If you have ever been to Tokyo, you may recognise this scenario: you have just finished your breakfast on the go. An empty coffee cup in one hand, a sandwich wrapper in the other, you search the street corners for a bin to dispose of your litter.
You walk a couple of blocks, past bus stops, supermarkets, and apartment buildings, growing increasingly confused – where are all the rubbish bins? You stuff your wrapper inside your cup and brace yourself for what might be a long, rubbish-filled day. Eventually, you recall seeing a bin in a 7-Eleven where you bought an onigiri. Desperate, you step inside, discreetly throw your cup in the bin, and hurry away before anyone notices your illicit use of the store’s bin.
Relieved, you stroll the streets of Tokyo, noting their cleanliness. You start wondering: how are the streets so clean when there is nowhere to throw away waste?
Now imagine a different scenario: you have just arrived in Singapore. It is 30 degrees, humid, and you are eager to shed your attire more suited to cooler climates. Finally dressed for summer, you decide to cool down further by buying an ice cream cone from a supermarket. As you enjoy your cone, you wander past lush palm-lined streets and scenic waterfronts, basking in the beauty of the city.
With the last bite, you roll up the wrapper into a small ball and are immediately met by a nearby sign threatening hefty fines if you even consider leaving your wrapper on the ground. Fortunately, next to the sign stands a rubbish bin with ample space for your waste. You drop your wrapper into the bin, feeling a little ashamed of having produced rubbish at all and slightly intimidated by the Singaporean authorities.
Two Cities, Two Systems, No Litter
So, what is going on here? How does one city remain clean without public bins, while another relies on stringent fines to achieve the same result?
Some answers can be found in What Money Can’t Buy: The Moral Limits of the Market by Michael Sandel, Professor of Government at Harvard. He describes two primary incentives that drive citizens to undertake socially responsible actions: civic duty and public-spiritedness, and financial incentives.
He illustrates this through several examples, one of which is a study on how financial incentives affected the acceptance rate of a nuclear waste repository in a Swiss village. Before a referendum, economists asked residents if they would accept the repository in their community. A slim majority (51%) agreed. However, when offered annual financial compensation in return, acceptance dropped to 25% – regardless of how high the compensation was (Frey, Oberholzer-Gee & Eichenberger, 1996).
Why would financial incentives reduce acceptance? Because the introduction of money altered the moral framework of the decision. Without compensation, accepting the waste was perceived as a civic duty – a sacrifice made for the greater good. This civic responsibility carried intrinsic value, enhancing individuals’ sense of self-worth and connection to their community. However, when financial compensation was introduced, the act became a service rather than a moral duty. This fundamentally changed the question from “Are you a good citizen?” to “How much do I need to offer you for it to be worth your while?”. As a result, many rejected the financial offer, as the value they placed on having a nuclear-free community was higher than any financial compensation.
What does this tell us? It suggests that performing our civic duty – whether in relation to nuclear waste or everyday rubbish – holds a value that can outweigh financial incentives. If that were not the case, we would expect the acceptance rate to increase with financial incentives, yet the opposite occurs.
Tokyo’s Approach: The Psychology of No Bins
The case of Tokyo demonstrates how a sense of public-spiritedness can impact the amount of rubbish in the streets. While Tokyo does impose fines for littering – a type of negative financial incentive – they are not as visible as those in Singapore, and it is unlikely they are the primary reason for the city’s cleanliness. Instead, civic duty seems to play a larger role in making people abstain from littering.
How does civic duty impact littering in a city with no public bins?
The absence of bins amplifies the sense of responsibility regarding littering. Typically, rubbish disposal involves three possible actions: placing it in a bin, leaving it next to a bin if full, or littering outright. Most people prefer to dispose of rubbish responsibly, meaning they seek out bins. However, if a bin is full, they often leave their waste beside it – leading to accidental littering as wind and weather scatter the trash. Without bins, these two options are removed, leaving only two choices: hold onto your rubbish, or litter.
For those who associate not littering with being a good citizen, dropping rubbish on the ground would induce guilt, encouraging them to carry their waste until they find an appropriate disposal point. Over time, people may even adapt their habits – drinking coffee in cafés rather than on the go, for instance – to avoid generating waste altogether. Those inclined to litter, however, would likely do so regardless of bin availability.
Thus, by removing bins, Tokyo reduces litter by increasing the social and emotional cost of littering. The discomfort of carrying rubbish is minimal compared to the shame of discarding it improperly. By increasing the costs of littering through the removal of rubbish bins, Tokyo has managed to maintain cleanliness and influence public habits regarding waste, all without excessive policing.
Singapore’s Approach: Policing and Fines
Singapore takes the opposite approach, externalising the cost of littering through fines rather than relying on social and emotional pressure. Both cities impose costs to change littering behaviour – one primarily financial, the other primarily psychological.
To illustrate how fines impact behaviours that might otherwise be influenced by social values, Sandel provides the example of a kindergarten struggling with parents collecting their children late. To discourage tardiness, the school introduced fines. However, instead of reducing late pickups, the fines led to an increase. Why? Because the penalty reframed lateness from a social failing into a paid service – parents effectively ‘purchased’ the right to be late (Gneezy & Rustichini, 2000).
Similarly, while not all littering in Singapore is caught, the risk of a substantial fine may still outweigh the inconvenience of carrying rubbish. If the cost of littering is set high enough and enforced frequently, it can still be an effective deterrent. Thus, the price that Singaporeans pay for littering – the fine – is so high that the convenience of littering does not offset cost, even for the Singaporeans with a lower level of public-spiritedness.
A Balance Between Systems
Singapore’s strict regulations may feel overbearing, but Tokyo’s system only works because of a deeply ingrained sense of civic duty. Without strong social norms, a city without bins would likely see a surge in littering. Consequently, most countries adopt a hybrid model, incorporating both fines and readily available rubbish bins.
Thus, the next time you see a clean and empty bin, spare a thought for the authorities who maintain it, the sanitation workers who ensure rubbish is collected, and the convenience of readily available disposal options. And if you spot a litterer, consider making them feel just a little worse about themselves—perhaps they’ll think twice before doing it again.
References:
- Sandel, M. (2012). What Money Can’t Buy: The Moral Limits of the Market.
- Frey, B. S., Oberholzer-Gee, F., & Eichenberger, R. (1996). “The Old Lady Visits Your Backyard: A Tale of Morals and Markets.” Journal of Political Economy, 104(6)
- Gneezy, U., & Rustichini, A. (2000). “A Fine Is a Price.” Journal of Legal Studies, 29(1)