the man is at the same spot every weekday to greet the young children passing through on their way to school. "Good morning!" The elderly man never fails to say in his loudest voice as each child passes through. His voice is loud enough that I, living in the apartment unit right next to the road where he stands, can be woken up in the morning just by his voice. Most of the children he greets are equally vocal, responding in equally loud voices almost as a routine day after day.

Yet, interestingly, the elderly man is much timider when it comes to the adult passersby on the same road. When I came face to face with him for the first time, he only nodded slightly, waiting for my response. It is only after I vocalized my greeting every time over multiple meetings did he start to automatically greet me in his loud voice just as he would for all the children. Observing him at work, it is the case that he takes the same approach with other adults walking down the road, saying his greetings only to the individuals who he knows for sure will answer back, while ignoring the others who he probably knows from the past will not be greeted back.

The contrast between how the same man greets children and adults at the same spot and time shows Japan's rather paradoxical attitude toward expectations about how children and adults behave. Children are taught that they are part of a neighborly community that is there to nurture and watch over them to make sure they are not in harm's way. By this logic, for children to vocally express their presence to those tasked to protect them, such as the elderly man from the neighborhood committee, is congruent with what they are taught. For the elderly man to vocalize too just shows that he is doing a good job at watching over the children.

The same logic, of course, does not apply to adults. The default definition of a successful adult as "competent on his/her own" (一人前) and "not bothering others" (迷惑をかけない) is almost ingrained in the work culture, with individuals encouraged to speak only when socially appropriate and be careful in choosing the right words when speaking. This is especially true for men, who are keenly aware of reputational damage that comes with social faux pas and try to minimize such risks. When "speaking the least is the best" applies, the incentive to greet a complete stranger on the roadside is just not there.

The result is an adult population that is generally hesitant about reaching out to complete strangers on the streets, not only to help each other out but just for a random small chat. It makes it all the more difficult for adults to make new people, friends, and romantic partners. A whole vibrant industry exists around matchmaking services in real life, striking home the point that many, including relatively wealthy individuals who supposedly achieve professional success through their business networks, find it hard to meet potential spouses without having to pay a good amount of money and resorting to professional service providers.

The massive discrepancy about how children and adults take to greeting (or not) begs the question of when exactly this transition happens. The elderly man on the road only automatically greets students in elementary school and possibly the early years of middle school. High school schools in uniforms rarely greet him and he ignores them as well, suggesting that somewhere in the early teens, the consciousness of vocally saying hi to a random old man on the roadside takes over. Perhaps some of this transition is just due to a universal inclination of teenagers being curative of their image and repulse anything that seems to damage it.

But unlikely many societies in the world that see more friendly conversations with strangers, Japanese teenagers take that self-consciousness directly into adulthood, and not go back to the carefree greetings of their childhood. Social expectations of a clear-cut difference between what childhood and adulthood respectively look like, with the two concepts being almost exclusionary of each other, make it difficult for adults to display nonchalant energy, carefreeness, and lack of attention to detail in public. Even when they just step outside to face the elderly man in front of their houses, they have to think about their public images.

But if they revert to some of their childhood practices, Japanese adults have much to gain. The most sincere friendship and romance come not from the formal setting of business networking or matchmaking dinners, but the chance encounters with those who are geographically and socially within the same community. Each vocal greeting can lead to new, surprisingly fun conversations that not only tie the individuals to a place but reduce the mentally damaging paranoia of keeping a spotless public image. As the elderly man on the roadside shows, vocally greeting kids does not reflect negatively on him; it only shows that he is a responsible member of the community.