What would you do if your waste was not promptly collected in your area?

One day passes, and it starts to smell. One week passes, and it begins attracting pests and stray animals. When the rain comes, it blocks the drains and spreads disease. You cannot keep storing it indefinitely. You cannot simply ignore it.

So, what would you do?

For millions of people around the world, this is not a hypothetical question. It is a daily reality they face, and with all the limitations of the system around them, the easiest answer is to burn it.

Make the waste disappear

In many communities, burning waste is a daily routine, as ordinary as cooking or sweeping the front porch. Around 2.7 billion people in the world have no waste collection service at all.  When there is no bin to fill, when no trash truck comes, when there is no system ready to take the problem away, waste piles up quickly – and that pile brings its own very real, very urgent consequences: rotting food, insects, blocked drains, the spread of disease. Burning solves those problems quickly, at least on the surface. This is not careless behaviour or ignorance. It is the reality of having to choose the least bad option from a very short list.

A global problem 

Open burning is not limited to one region or one type of community. It is a global response to a global problem: too much plastic, most of it single-use, with no plan for where it ends up.

According to the Lloyd’s Register Foundation 2024 World Risk Poll, open burning is most widespread in Eastern Africa, where 41% of households use it as their primary method of waste disposal, followed by Central and Western Africa at 34%, and South-East Asia at 32%. In Indonesia, the number sits even higher than all of these regional averages, with 48% of households reported to burn their waste, despite open burning being prohibited by law.  In rural communities across Nigeria, Kenya, Ethiopia, Ghana, Nepal, and Thailand, open burning is documented as a common household practice. In rural Thailand alone, more than half of all household waste is burned. 

It also happens in places we would not expect. Open burning has been documented in Hungary, South Korea, and the United States, a reminder that this is not simply a problem of developing nations. In fact, the wealthiest countries in the world have not solved this problem either – they have largely exported it. High-income countries including Germany, the UK, the Netherlands, France, the US, Japan, and Australia have for years been shipping plastic waste abroad under the claim that it will be recycled. In 2023, Germany was the world’s largest plastic waste exporter at over 693,000 metric tons, with the UK close behind at around 615,000 metric tons. Much of that waste ends up in countries that lack the infrastructure to process it safely, where it is dumped or burned at the household and community level. Enforcement of regulations remains a major problem, with many waste exporters taking advantage of inadequate monitoring and poor border controls. The countries producing the most plastic have the least interest in dealing with where it ends up. 

 

What actually happens when waste is burned

Burning waste does not make it disappear. It just makes it less visible, and out of sight is not the same thing as gone. 

Burning waste, especially plastic, releases a toxic mix of pollutants into the air and into the soil through ash: heavy metals, styrene gas, dioxins and furans, chemicals that persist in the body and in the environment long after the fire goes out. A 2014 study published in Environmental Science & Technology found that open burning of household waste is one of the largest global sources of certain hazardous air pollutants, including polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons and fine particles.

That last point is worth paying attention to. Fine particles known as PM2.5 are small enough to pass through the nose and throat and travel deep into the lungs and bloodstream. The WHO classifies outdoor air pollution, of which open burning is a significant contributor, as a leading environmental cause of death globally, responsible for around 3.2 million premature deaths every year.

 

The health impact, in numbers

The health data on open burning is difficult to read, and even harder to ignore.

One study estimated that open burning of waste is linked to between 270,000 and 920,000 deaths per year globally. Beyond that, open burning of plastics is linked to increased risks of heart disease and neurological disorders, while emissions including dioxins have been connected to skin lesions, cancer, immunological issues, and birth defects. 

Sadly, this burden is not shared equally. The elderly, pregnant women, and children are among the most vulnerable. So too are the people tending the fires, and the neighbours living downwind. Harm also enters through the food chain: when toxins from burning settle into soil and water, they make their way into locally grown food and into the bodies of people who never stood near a fire at all.

The exposure does not look dramatic, but it keeps happening.

This is not large-scale burning as seen in factories or industrial incinerators. There is no towering smokestack, no warning sign, no obvious signal that something harmful is happening. There are only small fires, burning close to where people sleep, eat, and play, repeated every day, familiar enough to feel normal – and that familiarity is precisely what makes it so dangerous.

This gap is not simply a story of missing lorries and underfunded councils. It is the direct result of a production system that keeps making more plastic than the world can handle, and concentrating the consequences in the places with the least power to push back. At least 2 billion people worldwide have no access to any waste collection, treatment, or disposal services. For these communities, burning is not a choice. It is an inheritance. 

