Eero Tuorila

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  • H1/2025: Muutoksia

    Muutimme tammikuussa eteläiseen Laajasaloon. Tämä oli kaikkiaan neljäs muutto (suurin piirtein) kahdeksan Suomessa asutun vuoden aikana. Kaikki muutot ovat olleet etäisyyksiltään melko lyhyitä: muutimme ensiksi Latokartanosta Roihuvuoreen, sieltä Herttoniemenrantaan, ja nyt Laajasaloon.

    Laajasalo kuuluu siihen kategoriaan Helsingin asuinalueita, joissa ”luonto on aina lähellä”. Se on siis toisin sanoen lähiö. Laajasalo on pussin perällä, eikä täältä pääse pois erityisen nopeasti, sillä saari yhdistyy mantereeseen vain yhden sillan kautta Kruunusiltojen avautumiseen asti. Vielä noin vuosikymmen sitten tänne johtava tie oli pienimuotoinen moottoritie, mutta raitiovaunuyhteyden rakentamiseen liittyvän myllerryksen aikana tie muutettiin katumaisemmaksi.

    Laajasalon keskustassa on kaupungista saapuessa vasemmalla puolella tietä älyttömän ruma (vaikkakin palveluiltaan ihan kohtuullinen) kauppakeskus Saari, joka on kuitenkin liki arkkitehtuurin Finlandia-palkinnon arvoinen suoritus, jos sitä vertaa sen alueelliseen isoveljeen, eli Hertsiin. En ehkä vihaa mitään lähialueen rakennusta ulkoasultaan niin paljon kuin Hertsiä. Se on kuin ruskea linna, jossa on vain muutama, rakennuksen mittakaavaan nähden pieni ja vaatimaton sisäänkäynti. Linnasta on tehty myös suora siltayhteys vallihautamaisen Itäväylän yli, jonka sijainnissa ei ole kuitenkaan mitään järkeä. Käsittääkseni sen olisi tarkoitus yhdistyä joku päivä metroaseman tilalle tulevaan asuintaloon.

    Palataan kuitenkin takaisin Laajasaloon. Kauppakeskus Saaresta viistosti vastapäätä on (sisäpihan puolelta) hieno punavalkoinen kerrostalo. Se on kuitenkin rakennettu kadun puolella uudistettuun Laajasalontiehen nähden liian korkealle, minkä vuoksi rakennuksen Laajasalontien puoleiset rapun ikään kuin leijuvat pari metriä kadun pinnan yläpuolella. Vesikaivot (tai jotkut vastaavat) taas sojottavat ulos maasta kuin pienet savupiiput. En tiedä, aiotaanko tätä koskaan korjata.

    Joskus aikoinaan tuli nähtyä pilkallisia videoita tai kuvia vastaavista rakennusmokista jossakin muualla kuin Suomessa, mutta kyllä täälläkin tekevälle näemmä sattuu.

    Laajasalo on vähän kuin sekoitus useampaa eri rakentamisen tyyliä ja aikakautta. Täältä löytyy valtava omakotitaloalue (Jollas), 60–70–lukujen kaltaisia metsälähiöitä (Yliskylä ja Etelä-Laajasalo), ja sitten uudempaa rakentamista (Kruunuvuorenranta). Monella tavalla alue tuntuu kuitenkin keskeneräiseltä, etenkin siksi, että Laajasalon yllämainittu ”keskusta” (eli Kauppakeskus Saari) on aika kehno ravintoloiden ja ajanviettopaikkojen osalta. Jos kontulalainen tai puotilalainen haluaa käydä syömässä ja baarissa, onnistuu se omassa naapurustossa. Laajasalossa baareja ei ole yhtäkään (kauppakeskus Saaren kummatkin baarit sulkivat ovensa alkuvuodesta), ja ravintolatarjonta on aika vaatimattomalla tasolla. Ilmeisesti Kruunuvuorenrannassa on joitakin paikkoja, mutta siellä tulee käytyä aika harvoin.

    Jos jonnekin haluaa mennä, täytyy saarelta lähteä pois. Yleensä bussilla kestää noin vartin verran päästä Herttoniemen metroasemalle, riippuen yleensä siitä, kuinka nopeasti ja aggressiivisesti bussikuski ajaa. Autolla vastaava matka on joku vajaa kymmenen minuuttia, toki riippuen aina liikennetilanteesta.

