Waribashi Waste

By Glennis Waterman

I picked up some supermarket sushi for lunch the other day. You probably know it well. The neat trays lined up in the deli case, rosy nigirizushi or intricate cuts of California roll, arranged prettily in rows, accompanied a rosette of pink pickled ginger slices, a tooth-paste-like squiggle of green wasabi, and a packet of soy sauce. I grabbed a pair of disposable wooden chopsticks from the bin near the case on my way to the cashier.

I learned how to use chopsticks when I was eight years old. My dad would take the family to his favorite restaurant in Chinatown, the six of us seated at a large round table with a lazy-susan in the middle. At each place, instead of forks and knives, were chopsticks made of yellow bamboo. After dinner, we'd walk back to the car past gift stores displaying silken pin-cushions and red and gold lanterns that I longed for. Once we went in, and Dad bought a pair of ivory plastic chopsticks for each member of the family.

Chopsticks originated in China as early as 1200 BC (Wang). From there they spread to Japan, Korea and Vietnam. The word "chopstick" is from pidgin English, a relic of colonialism. In China they are called kuài, meaning "fast" or "quick." In Japan they are called hashi.

When I got back to my desk with my lunch, I opened the packet of soy sauce and dribble it into the little well holding the wasabi paste. I slid the chopsticks from their paper wrapper, snapped them apart, and mixed up the concoction.

I actually prefer to eat sushi with my fingers, so that’s the only time I used my lunchtime chopsticks. At the end of lunch, the plastic tray went into the blue recycling bin. The chopsticks went in the trash.

Disposable chopsticks, known waribashi, became popular in Japan in the 19th century. Joined together at the top, waribashi must be snapped apart before use, assuring that no one else has eaten with them. The Japanese Forestry Agency estimates that some 25 billion waribashi are used in Japan each year (Thakrar). To put it in perspective, that’s 185 pairs per each person in Japan.

Waribashi were originally made from scrap wood, but that’s not the case today. Now entire forests are felled specifically for that purpose. The most commonly used trees are Canadian aspen and poplar. The Canadian Chopstick Manufacturing Company is a subsidiary of Mitsubishi, and in only eight years its logging has exhausted the aspen forests of Fort Nelson, British Columbia (Thakrar). The chopstick industry's consumption of trees is responsible for deforestation in China, Indonesia, and Western Canada. Deforestation not only harms the local environment but also affects global warming by removing trees which capture and store CO2. China produces more than 45 billion disposable chopsticks a year, cutting down 25 million trees in the process. In addition to those for domestic use, billions of chopsticks are exported, notably to Japan, which lacks the natural resources to make its own.

What makes it worse is that, unlike paper or plastic waste, waribashi aren’t recycled, simply thrown in the trash after a single use.

Environmental activists are trying to change this. In China, students have successfully convinced their universities to stop buying disposable chopsticks. Many Asian restaurants in America now offer reusable chopsticks for in-house dining.  And a movement called "My Hashi" or "Bring Your Own" has made it cool for diners to carry their own personal chopsticks with them, often in handy carrying cases.

In 2005, Donna Keiko Ozawa, a San Francisco artist, highlighted the impact of chopstick waste. She collected over 180,000 used waribashi, reclaiming them to create sculptural installations known as the Waribashi Project (Nuwer).

One of the biggest hurdles to changing habits is cultural. While Chinese, Korean, and Vietnamese diners seem ready to adapt to reusable chopsticks – indeed, these cultures routinely reuse chopsticks -  Japanese tradition is more difficult to overcome. According to food writer Naomichi Ishige, the popularity of waribashi is related to Shintoist concept of purity and newness (Ishige). It’s thought that eating with someone else’s chopsticks expose one to not just physical but also spiritual contamination. Yet, paradoxically, Shintoism also decries unnecessary waste. Clearly waribashi use in Japan is a complicated issue (Taylor).

In 2006, a tax levied by China on exported chopsticks has caused Japanese restaurateurs to adapt to overcoming this cultural challenge (AP). Some have begun to stock reusable chopsticks, offering waribashi only on request. More sustainable source materials are being used - corn-based, bamboo and rice-waste based chopsticks are on the market.

So, next time you sit down for a delicious bowl of pho, a rice bowl, or a grab-and-go tray of supermarket sushi, think for a minute. Isn’t there room in your purse, bookbag, or backpack for your own personal chopsticks?

Sources:
Associated Press. “Japan Fears Shortage of Disposable Chopsticks.”  NBC News. May 12, 2006.

Ishigae, Naomichi. History Of Japanese Food. New York and London. Routledge 2001.

Nuwer, Rachel. “Disposable Chopsticks Strip Asian Forests.” New York Times. October 24, 2011.

Shaw, Alistair. “How Wooden Chopsticks are Killing Nature.” Ecopedia.com, April 1, 2013. http://www.ecopedia.com/environment/how-wooden-chopsticks-are-killing-nature/

Taylor, Jiro. “The Waribashi Conundrum: Disposable Chopsticks in Japan.” Japan Visitor. Undated. https://www.japanvisitor.com/japanese-culture/food/food-waribashi

Thakrar, Raju. “Waribashi: Waste on a Gluttonous Scale.” Japan Times, July 30, 2008.

Wang, Edward Q. Chopsticks: A Cultural and Culinary History. London. Cambridge University Press. 2015.