The packaging problem makes everything worse. For most of human history, there was no need for large-scale waste collection. Most waste was organic, and what could be reused, reused. But single-use plastic packaging flooded markets far faster than any infrastructure could keep up, especially in island communities and rural areas where collection systems are expensive to build and even more expensive to maintain. Global municipal waste generation is projected to grow from 2.3 billion tonnes in 2023 to 3.8 billion tonnes by 2050, almost all of it driven by packaging and single-use materials landing in places that have no system in place to receive them.

And the companies that make that packaging? They have known about the problem they cause for a long time, but the burden of dealing with it has been consistently shifted, first onto public bodies, then onto households: manage it yourselves, find a way to make it disappear. 

What can help, for now

There are small changes that can reduce the harm while the larger system gets its act together. Separating organic waste for composting and keeping plastic out of the fire entirely, significantly lowers exposure to dioxins, furans, and heavy metals.

This is not a complete solution, but it is not nothing either. Reducing the most toxic emissions is one small, real part of addressing the harm, even if it cannot address the system that causes it. For someone standing in front of a pile of waste with no bin to fill and no trash trucks coming, it is worth knowing. 

 

The bigger picture

People who burn waste are not choosing pollution. They are not choosing to harm their neighbours, their children, or themselves. They are trapped in a system that was never built for them, one that was flooded with cheap plastic packaging without any consideration of its safety, or the infrastructure available to handle it.

Waste should not be managed at the point of burning. It should be prevented at the point of design. Better collection systems can ease the immediate harm, but they are a temporary fix to a permanent flow. The only real answer is less plastic being made in the first place, and producers being held accountable for every piece they release into the world. 

Until products and systems change, the harm will keep being pushed onto the people with the fewest choices, and they have already been carrying it long enough.

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We often talk about plastic pollution as if it is only an environmental problem – or a waste problem, something that only matters at the end of a product’s life. Uncollected or poorly managed waste contaminates air, soil, and water sources. Plastic waste, small and large, is found in the bodies of sea turtles and various marine animals. At its core, all of these are real and urgent problems, but sometimes we forget that there is another story that is far closer than other plastic problems, which is the problem of waste that silently lives inside our bodies.

Every day, our bodies are exposed to tens of thousands of petrochemicals – synthetic chemicals derived from petroleum and gas that are used to make plastics, packaging, cosmetics, cleaning products, and more. We encounter them through the products we use, the food we eat, and the air we breathe. This applies to everyone, but unfortunately, the impact is not the same for everyone.

The fact is, women’s bodies process these chemicals differently. Women tend to have thinner skin, so chemicals found in products that come into contact with their skin are more easily absorbed. Women also have a higher percentage of body fat, so more fat-soluble plastic chemicals such as phthalates and BPA, end up absorbed and stored inside their bodies. Women also typically have smaller than average body sizes, causing the concentration of those chemicals to be higher. And a slower metabolism means women’s bodies take longer to eliminate them.

These facts are not merely biological footnotes we can ignore because they sound too ordinary. They must change how we think about who bears the real cost of the plastic crisis.

 

The body stores everything we experience

Plastic is full of endocrine-disrupting chemicals – substances that interfere with our hormones.  For women, whose health is so closely tied to hormonal balance throughout their lives, this disruption can be deeply damaging.

During puberty, pregnancy, and perimenopause, women’s bodies are in a state of change, meaning even the smallest toxic exposure during these important moments not only adds risk but also multiplies its effects. These chemicals are linked to fertility problems, certain cancers, and diabetes. They can ultimately also trigger early menopause and worsen symptoms like hot flashes and mood swings.

Sadly, this impact does not stop at one generation. Women unknowingly pass toxins from their bodies to their children during pregnancy and breastfeeding: a journey that women always remember in their lives becoming a silent transfer of toxins, even before their babies breathe air outside the womb.

 

Home is no longer a safe place

Traditional domestic roles place women in closer and more frequent contact with chemicals found in various household necessities such as cleaning products, packaging, synthetic rubber gloves that are ironically sold as “protection” – but actually become a new source of exposure.

Plastic chemicals are used in product formulas to create fragrance, colour, texture, and longer shelf life and are rarely tested for safety before reaching our hands.