    On alueessa paljon positiivistakin. Koiran kanssa on kiva kävellä metsässä (ja vaikuttaa siltä, että myös koiran mielestä metsää halkovat soratiet ovat tassuille mukavammat Herttoniemenrannan asfaltti/punatiiliaukioihin verrattuna), ja meren nähdäkseen ei tarvitse kävellä kymmentä minuuttia kauemmaksi. Etelä-Laajasalon rannoilta voi ihailla vaikka Vartiosaarta samalla, kun kuuntelee Santahaminasta kaikuvia laukausten ääniä.

    Siirryn syksyn aikana pois viestintäalalta toisenlaisen alan konsultiksi. Nyt liki seitsemän vuoden viestintäuran jälkeen päässä on pyörinyt paljon ajatuksia viestinnästä alana. En viittaa näissä pohdinnoissa mihinkään tiettyyn työpaikkaan tai kokemukseen: voin sanoa, että olen pitänyt kummastakin tähänastisesta (täysiaikaisesta) työpaikastani.

    Ihan ensiksi, viestintäalan työllisyystilanne vaikuttaa todella huonolta, mikä ei tosin liene suuri poikkeus työllisyyden yleistilasta. Viestinnän kaltaiset tukitoiminnot ja isoissa firmoissa ”konsernipalvelut” – joissa viestintä yleensä sijaitsee – ovat useimmiten ensimmäisinä jonossa, kun jostakin leikataan.

    Miksi? Viestinnän arvoa, tai ainakin ison viestintätiimin ylläpitoa, voi olla usein hankala perustella (markkinointi on vähän eri asia, koska sen liiketaloudellinen rooli on selkeämpi). Harvempi ajattelee, että viestinnälle ei ole mitään tarvetta; mutta joskus voi perustellustikin miettiä, kuinka suuri viestintätoiminto on oikeasti tarpeen. Moni organisaatio kuitenkin pyörittää toimintaansa kohtuullisen hyvin pienellä tai täysin olemattomallakin viestintätiimillä.

    Itse totta kai ajattelen, että viestintä on tärkeä toiminto, mutta se on (viestinnän tekijöiden yleisistä protestoinneista huolimatta) joka tapauksessa tukitoiminto, vähän kuten tietohallinto tai henkilöstöhallinto. Tämä ei ole mielestäni viestinnän vähättelyä, vaan realismia. 

    Jos viestintä ei ole oikeasti mukana organisaation päätöksentekoprosesseissa, vaan viestinnän tehtävänä on toimia vain prosessin tukena ja lopulta keksiä tavat paketoida päätökset eri yleisöille (mikä viestinnän rooli yleensä on), ei viestijöitä montaa tarvita. Siksi alalla on kokonaisuutena aika vähän työpaikkoja.

    Viestintäalan paikkoihin saapuvaa hakemustulvaa taas on helppo selittää: viestintä on (yleensä) siistiä sisätyötä, jota voi tehdä periaatteessa kuka vain, ainakin koulutustaustan näkökulmasta. Olen törmännyt viestijöihin, joiden tausta on kauppatieteissä, valtiotieteissä, kielitieteissä, ja insinööritieteissä. Koulutustaustan sijasta viestinnässä osaaminen ja kokemus ratkaisee – ja koska aika moni osaa kirjoittaa kohtuullisen hyvin ja ymmärtää viestinnällisiä näkökulmia. Viestintää opiskelleilla ei siksi ole välttämättä mitään sen suurempaa etulyöntiasemaa alan paikkoihin, mihin liittyen näkeekin toisinaan alaa opiskelleilta jonkun verran turhautumista.

    Ehkä palaan joskus aiheeseen vielä myöhemmin.

    Mieleen painuneita ja/tai hyviä elokuvia, pelejä, ja kirjoja vuoden 1. ”puoliskolta” (1/2025–9/2025):

    • Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat, The Seventh Seal, The French Connection, Conclave, Funeral Parade of Roses
    • Cyberpunk 2077
    • The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea

    ddafaf

  • Japan’s sarakin firms: An industry far from its glory days remains a constant presence

    This street view in Shinjuku includes ads for three major sarakin lenders: the green is for Lake, the red-white to its right is Acom, and the red billboard below that is for Aiful. Source: AXP Photography, Unsplash.

