Showing posts with label aging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aging. Show all posts

Jun 1, 2010

Happiness May Come With Age, Study Says

"Running with the seagulls", Galvest...Image via Wikipedia

It is inevitable. The muscles weaken. Hearing and vision fade. We get wrinkled and stooped. We can’t run, or even walk, as fast as we used to. We have aches and pains in parts of our bodies we never even noticed before. We get old.

It sounds miserable, but apparently it is not. A large Gallup poll has found that by almost any measure, people get happier as they get older, and researchers are not sure why.

“It could be that there are environmental changes,” said Arthur A. Stone, the lead author of a new study based on the survey, “or it could be psychological changes about the way we view the world, or it could even be biological — for example brain chemistry or endocrine changes.”

The telephone survey, carried out in 2008, covered more than 340,000 people nationwide, ages 18 to 85, asking various questions about age and sex, current events, personal finances, health and other matters.

The survey also asked about “global well-being” by having each person rank overall life satisfaction on a 10-point scale, an assessment many people may make from time to time, if not in a strictly formalized way.

Finally, there were six yes-or-no questions: Did you experience the following feelings during a large part of the day yesterday: enjoyment, happiness, stress, worry, anger, sadness. The answers, the researchers say, reveal “hedonic well-being,” a person’s immediate experience of those psychological states, unencumbered by revised memories or subjective judgments that the query about general life satisfaction might have evoked.

The Satisfaction with Life Index. Blue through...Image via Wikipedia

The results, published online May 17 in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, were good news for old people, and for those who are getting old. On the global measure, people start out at age 18 feeling pretty good about themselves, and then, apparently, life begins to throw curve balls. They feel worse and worse until they hit 50. At that point, there is a sharp reversal, and people keep getting happier as they age. By the time they are 85, they are even more satisfied with themselves than they were at 18.

In measuring immediate well-being — yesterday’s emotional state — the researchers found that stress declines from age 22 onward, reaching its lowest point at 85. Worry stays fairly steady until 50, then sharply drops off. Anger decreases steadily from 18 on, and sadness rises to a peak at 50, declines to 73, then rises slightly again to 85. Enjoyment and happiness have similar curves: they both decrease gradually until we hit 50, rise steadily for the next 25 years, and then decline very slightly at the end, but they never again reach the low point of our early 50s.

Other experts were impressed with the work. Andrew J. Oswald, a professor of psychology at Warwick Business School in England, who has published several studies on human happiness, called the findings important and, in some ways, heartening. “It’s a very encouraging fact that we can expect to be happier in our early 80s than we were in our 20s,” he said. “And it’s not being driven predominantly by things that happen in life. It’s something very deep and quite human that seems to be driving this.”

Dr. Stone, who is a professor of psychology at the State University of New York at Stony Brook, said that the findings raised questions that needed more study. “These results say there are distinctive patterns here,” he said, “and it’s worth some research effort to try to figure out what’s going on. Why at age 50 does something seem to start to change?”

The study was not designed to figure out which factors make people happy, and the poll’s health questions were not specific enough to draw any conclusions about the effect of disease or disability on happiness in old age. But the researchers did look at four possibilities: the sex of the interviewee, whether the person had a partner, whether there were children at home and employment status. “These are four reasonable candidates,” Dr. Stone said, “but they don’t make much difference.”

For people under 50 who may sometimes feel gloomy, there may be consolation here. The view seems a bit bleak right now, but look at the bright side: you are getting old.

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Nov 15, 2009

Elder Care by Remote - BusinessWeek

health care is a right you knowImage by cactusbones via Flickr

For three months early this year, 63-year-old Ronald Lang was one of the most plugged-in patients in America. Lang, who suffers from congestive heart failure and multiple sclerosis, was pilot-testing the Intel (INTC) Health Guide, a device that lets doctors monitor his health remotely. Each day after he woke up, he'd step on a scale and strap on a blood pressure cuff that was attached to the Health Guide. The device collected his vital signs and zapped them to his doctor's office. From there, Nurse Marie DiCola scoured the data, and if she noticed anything amiss, she dialed Lang and chatted with him over Health Guide's videophone.

Health Guide is at the leading edge of a new technology trend called "aging in place," designed to help seniors stay longer where they're most comfortable—at home—rather than having to move into nursing or assisted-living facilities. Aging-in-place equipment is installed in a person's home, monitors symptoms on the spot, and sends reports to doctors or family members in real time.

As 77 million baby boomers race toward their golden years, the world's leading tech innovators are unveiling a range of futuristic gizmos. There are beds that can monitor patients' vital signs as they sleep and stoves that can turn themselves off when owners forget. Besides Intel, the aging-in-place market has attracted companies such as General Electric (GE), Philips Electronics (PHG), Honeywell (HON), Bosch, and dozens of tech startups. The companies say these products, just now being deployed by a handful of health plans and home-care agencies, can drastically cut the rate of medical complications that force seniors into hospitals and other intensive-care facilities.