Then there is the beauty sector. Marketing pressure deliberately targets women, endlessly pushing them to buy cosmetics, personal care products, fragrances, and hygiene products that almost all contain petrochemicals and are packaged in plastic. Even the most basic hygiene products are not spared from this danger: most sanitary pads and tampons that are affordable and easily accessible to the general public actually contain plastic that is harmful to their bodies.

More than 16,000 chemicals have been identified in plastic, and most of these substances have never been tested for safety regarding direct and indirect exposure for humans, more specifically, women. Of those, a quarter are already known to be hazardous but only 6% are regulated. The rest? No one is checking.

With no strong regulation or clear labeling of ingredients on products and packaging, there is no obvious way for women to know or understand the risks involved in their daily routines.

 

The health costs of earning a living

Women are the dominant workforce in industries with high chemical exposure: cleaning, waste management, textiles, agriculture. Many of these jobs are informal in nature which means they  have no regulations to ensure workers’ health and safety.

These jobs most often come without adequate personal protective equipment, are not covered by occupational health services, without sick leave, and without information about the risks they can and will face. Long working hours mean continuous and intense exposure to various toxins. These kinds of jobs are also usually low-paying, leaving workers with little power to change the situation.  

Globally, the majority of waste pickers working at open dumpsites are women. WECF reports that many of them cannot live past the age of 30, and this is not a statistic from an era that has passed: it is still happening today.

 

Same plastic, unequal impact

The plastic crisis does not discriminate in who it touches, but sadly it is very selective in how hard it hits.

Women bear a disproportionate chemical burden – through their biological body systems, the domestic roles they carry, the working conditions they must face, and the non-essential products they are told they need. With this many negative effects, women are still too rarely part of the conversations that decide what is produced, what is regulated, and what is labeled.

To change this, we need more legal protections for high-risk workers. We need honest product labeling. We need health and safety standards that actually apply to informal workers. And we need more women in the rooms where decisions and regulations about chemicals and production are made.

The plastic crisis is a women’s health crisis, it always has been. The question is, how much longer will we pretend otherwise?

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We often hear that plastic bottles or packaging are more “eco-friendly” than their glass counterparts, primarily because plastics are lighter and (so the argument goes) create fewer greenhouse gas emissions in production and distribution. But a closer look at these “life cycle assessments” (LCAs) makes it clear that this narrative is flawed in several fundamental ways. In particular, work by the UN Environment Programme (UNEP) and the Life Cycle Initiative has shown that focusing only on a narrow set of impacts obscures the broader environmental harms of plastics and fails to capture the advantages of reuse systems.

So what are the pitfalls of the “plastic is greener than glass” claim?

1. Narrow focus on climate impacts

Many “plastic versus glass” studies focus on one core metric: carbon or greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions. Because plastics are lighter and require less energy for transport, they often appear to have a lower carbon footprint than glass, at least in the framing used by the researchers.

But climate impact is only one of many categories a robust environmental assessment should cover. Other key impact areas – toxicity, biodiversity loss, ecosystem degradation and the social or justice dimensions of pollution (harms to communities, waste pickers, Indigenous Peoples) – are often downplayed or excluded entirely as they are difficult to measure and quantify.

Plastic LCAs for example typically omit leakage into the environment, which happens at all points in its life cycle – from pellet spills (the second largest source of microplastics in the ocean) to shedding and leaching during use and litter. Leakage is one of the most damaging and irreversible impacts of plastics, leading to ingestion by wildlife, entanglement, fragmentation into persistent microplastics and cumulative ecosystem harm.

2. Over-reliance on LCAs as a decision-making tool

LCAs, as noted above, are not designed to capture the full system of impacts. They need to be supplemented with additional studies and knowledge to give a full picture.

But even the insights they provide using indicators such as energy and water use, or emissions and resource extraction, should not be taken at face value. The system boundaries and assumptions in each study make a huge difference: what production processes, what end-of-life scenarios, what transport distances, what reuse rate have been assumed? Minor shifts in assumptions can flip the results.

LCAs can also, intentionally or not, hide “burden-shifting”: improving one impact category (e.g., lowering GHGs) may worsen another not included in the study (e.g., ecotoxicity, microplastic release). Indeed, the UNEP meta-study warns, “like any tool, [an] LCA does not replace the need to draw upon a range of information sources when making decisions.”

So when someone cites an LCA that says “plastic is better for the climate”, the key questions are: “what have they left out? What were their assumptions? What alternatives did they model? And do those reflect the system we could realistically move towards?”