    Aiful, Acom, Promise, Lake. Many of those living or visiting Japan have seen these firms’ colorful billboards plastered on buildings across the country. They are all so-called sarakin firms – consumer lending companies that provide high-interest-rate loans to people and small businesses. The industry has long been surrounded by controversy: accused of driving poor lenders into crushing debt, the Japanese government reined in the industry in the 2000s. Now, the sarakin lenders are probably better known for their ubiquitous, high-production-value adverts.

    The modern consumer finance industry’s roots go back to Japan’s high-growth era, when improving living standards gave rise to a new kind of consumer lending. This is also where the industry got its colloquial name sarakin: an abbreviation of “salaryman” for a salaried employee and “kinyuu” for finance, as the industry aimed its lending at Japan’s growing ranks of salaried, middle-class employees. Facing a pinch, or need to buy a hot new household appliance? All you needed was an ID and a self-declaration of income, and a loan of up to 300,000 yen (around 2,000 USD in October 2024 rates) could be yours in no time.

    But this kind of borrowing always comes with risks. If you cannot pay the loan back quickly enough, the high interest rates can blow up the debt to astronomical proportions, while the lenders will try to find any way to claw back their loan. Already by the 1970s, the press wrote about desperate borrowers committing suicide in the face of aggressive debt collectors, shoplifting or seeking to profit from home insurance by setting fire to their house to make money for repayments. In response to growing public outcry over an increasing number of troubled borrowers, reforms in the 1980s gradually lowered the legal interest rate lenders could charge from the eye-watering 109.5% to 40%.

    The industry soars and comes crashing down

    This did little to dampen the industry’s growth. To it, Japan’s post-1991 Lost Decades turned out to be a boon:  As growth and wages were stagnant, more people and small businesses turned to sarakin lenders (and sometimes to more unsavory, underground lenders) for money. New innovation, such as 24-hour automated loan booths, allowed borrowers to get a loan in 30 minutes, while a rule change allowed the industry to begin advertising on TV. Between the early 1990s and 2000s, the volume of outstanding consumer loans skyrocketed from 3.8 trillion yen in 1990 to 12 trillion in 2003. And so did personal bankruptcies, which went from 11,273 a year in 1990 to 184,422 by 2005.

    In 2003, an Osaka man, his wife and brother committed suicide by jumping in front of a speeding train. In their suicide note, they wrote that their desperate act was in response to daily calls from underground loan sharks, who threatened to seek repayment from their neighbors if they would not pay up. Stories like this were ubiquitous, and they functioned as a spark to another rising tide of public outrage. This was aimed both at illegal underground lenders and their legal, consumer finance cousins – and at the government for its perceived failure to rein in the industry.

    A 2022 study found that the most commonly cited reason for taking out a loan is either a low or loss of income.

    In response, and despite intense lobbying by the industry, the Japanese government finally cracked down on the lenders in 2006. A new law set the maximum interest rate of loans at 20% and capped the amount of money a borrower could loan. The law also explicitly banned an industry practice where, to ensure payout, borrowers could take out life insurance with its proceedings going to the lender, allowing them to profit if a borrower died or committed suicide. In a second of two punches, Japan’s Supreme Court ordered lenders to pay back excess interest rates charged from borrowers, leading to a flood of applications demanding repayment.

    As a result, the industry experienced a major downturn, with one of the major lenders, Takefuji, going bankrupt. In the 2010s, the industry saw much slower growth, both in terms of loan volume and number of lenders: By 2024, a little over 10 million people in Japan have an outstanding consumer finance loan, a number that has remained mostly steady over the past decade. As for why people borrow, the top reason is not to buy a hot new appliance: a 2022 study found that the most commonly cited reason for taking out a loan is either a low or loss of income. This was followed by needing a loan to purchase goods or services, and – in third place – needing a loan to repay another loan.

