(Photo by IAEA Imagebank via Flickr/CC BY-SA 2.0)
Since the mid-1950s, Japan has relied on nuclear power as a significant source of energy. Still, it has yet to find a permanent solution for the disposal of high-level radioactive waste. As a result, nuclear waste disposal remains one of Japan’s most urgent and divisive policy challenges. Now, a small town on Japan’s northernmost island has become the epicentre of this decades-long debate.
Nuclear waste disposal is one of the most pressing environmental and political challenges. Before the 2011 Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster, nuclear energy supplied 25% of Japan’s electricity, with plans for expansion. However, the disaster led to the nationwide shutdown of reactors, forcing a major shift in the country’s energy policy and deepening the debate over long-term waste management.
Despite efforts to phase out nuclear power after Fukushima, Japan faces growing pressure to find a permanent waste disposal solution. Many fear that once a site is chosen, their town will bear the burden infinitely. Without transparency and community input, opposition will likely grow.
However, recognizing the need for a more sustainable and secure energy mix, the Japanese government has been working toward reintroducing nuclear power. As of 2023, nuclear energy accounted for approximately 5.6% of the country’s electricity generation. By 2040, the government aims to boost 20% of the electricity supply by 2040, achieving net-zero greenhouse gas emissions by 2050.
A Small Town Caught in a National Crisis
Despite Japan’s efforts to expand nuclear energy as part of its decarbonization goals, one major question remains: where will the country permanently dispose of its nuclear waste? The government has struggled for decades to secure a permanent disposal site. In 2020, officials identified the small coastal town of Suttsu as a potential location for an underground nuclear waste repository.
For residents, this decision was not just a policy issue but a direct threat to their way of life. Many in Suttsu feel the government is imposing this decision, fearing it will redefine the town as a nuclear waste site rather than a fishing community. Beyond economic concerns, they worry about long-term environmental and health risks. Without real public tryst, they see national policy overriding local voices.
Situated along Hokkaido’s rugged coastline, Suttsu is a community built around fishing, tourism, and deep cultural ties to the environment. Many locals believe it will permanently alter the town’s identity, damage its fishing industry, and create an environmental risk that lasts generations. As discussions continue, the town’s resistance has drawn national and international attention, raising critical questions about the ethics and feasibility of deep geological repositories.
The Fight for Justice in Nuclear Waste Storage
High-level radioactive waste remains hazardous for thousands of years, making deep geological storage the internationally accepted method for long-term contamination. Under Japan’s “Designated Radioactive Waste Final Disposal Act” (2000), we must bury such waste at least 300 meters underground to prevent radiation leakage. However, experts warn that no site can guarantee absolute safety, especially in a country as seismically active as Japan.
For small towns like Suttsu, the risks of nuclear waste storage are larger compared to larger cities. While urban centers have diverse economies and political influence, Suttsu relies almost entirely on natural resources and public trust. Moreover, once Japan establishes a nuclear facility, reversing the decision is nearly impossible. The decision carries long-term consequences. Residents fear their reliance on natural resources, especially fishing, will suffer as public perception shifts. Without a clear exit strategy, they see the project as a one-way commitment with no real community control.
The NWMO and government suggest that removing stored waste is unlikely, leaving the community with long-term environmental and economic risks. For Suttsu, the concern is not just about scientific feasibility but about whether its residents truly have a choice in shaping the town’s future. Many in Suttsu believe that the government’s decision to approach smaller, rural towns for site selection—offering large financial incentives—is an act of economic coercion. Moreover, accepting initial funding for scientific feasibility studies often leads to a point of no return.
The debate in Suttsu centers on both the scientific viability of nuclear waste storage and the fairness of Japan’s site selection process. Targeting economically vulnerable communities imposes an unfair burden, especially since urban areas generate most of Japan’s nuclear power.
Economic Relief vs. Environmental Risk
The Japanese government has offered substantial financial incentives to communities that agree to participate in the nuclear waste selection process. Suttsu has received significant funding for the literature survey stage, and moving to the next phase would bring even greater financial rewards. However, many residents remain unconvinced, seeing long-term risk long-term risks as outweighing short-term financial gains despite the offer of the money. If the town proceeds, it will receive larger subsidies, raising concerns that financial incentives, not community consensus, drive the process.