3. False comparison: single-use glass vs single-use plastic

Another shortcoming of many LCAs is that they compare single-use glass with single-use plastic, with the typical end-of-life scenario being recycling. In reality, glass can be reused tens if not hundreds of times before needing to be recycled.

Why does this matter? Because reuse avoids the vast majority of any material’s climate impacts, particularly the energy-intensive melting process of glass. Instead, reuse only requires washing, drying and local transport. These impacts are far lower, and are declining further as energy grids decarbonise and reverse-logistics systems improve. Meanwhile plastic production remains closely linked to fossil-fuel extraction and refining, global supply chains, and a poor 9% recycling rate, much of it shipped to countries in the Global South.

In short, if we make a more realistic comparison between single-use plastic and reusable glass, the advantage swings firmly towards glass plus reuse systems.

4. Ignoring business models and system design

A major methodological flaw in many LCAs is the assumption that the business model will be the same for the existing and replacement materials. That is, they compare plastic bottles shipped long distances to glass bottles shipped in exactly the way. But what if that’s not the way it would work?

For example, if we slot heavy glass bottles into a conventional global production-and-distribution model, they will naturally perform worse than plastic if shipped halfway around the world for a single use. That’s because this model was built around and optimised for single-use plastics. But glass functions best with local bottling and refilling, reverse logistics, and much smaller distribution networks.

If the comparison privileges the status quo, rather than the alternatives we may prefer to cultivate, it skews the results. If we want a better system (reuse and refill within local networks) then this is what should be modelled. A comparison of materials within the existing system is not going to make sense.

5. The broader issue: redefining “eco-friendly”

Ultimately the myth that “plastic is greener than glass” stems from a too-narrow definition of what “eco-friendly” means. If we define it purely as “the lowest carbon footprint in today’s system”, plastics could emerge as a winner. But if we define it in a way that includes:
– chemical toxicity
– persistent pollution and ecosystem damage
– leakage and microplastics
– resource circularity
– reuse potential
– environmental justice
– future-proofing (energy decarbonisation, logistics innovation)
then the narrative changes dramatically.

The UNEP/Life Cycle Initiative recommendation emphasises this clearly: the priority is reuse, reducing single-use products, and system redesign, regardless of the material.

➤ Cut through the greenwashing

When you see a claim that “plastic is greener than X material” ask these questions:
– What impacts were assessed (just GHGs, or also (eco)toxicity, persistent pollution and social / health outcomes)?
– What was the alternative material and was it reused or used once and recycled?
– What system design assumptions were built in (transport distances, reuse, decarbonised energy)?
– What life-cycle boundaries were applied (upstream fossil-fuel extraction, pellet loss, end-of-life leakage)?
And lastly: what if we changed the system, would the result still favour plastic?

When the full picture is taken into account, the “plastic is greener than glass” claim collapses. The more constructive agenda is not material substitution alone, but system change: moving away from single-use, designing for circularity and investing in local infrastructure enabling safe reuse, refill and repair.

Further reading:
Are LCAs greenwashing plastic?
A review evaluating the gaps in plastic impacts in life cycle assessment
How life-cycle assessments can be (mis)used to justify more single-use plastic packaging

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We live in a world that often feels deeply divided. Whether it’s about politics, economics, or social issues, the gaps between us seem wider than ever. Sometimes even within our own families. It can be tempting to try and correct people who have succumbed to online disinformation with the facts.  But if you’ve ever tried to convince someone with data only to see them dig their heels in, you know it’s rarely that simple. Facts, if delivered at the wrong time or with the wrong sentiment, can make differences even more entrenched. 

Today, we’re exploring this as a reminder to ourselves and everyone who is working to change the status quo. Because while knowledge is power, emotional intelligence is a superpower. 

Why facts aren’t always enough

We often assume a simple chain reaction: if people know, they’ll care, and if they care, they’ll act. But the reality is much messier than that. 

While truth is vital, and knowledge matters – especially at a time when the world is flooded with disinformation – bombarding people with facts can often backfire. Environmental organisations, for example, often publish horror stories about pollution, toxic chemicals or climate change. 

But the truth, when it feels too overwhelming, scary or inconvenient to face, can cause people to shut down rather than engage. We go into fight, flight or freeze mode – a natural human response to protect ourselves from what feels unmanageable. 

Being told about a problem doesn’t automatically lead to action, especially when the scale of change feels too big, too hard or too lonely. 

What stops people from acting? 

It’s this feeling of powerlessness or lack of clear direction that turns people off. People can’t act if they don’t know what to do, or if they genuinely believe their actions won’t make a difference. 

