Will China’s Waste Management Follow Japan’s ‘Incineration’ Model?
Food waste, which accounts for more than a third of municipal solid waste, could theoretically be composted and returned to the soil or used to produce biogas. While major cities have begun implementing waste sorting, we must also ask: where does the waste actually go once separated? Is food waste properly processed, or is it mixed with other refuse and incinerated alongside it?
Meanwhile, the food system generates a wide range of other waste as it operates. It is estimated that in 2020 alone, the food delivery sector produced 570,000 tonnes of plastic waste. Has this been properly recycled? And in this process, who should bear the cost – businesses or consumers?
So how does Japan, the traditionally “advanced” neighbour, handle waste? The book *Where Does the Waste Go?*, featured in Foodthink’s book club, outlines Japan’s current waste management landscape. What exactly are the differences in waste management between China and Japan? And is Japan’s experience worth drawing upon for China? At the book club session on 22 February, two environmental activists, Dr Mao Da and Li Jiacheng, shared their insights on these very questions, which have been compiled here.
Part 1: Comparing Waste Management in China and Japan
G U E S T
L I J I A C H E N G
Waste Generation
By 2021, China’s urban areas had incinerated or landfilled around 320 million tonnes of municipal waste, more than six times Japan’s total. Calculated on an urban population basis, per capita waste generation reached 0.94 kg per day, effectively matching Japan’s 2013 levels.
Recycling
Food waste makes up the largest portion of household rubbish. As noted in the book, Nagai City in Japan implemented a “Rainbow Plan” for food waste recovery. By composting the waste, they produced high-quality, dry, odour-free compost. Although the programme successfully tackled contamination—finding only 30 kg of foreign material in 800 tonnes of food waste—the economic costs of composting proved high, restricting its application to the city centre.
China faces similar challenges. Food waste is rarely separated thoroughly, resulting in high contamination rates, alongside persistent issues with odour and operational costs. In a 2022 Greenpeace survey of four composting projects, even when environmental benefits were factored in, the net economic benefit of several food waste composting facilities came out negative.
Plastic recycling in China fares no better. In 2020, the country generated 60 million tonnes of plastic waste. Only 26% was recycled; 41.9% was incinerated, while the remaining 31.4% was either landfilled or leaked into the natural environment.
Final Disposal
History is now repeating itself in China. Exactly fifty years after Tokyo proposed its full incineration target, local governments across China—including those in Fujian, Hainan, Chongqing, and Anhui—have adopted similar ambitions, pledging to achieve 100% waste incineration. These policy targets have been matched by an exponential surge in China’s incineration capacity. According to our latest data from the end of 2022, China operates 867 active incineration plants. Spread across more than 300 prefecture-level cities, this equates to at least one facility in virtually every urban centre. What follows is an inevitable shortage of feedstock. Our calculations reveal that in at least ten provinces, including Zhejiang and Shandong, incineration capacity now exceeds the volume of municipal waste collected. In Zhejiang alone, daily incineration capacity overshoots actual collection by 27,500 tonnes. Consequently, numerous incinerators sit idle, starved of waste to burn.
The rapid expansion and overbuilding of incineration facilities have also had a negative impact on waste sorting and reduction efforts. The chart below outlines Shanghai’s waste sorting and disposal statistics for 2021. That year, a total of 3.83 million tonnes of wet waste were generated. However, because sorting policies were rolled out rapidly and disposal capacity lagged behind, some of the separated food waste inevitably ended up in incinerators.
This issue is not confined to Shanghai. Several regions have now recognised it. We can see that Beijing, Shanghai, and Haikou are all constructing new facilities to process food waste.
Incineration Technology
By contrast, this approach—introduced in Japan over two decades ago—is far more environmentally sound than the mainstream technology currently employed in China.
The prevailing method in China is to chelate and solidify fly ash before landfilling it. This involves mixing the ash with cement or chelating agents, then burying it underground. However, this technique carries considerable environmental risks. Particularly where effective oversight is lacking, the chelation and solidification can break down within a few years, leading to environmental contamination. Because adopting greener alternatives incurs higher costs, their implementation relies heavily on statutory regulation.
