When Everyone Belongs But No One Is Responsible: Asakusa’s Tourism Tensions

🧭 Summary: Everyone belongs, but no one feels responsible.

Tokyo’s historic Asakusa district is once again bustling with visitors.
Lanterns glow above Nakamise Street, rickshaws rumble by, and the scent of melonpan fills the air.
Tourists return in record numbers—yet beneath this success lies a quiet tension.

Residents grow frustrated by noise and litter.
Visitors feel confused by unspoken rules.
Shop owners struggle to balance hospitality with survival.

And through it all, a simple question emerges:
“Whose town is this, really?”

🎌 The backdrop: Post-COVID inbound boom, with cracks beneath the surface

Since Japan reopened its borders, districts like Asakusa have seen a dramatic rise in international tourism.
By mid‑2024, visitor numbers had exceeded pre-COVID peaks.

Yet a 2024 survey by Taito Ward found:

• 60% of local residents feel negatively impacted by tourism
• Complaints about noise, trash, and sidewalk crowding have surged
• Inbound tourists report dissatisfaction with unclear pricing, room quality, and lack of trash bins
• Local business owners cite stress, burnout, and even regret

This isn’t just a logistical problem. It’s a social and emotional disconnect.

🧍‍♂️ Resident frustrations: “This used to be our town”

In interviews and surveys, long-time Asakusa residents voiced deep frustrations:

• “I found a half-eaten crepe on my doorstep again.”
• “I’m woken up by suitcase wheels every night.”
• “People walk into our temple like it’s a theme park.”

These are not just complaints—they’re symptoms of a boundary breach.
For residents, Asakusa is not a tourist attraction. It’s their home.

🌍 Tourist confusion: “I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong”

From the visitor’s side, the picture looks very different:

• “We couldn’t find any trash bins, so we left our cups behind a bench.”
• “Nobody told us not to eat while walking—everyone on Instagram does it.”
• “The hotel was nothing like the photos. And why is there a mysterious 10% ‘service fee’?”

According to a Tourism Agency study, only 10% of foreign tourists recall seeing any behavioral guidelines during their stay.

This suggests that many problems stem not from malice—but from misalignment and missed expectations.

🏨 Businesses feel the squeeze: “I’m not sure it was worth it”

One guesthouse operator who attempted to open a facility in Asakusa wrote:

“Managing guests, complaints, language gaps, and hygiene standards was overwhelming.
It wasn’t the money—it was the emotional exhaustion.”

Businesses often operate in a tight corridor between serving guests and preserving local goodwill, while enduring review culture pressure that can destroy reputations overnight.

🛠 Solutions underway—but limited in scope

Local governments have taken action:

• “EDO IT!” campaign uses Edo-period art to teach modern manners
• Clean-up events involve both tourists and locals
• Trash bags are distributed at hotels and visitor centers
• Multi-language signs warn against littering and smoking

Yet the effectiveness is modest:

• Messages often fail to reach tourists in real-time
• Behavior doesn’t change with pamphlets alone
• No one feels ownership over the shared space

This brings us to the deeper problem.

⚖️ When no one is clearly in charge, everything gets blurry

The core problem in Asakusa is not a lack of rules.
It’s the lack of ownership over those rules.

Pamphlets exist. Trash signs exist. But when nobody feels responsible for enforcing, interpreting, or embodying those rules, they lose their meaning.

What emerges is a shared space without shared accountability.

🧠 Psychological insight: “Someone else will deal with it”

➤ Diffusion of Responsibility

In psychology, this is known as the bystander effect:

The more people there are, the less likely any one person is to take action.

In Asakusa, it manifests like this:

• Tourists: “If nobody says anything, it must be okay.”
• Residents: “I’m tired of being the one who always complains.”
• Shopkeepers: “If I say something, I might lose a customer.”

Everyone feels justified—and yet no one acts.
The result? A slow erosion of trust, space, and emotional safety.

🌏 Cultural mismatch: Low-context vs. High-context societies

Japanese society operates on a high-context communication style.
That means social rules are often implied, not explicitly stated.

But most foreign tourists come from low-context cultures, where direct instructions are expected.

Example:

• Japan: “Everyone just knows you shouldn’t eat on the street near temples.”
• Tourist: “No sign? No problem!”

This mismatch leads to unintentional violations, escalating tension on both sides.

🧩 The “correctness clash” — Everyone’s right, and still wrong

Much of the conflict in Asakusa is not about bad actors—but about colliding good intentions.

All of these are reasonable. But when there is no shared framework, reason turns to resentment.

🧭 What could help: Designing for emotional harmony, not just control

1. 🪧 From “rules” to “empathy triggers”

Rather than just prohibitions, signage should explain impact.

Example:

• ❌ “No smoking here.”
• ✅ “This street is where children walk to school. Please help keep the air clean.”

This activates empathy, not fear.

2. 🤝 Create shared experiences

Events that allow tourists and locals to collaborate can shift perceptions.

• “Join us in cleaning up Asakusa!” (Gamified litter-picking)
• Local volunteers offering soft guidance on cultural etiquette
• QR codes that show “Did you know?” videos about temple manners

These aren’t about shaming—they’re about onboarding people into community norms.

3. 📱 Micro-nudges through tech

Behavioral science suggests small “nudges” work better than strict control.

• Apps that highlight quiet zones in red
• Restaurant listings that show whether eating while walking is allowed nearby
• Simple “Did you know?” prompts before booking accommodations

Let tourists feel invited into the culture—not corrected after the fact.

🏯 The deeper challenge: Tourism as both gift and intrusion

Tourism is a strange beast:
It promises economic growth, cultural exchange, and pride—
Yet it often delivers strain, misunderstanding, and identity loss.

Asakusa’s dilemma is not unique. It’s just ahead of the curve.
As Japan continues to rise as a global tourist destination, other towns will face the same question:

How do we make space for visitors—without losing our own place?

📝 Final Thought:

Asakusa doesn’t need more rules.
It needs more bridges—between expectations, emotions, and people.

Only then can it thrive as a place where locals live fully, and visitors feel truly welcome.

🔗 References

• Tokyo’s Asakusa faces tourist overload, explores Edo-style solutions (Hint-Pot)
• Inbound tourists raise complaints about lodging and pricing (The Asahi Shimbun)
• “EDO IT!”: Taito Ward launches behavior-awareness campaign (Growth Insight Media)
• Why I’m glad I didn’t run a guesthouse in Asakusa (Loearths.com)