Here are some common assumptions that can hold us back: 

• “Change will be expensive and mean sacrifice” The perception that living more sustainably or advocating for change will be a financial burden or require giving up comforts. 
• “Whatever I do won’t make a difference one way or the other”. A paralysing sense of futility, that leads people to believe their individual efforts are insignificant against global challenges.
• “It’s easier to stay in my bubble than face the crisis” An avoidance tactic – it’s human nature to seek comfort and avoid discomfort. Facing daunting realities can be emotionally draining.

Those with vested interests in keeping business as usual will also exploit and reinforce these beliefs on their own media channels. They will either deny the science altogether, or invest it with incredible powers: “science will come up with a solution, we don’t need to do anything.” This both reassures people and frees them from guilt and obligation.

So, what does work? 

To spark bottom-up action, people need more than just facts: they need support, motivation and a sense of agency. This is something we have experienced first-hand in Trash Hero, working in communities often resistant to change.

Here’s how we try to engage people in our mission: 

1. Empathy and connection: hold the judgement

Instead of asking “Why do you do that?” or telling someone “You’re wrong”, approach conversations with compassion and curiosity. We are all shaped by the systems around us. Inspiration moves people, whereas fear and shame often freeze. 

2. Connect with identity and values, before presenting facts 

People are most likely to act when their behaviour aligns with who they are, or who they want to be. We encourage our volunteers to share their own “why” – their personal motivation for wanting change – and tell stories about justice, community and courage. These narratives provide hope, which isn’t naive: it’s a powerful motivator. 

3. Lead by example

Actions truly do speak louder than words. We are social creatures, and we learn by observing others. When people see us composting, using reusable items, or speaking up respectfully, it makes these actions feel possible and normal. 

4. Make it easy and social 

Behaviour change spreads when it feels normal, visible and supported. When reducing waste is made simple and becomes a shared activity, it fosters a sense of belonging and makes the journey less daunting. Eventually, we will reach a tipping point – and when culture shifts, systems often follow. 

5. Small steps with visible impact and repetition

Huge, overwhelming goals can paralyse us. Small, achievable steps that have a visible impact – like cleanups with education – help us move forward. Consistent action builds habits and trust and reaches a wider audience over time.

6. Relevance to everyday life 

People need to feel that environmental issues are connected to their daily experiences. How does plastic pollution affect their local park, their health or their community? When people can see the immediate relevance of an issue to their own lives, it becomes more personal and pressing.

Be the change, inspire the change 

The truth matters, but so does how we share it. Big change starts with better conversations. We need to use our compassion, connection and consistent modelling alongside our knowledge and data in order to be effective. This takes time and patience, but eventually has better results than trying to “win” an argument, blaming or gimmicks.

We’ve summarised these findings in a social media post, along with some case studies of effective environmental campaigns – please share to help more people understand the power of emotional intelligence in the zero waste movement. And follow us online to keep yourself inspired!

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Wherever you’re reading this, stop and take a look around you. You’re likely surrounded by products deliberately designed for short lives: packaging thrown in the trash after a single use, electronics with built-in obsolescence, appliances that can’t be repaired and fast fashion that unravels after a season.

For decades, Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) was touted as the solution – a policy tool that makes producers pay for the environmental cost of their products. The theory is simple: if companies are made responsible for their products after use, they will design better, longer-lasting, less polluting products.

But that’s not what happened in practice. A new report by Zero Waste Europe, which analyses the past 30 years of EPR implementation in the EU and beyond, shows waste levels are still rising, recycling rates are stagnating, and reuse rates have actually fallen drastically over this time¹. Many producers have simply paid fees to comply – without improving how they design, deliver or market their products.

Something has gone seriously wrong. The potential of EPR remains powerful – but today’s systems need a major rethink if they are to live up to their promise.

What is EPR?

Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR) is exactly what it sounds like: extending the responsibility of manufacturers beyond the point of sale. Instead of letting products become someone else’s problem at end-of-life, EPR policies make companies responsible – financially, logistically, and sometimes physically – for what happens to their products and packaging after consumers finish using them.

Originally, this was intended to make the environmental impacts of products a business cost, thereby creating incentives for producers to design products that are easier to reuse, repair, and recycle – with the ultimate goal of preventing waste in the first place.

But too often today, this “responsibility” has been watered down. Companies have ended up paying nominal fees to fund waste collection, take-back programmes or a few extra recycling bins – effectively a “pay to pollute” scheme.

