Philippines E-Waste: A Toxic Legacy

In 2022, the Philippines generated an estimated 540 million kilograms of e-waste, making it one of the top producers in Southeast Asia. That figure, from the United Nations’ Global E-waste Monitor, translates to roughly 4.7 kilograms of discarded electronics for every person in the country. To put that in perspective, the total weight of all that e-waste is equivalent to more than 13,500 fully loaded 40-tonne trucks — enough to stretch for kilometres if lined up end to end.

What happens to the vast majority of this waste is the real story. While a fraction reaches accredited recycling facilities, a much larger portion ends up in the hands of informal dismantlers — workers like Dexter Barsigan, who has spent 13 years stripping scrapped laptops and air conditioners with nothing more than his hands and a pair of pliers. These workers, known locally as mambabaklas, extract nickel, aluminium, and copper from discarded electronics to sell to junk shops. The work provides a livelihood, but it comes at a steep cost. The methods they use — particularly burning rubber wire casings to retrieve copper — release a toxic brew of chemicals including lead, mercury, and cadmium into the air they and their families breathe. For a deeper look at how pollution affects communities across the country, see our coverage of pollution as a widespread health threat in the Philippines.

What Informal E-Waste Dismantling Means for Health and Livelihood

The core tension here is straightforward but painful: dismantling e-waste puts food on the table and sends children to school, but the very act of doing that work — especially the burning of wires — makes those same children sick. Barsigan, a father of three, puts it plainly: “Dismantling helps us put food on the table. It provides the money to send my kids to school.” Yet his own health has deteriorated. His hands ache, his vision has blurred, and there are days he can only watch his wife and nephew do the work for him. He avoids doctors, worried he cannot afford treatment, and instead relies on cheap pain relievers and ointment.

This is not a niche problem confined to a single street. Onyx Street in Manila is home to hundreds of dismantlers, but similar informal operations exist across the country. The Philippine government and the Basel Convention — a global waste-management treaty signed by 191 countries — both classify e-waste as hazardous. Workers at accredited facilities must follow stringent guidelines, but their informal counterparts have no such protections. No training, no regulations, no masks or gloves. As Irvin Cadavona, a hazardous waste management officer with the environment department, put it: “I strongly believe that some Filipinos are getting sick because of the exposure to e-waste.”

The Scale of the Problem and What Gets Missed

Globally, the numbers are staggering. The 62 million tonnes of e-waste generated in 2022 would fill 1.55 million 40-tonne trucks — enough to form a bumper-to-bumper line encircling the equator. Yet less than a quarter — just 22.3 percent — of that mass was documented as properly collected and recycled. That leaves an estimated $62 billion worth of recoverable natural resources — including gold, silver, copper, and rare earth elements — unaccounted for, while pollution risks mount for communities worldwide.

One of the most commonly overlooked aspects of this crisis is the “evidence gap” that Gelo Apostol, an environmental health specialist from Ateneo de Manila University, points to. There are few studies specifically tracking health outcomes among Filipino dismantlers. That lack of data, Apostol argues, may be contributing to a lack of urgency from policymakers. “But remember,” he says, “many of the chemicals found in e-waste already have extensive studies on their health effects. What are we waiting for? To have nationwide data of people who died from e-waste before we take action?”

Another dimension that gets missed is the sheer volume of future waste already in the pipeline. The Global E-waste Monitor projects that retired photovoltaic panels — solar panels — will reach 2.4 million tonnes by 2030, four times the 600,000 tonnes recorded in 2022. As the Philippines and other countries push for renewable energy, the question of how to handle the waste from that transition remains largely unanswered. The country’s growing reliance on electronics — from mobile phones to solar panels — means the e-waste problem will only intensify without a parallel investment in collection and recycling infrastructure.

