Every year, approximately 1,000–1,500 whales are killed globally, with Japan accounting for as much as 30% of these hunts (Norway: 55%, Iceland: 10%). Isn't it surprising, considering that the Land of the Rising Sun prides itself on having one of the most advanced cultures of environmental protection, a remarkably high level of ecological education, and sustainable environmental development? Whaling in Japan is not only an ecological controversy but also a cultural puzzle—and above all, a deadly threat to these majestic marine creatures. Junko Sakuma, a Japanese marine life researcher and former Greenpeace activist who has dedicated her life to protecting whales, notes that "whaling has become a symbol of misunderstanding between Japan and the world." But how is this possible? In a country where 95% of residents haven't eaten whale meat for years, and most young Japanese people have no idea what it even tastes like, millions of yen are still being invested in maintaining an industry whose products sit frozen in storage due to a lack of demand.
Whale meat saved Japan from starvation after World War II. Consumption gradually declined afterward, but as late as the 1960s, Japan was still consuming as much as 223,000 tons of whale meat annually. Today, however, that number has fallen to 5,000 tons—30 grams per person annually (about half an apple’s worth). In 2019, Sakuma warned that thousands of tons of frozen whale meat were rotting in warehouses because no one wanted to buy them. Yet the government allocated enormous funds to sustain the industry. What’s going on here? “Whaling in Japan is not a business—it’s an expensive illusion sustained by bureaucracy and nationalist sentiments,” Sakuma said in one interview, adding that the entire system is like a "bureaucratic relic" that no one has the courage to dismantle, even though everyone knows it no longer makes sense.
Modern Japan has an opportunity to close this chapter in its history and focus on genuine ocean conservation. Will it take this step before whaling collapses under the weight of its own uselessness, dragging the existence of an entire species down with it?
At first glance, Junko Sakuma seems like a typical Japanese journalist—calm, composed, and measured, with a sharp gaze that seems to analyze every detail. Yet behind these qualities lies a woman who has been challenging one of Japan’s most controversial industries for years: whaling. Sakuma has dedicated her life to environmental protection and animal rights, becoming one of the most prominent voices of criticism against the Japanese government and parts of society that support whaling.
Junko Sakuma grew up in a small coastal town where the ocean was an integral part of daily life. Although she didn’t come from a fishing family, she was fascinated by the underwater world and its inhabitants from an early age. As a teenager, she devoured books about ecology and became interested in the activities of international organizations like Greenpeace. It was with this organization that Sakuma began her professional journey, initially working as a volunteer before engaging in initiatives aimed at protecting marine ecosystems.
She decided to focus on whaling after a research trip with Greenpeace. The sight of a dead whale being dismembered on the deck of a ship left an indelible mark on her memory. “It wasn’t just the body of an animal—it was a powerful, majestic life dying before my eyes,” she recalled in one interview. It was then that she realized she wanted to fight not only against whale hunting but also against the myths surrounding the industry in Japan.
After leaving Greenpeace, Sakuma decided to pursue an independent career as a journalist and researcher. Her goal was not only to expose the facts about whaling but also to educate the public. Sakuma quickly earned a reputation as someone unafraid to speak bluntly, even if her words stirred controversy.
One of her groundbreaking reports revealed the scale of waste in the whaling industry. In 2019, Sakuma reported that thousands of tons of frozen whale meat were lying unused in Japanese warehouses because no one wanted to buy them. Her research demonstrated that despite multimillion-yen government subsidies, whaling was effectively unprofitable. “Whaling in Japan is not a business—it’s an expensive illusion sustained by bureaucracy and nationalist sentiments,” she said in one interview.
Junko Sakuma is renowned for her tenacity and direct statements, which strike at the core of Japan’s whaling industry. During one public debate, she posed a question that continues to resonate among activists and politicians: “People talk about tradition, but can something that has lost its economic sense and is done far from the original communities still be called tradition?” Her criticism highlighted that whaling, once essential for the survival of coastal communities, is now almost entirely dependent on government subsidies and lacks broad support among younger generations of Japanese. For Sakuma, tradition must be something living and meaningful, not merely a relic of the past maintained at the expense of the environment and public funds.
One of Sakuma’s most controversial statements addressed the nationalist undertones of contemporary whaling. “Once, people ate whale meat because they had to. Today, many support whaling only because they don’t want foreigners telling them what to do. It has nothing to do with food or culture,” she said in an interview with Asahi Shimbun. Sakuma noted that whaling has become a symbol of resistance to foreign criticism, particularly in the context of pressure from international and environmental organizations. For many Japanese, supporting whaling is more about national pride than genuine economic or cultural need.
Sakuma often emphasizes that the issue is deeply rooted in Japan’s bureaucratic system. “Whaling isn’t just a dead tradition; it’s also dead bureaucracy,” she said in one interview. She pointed out that the whaling industry is sustained primarily through government subsidies, which effectively finance the salaries of officials rather than genuinely supporting the economic development of coastal communities. Her reports revealed that thousands of tons of frozen whale meat were left unused in warehouses—a stark indicator of the lack of rational economic arguments behind whaling.
