Vaishnavi Chandrashekhar
Can the Global Plastics Treaty protect the environment and also address the livelihoods and health of millions of informal workers who help produce plastic or recycle it?
For representational purpose only
On any given day, thousands of people in Dharavi, Mumbai’s largest slum settlement, sift through tons of dry garbage to find plastic that can be recycled. They sort them into piles—empty ice cream boxes, bottles of water, even disposable cups and plates—that will be gathered up and sent to recycling units to be crushed and made anew.
Dharavi’s army of recyclers might not have heard of Busan in South Korea, yet what happens there next week could well re-shape their lives and work. Representatives of at least 175 countries are expected to gather in that city on November 25 for the fifth and final round of talks on the text of a Global Plastics Treaty. The treaty, which aims to reduce plastic pollution, has been described as the most important environmental deal since the 2015 Paris Agreement on climate action. Going by the talks so far, getting countries to agree on curbs on plastic will be just as difficult—and Donald Trump’s recent election victory in the US could throw another spanner in the works.
Whatever the outcome of the talks next week, the treaty will likely impact both animal and human lives, including the health and livelihood of millions of informal workers who help produce plastic—or clear it up—in countries like India, Vietnam, and Kenya.
As with climate change, countries largely agree that there’s a problem. As plastic production has exploded in the past half century—jumping from two million metric tons in 1950 to some 400 million metric tonnes in 2019—so has its pollution of the environment. The statistics are staggering. Some 710 million metric tons of plastic will accumulate in ecosystems between 2016 and 2040, according to one study, and the stuff found everywhere from the shorelines of populated cities to the farthest ends of the Arctic. Some 1500 wildlife species have been found to have ingested the substance—bits of bags, scraps of straws, or particles of polymers. Marine species are especially affected because much of the waste on land streams into the ocean---at the current rate of pollution, some suggest there could be more plastic than fish in the sea in a few decades.
Plastic isn’t just an environmental issue, however—it’s also a potential health problem. Plastics break down into smaller bits, called microplastics that then enter our food systems. Microplastics have been found in fish, rice, and bottled water—and in our own bodies. Studies have shown they pose digestive and endocrinal problems in animals, which means they could be having similar effects on humans. And it’s not plastic alone that’s the problem—it’s the stuff that’s added to it. An umbrella review of studies has found that humans are exposed to plastic-associated chemicals from preconception onwards, and that exposure to these chemicals could be associated with a host of ill effects.
But while countries agree there’s a problem, they don’t agree on the solutions. And the stance each nation takes has much to do with their level of investment in the plastic economy.
There are some measures that almost everyone supports: to ban single-use plastics like plastic earbuds, straws, and carry-bags; and to improve waste collection and recycling to reduce pollution in the environment. In general, richer countries like Japan, South Korea, and Germany have better waste collection, recycling, and disposal systems. But they also send waste to poorer countries—used polyester clothes, for instance, is shipped to countries like Kenya. And while many European nations have high recycling rates, some rich countries like the US still recycle less than 10% of plastic. (Globally, around 9% of plastic is recycled, with the rest dumped or burned, releasing toxic fumes.)
Yet reducing plastic pollution isn’t enough, say many, in part because it’s not easy to collect and recycle plastic. Polyester clothing, for example, sheds microfibres into the air and water—but so does clothing that’s made of recycled polyester. A “high ambition” group comprising 40 countries, including Germany, France, Ghana, and Tuvalu, have called for limiting production of primary plastic, which is made from petroleum. Many scientists support such caps on production—and more. A global coalition of these experts have called for bans on specific plastics of health concern; a reduction in the use of microplastics which can’t be removed from the environment; a phase out of non-essential plastic chemicals from all products and materials; and new criteria for testing products and materials.
Not surprisingly, these demands don’t sit well with the plastic industry, which is expected to triple production by 2060. Petro-states like Saudi Arabia have opposed caps on production of primary plastics. A coalition of “like minded countries”, including Russia, Iran, and Bahrain, are pushing to focus on waste instead, with voluntary national action plans. The role of the US, one of the largest producers and consumers of plastic in the world, is uncertain: The Biden administration indicated that it would support more stringent global targets, including a potential cap on production, earlier this year. But that position seems likely to change with Trump, a vocal supporter of the petrochemical industry.
What of countries like India—the largest contributor to global plastic waste, according to a recent study?
India’s plastic industry is expanding—one estimate puts the current value of the sector at US$ 42.89 billion. As importantly, perhaps, the industry comprises mostly small and medium-size enterprises, employing hundreds of thousands of people. At the very least, this workforce will need a “just transition” to adapt to any new rules. So will its army of waste pickers. India currently recycles around 13% of its plastic waste, mostly through the informal sector. (The International Alliance of Waste Pickers, which is involved in the plastic talks, has called for involving this workforce in the solutions.)
India’s position in the plastic treaty is thus like the one it takes in the climate treaty. Every country’s action needs to be specific to its context, and developing economies with large poor populations should not have to do as much as wealthy countries. So, India doesn’t want binding caps on production and favours managing waste and preventing pollution.
India’s own experience with plastic regulation reflects the scale of the challenge. In 2022, the government banned 19 types of single-use plastic, including thinner plastic bags, earbuds, flags, and so on, and mandated producers to take more responsibility for the disposal of their products. Reports suggest the rules haven’t been enforced well. Also, the ban covered only 11 per cent of single-use plastic waste, according to the Centre for Science and Environment. They left out the ubiquitous small water bottle, and multilayer food packaging. The latter is one of the biggest sources of plastic waste in India—and is often too lightweight to get picked up by waste pickers.
Whatever happens in Busan, if India wants to tackle this problem on its own terms, it will have to get more serious about building a robust waste system, enforcing better standards for design and production, and pushing for innovation in alternative, more sustainable materials. Plastic has become embedded in the modern economy. But given what we now know about its harms, a ‘just transition’ for the plastic workforce—whether in small-scale manufacturing units or the recycling sheds of Dharavi—will mean not only preserving their livelihoods but reducing their exposure to that harm.
Source: United Nations, OECD, TERI
(This column was updated with the addition of a box 'Plastic Numbers')
Earth Shifts, a monthly column on The Migration Story, will analyse the impact of global green goals amid mounting climate uncertainties on lives and livelihoods
Vaishnavi Chandrashekhar is an environment and science journalist based in Mumbai.
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