Health Guide epitomizes the kind of in-home gear that can reduce the hassle factor for patients and clinicians, especially those dealing with chronic but easy-to-monitor diseases. Heart failure patients, for example, must measure their weight and blood pressure frequently because changes in either metric can signal the type of trouble that requires emergency intervention. But distinguishing between a minor setback and a serious situation depends on being able to figure out how the patient is feeling.

In the program Lang was a part of, Nurse DiCola was able to assess symptoms both by talking to patients and examining them visually. She downloaded real-time data for as many as 25 patients every day and spoke to many using Health Guide's videophone. "I could make decisions about treatment," she says. "If they needed to see the doctor, I got them in to see a cardiologist right away." For Lang, desktop access to DiCola was comforting. "I used to have to get dressed, go to the doctor's office, wait, and pay my $10—just for them to take my blood pressure," Lang says. "Then the doctor would say: 'Everything is fine. Take your medicine.'"

Executives at Intel envision a suite of products that can give any house the characteristics of an assisted-living facility, but without the sterile environment many seniors despise. A survey taken late last year by AARP revealed that nearly 80% of baby boomers expect to stay in their homes as they age.

Intel has enlisted a big ally to help position itself in this market. In April, Intel and General Electric announced they would spend $250 million over five years to co-develop products that will help seniors manage chronic conditions from home. As part of the deal, GE will sell the Intel Health Guide. The partnership will give Intel access to monitoring technology, which ultimately could enhance Health Guide's capabilities. GE already has a product, QuietCare, which uses sensors stationed throughout the home to keep an eye on seniors as they go about their day-to-day lives. GE is marketing the product through home health-care companies and to assisted-living facilities. For an individual who wants the system at home, it's not cheap—the cost would be about $70 to $110 per month, depending on the size of the unit and the length of the monitoring agreement.

Amsterdam-based Royal Philips Electronics is also focusing on the aging-in-place market. Since 2006 it has spent $6 billion snapping up home health-care companies, including Lifeline, a maker of personal emergency alert systems that cost subscribers from $35 to $75 per month. Philips also purchased breathing device maker Respironics, as well as Raytel Cardiac Services, a provider of remote cardiac monitoring services. And recently Philips developed the smartBed, which contains tiny, high-tech electronic sensors that can measure patients' vital signs, movement, and breathing as they sleep. (The product is part of a research project and not commercially available.)

As helpful as aging-in-place technology may be, there is one big question yet to be answered: Who is going to pay to put the systems into seniors' homes? "Right now this is a niche market made up of affluent people who want to monitor their parents," says Scott Lundstrom, vice-president for research at IDC Health Insights. "The technology is going nowhere without a reimbursement model that supports it."

Intel and others are trying to convince public and private insurers that it is an investment worth making. During a road show to launch Health Guide, Intel referred to a study published by the Veterans Administration late last year. It found that remote patient monitoring decreased hospital visits significantly—for instance, 20% for diabetes patients and 56% for patients with depression. The technology cost $1,600 per patient per year on average, it reported, as opposed to $77,745 for nursing home care. Intel says it's currently talking with health-care organizations that may provide the full package of service and support directly to consumers. It is also evaluating monthly service programs.

Intel has pilot-tested Health Guide with Aetna and other insurance companies. Lang, who lives in Cypress, Calif., was part of a test conducted by SCAN Health, a nonprofit health plan in California and Arizona. "It became obvious, as we looked at the growth of the aging population and the number of caregivers we had, that relying on an entirely people-based model would be untenable," says Hank Osowski, senior vice-president for corporate development at SCAN. Osowski isn't ready to commit to any specific system, but says remote monitoring will be part of SCAN's model. "We're willing to fund these tools," he says, "because at the end of the day it will result in better [patient] outcomes."

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Aug 31, 2009

Invisible Immigrants, Old and Left With ‘Nobody to Talk To’ - NYTimes.com

Sikhism Related Photo of Visitors to a Gurdwar...Image via Wikipedia

FREMONT, Calif. — They gather five days a week at a mall called the Hub, sitting on concrete planters and sipping thermoses of chai. These elderly immigrants from India are members of an all-male group called The 100 Years Living Club. They talk about crime in nearby Oakland, the cheapest flights to Delhi and how to deal with recalcitrant daughters-in-law.

Together, they fend off the well of loneliness and isolation that so often accompany the move to this country late in life from distant places, some culturally light years away.

“If I don’t come here, I have sealed lips, nobody to talk to,” said Devendra Singh, a 79-year-old widower. Meeting beside the parking lot, the men were oblivious to their fellow mall rats, backpack-carrying teenagers swigging energy drinks.

In this country of twittering youth, Mr. Singh and his friends form a gathering force: the elderly, who now make up America’s fastest-growing immigrant group. Since 1990, the number of foreign-born people over 65 has grown from 2.7 million to 4.3 million — or about 11 percent of the country’s recently arrived immigrants. Their ranks are expected to swell to 16 million by 2050. In California, one in nearly three seniors is now foreign born, according to a 2007 census survey.