    Ubiquitous advertising – but not without limits

    But even if business is more sluggish than it used to be, the industry is a constant presence in Japan, through ubiquitous billboards, often placed near busy train stations, and high-production value TV commercials. Sarakin lenders’ advertising budgets are far smaller than consumer product firms such as Nissan and Suntory: a 2022 ranking of the top 300 Japanese firms by their ad spend, the first consumer lender is at 77 (Acom), with its total spend less than 10% of top advertisers such as Nissan, Aeon and Suntory.

    This is partly because the lenders are, of course, smaller than giants like Suntory, but also because of industry-specific restrictions on advertising consumer loans. Sarakin lenders cannot exaggerate the ease of getting a loan, nor are they allowed to run TV ads during hours when children or young people might be watching (say, between 5 PM and 9 PM). But this still leaves time to run ads during popular late-night TV variety shows, like Wednesday Downtown, where ad breaks usually include at least one consumer finance ad. These adverts are produced by top advertising firms, star A-list celebrities, and include catchy jingles and memorable slogans. For many, the firms are probably better known for their advertisements than for money lending.

    In the world of sarakin commercials, the connection between the ad and product is left murky.

    In the world of sarakin commercials, the connection between the ad and product is left murky. This is partly due to the restrictions, and partly because many view the industry with some distaste owing to its dark side that is, naturally, not at all visible in the adverts. It is therefore safer to stick to being memorable than show a struggling family turning to sarakin firms for short-term relief. A good example is an ad by Lake (or Reiku) featuring popular comedy/TV host duo Chidori touring Seoul, advertising, perhaps, the possibility of taking out a loan to travel abroad. But the connection is left implicit and is overshadowed by the ad’s comedy.

    But this is not always the case. As a step away from this industry standard, Acom’s September 2024 ad shows a man – a part-time worker who plays in a band – taking out an Acom loan (not explicitly shown but heavily implied) to buy a suit for his sister’s wedding. The story is clear: a man working a low-wage part-time job can attend an important family event thanks to Acom.

    Based on the response to the ad, this more honest approach might not suit the industry. A popular message on X stated how “wrong” it was for Acom to turn someone’s poverty into an emotional story of family love, with many agreeing in the replies. Analysis in a Livedoor news article noted that precisely because sarakin ads have traditionally not talked about the actual loans, the criticism aimed at Acom’s ad, as evidenced by the video’s YouTube comments, too, was so strong. Most people would rather not want to be reminded of the truth behind the funny and memorable ads. The ad is meant to be the first in a series, but time will tell whether Acom will stick to this style – or revert back to the comedic style that has become industry standard.

    Additional sources

    Andrew M. Pardieck: “Japan and the Moneylenders—Activist Courts and Substantive Justice” Washington International Law Journal, 2008

    Adrienne Sala: “The Japanese consumer finance market and its institutional changes since the 1980s” Japan Forum 2017

    Damon Gibbons: “Taking on the Money Lenders: Lessons from Japan” Centre for Responsible Credit 2012

  • Notes: Winter and spring 2024

    View from Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh, May 2024.

    Over the years I’ve written lots of things that I’ve never published anywhere. I’m not sure any of this stuff is that good, but I’m determined to try and update this site at least a few times a year (even outside of just endlessly going on and on about Japan). In that spirit, here are two notes I’ve written about stuff that’s happened this year.

    A perfect winter day in eastern Helsinki

    The weather this February — really, throughout winter and spring — has shifted from freezing (around minus 20 degrees celsius) and snowing, where your face starts to hurt after spending 20 minutes outdoors, to warm, gray, rainy and foggy days, with even a scarf feeling suffocatingly hot.

    But there was one day in mid-February where the weather was just perfect. It was cold, around maybe minus 7 degrees celsius, the sun shining and no clouds in sight (the quintessential fool’s spring, followed by several other false springs). The ground was covered in ice wherever tree coverage prevented the sun from melting it, making walking perilous at times. But you can forgive many of the negative aspects of a Helsinki winter as long as the sun is shining and you can walk around with your jacket open.

    A small group of us made our way down to the southern edge of Laajasalo island, to the affluent neighborhood of Jollas, which is home to a cozy, small public sauna that you can buy a ticker for in advance. The kind of place you could bring a tourist to and make them really fall in love with the city. Located in the grounds of an old, wooden villa and surrounded by tall, red pine trees, the sauna was nestled between a small beach on one side and a rocky outcropping topped by wind-twisted pines on the other.

