In 2022, the Philippines generated an estimated 540 million kilograms of e-waste, placing it among the top producers in Southeast Asia. That figure translates to roughly five kilograms of discarded electronics for every person in the country — laptops, air conditioners, circuit boards, and wires that, once broken down, release a chemical cocktail of lead, mercury, and cadmium into the surrounding environment. The scale of the problem is not just a matter of waste management; it directly affects the health of thousands of Filipinos who make a living dismantling these materials by hand.
Most of this e-waste does not end up in regulated recycling facilities. Instead, it flows into informal networks where workers known as mambabaklas — Filipino for dismantlers — strip electronics by hand along streets like Onyx Street in Manila. For them, the work is a lifeline. But the conditions under which they operate, and the health consequences that follow, raise questions the country has yet to fully confront. This is not a distant environmental issue; it is happening in plain sight, and the people most exposed are often the ones with the least choice. For a broader look at how pollution affects communities across the country, you can read about the water pollution crisis affecting Philippine rivers.
What Drives the Informal E-Waste Economy
The core of the issue is not that people are unaware of the dangers. It is that the economic calculus, for many families, leaves little room for caution. Mr. Dexter Barsigan, a 47-year-old father of three who has worked as a mambabaklas for 13 years, put it plainly: dismantling puts food on the table and sends his children to school. When his hands began aching and his vision blurred three years ago, he did not stop working — he simply slowed down, watching his wife and nephew take over on his bad days. The work is physically punishing, but stopping altogether is not an option he considers realistic.
This dynamic is not unique to Onyx Street. Across the Philippines, informal e-waste dismantling operates in a grey zone — illegal in many of its methods, yet tacitly tolerated because it provides income where few alternatives exist. The government and the Basel Convention, a global waste management treaty signed by 191 countries, both classify e-waste as hazardous. But on the ground, that classification has done little to change the daily reality for the people handling it.
Health Costs That Accumulate Quietly
The health consequences of informal e-waste dismantling are not speculative. They are documented, measurable, and concentrated in specific communities. Dr. Rosana Milan, physician-in-charge at Manila’s Pedro Gil Health Centre, reported that her clinic has diagnosed half of the 12,000 residents along Onyx Street with respiratory issues, most of them children. These are not mild or occasional complaints. The diagnoses include pneumonia and upper and lower respiratory illnesses, even among children who have been vaccinated.
The mechanism is straightforward. Dismantlers frequently burn rubber wire casings to extract copper faster than peeling them by hand. That burning releases lead, mercury, and cadmium into the air. Children sit beside their fathers while the rubber burns. The smoke enters homes through windows. Dr. Gelo Apostol, an environmental health specialist from Ateneo de Manila University, explained that circuit boards — which dismantlers prefer because they pay well — have especially high concentrations of toxic metals that can cause nerve damage when inhaled. Beyond respiratory illness, exposure to these substances has been linked to anemia, kidney and thyroid diseases, and nerve damage.
Mr. Sammy Oligar, another dismantler on Onyx Street, said his one-year-old grandchild was diagnosed with pneumonia. A doctor attributed it directly to the pollution from burning wires. “The smoke would enter from our window and the child would inhale it,” Oligar told reporters. He added that many of his neighbours were dealing with lung illnesses. The pattern is consistent enough that local health workers see it as predictable, not exceptional. For more on how pollution affects communities across the country, see the report on NCR air quality concerns raised by various groups.
What Gets Missed in the Conversation About E-Waste
Discussions about e-waste often focus on recycling rates, landfill capacity, or the need for better disposal infrastructure. Those are important, but they miss a more immediate problem: the people doing the dismantling are largely invisible to the systems that could protect them. Irvin Cadavona, a hazardous waste management officer with the environment department, acknowledged that the informal nature of the picker-junkshop relationship makes it “very hard” to establish formal recognition for the community. Without recognition, there is no pathway to training, protective equipment, or health monitoring.
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| Factor | Formal Recyclers | Informal Dismantlers |
|---|---|---|
| Protective equipment | Required by regulation | Rarely used or unavailable |
| Training | Mandatory safety protocols | None; learned on the job |
| Health monitoring | Employer-provided or mandated | None; workers avoid doctors due to cost |
| Legal status | Licensed and accredited | Unrecognised; methods often illegal |
Another layer that gets overlooked is what Dr. Apostol calls an “evidence gap.” There are few studies specifically tracking health outcomes among Filipino dismantlers. That lack of data, he argues, may be contributing to a lack of urgency from policymakers. But he is careful to note that the absence of local studies does not mean the danger is unknown. “Many of the chemicals found in e-waste already have extensive studies on their health effects,” he said. “What are we waiting for? To have nationwide data of people who died from e-waste before we take action?”