Many are aging parents of naturalized American citizens, reuniting with their families. Yet experts say that America’s ethnic elderly are among the most isolated people in America. Seventy percent of recent older immigrants speak little or no English. Most do not drive. Some studies suggest depression and psychological problems are widespread, the result of language barriers, a lack of social connections and values that sometimes conflict with the dominant American culture, including those of their assimilated children.

The lives of transplanted elders are largely untracked, unknown outside their ethnic or religious communities. “They never win spelling bees,” said Judith Treas, a sociology professor and demographer at the University of California, Irvine. “They do not join criminal gangs. And nobody worries about Americans losing jobs to Korean grandmothers.”

The speed of the demographic transformation is leading many cities to reach out to the growing numbers of elderly parents in their midst. Fremont began a mobile mental health unit for homebound seniors and recruited volunteer “ambassadors” to help older immigrants navigate social service bureaucracies. In Chicago, a network of nonprofit groups has started The Depression Project, a network of community groups helping aging immigrants and others cope.

But their problems can go unnoticed because they often do not seek help. “There is a feeling that problems are very personal, and within the family,” said Gwen Yeo, the co-director of the Geriatric Education Center at the Stanford University School of Medicine.

Many who have followed their grown children here have fulfilling lives, but life in this country does not always go according to plan for seniors navigating the new, at times jagged, emotional terrain, which often means living under a child’s roof.

Mr. Singh, the widower, grew up in a boisterous Indian household with 14 family members. In Fremont, he moved in with his son’s family and devoted himself to his grandchildren, picking them up from school and ferrying them to soccer practice. Then his son and daughter-in-law decided “they wanted their privacy,” said Mr. Singh, an undertone of sadness in his voice. He reluctantly concluded he should move out.

So when he leaves the Hub, dead leaves swirling around its fake cobblestones, Mr. Singh drives to the rented room in a house he found on Craigslist. His could be a dorm room, except for the arthritis heat wraps packed neatly in plastic bins.

“In India there is a favorable bias toward the elders,” Mr. Singh said, sitting amid Hindu religious posters and a photograph of his late wife. “Here people think about what is convenient and inconvenient for them.”

Move to the Ethnoburbs

Sociologists call Mr. Singh and his cohort the “.5 generation,” distinct from the “1.5 generation” — younger transplants who became bicultural through school and work. Immigrant elders leave a familiar home, some without electricity or running water, for a multigenerational home in communities like Fremont that demographers call ethnoburbs.

A generation ago, Fremont was 76 percent Caucasian. Today, nearly one-half of its residents are Asian, 14 percent are Latino and it is home to one of the country’s largest groups of Afghan refugees (it was a setting for the best-selling book “The Kite Runner”). Along the way, a former beauty college has become a mosque; a movie house became a Bollywood multiplex; a bank, an Afghan market, and a stucco-lined street renamed Gurdwara, after the Gurdwara Sahib Sikh Temple.

Reliant on their children, late-life immigrants are a vulnerable population. “They come anticipating a great deal of family togetherness,” Professor Treas said. “But American society isn’t organized in a way that responds to their cultural expectations.”

Hardev Singh, 76, and his wife, Pal Keur, 67, part of Fremont’s large Sikh community, live above the office of the Fremont Frontier Motel, its lone nod to a Western motif a dilapidated wagon wheel sign.

They rented the fluorescent-lighted apartment after living for three years with their daughter, Kamaljit Purewal, her husband, his mother and two grandchildren. As the children grew, Mr. Singh and Mrs. Keur were relegated to the garage, transformed into a room. As Mr. Singh said, “in winter it was too much cold.”(Ms. Purewal said that she “tried to give them a better life,” but felt unappreciated because her parents favored her older brother in India. “If you’re a happy family, a small house is a big house,” she said. )

Fraught family dynamics when elderly parents move in with children often leave older members without a voice in decision-making, whether about buying a house or using the shower.

Pravinchandra Patel, the 84-year-old founder of the 100 Years Living Club, intervened when he heard that the son in one family was taking his parents’ monthly Supplemental Security Income check, for $658, then doling out $20 for spending money.

“I ask the son, ‘How much money do you figure you owe your parents for your education?’ ” he said.

Crying, Not Smiling

Once a lush landscape of fruit trees and cauliflower fields, Fremont, 40 miles south of San Francisco, is now the Bay Area’s fourth-largest city, with voters from 152 countries. Physical distances can be compounded by psychic ones: 13 percent of the city’s immigrant seniors live in households isolated by language. Theirs is a late-life journey without a map.

For the men in the 100 Years Living Club, the road leads to the Hub, where they have been meeting for 14 years, since the Target store was a Montgomery Ward. Mr. Patel, who was an herbal doctor in India, started the group after he noticed his friends were in “house prisons,” as he put it, without even the confidence to use a bus. The men keep their spirits alive by sharing homemade chaat snacks. They are the lucky ones.

Two miles away, Zia Mustafa, an Afghan widow, sits at her kitchen table with its plastic tablecloth, looking at a scrapbook with bright color postcards of Turkmen girls in elaborate dress posed against an azure sky.

Mrs. Mustafa arrived here on a desolate emotional road. Her husband and eldest son were killed by a rocket in Kabul; her son Waheed, now 24 and living with her in Fremont, lost his leg in the attack. Other children remain in Afghanistan and Pakistan.