Part 2: How Should We View Japan’s Waste Management?
Guest Speaker
Mao Da
Is Japan a Model for Waste Management?
The public likely holds this view for two reasons. First, preconception. Because Japan’s overall environment is comparatively good, we tend to assume that all its environmental governance, including waste management standards, must also be highly developed. Second, media reporting. Yet these reports may be incomplete or merely scratch the surface, preventing us from seeing the full picture and gaining a deeper understanding.
NHK’s *Cool Japan* programme once broadcast a television special titled “Waste Recycling”. It featured a street interview with the question: “Do you believe Japan is an advanced country in waste recycling and recovery?” The outcome was clear: most Asians (including Japanese people), Americans, and Australians considered Japan advanced in waste recycling, but all the Europeans interviewed felt Japan does not measure up to Europe.
When Europeans use their own nations as a benchmark and conclude that Japan falls short, it may well be true, though it could also stem from arrogance and bias. But do Japanese people themselves share this view?
Hiroyasu Sugimoto, author of *Where Does the Waste Go?*, argues that the EU, particularly Germany, is more advanced than Japan in waste management. Similarly, Yuichiro Hattori, author of A Complete Report on Waste Incineration in Japan, and Setsuko Yamamoto, author of The Society of Waste Incineration, both maintain that Japan’s waste management is far from being highly advanced.
Drawing on diverse viewpoints alongside my own research and observations, my conclusion is: Japan does not stand out as the premier model for waste management on a global scale.
In the waste management hierarchy, priority is given first to prevention and source reduction, then to reuse and recycling, with final disposal—the stage involving no resource recovery—reserved for last. Most issues should be resolved at the higher tiers; only those that persist despite best efforts should cascade down to the next level. Consequently, the volume of waste to be handled, along with pollutant emissions, should diminish at each successive stage, ultimately forming an inverted triangle from top to bottom.
Yet Japan’s waste management model does not resemble an inverted triangle, nor does it form a standard upright one; rather, it more closely resembles an hourglass, with wide top and bottom sections and a narrow middle. Source reduction has progressed reasonably well, with both total and per capita waste generation showing clear year-on-year declines. By contrast, reuse and recycling remain comparatively limited, while final disposal dominates the system; landfill and incineration collectively account for 80% of all waste processed.
First, a system centred on incineration. The book concludes: “As long as a waste management system centred on incineration continues, a ‘3R’-type environmental society will remain unattainable.” We will explore the reasons behind the emergence of this system in detail later.
Second, the incomplete implementation of producer responsibility, which results in low recovery rates for many recyclables, forcing them to be incinerated. This is particularly true for food waste, which constitutes the majority of household waste. In Europe, food waste is not incinerated, or at least should not be, whereas in Japan, most of it is categorised under the so-called “combustible waste” classification.
Third, Japan occupies the upper echelons of the global industrial supply chain, making it relatively easy to source cheap industrial raw materials from developing countries, as well as to find developing nations willing to accept its waste. The domestic cost of recycling and recovery in Japan is high, while exporting waste is comparatively cheap. This dynamic has made establishing a domestic circular economy for waste exceedingly difficult.
China’s ban on “foreign waste” has dealt a significant blow to the previous waste export markets of developed nations like Japan. However, it has also spurred them to work harder at developing their domestic circular industries, which ultimately benefits both sides.
A System Centred on Incineration
*Where Does the Waste Go?* offers its own explanation: Europe, with its many nations, boasts technological and economic diversity alongside fierce competition, allowing a range of waste management technologies to flourish. In Japan’s comparatively homogeneous and closed economy, however, incineration technology easily came to dominate the sector.
There is also political manoeuvring and lobbying by interest groups. For instance, whether food waste is incinerated or diverted to composting or biogas production touches the interests of politicians, various government departments, and the industries behind them. This, in turn, draws in academics and experts who lend their authority to both sides.
