Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2018. x, 398 pp. (B&W photos, illustrations.) US$49.95, cloth. ISBN 978-1-5017-2584-5.
WASTE: Consuming Postwar Japan traces the conceptions of waste and affluence across the postwar period in Japan. Drawing on an extraordinarily rich and diverse set of sources, ranging from population and trade statistics to novels, manga, and everything in between, Maruko Sinawer tells a compelling story about the moral challenges of society’s economic development through the material waste it discards. Although the exact developmental path and some of the concepts are unique to Japan, the broader narrative will resonate with every reader, especially those living in developed economies. Professor Sinawer takes her readers through the transformation of society from one where there is essentially no waste, as starving people squeeze every nutrient and possible use out of everything, through affluence that promotes mindless consumption and extraordinary waste, to the present when climate-conscious consumers struggle to develop a society that is simultaneously more affluent and less consumptive. For the most part, the book proceeds chronologically with an introductory chapter followed by four main sections covering the early postwar period (1945–1971), oil shocks and high-speed growth (1971–1981), the bubble years (from 1980), and the contemporary period (from 1991).
During the wartime and immediate postwar period Japanese society was obsessed with extracting every possible use out of every item. “Luxury Is the Enemy” was the wartime slogan of 1940, and that mindset continued to resonate during the intense privation of the early postwar period. Taylorism promoted the idea that “scientification of daily life” (31), where every aspect of home and work life was scrutinized to maximize efficiency and minimize waste, was the key to a more prosperous life.
American affluence was admired, and its affluence was frequently measured by its capacity to waste. Leaving lights on during the day and going for a lazy drive in the countryside were wasteful practices to which the Japanese aspired. Having enough meant that waste was possible, even “fun” (41, 61). By the latter half of the 1960s, this idea spread in practice as greater wealth and the increasing use of plastics led to an explosion of disposable products. This in turn created unprecedented volumes of trash, and overflowing landfills became a breeding ground for mosquitoes, flies, and rats that then threatened sanitation and public health.
In 1971, the governor of Tokyo declared a war against garbage—total volume had more than doubled in ten years. Furthermore, as is often the case, the rich wards did most of the consuming, while the poor areas hosted the dumps. On December 22, 1971, Koto ward rebelled, blocking all garbage trucks coming from Suginami ward, an affluent neighbouring ward that did not have its own incinerator. The “war” took three years to resolve, with Suginami ward eventually agreeing to build its own incineration plant. A large part of the victory was due to a broader recognition that communities should deal with their own garbage as a matter of principle, as well as technical innovations allowing incineration plants to be not just sanitary, but also beneficial, providing heat for nearby buildings and green space for communities. Garbage collection itself began to change its meaning, ceasing to be about the collection of filth (obutsu) but rather waste (haikibutsu), and it came to be understood as a form of environmental management (102).
The war on waste spread beyond Tokyo as all of Japanese society began to seek ways to reduce the voluminous trash created by the high-growth economy. Consumer movements such as the “No Packaging Movement” joined with the New Life Movement and Housewives Associations and others to promote bringing one’s own shopping bag and pressuring supermarkets to reduce packaging and buy back egg cartons (115–116). The rising levels of garbage coupled with the oil shocks forced Japanese to become hyper-aware of their consumption. The stinginess (ketchi) concept of the 1940s was transformed into a “bright stinginess” (133), whereby a better, freer, more creative life could emerge from becoming more conscious of consumption and waste. This period saw the development of new ideas about an “affluence of the heart” rather than merely an “affluence of things” (156).
The material consumption of the “bubble” decade of the 1980s once again overwhelmed urban waste management infrastructure. However, when the bubble burst and Japan headed into what would come to be known as “the lost decade” of the 1990s, profound transformations began to take place. The growing global environmental movement offered a context in which to place ideas of consumption and waste, and a way for people to re-conceptualize affluence. Young people flocked to flea markets, where “retro” had become cool, and buying used items became a statement of social and environmental consciousness, not just poverty. Cool Biz offered opportunities for new forms of fashion that supported more comfortable, healthier, and less energy-consumptive work environments.
By the second decade of the twenty-first century, the Japanese were beginning to reorient their sense of the good life. The Triple Disaster of March 11, 2011 focused everyone on the value of first-order priorities—shelter, health, safety of loved ones—while also highlighting the direct threat that contemporary high-energy, high-stress, high-consumption lifestyles posed to the very things that mattered most in life. Eco-consciousness and the wellness industry promoted the idea that a simple life was more meaningful, and Marie Kondō’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up became a global phenomenon. And yet, vegetables wrapped in plastic still sold better than those without, more people travelled by air than ever before, and while the freeter/gig economy and working from home have offered greater flexibility, they have also contributed to the disappearance of “free” time.
WASTE offers readers a thoughtful account of the material and cultural transformation of postwar Japan. In doing so, it elicits readers’ reflections about our current moment, in which production and consumption patterns have pushed ecological, social, and political systems to the breaking point.
Mary Alice Haddad
Wesleyan University, Middletown, USA