“My family is divided in three,” she said through a translator, weeping.

Waheed Mustafa, after surgery in Oakland, leads the life of a young man in his 20s — going to school, working out, talking on his cellphone, hanging out with friends.

Mrs. Mustafa, who was home-schooled in the Koran, spends her days watching television soap operas, attempting to decipher stories through actors’ facial expressions. She sleeps with the lights on, worrying that even within these safe white walls this son, too, will not come back.

“They come from a country where it takes so much to survive, yet they feel they haven’t done enough,” said Dr. Sudha Manjunath, a psychiatrist who consults with the city’s mental health unit. “To tell them now, ‘It’s time to take care of yourself’ — well, they’ve never heard of such things.”

A recent health survey by Dr. Carl Stempel, a sociology professor at California State University, East Bay, found that most Afghan women here suffer from post-traumatic stress.

“I thought they would be so happy in this country — all the houses, the food, the cars,” said Najia Hamid, who founded the Afghan Elderly Association of the Bay Area, an outreach group for widows, with seed money from Fremont. “But I was met with crying.”

Young couples who need to work to support families have imported grandparents in part to baby-sit. There is a misguided assumption that baby-sitting is sustenance enough for the aging, said Moina Shaiq, founder of the Muslim Support Network, which brings seniors together. “We are all social beings. How much can you talk to your grandchildren?” Mrs. Shaiq said.

Small Things Matter

In 1965 changes to immigration policy allowed naturalized citizens to sponsor the immigration of parents without quota restrictions. By 1996, a growing perception that elderly immigrants were “gaming the system” — that their children were pledging to support them and then enrolling their parents in the Supplemental Security Income and food stamp programs — became an impetus for welfare reform. Congress imposed a five-year waiting period for Medicaid and Temporary Assistance for Needy Families and restricted S.S.I. and food stamp eligibility for adults.

Some states, including California and New York, have chosen to eliminate the waiting period for Medicaid for lawfully residing immigrants, paying with state money.

Michael Fix, senior vice president of the Migration Policy Institute, a nonprofit center in Washington, said that as immigrants form a larger part of the elderly population, “all the issues that bear on health care and social services will increasingly be transformed in part into immigrant issues.”

In 2007, according to census data, about 16 percent of immigrant seniors lived below the poverty line, compared with 12 percent of native-born elderly, said Steven P. Wallace, the associate director of the Center for Health Policy Research at the University of California, Los Angeles. Another 24 percent of immigrant elderly are “the near-poor,” he said, “sitting on the edge of a cliff.”

Kashmir Singh Shahi, 43, a former engineer who was born in India, is a volunteer for the Community Ambassador Program for Seniors, offering people like Hardev Singh an attuned ear.

Mr. Singh, a retired driving instructor for the Indian army, is 76 and determined to work full time. He takes two buses to work the night shift at a gas station an hour away. “I don’t want to become idle in the heart,” he said matter-of-factly.

Mr. Singh had not been to a doctor in years, and Mr. Shahi helped him and his wife apply for Medicare. Mr. Singh is also entitled to Social Security but will not accept the additional assistance.

Mr. Shahi’s experiences with his own parents have illuminated the way for his clients. He came to the Bay Area in 1991 to work at a fiber optics company, and he sponsored his parents six years later.

After his father died, Mr. Shahi changed careers so he could care for his mother, who has suffered from depression.

She shares a room with her 12-year-old grandson, Kirat, improbably surrounded by Iron Man and Incredible Hulk posters. In this affectionate setting, amid decorations for her granddaughter’s Sweet 16 party, the 84-year-old woman sat quietly, blue slippers on her feet, her eyes cast downward at her folded hands.

“In India, she would walk to the grocery store, go next door to have tea, talk about common things like the wheat and the corn,” said Mr. Shahi of the ingrained visiting culture so universally missed by many ethnic elders. “At home anyone can knock on the door anytime, to relieve the pressure. Here nothing is similar.”

So at the end of his day counseling others, Mr. Shahi sits with his mother before she goes to bed. He always asks if she needs any warm milk.

“The small things matter,” he said of his mother and other elders longing for home. “The feeling that they are welcomed.”
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Jul 14, 2009

Can the DPJ Bring Democracy to Japan?

by Tobias Harris and Colum Murphy

Posted July 3, 2009

On a sweltering afternoon in June, the rice fields outside the small town of Omagari in Japan's northern Akita prefecture are eerily deserted. Only the voice of Kimiko Kyono belting out from the speakers atop her orange Nissan breaks the silence. "Konnichiwa!" she exclaims to the open fields. "This is Kimiko Kyono of the Democratic Party of Japan!" Finally she spots a farmer: "Over there!" A campaign aide drives the car through the field in hot pursuit of the lone voter.

Ms. Kyono, one of the DPJ's potential candidates in parliamentary elections likely to be called at the beginning of August, has an unenviable task. She is trying to win over risk-averse voters person by person to the opposition party formed in 1998. Yet this youthful looking mother of four is not fazed. "Last time I lost by 30,000 votes," she says. "This time I hope to win or at least close the gap."