Yuzo Hattori and Setsuko Yamamoto provide a more thorough account of this issue in their respective works:
First, historical path dependency. As early as the 1950s and 1960s, waste management became a pressing public issue in Japan. The primary public concern at the time was the spread of pathogens and harmful microorganisms caused by poor waste handling, making incineration a natural and effective solution. Once this technology was adopted, however, it created a path dependency that narrowed the scope for alternative approaches.
Second, the Japanese public prioritises the reduction of waste volume over its composition. In other words, whether incineration releases dioxins or heavy metals matters little to them; their main concern is simply that the visible piles of rubbish disappear.
The third, and in my view the most critical factor, is a series of legislative frameworks and financial subsidies.
These legal frameworks strip local authorities of the right to choose their preferred technologies. By legally classifying energy-recovering incineration as a form of “circular” technology, the law effectively blurs the line between incineration and recycling, rendering incineration practically the only “acceptable” technology in reality.
Beyond legal recognition, the high costs of incineration require state subsidies. The capital- and technology-intensive infrastructure required for incineration has enabled the industry to form a powerful lobby, which actively campaigns within parliament and government to secure favourable conditions. Moreover, these politically and technologically connected groups often circulate misleading concepts to confuse the public, manipulating the information landscape and preventing citizens from understanding the benefits of alternative solutions.
What Can We Learn from Japan?
First is the culture of valuing possessions. The book *Where Does the Waste Go?* discusses the rise of second-hand shops in Japan, which are underpinned by this very mindset. To ‘value possessions’ simply means to avoid waste.
The second area worth emulating is local self-management and autonomy. In Japan, local government authorities – such as cities, towns, and villages – are all self-governing bodies. Regardless of their size, they are responsible for managing the waste generated within their own boundaries. Exporting waste for treatment elsewhere incurs substantial costs, which compels each locality to devise its own solutions and proactively seek approaches suited to local conditions. This system, rooted in a tradition of local self-governance, taps into residents’ intrinsic motivation and has given rise to several model municipalities and communities.
The town of Ōsaki in Kagoshima Prefecture stands as a prime example. Home to just over 10,000 residents, it boasts a waste recycling rate of 82%, vastly outperforming the Japanese national average of 20%.
Previously, the area relied on a single landfill that was nearing capacity, while the cost of incineration was prohibitive. This pushed the local authority to find ways to reduce waste generation at source. In response, they implemented an extremely rigorous waste separation system, which laid a solid foundation for subsequent recycling and circular economy initiatives.
Ōsaki classifies waste into 27 distinct categories. Particularly noteworthy is the separate category for ‘kitchen waste’, which does not exist in most other parts of Japan. Kitchen waste accounts for 62% of the town’s waste stream and is processed into compost. Following rigorous sorting, a mere 18% of waste requires landfill disposal – an exceptionally rare figure in Japan.
Third are pollution control measures and specialised recycling technologies.
Pollution control technologies are designed to manage the emissions released during waste incineration, and all incineration plants are required to install the necessary abatement facilities. While Japan has performed relatively well in this regard, *Where Does the Waste Go?* points out that its monitoring approach remains largely reactive. For instance, stricter monitoring of mercury was only implemented after the Minamata Convention came into force. Beyond currently monitored substances, other emerging pollutants may exist; without proactive tracking, these pose potential environmental risks.
Another area of focus is specialised recycling and processing technology. Take waste batteries as an example: despite years of collection campaigns, China has long lacked adequate facilities to process them. Conversely, Hokkaido in Japan hosts a dedicated processing plant that centrally collects and treats waste batteries and fluorescent tubes from across the entire country.
Furthermore, Japan’s entire waste management system operates within a formalised legal and regulatory framework. While it is not without its flaws, negotiations and compromises between different stakeholder groups follow a relatively structured and transparent process.
A review of current policies reveals that China’s waste management still relies predominantly on incineration as a relatively monolithic end-of-pipe disposal method, tracing a path strikingly similar to Japan’s. In reality, however, burning waste is not our only option. We would be well advised to study more effective models employed by other nations, and to use those insights to drive reflection and meaningful reform.
Authors: Mao Da, Li Jiacheng
Copy editor: Yan Ou
Editor: Wang Hao