These financial incentives have proven to be highly controversial. Some local officials and residents see the subsidies as economic opportunities, while others argue that it is financial coercion, pressuring economically vulnerable towns into a risky project. Critics warn that this approach targets vulnerable communities, turning the selection process into a question of financial survival rather than scientific suitability.
Once Suttsu begins accepting government funds for nuclear waste studies, withdrawing from the process becomes increasingly difficult. The fishing industry, which accounts for a significant portion of the local economy, is particularly vulnerable to market shifts driven by public perception. Even if nuclear waste is stored safely underground, fears of contamination—rational or not—can lead to declining demand for seafood from the region.
For a fishing town, Suttsu, even the perception of contamination could be devastating. Residents fear that once associated with radioactive waste storage, the town’s seafood industry could collapse as consumer trust erodes. For Suttsu, the risks extend to economics. Tied to fishing and coastal traditions, the town fears nuclear waste sites will permanently damage its identity. Residents worry that short-term financial relief could cost future generations their way of life.
Unlike larger sites with diverse economics, Suttsu has few alternatives for recovery, amplifying fears that a decision made today could permanently alter the town’s future. Beyond economic and environmental impacts, many in Suttsu question the fairness of the site selection process. The debate over nuclear waste storage in Suttsu is not just about safety; it is about who truly has a say in shaping the future of their town.
The Role of Political and Corporate Interests
The Nuclear Waste Management Organization of Japan (NWMO) claims its site selection relies on scientific research, geological stability, and risk assessments, yet opponents argue the government is rushing the decision, pushing Suttsu into an economically and politically driven deal instead of allowing community choice. Meanwhile, officials highlight Finland’s Onkalo repository and Sweden’s Forsmark facility as models for Japan’s strategy.
The resistance to nuclear waste disposal in Suttsu is not limited to its residents. Leaders from neighbours, including the mayor of nearby Kamoenai, and regional officials, such as the Hokkaido Governor, have joined the fight, arguing that Hokkaido should not force Hokkaido to bear the burden of its nuclear waste storage crisis. In fact, Hokkaido’s prefectural government, where Suttsu exists, passed a law in 2000 explicitly banning the permanent disposal of nuclear waste within its borders. Despite this, the national government has continued its push for feasibility studies in Suttsu, a move that critics argue blatantly disregards local opposition.
Several other neighbouring municipalities, including Shimamaki Village and Kuromatsunai Town, have passed local ordinances banning the acceptance of nuclear waste, effectively blocking waste transport through their jurisdictions. The national government maintains that nuclear waste disposal is a shared responsibility, and all regions of Japan must contribute to solving the issue. However, this top-down approach has deepened public mistrust, with many communities feeling pressured rather than consulted.
One of the most extreme moments of resistance occurred when a Molotov cocktail was thrown at Mayor Kataoka’s home shortly after Suttsu entered the literature survey phase in 2020. Although the incidents caused no injuries, the incident exposed the depth of division and frustration within the town, demonstrating how emotionally charged the debate had become.
The Future of Suttsu and Japan’s Nuclear Waste Debate
The ongoing controversy in Suttsu is more than a local dispute—it is a reflection of Japan’s broader struggles with energy policy, environmental safety, and democratic decision-making. The battle over a nuclear waste site in this fishing town raises risk, community input, and whether money can fairly offset long-term dangers.
If Suttsu stands firm in the opposition, it will serve as a clear message that Japan’s current nuclear waste policy is failing to secure genuine public trust. The government and NWMO must rethink their approach, focusing on transparency, fair site selection, and stronger community involvement. Instead of using financial incentives to target vulnerable towns, Japan should foster a national dialogue that includes both urban and rural voices in shaping nuclear waste solutions. Without inclusive decision-making, any chosen site will face continued scrutiny.
A better policy should strengthen government accountability, stricter oversight, and greater scientific transparency. Establishing an independent regulatory body separate from NWMO could boost credibility and public trust. Creating a truly sustainable nuclear waste policy requires balancing scientific feasibility with social responsibility. Instead of pushing small towns toward irreversible decisions, the government must engage in open dialogue and long-term planning.
For Suttsu, the nuclear waste debate has already reshaped the national conversation on how Japan should approach long-term disposal. Whether or not the town ultimately moves forward with the project, its resistance has forced the government to confront deeper issues of fairness, ethics, and public accountability. Japan must decide whether to build a nuclear waste policy on public trust or keep using political and economic pressure to force rural communities into compliance.
Edited by Chelsea Bean