HatoyamaA confluence of factors means Ms. Kyono might get her wish. While Kazuyasu Kurokawa, the 52-year-old farmer she managed to corner, is noncommittal about his voting plans, others are forthrightly supportive. Teruko Sasaki, 70, is fed up with the status quo. "Things have not gotten better around here," she says. "I think it is time for a change."

The incumbent Liberal Democratic Party has been in power for almost six decades, apart from a 10-month period in the early 1990s, and discontent with its performance is at an all-time high. Chronic disillusionment with LDP's ineptitude and the increasingly severe economic conditions of recent years mean that, even here in the conservative heartland and LDP stronghold, more voters like Ms. Sasaki are contemplating giving the DPJ a shot at ruling the country.

The DPJ under current leader Yukio Hatoyama promises that it would use an election mandate to bring sweeping changes to Japan. The party has devised a set of policies aimed at cushioning citizens from harsh economic realities. Of greater long-term significance, the DPJ has ambitions to overhaul the country's governing structure, which under the LDP has rested on opaque internal party decision-making processes and underhanded cooperation between the party and the bureaucracy. Instead, the DPJ promises government that is more efficient, transparent and accountable. In short, policy making in Asia's oldest democracy would finally move out of the proverbial smoke-filled back rooms.

Political transformation is already underway. Japan now has, for the first time in decades, a viable opposition party in the DPJ, which earned the trust of the public when it became the largest party in the upper house in 2007. A strong mandate at the polls could bring an end to the political paralysis that has hampered the revitalization of Japan's economy and society.

Japanese dietDown and Out

Ms. Kyono's home prefecture, Akita, is in many ways at the front line of Japan's decline, a microcosm of many of the problems that bedevil the country. It is an appropriate laboratory for DPJ's policies related to demographic issues, including the elderly and farmers. Across a host of indicators, the prefecture—together with neighboring Aomori prefecture and the southern island prefecture of Okinawa—finds itself at the bottom of the rankings. Michael Lacktorin, professor of economics at Akita International University, says the No. 1 problem facing the prefecture is demographics. There are around 1.1 million people in Akita, but this is declining by 12,000 people, or around 1%, per year. Half of the decline is from death, half from "social movement" by job seekers.

Japan's aging society is on full display in Akita. On a recent morning in June, most customers at a large supermarket in Omagari were elderly. In October 2007, 28% of Akita's population was over the age of 65, close to six percentage points higher than the national average. Average per capita income in the prefecture for fiscal year 2005 was around 2.3 million yen ($24,100), well below the national level of 3 million yen. Agriculture plays an important role in the prefecture's economy, and here, as in other parts of Japan, farmers are struggling. The percentage of those engaged in full-time farming is dwindling, and more and more rural dwellers are relying on the government sector for employment.

Of course, the latest economic crisis has exacerbated these long-standing social problems. While there are some signs of a recovery, demand for Japanese exports fell sharply in late 2008 and in the first quarter of 2009, causing a sharp economic contraction—gdp fell 3.5% in the fiscal year that ended March 31, a record fall since records began in 1955. The contraction has put pressure on the Japanese workforce, as unemployment rose to 5.2% in May. There are few signs that foreign demand will recover quickly, reinforcing the need for measures to stimulate domestic demand, despite having already budgeted roughly 2% of Japan's gdp for economic stimulus since autumn 2008. Meanwhile, Japan's colossal national debt continues to grow and the goal of a balanced budget pushed back due to the Aso government's antirecession stimulus measures, while social-security spending is soaring as the population ages.

In short, the economic crisis has exposed just how illusory the Koizumi boom years were, based as they were on healthy demand for Japanese goods in the United States and China and on the growing use of temporary and other irregular workers by Japanese businesses. The challenge for Japan's government remains finding the right balance between public demands for social protection, and the need for structural reform and fiscal restraint. The DPJ believes it can strike that balance.

Exit LDP, Enter DPJ

The litany of problems facing Japan has given the DPJ plenty of fodder for devising policies with a clear appeal to the much suffering Japanese, and even given some of the most diehard supporters of the LDP cause to stop and reconsider. That said, it is hard to differentiate between the LDP and the DPJ on the basis of policies alone, especially since many measures seem to pander to the same constituencies, for example the farmers. Perhaps this should not surprise us— Mr. Hatoyama and former party leader and party founder Ichiro Ozawa are both former LDP members.

Even so, the DPJ has done a better job at shaping its policies into a somewhat coherent "manifesto." At the party's modest headquarters in Tokyo's Nagatacho district, former DPJ policy chief Yukio Edano explained that the most important goal of the party is to expand Japan's social-safety net, and many of these policies are specifically aimed at alleviating the two main problems facing the rural areas—the aging population and declining agriculture. That includes addressing Japan's faulty pensions system—antiquated in its management, Byzantine in its organization, and underfunded given growing liabilities—by creating a model based on Sweden's and supported by the whole of consumption-tax revenue at the current rate of 5%. Mr. Edano says the DPJ also plans to increase spending on health and nursing care. The party plans to introduce an individual household income-support system to make Japanese farmers feel more secure about engaging in agriculture. Another sweetener is the launch of a per capita child allowance of 26,000 yen per child per month.