    The sauna could just about fit 10 people — the maximum allowed for each 2-hour time slot — without feeling like you’re sitting a bit too close to people you don’t know. The changing room was small and cozy. If you felt like it, you could walk down the pier to take a dip in the freezing cold sea. The day was warm enough to sit down on the pier to cool down in your swimming trunks without getting cold.

    After our session was over, we walked back up the steep hill (covered in ice, of course) and made our way to Saari, the neighborhood shopping center that, from the outside, looks like the small scale industrial plants and warehouses that dot both sides of capital area’s ring roads. Inside, there’s a sports bar that’s become known for serving pretty good soft tacos. After enjoying some tacos while watching (and trying to understand the rules of a) snooker tournament on TV, we all headed back home.

    What I’ve been playing: Cyberpunk 2077

    I’m sure this is not uncommon, but the amount of time I spend video games has fallen precipitously as I’ve grown older. It’s not that all that time is now spent cleaning the house or cooking, watching Arsenal lose the league on TV or reading books, but playing games just isn’t always on top of the list of things I want to do with my free time.

    But sometimes there’s a game hat will just suck up all my free time, invade my thoughts at work and occasionally even cause insomnia. One recent example of a game like this was Anno 1800, which I played for what must be hundreds of hours, meticulously trying to build the perfect supply chain and, through that, the perfect city.

    The resource management-trading simulation-city-building sandbox game mode becomes even more fun (and addicting) to play if you disable AI rivals, which means you can’t really lose the game (unless you go bankrupt). This allows you to fully focus on crafting ever more complicated supply chain networks needed to build the cars, elevators and fur coats your metropolis’ population needs.

    A beach in our neighborhood, January 2024

    Anno 1800 is a really busy game that can feel overwhelming: outside of ensuring citizens’ consumption needs are met, you have to manage and expand your city and island ownership, complete questlines, commission research and send out ships in expeditions or in search of sunken treasure. Every time I play it I pretty much have a plan in mind of what I need to do next to grow my city and economy. In a sense, this is pretty much required, since the game usually lives it up to you to decide how big and prosperous you want your city and empire to be.

    The sense of having to think ahead and plan what to do rewires your brain to constantly think about it. I would stare at a blank PowerPoint slide at work (do not worry, employers – this did not affect my ability to work efficiently) and just think about what product my city’s smoke-choked industrial district should manufacture, what part of the map I should cover in beautiful Haussmann-style apartment buildings and to which island I need to shift wheat farms to get more land for my ever-expanding metropolis. This would continue for a few weeks, maybe a month, until I eventually ran out of steam, only to pick the game up again and become re-obsessed with it usually a year later.

    Cyberpunk 2077

    The most recent game that hooked me in this way was Cyberpunk 2077, a game I originally intended to get for the PS4 back when it launched. What happened with the game is well-known at this point – see here for an example of how the sentiment surrounding the game has changed since it’s disastrous launch – but needless to say, letting the game simmer for over two years turned out to be the right call. I’m always interested in cyberpunk stuff, and so having bought an Xbox Series X last autumn, I thought time would be right to see what the newfound positivity surrounding the game was about. It didn’t disappoint.

    Games usually take some time to “click”: i.e., reach a moment where suddenly I “get it”, and then I can’t get enough of it. Some games just click instantly, like Anno, while some games never do, like Assassin’s Creed Odyssey. With Cyberpunk, that moment came about 20 hours in, when I was sitting in my car after a mission. The car was parked outside the No Tell Motel on the outskirts of Night City, with the city’s skyline and vertical advertising holograms visible behind tall cliffs, and the radio started playing this song. After that moment I was completely absorbed by the game’s world, story, (mostly) fun combat, and phenomenal soundtrack. Like with Anno, my thoughts almost constantly revolved around what I should do next in game.

    It’s not a perfect game. You can’t enter lots of buildings, and the game doesn’t have a lot of side activities – gambling, for example, isn’t included, which seems like a bit of an oversight in a city as seedy as Night City, although I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some very sensible game development reason for leaving it out. There’s therefore little to occupy you outside of the (sometimes a little repetitive) quests and gigs. In addition, sometimes your character’s dialogue doesn’t really match what you thought you selected, and sometimes, I don’t really want to choose any of the options given. Especially the latter thing can feel frustrating when other characters then react negatively to something you didn’t want to say but had to to progress the story.