The Informal Economy Trap

Médecins du Monde (MdM), a French humanitarian organisation, has been providing gloves, masks, and safety orientations to the dismantlers of Onyx Street. They are also calling for the formal recognition of informal e-waste workers. Eva Lecat, MdM’s general coordinator, explains the dilemma: “Health is clearly not their first priority. Their priority is to have food on the table. If (their work) was legal and recognised and regulated, there would be ways to protect people and communities.” But Cadavona, the waste management officer, notes that the informal nature of the picker-junkshop relationship makes formal recognition “very hard” to establish. There is no employer to regulate, no payroll to audit, no fixed workplace to inspect.

What Can Be Done: Practical Steps and Emerging Solutions

Addressing the e-waste problem in the Philippines requires action on multiple fronts — from individual choices to systemic policy changes. The following subsections outline concrete steps that different stakeholders can take, grounded in the realities of the current situation.

Supporting Formal Recycling Channels

The most immediate action individuals can take is to ensure their old electronics go to accredited recyclers rather than informal junk shops. The Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) maintains a list of licensed treatment, storage, and disposal (TSD) facilities. Before handing over an old laptop or mobile phone, check whether the recipient is on that list. Many local government units also hold periodic e-waste collection events. The process is simple: drop off the item, receive a receipt, and know that it will be dismantled under regulated conditions with proper protective equipment. This does not solve the problem for the thousands of workers who depend on informal dismantling, but it reduces the volume of hazardous material flowing into unregulated channels.

Pushing for Formal Recognition of Informal Workers

MdM’s call for recognition of informal e-waste dismantlers is not just a humanitarian appeal — it is a practical pathway to better health outcomes. Formal recognition would allow workers to access training, protective equipment, and healthcare. It would also make it possible to regulate the junkshop market, ensuring that dismantlers are paid fairly for materials without resorting to burning wires. Advocacy groups and local NGOs are working to document the health impacts on dismantlers, aiming to close the evidence gap that Apostol identified. For those who want to support this effort, donating to or volunteering with organisations like MdM or local environmental health groups is a direct way to contribute. You can also read more about waste management challenges and solutions in the Philippines.

Reducing E-Waste at the Source

Repair and reuse are far more effective than recycling at reducing the volume of e-waste. The Global E-waste Monitor notes that less than one percent of demand for essential rare earth elements is met by e-waste recycling. Keeping devices in use longer — through repair, upgrading components, or buying second-hand — directly reduces the amount of waste generated. The Right to Repair movement has gained traction globally, and similar advocacy in the Philippines could push manufacturers to make spare parts and repair manuals more accessible. For consumers, this means choosing repairable brands, supporting local repair shops, and resisting the upgrade cycle that drives so much e-waste.

Anticipating the Solar Panel Wave

The projected surge in retired photovoltaic panels — from 600,000 tonnes in 2022 to 2.4 million tonnes by 2030 — is a looming challenge that the Philippines cannot afford to ignore. Solar panel recycling is technically complex and currently expensive, but several countries are developing pilot programmes. The Philippines could learn from these models and begin planning collection infrastructure now, rather than waiting until the waste piles up. Policymakers, industry groups, and renewable energy advocates need to start the conversation about extended producer responsibility (EPR) for solar panels, ensuring that manufacturers bear the cost of end-of-life management.

Frequently Asked Questions About E-Waste in the Philippines

Closing Thoughts

The e-waste crisis in the Philippines is not a distant environmental issue — it is a daily reality for thousands of families whose livelihoods depend on dismantling hazardous materials with their bare hands. The health costs are already visible in the respiratory wards of Manila’s public clinics, and the volume of waste will only grow as more electronics enter the market and solar panels reach the end of their lifespan. The solutions are not simple, but they are knowable: better regulation, formal recognition of informal workers, investment in recycling infrastructure, and a cultural shift toward repair and reuse. The question is whether the country will act before the evidence gap closes itself the hard way. If this was useful, you might also want to read our broader look at the Philippines’ waste crisis.

Sources

Urban smog: The silent air quality crisis — Explores how air pollution from various sources, including informal burning, affects urban populations across the Philippines.

Philippine e-waste dismantling poses health risks. Japan Times, 2025.

PHL among largest e-waste producers in SE Asia — report. BusinessMirror, 2024.