This is an expensive shopping list, but can be financed partially by the DPJ's plan to eliminate wasteful government spending, says Mr. Edano. The party has identified savings of around $104 billion that it plans to redirect to other areas, including into the country's pension system. An increase in consumption tax from the current 5% will happen, but not for "another five or 10 years," says Mr. Edano.

When it comes to economic policies, however, details are vague. While there are references to revitalizing small- and medium-sized enterprises through a "SME Charter," the party falls short on specifics. It, like the LDP, has been unable to outline a plan to fix Japan's finances and it seems that it doesn't quite know how to revitalize regional economies such as Akita's. The DPJ's manifesto contains a lot of little ideas animated by the vision of a "secure society," but nothing terribly concrete on how to restore corporate Japan back to its former glory. By appealing to anxiety about the country's mismanaged pension schemes and inadequate health-care system for the elderly, especially in remote areas, the DPJ is hoping to expand its support base. But it could still botch the campaign. "If a golfer reaches the green, then he should be able to putt his shot," Mr. Edano says. "But the DPJ is still at the tee and is using a driver. At this stage, even top professionals can hit a shot out of bounds."

Should the DPJ manage to come to power, it will not be on the strength of its policies alone. The party's success so far is clearly due to the LDP's unpopularity. The ruling party has been on the decline ever since it won a historic victory in the 2005 general election. Under the leadership of then-Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi, the LDP, with the help of Komeito, its coalition partner, secured an unprecedented supermajority in Japan's House of Representatives on the basis of Mr. Koizumi's personal popularity and his campaign to privatize Japan Post.

The 2005 election seemed like a turning point for Japanese politics, the apotheosis of Mr. Koizumi's crusade to destroy the "old" LDP, smash the bureaucracy and institute reforms to liberalize the economy. But within a year Mr. Koizumi was out of office and his successor, Shinzo Abe, was less interested in economic reform than pursuing his dream of making Japan a "normal" country through revision of the Constitution and reform of education curricula—issues that did not resonate with the public.

What followed is all too familiar: the readmission of ousted postal rebels to the LDP, the Abe government's mishandling of the 2007 pensions crisis followed by the DPJ's victory in that year's upper house elections, the substitution of Yasuo Fukuda for Mr. Abe, and then a year later, the substitution of the incumbent Prime Minister Taro Aso for Mr. Fukuda. It has been four years of scandals, of policy decisions avoided, of reforms watered down or scrapped entirely—and of persistently low public approval numbers. Add the failures of the past four years to the LDP's record over its nearly unbroken run of 55 years in power and it seems reasonable that the upcoming general election will result in a historic defeat for the LDP and the birth of a DPJ-led government.

Of course until the election is held it is possible that the LDP—with a history of pulling out miraculous victories—will survive. A scandal involving former DPJ leader Mr. Ozawa in the spring led to a slight uptick in the Aso government's approval ratings, but Mr. Ozawa's resignation halted the DPJ's decline and has effectively triggered a terminal crisis in the LDP.

As of early July, Mr. Aso continues to face plummeting poll results, open calls for his resignation, and demands that he move up the party leadership election scheduled for September to give the party a chance to choose a new leader in advance of the general election. Meanwhile, Mr. Ozawa is still a driving force in the DPJ. "If the election were held today, we would win," a party strategist said in an interview with the review in June. The polls, though frequently unreliable, point to DPJ carrying the day. "Barring some cataclysmic event" the DPJ should win a plurality in the coming election, says political analyst Jun Okumura.

Consolidating Power

Getting elected is only the beginning of the party's challenges. If it is going to deliver on its promises, the DPJ will need to redefine how government works in Japan. If a change of government is to have lasting significance, the DPJ must revolutionize Japanese democracy. If the DPJ merely replicates the LDP's bad practices, not only will it be ineffective as a ruling party but it will likely deepen the public's disillusionment with the political system. A DPJ government's task will be to transform what academic Aurelia George Mulgan has called Japan's "Un-Westminster" system into a proper Westminster parliamentary democracy, with power concentrated in the cabinet.

LDP rule has long been characterized by a sharp division between cabinet and ruling party, with the LDP's formal and informal policy-making organs having an established role in the policy-making process that enable LDP politicians outside government to wield a veto over the sitting government's agenda. At the same time, the bureaucracy has had an outsized role in policy making and as a whole wields political power unmatched among developed democracies. It has been a full-fledged player in a "triangular" struggle for power with the LDP and the cabinet.

The result of this ongoing struggle has been paralysis, particularly after the bursting of the economic "bubble" in the early 1990s, as politicians and bureaucrats struggled to defend their prerogatives and budget shares while various prime ministers attempted to use a newly empowered cabinet office to undermine both LDP and bureaucracy and impose a vision for governing. The Koizumi government was at once a high water mark for this struggle and for the strength of the prime minister and the cabinet in the conflict; the three years since Mr. Koizumi left office have witnessed a steady decline in the ability of the prime minister to corral party members and bureaucrats. Rather than building a Westminster system, Mr. Koizumi strengthened the position of the cabinet within the tripartite governing system without fundamentally transforming the system.