    Outside of the gameplay positives, what really lifts the game up from a fun but flawed first-person RPG to something unique is, as suggested by the reason it “clicked”, its atmosphere and sense of immersion. I don’t think you’ll really get as much out of the game if you don’t sometimes slow down and walk around a bit in the city’s many, many unique neighborhoods and breathe in its sounds and sights. Wanting to just walk around the city in between completing missions is the real reason I keep coming back to the game again and again.

  • Some notes on this summer’s trip to Japan

    The bright summer evening sky in Kyoto.

    Another summer vacation and another trip to Japan has come and gone. Since I don’t seem to do much else with this website (except paying for the annual domain name bill, slightly adjusting my self-introduction every now and then and updating the list of stuff I’ve written with my newest work), I thought the annual summer trip should offer a good opportunity to write something here.

    The biggest change from last year was that tourists were back. I imagine it must be a huge lifesaver for all the tax-free-service touting pharmacies and other shops aimed at tourists that line the streets of (among others) Dotonbori in Osaka and Shijo in Kyoto. Naturally, the resurgence in foreign tourism has again led to grumbles of “tourist pollution” among locals, particularly in Kyoto. Personally, I think it’s nice that tourists are back, as it means more people get to visit and experience country that I love – but also understand that for those commuting on buses in Kyoto, the return of visitors with their big suitcases is a cause for concern.

    As for the weather: it was hot and humid, but there weren’t as many scorching hot and sunny days as last year when we visited in July. Despite fears that traveling to Japan during the height of the rainy season might mean needing to carry an extra pair of socks and a spare t-shirt wherever we went, it also wasn’t particularly rainy.

    The Izumo shrine.

    As always, we spent a lot of time in Kyoto, but our annual trip-within-a-trip had us visiting Izumo in Shimane prefecture. When we visited the Izumo Shrine, there weren’t as many people as I had expected – June isn’t the main tourist season for the area, I suppose. Visiting the shrine was worth the 5-hour one-way trip from Kyoto. The size of the building where the god is enshrined (the honden) made a real impression: there was a small element of revelation involved, as you could only grasp its massive size when you walked along the perimeter wall surrounding it.

    The trip to Izumo from Okayama and back was on board the Izumo special express, a truly beautiful train that I wish I had taken more (competent) photos of. Views from the train during the trip between the two cities were spectacular, as it ran next to a shallow mountain river snaking its way through narrow mountain valleys and ravines, from the coast of the almost Mediterranean-like Seto Inland Sea to the coastline of the cold Sea of Japan. The train ride again reminded me of how beautiful Japan can be.

    Culinary highlight of the whole trip: lunch at a seafood restaurant on Awaji Island. Really, everything (a lot of sashimi) we ate on the island was pretty good, except maybe the highway rest stop spaghetti dish that was more udon than spaghetti (it was still good, though).

    As for the event highlight of the trip: we went to see Kyoto Sanga F.C. play Yokohama FC (highlights here) at Kyoto Sanga’s home stadium in Kameoka, a semi-rural city a 20-minute train ride away from Nijo Station in Kyoto City. Despite its proximity to the city – though separated from it by a tall mountain range – Kameoka is a semi-rural commuter town, with the almost brand-new Kyocera Stadium where Sanga plays flanked by rice paddies.

    A café in Okayama.

    Last year, people still wore masks, and cheering and yelling were forbidden: this year, no such limitations were in place, and most spectators, somewhat to my surprise, went mask-free. This made a huge difference in the atmosphere, with the Kyoto ultras singing more or less non-stop for 90 minutes (the chorus of the most popular song was “our hearts burn purple,” or something like that, a reference to the purple color of home team’s kit).

    The game was a real nail-biter, as the home town went down 0-1 before turning it around with two headers. A real boost for the team which had, apparently, widely been viewed as sitting on the precipice of being relegated down to J2 after barely avoiding relegation last year. I hope they stay up this year (the team is 15th at the moment).

    That’s all for this year’s trip.