In her speeches, Sakuma not only criticizes but also calls for deeper reflection on the role of tradition in modern society. “It’s not about rejecting our history, but about considering what role it should play in the future,” she said during a discussion panel in Tokyo. In her view, Japan should focus on ocean conservation and promoting more sustainable forms of development that benefit both the environment and local communities. Her voice has inspired many young activists to question the status quo and seek new, more sustainable ways to balance human interaction with nature.
Sakuma does not limit her efforts to writing. She regularly participates in conferences, conducts workshops, and publishes reports aimed at raising awareness among both Japanese citizens and the international community about the realities of whaling in Japan. She collaborates with NGOs such as the Dolphin and Whale Action Network, where her analyses are used in campaigns against whaling.
One of her most moving projects was a series of meetings with youth in coastal communities. “I don’t want to tell them what to think. I want them to ask themselves: does what we’re doing really make sense?” she explained. Many young people, after conversations with Sakuma, began to view the traditions of their ancestors from a new perspective.
Whaling in Japan has deep historical roots, going back at least to the 8th century. During the Nara period (710–794), whales were an important food source, and their bones and oil were used for various purposes, from tools to lighting. In the Edo period (1603–1868), whaling evolved into an organized activity, particularly in regions such as Taiji in Wakayama Prefecture and Wada in Chiba Prefecture. Coastal communities developed complex hunting systems using nets and specially designed boats, and entire villages participated in the whale processing process.
Whales were not only a source of protein but also a symbol of survival. During times of famine, whale meat saved many lives. In Japanese culture, whales were revered as divine creatures, reflected in local festivals and thanksgiving rituals after successful hunts. To this day, places like Taiji feature shrines dedicated to whales, where they are honored as gifts of nature.
After World War II, whaling gained new significance. In a country devastated by conflict, whale meat became a staple source of protein for a starving population. In the late 1940s and early 1950s, more than half of the meat consumed in Japan came from whales. By 1962, consumption peaked at about 223,000 tons annually. Whale meat was served in schools, homes, and restaurants, becoming part of everyday life.
Today, the situation is entirely different. Whale meat consumption has dropped to a historic low. In 2020, it amounted to only about 5,000 tons annually—less than 0.1% of Japan's total meat consumption. According to a survey conducted by Rikkyo University, as many as 95% of Japanese people have never eaten whale meat. Younger generations, raised on diets based on other protein sources, see whale meat as outdated and unappealing. “Young people no longer know what whale meat is,” Junko Sakuma observed, adding that “it has become more of a culinary curiosity than a staple food.”
Whaling in Japan survives mainly due to government subsidies. Each year, the government allocates around ¥5.1 billion (approximately $33 million) to support the industry. In 2019, after Japan withdrew from the International Whaling Commission (IWC), the government announced the continuation of commercial whaling within the country’s exclusive economic zone. The number of whales that can be legally hunted has been limited to 383 annually (including minke, sei, and Bryde’s whales), a fraction of the post-war catch, but still a threat to these species.
Even these catches are not profitable. In 2020, approximately 3,700 tons of frozen whale meat remained unsold on the Japanese market. The price of the meat has also not risen, despite limited supply, indicating a lack of consumer interest.
Whaling elicits mixed reactions among the Japanese population. A 2011 public opinion survey revealed that 52% of respondents support commercial whaling, only 13% actively oppose it, and 35% are indifferent. Interestingly, most supporters are individuals who do not consume whale meat but view whaling as a part of cultural heritage and national identity. “Whaling is a symbol of independence and resistance to foreign criticism,” Sakuma said. “People support it more out of national pride than actual economic or cultural necessity.”
Government campaigns attempt to revive the popularity of whale meat by including it in school lunches and promoting it in restaurants as a rare, exclusive delicacy. For example, in Wada, one of Japan’s traditional whaling ports, deep-fried whale cutlets are served, and dried whale meat resembling beef jerky is sold in local stores. However, the success of such efforts remains limited.
Modern whaling in Japan is an industry that has survived more through politics than genuine demand. As Junko Sakuma points out, “Whaling has become more of an idea than a practice—something that exists to remind us of our past but does not necessarily belong in our future.”
Whale populations around the world show varied dynamics depending on the species. Some, like the minke whale (Balaenoptera acutorostrata), are relatively abundant, while others, such as the blue whale (Balaenoptera musculus) and the North Atlantic right whale (Eubalaena glacialis), are on the brink of extinction. According to the International Whaling Commission (IWC), the population of blue whales, the largest animals on Earth, decreased by over 90% in the 20th century due to excessive hunting. Today, their numbers are estimated at around 10,000–25,000. This dramatic decline was primarily caused by whaling fleets from three countries, in this order: the Soviet Union, Norway, and Japan.
Some species, such as the bowhead whale (Balaena mysticetus), show signs of slow recovery thanks to conservation efforts, but this process is extremely gradual due to their long reproductive cycles. Many whale populations continue to suffer from climate change, ocean pollution, habitat loss, and underwater noise, which disrupt their migrations and communication.