The DPJ seems aware that in order to implement policy it must transform the policy-making process. Naoto Kan, the DPJ's acting president, visited the United Kingdom in early June to study the relationships between cabinet and ruling party and cabinet and bureaucracy in the British system of government. After meeting with senior Labour and Conservative politicians, Mr. Kan returned to Japan impressed by how Britain has enforced the political neutrality of the bureaucracy, ensuring the supremacy of cabinet over ruling party and civil service. In an article in the July issue of the monthly Chuo Koron, Mr. Kan outlines a model for what the DPJ hopes to achieve in constructing a "parliamentary cabinet system" (in contrast to the LDP's "bureaucratic cabinet system").

Describing LDP rule, Mr. Kan argues that the LDP, due to the perpetual gap between cabinet and party, delegated far too much to the bureaucracy, and as a result the government has struggled to resolve the cluster of social and economic problems that have ensnared Japan. According to Mr. Kan, the DPJ will unify ruling party and government to avoid the acrimony that has often characterized the relationship between the LDP and LDP-supported cabinets. To prevent party leaders from being in a position to undermine the government, the DPJ plans to include the party's secretary-general and policy research council chair in the cabinet, with the former responsible for legislative affairs and the latter assuming the critical post of chief cabinet secretary. The DPJ will prevent backbenchers from sidestepping the cabinet to work with bureaucrats through the ruling party's policy research council to draft legislation, and will deny the party's senior leaders outside of government a veto over policy, a right currently possessed by the LDP's general council, which has the power to decide whether a policy will go to a cabinet vote. Indeed, the DPJ abandoned the model of a general council early in its existence and replaced it with a shadow cabinet.

Second, the DPJ aims to strip the bureaucracy of its budgeting authority. Mieko Nakabayashi, a DPJ candidate from Kanagawa prefecture, says Japan's current opaque budgeting process is "undemocratic." "You cannot hide Japan's budget and economic situation forever," says Ms. Nakabayashi, who worked for an extended period in the U.S. Senate Budget Committee. "Hiding things from people has reached saturation point." Here too, the DPJ will not be starting from scratch: A round of administrative reforms early in the decade created the Council for Economic and Fiscal Policy, an advisory council attached to the cabinet that has played an important role in macrobudgeting. But as with many reforms undertaken under LDP rule, the creation of the council was inadequate for shifting responsibility for budgeting from the finance ministry's budget bureau, and the requesting bureaus in the government's ministries and agencies, to elected cabinet officials.

In effect, the DPJ aspires to restore the Japanese Constitution, which designates the cabinet as the supreme executive body responsible for administering the law and preparing budgets, and the Diet as the "sole law-making organ." The goal of these proposals is to create a policy-making process that starts at the top, with the prime minister and the cabinet, and flows down to line bureaucrats. The government, supported by its parliamentary majority, will establish policy-making priorities and compile budgets, the Diet in cooperation with the cabinet will prepare and pass legislation, and the bureaucracy will implement the decisions of its political masters.

Staying in Power

This model is clearly an ideal type: The degree to which a DPJ-led government realizes it will depend on the political abilities of the prime minister and his cabinet ministers. Whether the DPJ's leaders are sufficiently capable remains to be seen.

One factor working in the party's favor is that it should have a mandate for political reform. A poll conducted in March by the Yomiuri Shimbun, Japan's largest daily, found that 74% of respondents did not trust bureaucrats in Tokyo, suggesting that the DPJ will have the public on its side in implementing its plans. At the same time, however, the DPJ must not allow populist, antibureaucrat enthusiasm lead it to promise more reform than it can deliver. Already some of its policies smack of populism. The party's policies for protecting farmer income, for example, will do nothing to promote competitiveness of the sector against foreign producers.

The DPJ will be operating in an environment shaped by an active news media, a public quick to voice its disapproval, an opposition party that will use every tool at its disposal to stymie the government and a bureaucracy reluctant to surrender its privileges. These obstacles do not mean reform is impossible, but they mean the DPJ must pick its battles carefully, seek allies wherever possible and moderate its rhetoric in order to maximize its freedom of action.

The DPJ may already be backing away from more extreme criticism of the bureaucracy, with Mr. Kan's acknowledging that there are many talented bureaucrats and that the party recognizes it will need their cooperation if it is to govern effectively. "The DPJ is unlikely to depart from dependence on the bureaucracy," Takao Toshikawa, editor-in-chief of the biweekly Tokyo Insideline, says, describing the party's plan to appoint 100 political appointees as "unrealistic." "The DPJ has no such manpower." Given these constraints, the DPJ is right to focus on how to concentrate power in the cabinet. Such reforms will require less in the way of legislation and allow more effective use of power by the DPJ's leaders.

