It’s a question that has puzzled visitors to Japan for decades, including Professor Chris McMorran of the National University of Singapore, who brings students to Japan each year as part of his Japanese Studies curriculum.
Despite Japan’s famously clean streets, the country seems to be missing one key ingredient of public sanitation: trash cans.
“When students arrive, they’re often shocked,” McMorran explains. “They’ll say, ‘How is it this clean with nowhere to throw anything away?’”
They’re not alone in their confusion. In a recent survey by the Japan National Tourism Organization (JNTO), the biggest logistical complaint from departing tourists wasn’t language barriers or crowded attractions—it was the lack of public waste bins. A striking 22% of respondents cited it as their top frustration.
So, where did all the trash cans go?
A Matter of Manners
The answer is rooted in Japanese cultural norms and social responsibility. While tourists may snack on the go, locals usually refrain from eating while walking—considered impolite in many areas. Many cities, such as Kamakura and Kyoto, have even passed ordinances discouraging the practice.
Instead of dumping wrappers and containers into public bins (which often don’t exist), Japanese citizens carry their trash home in small bags. It’s an act of personal responsibility, ingrained from a young age, and it helps maintain Japan’s reputation for cleanliness.
“Budget-conscious travelers often buy quick bites from convenience stores,” says McMorran. “But then they’re stuck with the packaging, wandering the streets looking for a bin that just isn’t there.”
Tourism’s Growing Pains
This cultural gap becomes more pronounced with the rise of mass tourism. Cities like Nara, known for its friendly deer and historic temples, have felt the strain. In 1985, park trash cans were removed to protect deer from scavenging. But by 2019, the consequences of littering turned deadly—nine deer died after ingesting plastic left by careless tourists.
To address the issue, Nara has begun installing solar-powered trash cans labeled in English with a simple plea: “Save the deer.”
Similarly, Tokyo’s bustling Shibuya neighborhood has clamped down on street drinking and holiday revelry in a bid to curb public mess, especially around Halloween when revelers leave the streets littered.
A Sobering History
Japan’s aversion to public bins is not just about etiquette or deer safety—it’s also about security. In 1995, members of the Aum Shinrikyo cult released sarin gas in the Tokyo subway, killing 14 and injuring thousands. The attackers had used plastic bags placed on train floors, prompting a massive rethink of public safety measures.
In response, trash cans—especially those in train stations—were removed or replaced with transparent models to allow easy inspection. Similar actions were taken in cities like London after terrorist incidents.
Even years later, the memory of the sarin attacks shapes how Japanese authorities manage public spaces.
Clean Streets, Complicated Choices
For some, Japan’s clean, bin-free streets are a source of admiration. For others, it’s a daily annoyance. Hong Kong tourist Rubin Verebes, who visited Tokyo in 2024, found himself holding sandwich wrappers for hours with nowhere to toss them.
“It’s infuriating,” he says. “The streets are spotless, yes. But after walking all day, not finding a single bin becomes exhausting.”
Travel companies now coach clients on how to handle their trash—bringing small bags, planning disposal stops, or using furoshiki, traditional cloths that can double as temporary wrappers.
“Respect and community drive these decisions,” says Paul Christie, CEO of Walk Japan. “The Japanese accept the inconvenience because they value a clean, cooperative society.”
And there’s another wrinkle: recycling. Many municipalities divide waste into up to 20 different categories. Even locals find the system demanding. This complexity means fewer, smaller public trash cans and a stronger push to sort waste at home.
Trash, Travel, and Takeaways
Japan’s approach to public cleanliness is a study in contrasts: an ultra-modern country deeply shaped by traditional manners and historical trauma. For visitors, it may feel inconvenient. But it also offers a unique perspective on how shared responsibility can create order, even in the absence of infrastructure most take for granted.
So the next time you’re in Japan, snack carefully, pack a small trash bag, and remember—you’re stepping into a society where even waste disposal reflects a deeply held social contract.