Despite the global moratorium on commercial whaling introduced by the IWC in 1986, countries such as Japan, Norway, and Iceland continue to hunt whales. Each year, approximately 1,000–1,500 whales are killed for scientific or commercial purposes. Currently, Norway accounts for 55–60% of these catches, Japan 30–35%, Iceland 5–10%, and other countries less than 5%.
Whaling is often criticized for its cruelty toward animals. Exploding harpoons, intended to kill the whale instantly, frequently fail, causing the animals to die in agony over the course of several minutes—or even hours. Research conducted in Norway has shown that approximately 20% of whales do not die immediately after being struck by a harpoon.
Climate change also poses significant threats to whale populations. Melting Arctic ice is altering the habitats of whales, especially species living in cold waters, such as narwhals and bowhead whales. Additionally, warming oceans are impacting food supplies, such as krill, which is a primary food source for many whale species.
Whales are also vulnerable to toxins like mercury and PCBs, which accumulate in their bodies. Studies in Japan have revealed that whale meat contains mercury levels far exceeding safety standards, posing risks to both whales and humans who consume the meat.
Underwater noise pollution also has a negative impact on whale populations. The intense activity of shipping traffic, military sonars, and oil exploration disrupts whales’ communication, which is crucial for migration, reproduction, and avoiding dangers.
Junko Sakuma often highlights the paradox in which Japan's whaling industry finds itself. “Whaling in Japan is like a ship drifting aimlessly—no one knows how to solve this problem, but everyone knows we can’t keep moving in the same direction,” she said in an interview. According to her, whaling is a “dead tradition” that has survived mainly due to nationalist sentiments and government subsidies.
“It’s not about meat or culture—it’s a political issue that persists because there’s no clear exit from this impasse. Whaling is a bureaucratic relic, sustained by politicians and officials afraid of losing face,” Sakuma adds. She poses a critical question: will the Japanese government abandon the industry before public pressure forces its hand?
Current data indicates that the future of whaling in Japan is uncertain. Whale meat consumption has plummeted to about 30 grams per person annually—the equivalent of half an apple. In 1962, Japan consumed approximately 223,000 tons of whale meat, while today, the figure is only 5,000 tons per year. Even large-scale marketing campaigns and the inclusion of whale meat in school lunches have failed to revive interest.
Government subsidies, currently amounting to about ¥5.1 billion (approximately $33 million) annually, are crucial for the industry’s survival, but there is growing debate over whether such support is justified. If subsidies are reduced, the industry could collapse within the next 10–20 years.
Among younger politicians and officials, awareness is growing that whaling does more harm than good to Japan’s international reputation. In 2019, Japan’s decision to withdraw from the International Whaling Commission (IWC) faced strong criticism, but the issue has since faded from public debate. Sakuma notes that as foreign activist groups have scaled back their protests, Japanese interest in whale meat has also waned. “It’s ironic—when the protests disappeared, so did the sense of national pride tied to whaling,” she comments.
The future of whaling may lie in its transformation into less controversial forms. Some coastal communities, such as Wada and Taiji, have already begun emphasizing the educational aspects of whaling by organizing museums, workshops, and culinary festivals that attract tourists. For example, recreating traditional whaling techniques for cultural and educational purposes could preserve the heritage without requiring the actual killing of whales. As Patrick Ramage of the International Fund for Animal Welfare notes, “Tourists are willing to pay more to see a live whale than for a plate of whale meat.”
Sakuma and other experts suggest that Japan could benefit from transforming its whaling industry into ecotourism. In 2020, the global value of whale-watching tourism was approximately $2 billion, with over 13 million tourists participating annually. In Japan, such programs are already being implemented in places like Okinawa and Hokkaido, though their potential remains underutilized.
Whaling in Japan is a complex issue that goes beyond the debate between tradition and modernity. It also raises questions about global responsibility for protecting oceans and their inhabitants. Junko Sakuma aptly observes that “whaling has become a symbol of misunderstanding between Japan and the world”—on one hand, Japan insists on its right to tradition, while on the other, the world demands respect for ethics and ecology. The true irony lies in the fact that Japan itself boasts one of the most developed cultures of environmental conservation and sustainability. Instead of continuing this contentious practice, the country could leverage its technologies and resources to lead global initiatives for ocean conservation, transforming whaling into a symbol of marine ecosystem protection.
The future of whaling in Japan will not be determined solely by political or economic decisions but also by the attitudes of a society that no longer sees significant culinary or cultural value in whale meat. Paradoxically, the greatest challenge to the tradition of whaling does not come from foreign criticism but from the lack of interest among younger Japanese generations. In the face of a global ecological crisis and growing ethical awareness, Japan has the opportunity to demonstrate how a long-standing tradition can be reimagined in a way that harmonizes culture, economy, and environmental protection. Ultimately, how Japan addresses this challenge will serve as an important signal to the rest of the world, showing whether traditions can be preserved in a manner consistent with 21st-century values.
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未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
未開 ソビエライ
An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)
"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)
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