How the current system works

Today, most EPR schemes work like this:

• Producers pay fees into a collective system, often run by a Producer Responsibility Organisation (PRO).
• The PRO funds the collection, sorting, and recycling (or disposal) of waste products.

Producers claim this ‘closes the loop’ – but in reality, the system has serious flaws:

1. End-of-life The focus remains heavily on recycling, not on preventing waste or promoting reuse. This treats waste as inevitable, rather than something to be avoided through better design and infrastructure. As the Zero Waste Europe report shows, implementing EPR without reuse targets has had the effect of making reuse the least favoured option.

2. Fee structures Producers often pay based on weight or general material type (e.g. ‘metal’ or ‘plastic’), without strong enough “eco-modulation” to reward truly sustainable designs and penalise bad ones. This weakens the incentive to innovate.

Eco-modulation adjusts EPR fees based on the environmental performance of individual products, making it cheaper to do the right thing, and more expensive to pollute. Example: a reusable glass bottle = lower EPR fee. A multilayer plastic sachet that can’t be recycled = much higher EPR fee. The goal is to create a strong financial incentive to design products that are better for the environment – not just to manage waste but to prevent it.

3. Lack of regulation Many PROs are industry-controlled and self-regulating, leading to a conflict of interest. Producers have little motivation to set ambitious reuse targets or high environmental standards when they effectively police themselves. At the same time, the revenue they provide to the government gives them a platform for lobbying and allows them to claim that “something is being done”.

4. Lack of transparency It’s often unclear what PROs’ targets are (e.g. is “recycling” measured at the collection point or on delivery to a recycling plant?); whether they are being met; how funds are being used; or what really happens to the waste collected. As a result, municipalities and taxpayers still shoulder much of the burden of management. Fraud and greenwashing are real risks.

5. Lack of integration It is very rare in current EPR legislation that the treatment of the collected waste is specified or controlled. PROs can therefore follow any existing waste management laws, whether these send plastic for incineration or closed loop recycling. In other words, EPR can only work well if there is already a good waste management system in place.

So at best the current EPR system locks us into endless waste management and does nothing about waste prevention, resource efficiency or a just transition; at worst it actively fights against these outcomes.

How we could make EPR work

EPR can still play a major role in creating a circular economy, but only if it’s fundamentally restructured to follow the waste hierarchy, with prevention first. This is what it would look like:

Priority for prevention and eco-design: The first goal is to reduce the amount of waste we generate. EPR funds help build reuse systems, refill networks, and repair services – not just more waste treatment infrastructure. EPR fees strongly encourage reusable, durable, and non-toxic designs.

Strong eco-modulation: Fees clearly reward sustainable products and penalise polluting, wasteful ones, sending tangible financial signals to drive better design.

Deposit return schemes (DRS): Consumers pay a small surcharge for packaging and are thus incentivised to return it to a collection point in order to get a refund, enabling producers to preserve reusable items or ensure high quality recycling. (DRS are a type of EPR and are proven to be the most efficient and effective way to achieve high collection rates of packaging. Many countries that have implemented a DRS have achieved collection rates of over 90%.)

Clear, ambitious targets: Mandatory targets for waste prevention, reuse, recyclability, and toxic material phase-outs are at the core of EPR legislation, not just recycling rates. Targets are clearly defined (i.e. when and how they are measured), progressive and ensure the local waste management system is equipped (or can be over time) to deal with them effectively.

Independent governance: Producer Responsibility Organisations are independently managed and regulated, with strong public oversight to avoid industry capture.

Transparency and public accountability: Open access to data, third-party verification and monitoring and meaningful penalties for non-compliance is standard.

Integration with other policies: EPR is one piece of a wider resource management strategy, considered together with waste management, climate, health and other material resource policies, so they are all compatible. Bans, cap and trade, production reduction, reuse targets, taxes and other policy instruments are used alongside EPR to mutually support circularity.

If EPR systems are redesigned along these lines, they can become powerful drivers of innovation, sustainability, and climate action instead of a symbol of greenwashing and weak “pay to pollute” policymaking. The Global Plastics Treaty negotiations will play a key role in determining whether this happens.

It seems obvious that producers must be held responsible not just for managing their waste – but for creating less of it to begin with. Truly extending their responsibility means looking beyond “recycling” to designing products and building infrastructure, like DRS, that make circularity the easy choice, not the exception.

1. In Indonesia in 1999, 76% of beer and soft drinks came in refillable containers. In 2019, this had dropped to just 4%.

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