For a nation that prides itself on efficiency and minimal waste, Japan is facing an embarrassing problem — food waste. In 2022, there was a reported 4.72 million tons of food waste — and while that number is down from previous years, it still places Japan among the leading contributors of food waste globally.
Ironically, much of the food waste is blamed on the nation’s success as a culinary destination. What can be done about it? In a case of typical Japanese ingenuity, the root of the problem has become the solution.
The Origin of the Problem: Consumers
Japan is known for innovative thinking and generous people, so it is no surprise that they would tackle the challenges of wasted food by thinking outside the box. While the restaurant industry bore the brunt of blame for the problem, problem solvers quickly realized consumers and wholesalers were just as much at fault for all the food waste.
Japanese shoppers are renowned for being picky with high standards — casting a critical eye on any substandard or imperfect produce, for example. They evaluate the freshness of produce and meat just as critically. Combine this with Japan’s corporate policies stating any food one-third of the way through its expiration expectancy is unfit for the market, and you have a recipe for out-of-control food waste.
The intentions of the food distributors were based on financial viability. The adage, “If the consumers won’t buy it because it is not fresh, then don’t stock it,” comes into play. This policy meant vast amounts of perfectly good food went straight to landfills, not in front of consumers.
Meanwhile, picky shoppers forced food distributors to weed out even more perfectly good food simply because it did not have aesthetic appeal.
Government Intervention
After seeing yearly food waste numbers soaring higher and higher, the government of Japan decided it was time to step in. In 2019, goals were set to reduce food waste by 50% before 2030.
It has taken a few years, but the government by-laws and policy are having an impact — with some of the most significant improvements coming from private sector initiatives. Furifuru is one such company, using an app-based platform to deliver “substandard” goods directly to consumers — free of charge. The service utilizes a lottery system to distribute complimentary produce to Japanese customers.
Another similar company, Kuradashi, focuses on items retailers discard for cosmetic reasons like label misprints or blemishes. Kuradashi sends these goods, otherwise safe for consumption, to recipients who are OK with minor flaws.
It makes sense that such a tech-savvy nation would make software part of their solution. Other apps, like Tabete, match hungry customers with restaurants or stores holding safe-to-eat products.
As it turns out, has been easier than corporations first thought to convince consumers to embrace blemished food
Historically, the people of Japan fit into a proud, conscientious demographic. This made the task of converting people’s mindsets around blemished or imperfect food manageable. It even impacts big retailers. 7-Eleven promotes the use of blemished food in its smoothie cups — a once unheard-of advertising approach.
Public Awareness With Food Waste
Food waste problems are not unique to Japan, of course. However, for the country holding the second-most Michelin 3-starred restaurants (second only to France), it is easy to link high standards to wasted food. But the problems are much deeper than that.
With the Japanese Government focusing on the issue, the biggest perpetrators — consumers — are slowly coming around. Government statistics state 80% of Japan’s population is aware of the problem and doing what they can to help.
Converting peoples’ mindsets proved reasonably easy. After all, the proud culture of Japan lends itself to the “reduce, reuse, and recycle” philosophy, even adding a fourth for “respect.”
Deeply rooted Japanese traditions such as Mottainai — linking an item to an owner — lend themselves to respect for one’s surroundings and the person’s impact on it. The word, loosely translates into English as “what a waste,” or more accurately, “waste not, want not,” and expresses the feeling of regret for an object losing its original essence. It’s the same sentiment that leads to beautiful kintsugi — broken pottery repaired with gold.
Many of these influences stem from a centuries-old Buddhist culture, a mindset that places responsibility squarely onto the shoulders of the individual.
The public responded in kind, typical of their courteous-to-a-fault reputation. Recipes with new ways to reuse food now abound in blogs and websites, such as fried rice made from leftovers.
Even the most traditional things — like Japan’s ubiquitous green tea — have come under the spotlight. Culinarians now list all the ways that leftover green tea leaves can be reused. Items like the much-loved kombu, the base for many Japanese dishes, have found a following, as people look at ways to reuse it.
Trains Running on Cooking Oil
Following the public’s initiative to reuse, a railway in Takachiho recently converted a commuter train to run on leftover tempura oils and discarded fat from ramen soup broth.
A company in Fukuoka processes the fuel, creating around 800 gallons of biodiesel daily, almost exclusively from food-related waste. A fun takeaway for train commuters is that the burning biodiesel produces smells typical of restaurant kitchens. The odor of cooking ramen or frying tempura fills the air with a clear or white smoke instead of the black smoke characteristic of fossil fuels.
This does not mean that Japan will reduce its standards when it comes to reducing food waste. Instead, the public forces a change in perception when repurposing wasted food. These unwavering high standards permeate every level of society in Japan, with the government being no exception.
For example, Japan’s food and sanitation laws still rank among the world’s strictest regarding additives, chemicals, or preservatives in food, and the number of Michelin-starred restaurants is not about to fall. This change in attitude toward food waste, the result of high standards and strong public morals, proves a reduction in food waste does not need to come at a cost to food quality.
