British public transport yobs could learn a thing or two from Japan

Telegraph

23-05-2025

It's morning rush hour in Shibuya station. Trains pause at a tangle of platforms inside the central Tokyo hub – all punctual to the minute, impossibly clean and heaving with a steady flow of office workers.
But Japanese trains are not just litter-free and on-time. Stepping (or squeezing) on board reveals another unique quality: despite the mass of humanity crammed into a confined space, carriages are calmly steeped in silence.
The word 'silence' doesn't often feature in the same sentence as 'British public transport system'. This was spotlighted sharply in recent calls from the Liberal Democrats to introduce fines of up to £1,000 for 'headphone dodgers' playing loud music and videos on public transport.
In contrast, Japan appears to belong to an alternative noise-free cosmos. Step on board even a peak rush-hour Japanese train or bus, and there are typically no loud conversations about last night's dinner. No shouted phone calls to colleagues. And definitely no casual audio overspill from iPhone music or YouTube videos.
This is perhaps little surprise in Japan. The idea of silence – embracing it, savouring it, being comfortable in it – is deeply entwined into the essence of Japan's DNA. Conversations are a key example, with silences often playing as important a role as spoken words. The phrase kuki o yomu, or 'read the air', reflects this sensitivity – and the importance of responding to unspoken social cues.
At the heart of this outlook is one word: wa – or harmony – a core value that underpins almost every element of life in Japan, reflecting a deeply-rooted consideration for the collective that surrounds us all and a respect for others as a whole, rather than the individual self.
It's not just about silence: this sensitivity to the collective experiences of daily life is a key reason why Japan is so often lauded as safe and clean, punctual and calm. And public transport is no exception.
Passengers typically queue neatly, patiently (and quietly) in a line on the platform; public eating or drinking on board a train or bus is a definite no-no (babies and young children aside) unless you're tucking into a bento on a long-haul shinkansen bullet train; littering is also taboo; and phones are typically set to 'manner mode' so they operate in silence.
On the very rare occasions I spy someone on their phone on a train, it is clearly some kind of an emergency (or a senior boss who cannot be ignored) – typically their head is apologetically bowed, one hand over their mouth, as they quietly whisper, as far away from other passengers as possible.
As a former Londoner raising two daughters in Japan – first in central Tokyo, now in Kyoto – embracing silence hasn't always come easily to me, even after close to 18 years. When the girls were tiny, we were often told off by grandmothers on trains – for the noise, for the snack crumbs on seats, for the shoes kicked onto the floor. And yes, I confess, animated conversations and bursts of laughter with girlfriends on trains still do, from time to time, raise eyebrows.
Adjusting to being comfortable with silence has been something of a journey in Japan. Coming from the UK, my subconscious default instinct is to fill conversational gaps with a flurry of words – about the weather, the clothes someone is wearing, the tea I'm drinking – anything to avoid an uncomfortable hiatus.
But tuning into what's not there – whether it's a pause in a conversation, the empty space on a painting, the pared back minimalism of a contemporary interior – and the sense of possibility that goes hand in hand with that, has perhaps been one of the biggest gifts of living in Japan.
For my daughters, as they approach their teens, the unspoken rules are clearly embedded into their psyche, no doubt from their Japanese nursery and early school years as well as their father – to the extent that they are now quick to tell me off if my phone rings in the wrong place or if my volume is too high in public ('Read the air mama!' I was told by my 12-year-old just last week while chatting in a shop).
Needless to say, as inbound visitor numbers to Japan continue to soar to record heights, the ongoing conversation about over-tourism is deeply tied to concerns over crowds of visitors disrupting this cultural harmony (as well as the silence on trains).
The solution, according to many officials, is the creation of illustrated 'manners guides', which are often spotted across the country in stations and hotels – from 'how to bathe in an onsen' leaflets (tip: wash before getting in the water, definitely don't pull out the plug – and yes, keep your voice down), to colourful posters outlining the dos and don'ts of travelling on public transport.
Tellingly, I often spot manner posters in train stations not only in English but also in Japanese, with illustrations urging everyone to comply with basic etiquette. When it comes to the UK, it's a little trickier to imagine an animated poster urging people to politely turn their music down on the Tube having quite the same effect as a £1,000 fine – but in the interest of collective harmony and even a momentary hint of Japan-inspired silence for everyone, it's perhaps worth a try.