“Megasolar opposed!! Don’t make a fool of us. Residents are angry,” screams one handwritten sign, the word “opposed” emphasized in red. “Absolutely against megasolar construction!” yells another.
Signs like these dot the otherwise idyllic agricultural landscape in the city of Gojo, Nara Prefecture. Since January this year, when Nara Gov. Makoto Yamashita announced plans to develop a large-scale solar farm on a plot of land the prefectural government had purchased from a local forestry group, residents have been vocally and visibly protesting the move.
“We cannot accept ‘megasolar’ no matter what,” fumes Kuniharu Tsujimoto, a 77-year-old Gojo resident and head of a local forestry association. He said his group had agreed to sell its 30-hectare plot to the prefecture in 2022 on the assumption that it would be turned into an antidisaster base with an airport to serve the entire Kii Peninsula in the event of a major disaster, as originally proposed by the prefecture several years before.
Residents now feel betrayed by the prefectural government, which changed its stance after Yamashita was elected as governor in April 2023, according to Tsujimoto. Yamashita had campaigned on a platform of scrapping the airport construction plan, which had been pushed by his predecessor Shogo Arai, citing costs and other reasons. The new plan calls for filling the plot — used for decades as part of an 18-hole golf course — with rows of solar panels.
“We will do whatever it takes to stop the megasolar project,” Tsujimoto says, noting that even a lawsuit is in the cards.
Japan has pledged to drastically increase its ratio of solar power in its energy mix to between 14% and 16% by the fiscal year beginning April 2030 in order to help achieve carbon neutrality by 2050. But from Kushiro in Hokkaido to Yufu, Oita Prefecture, a growing number of solar projects are facing pushback from local communities, complicating the challenge of promoting solar power in a country with limited land space.
In many cases, these projects — sometimes covering 100 hectares or more — have been placed on mountainsides, with forests cleared to make way and the resulting farm coming to be seen as an eyesore by local residents.
As a result of such projects, the word “megasolar” — referring to farms with a minimum output of 1 megawatt of electricity, enough to power around 300 homes for a year — has come to carry such a negative image, overwhelmingly so on social media but increasingly in public discourse as well, that some renewable energy advocates suggest using a different term to refer to large-scale photovoltaics projects.
Experts attribute this backlash to unscrupulous and irresponsible solar operators who entered the industry following the 2012 start of “feed-in tariff” (FIT) subsidies and the lack of government oversight of such businesses. They say proper zoning by municipalities, as well as a prior consultation process and the sharing of benefits with residents of host communities by operators, are key to reversing the trend.
Not in my backyard
Shigeo Nishikizawa, an associate professor of environmental policy at the Tokyo Institute of Technology, has tracked and analyzed disputes related to solar power facilities reported in the media since around 2012.
In the decade through December 2022, 89 disputes erupted over solar projects, out of which 51 took place over the latter half of that period, according to Nishikizawa. Wind power projects can be controversial, too, with 148 disputes taking place between 1999, when the first case was reported, and the end of 2022.
“Renewables are increasingly seen as NIMBY (not in my backyard) projects,” he says, using a term that refers to opposition by local residents to construction projects considered necessary in society, such as crematoriums, nuclear waste disposal sites and landfills.
Reasons for opposition are diverse. Many residents have expressed concern about an increased risk of landslides on mountain slopes after trees are cut down to make space for solar panels, or the chance of damaged panels catching fire.
Others complain about the “light pollution” from the panels’ glare, the possible contamination of water sources and the impact on the natural environment, including the area’s biodiversity.
Residents are also worried that the panels ruin countryside scenery. For example, aerial images of solar modules occupying a pond in the city of Nara, leaving barely enough space for a kofun (ancient burial mound) in the middle, have recently made the rounds on social media platform X, with many users lamenting them as an eyesore.
In Gojo, people are skeptical about whether a private operator contracted by the prefectural government will properly dispose of the panels when they reach the end of their product lifecycle in 25 years. But due to such worries, operators are now mandated to set aside capital for the disposal of solar panels after their use, although there are concerns that unscrupulous companies may abandon projects without following this once they have made enough money.
In this particular case, the residents’ anger appears to be driven in large part by their distrust of Yamashita, a lawyer-turned-politician and the first Nara governor from Nippon Ishin no Kai, and what they view as his high-handed approach toward his policy objectives.
But whatever the reason, once disputes occur, it’s extremely difficult to proceed with the projects as originally planned, Nishikizawa says, noting that less than half of the 89 disputed solar projects have been confirmed to have started operations.
Fit for purpose?
In a 2020 report, Noriaki Yamashita of the Institute for Sustainable Energy Policies (ISEP), outlined recent moves by national and municipal governments to address the issue.
First, the central government revised the FIT law in 2017 to make it clearer that operators of solar power facilities must comply with regulations, and that violators would be disqualified from the FIT program.
The revised FIT law also encourages operators to have “appropriate communication” with local residents, though it does not spell out any penalty for those who do not.
FIT, which provided businesses with financial incentives to install solar panels by buying power at fixed rates, was replaced by the feed-in premium system in 2022. FIT doesn’t guarantee fixed rates but offers solar power generators a certain premium on top of market rates.
On the municipal level, many local governments have recently moved to create ordinances on solar projects. “Restrictive” ordinances, which aim to limit or ban installations in certain areas, as well as require operators to get the approval of municipal heads or agree to certain terms before operating, now number 250 nationwide, according to Noriaki Yamashita.
Furthermore, Japan has a system in place for environmental impact assessments of large-scale construction projects, dating back to the 1970s. Since April 2020, solar plants with an output of 40,000 kilowatts or more have been required to go through the assessment process.
But impact assessment regulations are not good enough to allay residents’ concerns, because they do not address the biggest source of conflicts: the location.
“The environmental assessment law can only minimize environmental impact after the location is decided,” Nishikizawa says. “It is not designed to deal with complaints such as, ‘Why should we set up a wind power facility on this nature-rich mountain?’ and ‘Why do we have to cut down trees to make space for this solar farm?’’’
Nishikizawa says proper zoning for renewable projects by local governments, whether it’s by prefectures or cities and towns, is crucial to resolving the location issue.
He also says that it’s important for operators and project proponents to share the benefits of solar facilities with local residents, such as by having them participate as investors. Other approaches could also include installing panels on farmland that has been abandoned due to depopulation, and providing electricity generated from solar farms for free to everyone in the community in times of disaster.
Noriaki Yamashita likewise recommends a “dual-use” approach to solar projects. He has studied the situation in Germany, where he says the types of land solar farms can be built on are much more restricted than in Japan, such as industrial waste dump sites and properties right along railway tracks.
The installation of rooftop solar panels, to become mandatory for all new homes and buildings in Tokyo from April next year, could be another “dual-use” example.
Agrivoltaics — which combines agriculture with solar power production — is another solution, Noriaki Yamashita says, noting that some panels can be placed vertically, so they can be used also as a fence to keep cattle in, for example. Vertical solar panels facing east and west can maximize the harvesting of solar power in the mornings and evenings, helping solve the common problem of panels generating too much electricity during the day, he says.
The potential of agrivoltaics, which is less known and practiced in Japan, could be bigger than all of the power produced by rooftop solar panels, he adds.
Ultimately, each municipality should create a checklist establishing the kind of renewable energy projects it finds acceptable and wants to host, Noriaki Yamashita says.
“Dual-use panels would be the norm going forward, utilizing roofs, carports and agricultural farms as PV (photovoltaic) sites. I think we should stop thinking about installing them on just any empty field.”
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