There is also a practical tradeoff that rarely makes it into policy briefs. Dismantlers like Mr. Barsigan know the risks. They feel the effects in their own bodies. But the alternative — stopping work — means losing the income that feeds their families and pays school fees. Ms. Eva Lecat, general coordinator of Médecins du Monde (MdM), a French humanitarian organisation working with Onyx Street dismantlers, put it bluntly: “Health is clearly not their first priority. Their priority is to have food on the table.” MdM provides gloves, masks, and safety orientations, but these are stopgap measures. Lecat argues that if the work were legal, recognised, and regulated, there would be ways to protect people and communities. For a deeper look at how pollution intersects with public health and education, read about combatting pollution through education and awareness.
What Can Be Done — and What Stands in the Way
Addressing the e-waste problem in the Philippines requires action on multiple fronts, but the most immediate leverage points involve recognition, regulation, and alternative livelihoods. None of these are simple fixes, but each offers a clearer path forward than the current situation.
Formal Recognition of Informal Workers
Médecins du Monde has been calling for the formal recognition of informal e-waste dismantlers. Recognition would open the door to basic protections: access to health services, safety training, and the right to organise. Without it, dismantlers remain outside any system that could regulate their working conditions. Mr. Cadavona acknowledged that the informal picker-junkshop relationship makes formalisation difficult, but difficulty is not impossibility. The first step would be mapping the population of informal dismantlers — understanding who they are, where they work, and what they need — as a basis for policy design.
Enforcing Existing Regulations on Burning
Burning wires to extract copper is illegal, but it is also routine along Onyx Street. Enforcement is weak, partly because the practice is widespread and partly because there are few alternatives offered to the people doing it. Simply shutting down the practice without providing an alternative would push families further into poverty. A more effective approach would combine enforcement with access to safer dismantling tools — wire strippers that do not require burning — and training on how to use them. MdM’s distribution of gloves and masks is a start, but it does not address the core practice of burning.
Expanding Access to Healthcare
Mr. Barsigan has avoided seeing a doctor for his aching hands and blurred vision, relying instead on cheap over-the-counter pain relievers and ointment. He worries he will not be able to afford treatment. This is not an isolated case. Many dismantlers along Onyx Street face the same calculation: seek medical help and risk financial strain, or keep working and hope the symptoms do not worsen. Expanding access to free or subsidised health screenings in communities with high concentrations of informal e-waste work could catch problems earlier and reduce long-term health costs. Dr. Milan’s clinic already diagnoses respiratory issues in half the local population, but treatment options remain limited.
Building Alternative Livelihood Pathways
The most difficult but most sustainable solution is to create economic alternatives that do not involve handling hazardous waste. This is not a short-term project. It requires investment in skills training, small business support, and job creation in areas where dismantlers currently live and work. Without viable alternatives, any attempt to restrict e-waste dismantling will be met with resistance — not because people are indifferent to the health risks, but because the immediate need to feed a family outweighs a future health threat they cannot see. For a broader perspective on how pollution challenges are being addressed across the country, see the piece on innovative pollution control efforts in the Philippines.
Frequently Asked Questions
Is all e-waste dismantling illegal in the Philippines? ▾
Why do dismantlers burn wires if it is dangerous? ▾
What is the Basel Convention, and does it apply to the Philippines? ▾
Can e-waste be recycled safely? ▾
What organisations are helping informal dismantlers? ▾
Closing Thoughts
The story of e-waste in the Philippines is not primarily about discarded electronics. It is about the people who handle them — and the impossible choice they face between immediate survival and long-term health. The 540 million kilograms of e-waste generated in 2022 will not disappear on its own. Neither will the respiratory illnesses, the nerve damage, or the children breathing smoke from burning wires. What could change is the recognition that these workers are part of the waste management system, whether or not the system acknowledges them. Formalising their work, enforcing safer practices, and building real alternatives will take time and political will. But the alternative — letting the current situation continue — has a cost that is already being counted in clinic visits along Onyx Street. If this was useful, you might also want to read how deforestation and pollution affect biodiversity in the Philippines.
Sources
The Philippines’ plastic waste battle — A related look at another major waste challenge facing the country and the communities on the front lines.
Food on table outweighs health risks for Philippine e-waste dismantlers. Straits Times, 2025.
Philippine e-waste dismantlers face health crisis as informal work goes unregulated. Japan Times, 2025.
