Where Surplus Food Finds a Way: Building a Culture of Sharing

Taewoo Park G 11

Before every school break, I see the same scene in Jeju Global Education City. Perfectly edible food is thrown away in such large amounts that food waste bins cannot even close. Families preparing to leave the island empty their refrigerators, and what remains often goes straight into the trash.

Watching this happen again and again, I began asking myself a simple question:

Does this food really have nowhere else to go?

At first, I thought it was simply about individual responsibility. But the more I observed, the more I realized the issue was not about individuals—it was about culture.

At some point, sharing food with neighbors stopped feeling natural.

Yet this was not always the case. In the past, sharing food was an ordinary part of everyday life in Korean communities. Families exchanged homemade dishes, shared holiday meals, and visited each other with food. Even the saying “not a single grain of rice should be wasted” reflected a deep cultural respect for food, labor, and community.

Modern life, however, has changed these habits. Cities have become more individual-centered, neighbors interact less frequently, and throwing food away is often easier than finding someone to share it with. What used to be daily cooperation has gradually become something rare—almost like charity.

This made me realize that sustainability is not only about technology or rules, but about daily culture.

To respond to this issue, I joined a food bank effort through an environmental club I participate in. Before every long school break, we collect surplus groceries from families leaving the island and deliver them to the Seogwipo Food Bank. Over three years, we helped rescue approximately 2,600 liters of food, supporting more than 200 households in our community.

Through this experience, I learned that the problem is not that food is scarce, but that there are too few pathways for food to move where it is needed.

At the same time, we also saw the limits of formal systems. Due to food safety regulations, opened packages and many fresh foods cannot be donated. Even when people genuinely want to share, much edible food still has nowhere to go.

While searching for alternatives, I found an inspiring example from Poland called the Food Wall. These are public shelves or refrigerators placed in community spaces where residents leave surplus food and anyone in need can take it. Many of these sites display a simple message:

“If you need it, take it. If you can, leave it.”

What impressed me most was not the infrastructure, but the trust behind it. Food Walls work because sharing is treated as a normal social practice, not a special act of charity.

A “Food Wall” in Poland. Refrigerators and shelves installed along public streets are stocked with surplus food by local cafes and residents, allowing anyone in need to take items freely.@unwastethe planet

Perhaps sustainability culture does not begin with new technology, but with remembering old habits. A future sustainable neighborhood may not look futuristic at all. It may look like a small sharing shelf near the elevator, a community fridge outside a local store, or a school corner where students leave extra food before holidays. Children would grow up knowing that surplus is not something to throw away, but something to pass on. When sharing becomes part of daily spaces—not just individual kindness—sustainability stops being an effort and becomes a culture.

I believe a sustainable future will not be built only through large policies or advanced technologies. It will begin with small cultural choices: whether we see surplus as waste, or as something meant to be shared.

When sharing becomes natural again, sustainability will no longer feel like a responsibility.

It will simply become the way we live.