More challenging will be the DPJ's desire to redistribute power from Tokyo to prefectures and localities. In his article, Mr. Kan lists decentralizing Japan as the complement to consolidating power in the cabinet, but it is unclear what decentralization means to the DPJ and how it will go about achieving it. There is more than an echo of former British Prime Minister Tony Blair's push for devolution to Scotland and Wales during his first term. Whatever form devolution Japanese-style takes, expect a protracted fight among prefectural and local governments, the ruling and opposition parties in Tokyo, the bureaucracy (which is the target of decentralization), interest groups, and at some level the public at large. In an interview, Aomori governor Shingo Mimura told the review that, in his view, any decentralization of political power must be accompanied with decentralization of budgeting power.

Considering that any sort of radical decentralization can only proceed after the DPJ has effectively concentrated power in the cabinet, stressing decentralization offers more than any government could achieve for the foreseeable future. And given the policy challenges that will face the new government, it is questionable that the first thing that it should do upon realizing administrative centralization is transfer power and money to local governments.

If the DPJ can implement its plans for administrative reform—and it's a big if—it could succeed in regime change. It will have created a "normal" parliamentary system, having transformed Japanese governance from what political scientist Jun Iio has called the LDP's "purposeless" government to a government that can set clear policy goals and be judged by its success in achieving those goals. But regime change will have little meaning for the Japanese people until the government uses its new authority to fix economic and social problems. And that will ultimately depend on the ability of the leaders of the DPJ to make hard decisions about how to fix the budget while putting society and economy on sounder footing, decisions that the LDP has been unable to make. If the new government fails to deliver despite administrative reform, it will have no excuses for inaction-and will risk falling from power.

Another element influencing the longevity of a DPJ-led government is the degree of unity the party exhibits. Critics say the party is deeply divided in many policy areas, for example foreign policy, causing some to predict the DPJ eventually will crumble. In its place, a new party that combines elements of DPJ and LDP could form. "In four or five years, you could get a reconstituted one-party system," says Malcolm Cook, program director for East Asia at the Lowy Institute for International Policy in Sydney. In the meantime, Mr. Cook expects to see even more "political paralysis" in Japan. "It's not an optimistic view."

As Japan's general election approaches, it is increasingly clear that the public is willing to take a chance on the DPJ. Shigeji Sasaki, a 58-year-old hotel worker in Omagari, Akita, says he plans to change his vote to the DPJ from the LDP so that power can be transferred over smoothly "like the American system." He says he has many demands he would like to see the DPJ government fulfill. "But in general," he said, "I want a party that can lead Japan."

The LDP has progressively lost the ability to govern its own members, has made far too little progress addressing public-policy concerns, and has failed to provide even an outline of a policy vision. If the 2009 election is a referendum on LDP rule, the LDP will be toppled. Even if the LDP wins, however, it will still be a monumental election, because an LDP government would be even more ineffective than before the election, as it would likely be deprived of the supermajority in the lower house that is its trump card in battle with the DPJ-controlled upper house. A LDP victory would likely lead to a grand coalition or a political realignment, significant outcomes in their own right.

The long-term importance of the 2009 general election will be whether a DPJ victory marks the beginning of a new parliamentary democracy in Japan and whether DPJ politicians such as Ms. Kyono and Ms. Nakabayashi—if elected—can build a new system of power that lays the foundations for future prosperity.

This article is the cover story of the REVIEW's upcoming July/August issue.

Tobias Harris is a doctoral candidate in political science at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He is the author of Observing Japan (www.observingjapan.com), a blog on Japanese politics. Colum Murphy is deputy editor of the REVIEW.

Jun 10, 2009

50+ Hispanic Workers: A Growing Segment of the U.S. Workforce

Tuesday, June 9th, 2009

Original source: AARP Police & Research

Hispanics represent one of the fastest growing segments of the older population, and thus could be an important target for employer efforts to attract and retain older workers. This report examines older Hispanic workers and the contributions they make to employers and the economy. It describes the older Hispanic population and documents the work experiences of older Hispanics—the number and share that are employed, where they work, and how much they earn—and their attitudes toward work.

The portrait of older Hispanic workers that emerges from this overview shows a group that should appeal to many employers, yet faces significant labor market challenges. Older Hispanics participate in the labor force at relatively high rates and work in a wide range of occupations and industries, although Hispanic men are disproportionately represented in construction. Survey results for older Hispanic workers indicate that they are dependable, in that they rarely miss work. The vast majority report that they enjoy their jobs, suggesting that they are engaged and productive employees. Many are also fluent in English as well as Spanish, which makes them valuable employees to companies hoping to benefit from the purchasing power of the growing Hispanic market.

Nonetheless, many older Hispanics face substantial challenges in the workplace. They earn low wages and few benefits. In fact, their relatively strong attendance records may partially reflect an inability to afford time off due to lower wages and less access to paid leave. They also tend to work in physically demanding jobs that are often difficult to maintain into later life. Finally, the 2007-2009 recession, which has reduced employment rates and earnings for all groups, has hit older Hispanics especially hard.

+ Full Report (PDF; 585 KB)

Net source - http://www.docuticker.com/?cat=68